Chapter 11

Noah~

W hen Declan had mentioned that Shea had wanted to take her parents to dinner, I had immediately nixed the idea. After what she'd overheard, I'd been convinced that dinner had been a ruse, so that she could form a plan to leave me. Granted, one could hardly blame her, but what Shea didn't know was that I'd meant it when I'd said until death do us part. She'd have to step over my dead corpse before I ever allowed her to leave me.

However, just as Declan had been championing her, he'd gotten a call from Tearney, and the phone call had been enough to send us all from the house, everyone doing what they did best. Tearney had called to tell Declan that they'd found two of Klive's men, and with the bloodbath that we'd left in the woods, questioning Klive's men took precedence over my wife plotting to leave me. Especially, considering that there wasn't anywhere that I wouldn't be able to find her.

So, while my wife was dining with her parents, trying to figure a way out of our marriage, I was spending our wedding day at the manor with Declan, Cathal, Lochlan, Tearney, and Desmond. The last time that we'd had someone down in the basement here, it'd been Keavy, and what a fucking nightmare that had been. Still, it was hard not to admire a woman that was her own army and wasn't afraid of dying. Honestly, if there was ever a person on the planet that didn't give a shit about meeting their maker, it was Keavy O'Brien. Granted, now that she was pregnant, she probably felt differently, but I wouldn't bet my life on it.

"We…we don't know," Trevor Kozlov wheezed through his broken ribs. "We don't know…know why Klive chose Port Townsend."

"Оn govorit pravdu," his partner in crime added. "He's telling the truth."

I glanced over at Declan, and I knew that we were both thinking the same thing. Though it could be pure coincidence, these two being Russian was significant. While Trevor spoke perfect English with no hint of an accent, his last name was as Russian as you could get. As for Matvey Bortnik, his accent was thick enough to recognize that Russian was his first language, not English.

Now, while we hadn't exactly introduced ourselves to the others when we had hunted them down in the woods, most of them had spoken clear English, only two of them having accents, though we hadn't taken the time to figure out which kind with all the gunfire around us. However, if we were still working on the theory that Klive was here because of a personal connection to Port Townsend, then it had to be something with the Kotovs. The guy that the Sartoris had killed had been Russian, and so were these two. However, Simpson wasn't a Russian last name, though it could be an alias as with most criminals. We needed to reach out to the Sartoris to see if Morocco's found anything on these motherfuckers.

"But you knew that this area was already occupied, right?" Cathal asked as he twirled a scalpel in his fingers.

"Yes," Trevor admitted. "We knew."

"Then why follow him here?" Desmond asked. "That makes no sense, lad."

"Monetnyye valyuty," Matvey choked out before spitting out some blood.

"Money," Trevor repeated. "He promised us a huge payday."

"From who?" Desmond asked.

When he didn't answer quick enough, Cathal reached for his ear, then sliced it clean off. He started howling, and torture could be so counter-productive sometimes. There was a delicate art to it, and though Cathal was good at what he did, he could also get over-enthusiastic when he wasn't in a good mood. Luckily for us, he wasn't in a bad mood often.

"He never said," Matvey quickly rushed out, eyeing the river of blood flowing down Trevor's neck.

Finally, Declan decided to speak. "Then tell us what he did say."

"Оn ne skazal nam der'mo," Matvey bit out, clearly panicking.

"English, my friend," Tearney said. "We need it in English."

"He didn't tell us shit," he repeated for us. "If he…if he told anyone, he told Louie."

"Ere we suppose ta know who in da feck Louie is?" Declan snapped.

"He's Klive's best man," Trevor sobbed, spit dripping from his lips.

"What is he?" I asked, finally adding my two cents.

"He's Klive's best man," Matvey echoed. "It's the truth."

I almost slapped him upside his head. "Is Louie Russian, Hispanic, French…?"

"He's White," Matvey answered.

"What kind of White, lad?" Desmond asked. "Is he Irish, German, Nordic…what?"

"I don't know," he whimpered. "He's just White."

"What's his last name?" I asked, wondering if we were going to be here all fucking night. Not for nothing, but I had my bride waiting at home for me by now.

"Manziel," Trevor answered. "And…and I don't know what kind of last name that is."

"I believe it's Scottish," Cathal remarked. "So, if it is, there's no alliance there, either."

"Where are the rest of you hiding out?" Declan asked, calming down a bit.

"There's an abandoned house on Camel Road," Matvey said. "It's near the West Virginia border."

"Motherfucker," Tearney muttered. "We should have checked the borders."

"Is that where Klive's at?" Declan asked, ignoring Tearney's obvious statement.

Trevor shook his head. "Klive and Louie move around from week to week. If he wants to meet, he sends a message."

"So, you have a contact number for him?" I asked.

Both men shook their heads as Trevor said, "No, we don't. Louie is the only one that knows how to contact him directly. If he has a message for us, he'll leave a note in the mailbox of the abandoned house, then we meet him where it says."

"What were you two doing at the Hallow Ground tonight?" Declan asked.

When they didn't answer right away, Cathal put his scalpel to use again, going for the back of Matvey's ankles. His screams vibrated throughout the entire room, and I knew that we were going to lose them soon. Though they both looked fit enough, strength and stamina were pointless when left to bleed to death, and Cathal wasn't wasting any time tonight.

"We were there to case it," Trevor confessed.

"Why?" I asked.

"It was supposed to be a distraction," he answered.

"Keep givin' me half-answers an' I'll tear yer eyes from der sockets, then make ye choke on ‘em," Declan threatened.

"We…we were casing it to rob it later," Matvey sobbed painfully. "We were going to rob it in a few days as a distraction."

"For fucking what?" I bit out.

"We don't know!" Trevor cried.

"Wrong answer, lad," Cathal said before slicing Trevor's other ear off.

"It has something to do with the Sartoris and the Kotovs!" Matvey yelled, finally confessing something that we could use. "It was supposed to look like the Sartoris did it."

"Why the Sartoris?" Declan asked.

"Because…because then it would force you to have to…to get in bed with the Kotovs to avenge the attack on your territory," Matvey answered as Trevor kept howling in pain.

"Klive wants to start a war between us," I surmised. "But why? He's still too small-time to make any strides in Maryland. No matter who won, your numbers are too small to go up against whoever was left standing."

"That's all…all we know," Trevor whimpered. "I swear."

I looked over at Declan. "Keavy was right. This is personal. It's too big of a risk for it not to be."

"I'll call Sartori when we leave here to set up a meeting," Declan replied, the wheels in his head already turning. "We'll need to invite Kotov as well."

"I don't like this," I muttered quietly. "We've been underestimating them, and I don't fucking like it."

"Join the club," Declan huffed.

After a few seconds, I said, "I know you have other shit to do, so I can stay here."

Declan's head reared back in surprise. "It's your wedding night."

"This is more important," I pointed out.

"What am I? An amateur?" Cathal huffed. "I've got this."

"Everyone can go," Desmond announced. "I'll stay here with Cathal to see if we can't find out anything more."

I glanced at my watch, and there was no way that Shea wasn't at home waiting for me. It was too late to still be out with her parents, and we still had a few things to discuss before I got her in bed with me. Since she didn't have to work tomorrow, I planned on keeping her up all night, and if she had any doubts about who she belonged to, they were going to be gone by morning.