30. Valentina

Chapter 30

Valentina

I take a long drink of wine and lean my elbows on the bar. Bloody Strike is loud tonight, and the fights have been pretty good overall. The boys are happy, anyway, and the money’s flowing into the bookies, and the bookies are paying Ronan’s guys, and overall, there’s a solid profit to be made.

Not that I really care about any of that. It’s just that I can’t help myself. Whenever I’m around this sort of stuff, I start thinking about the operation and how it could be more efficient if only we took bigger cuts or tweaked the odds slightly more in our favor or lowered the price of drinks to encourage gamblers to get drunk and make bad choices.

I keep all that to myself. I probably shouldn’t be here tonight at all—there have been some ugly looks from the Irish boys this evening, and I really don’t blame them—but I can’t stand sitting back at Ronan’s all the time. I need to get out, to be around people, or else I’m going to go absolutely insane, but that’s why I’m hiding out at the bar alone. When life goes wrong, I find it’s better if I drown myself in noise and company instead of sitting around and letting it fester.

I glance over as Niall extracts himself from the crowd and takes the empty stool next to me. He asks for a whiskey and swirls it when the drink arrives.

“Didn’t you know?” I say to him when it’s clear he’s sticking around. “I’m toxic. I have a communicable disease.”

“What disease is that?”

“The disease of fucking up and being wrong.” I finish my glass of wine and gesture for another. “There’s a reason that seat’s empty.”

Niall snorts and stares at his glass as he tilts it side to side. “Did you talk to Ronan?”

“Only a little bit.” I glance back at the booth where Ronan’s deep in conversation with some of the cousins and uncles. He’s dealing with the fallout from the botched job earlier in the evening, and he hasn’t had much time for me. He said it wasn’t my fault, that he didn’t blame me in the slightest, but that was all. And I’ll admit, I wish he would sit here instead of Niall, but I fully understand why he can’t—he’s the head of the family and he has to work out what happened.

I still wish he were here anyway.

“Don’t listen to the chatter, all right? I was the one that got a gun pointed at my head, and I don’t blame you even a little bit for that.”

I hunch forward when my new glass of wine appears. “I just don’t understand how it happened.”

“Julien’s clever, we all know that.”

“He’s not that clever.” I take a drink. “The Julien I know is a selfish asshole.”

“Maybe you aren’t such a great judge of character then.” Niall sounds thoughtful, not mean, but it still bugs me. “Julien comes off like he’s a hedonistic Frenchman that only cares about himself, but there is much more to him than that.”

I tilt my head from side to side. I can understand what he means by that. I didn’t expect Julien to care about Adam’s death so much but, apparently, he’s taking it very hard and thinks I’m partially responsible. He’s wrong—but I understand why he feels that way.

“I just feel guilty, that’s all. Ronan’s dealing with ten times more shit because of me.”

“Ah, quit feeling sorry for yourself. We all followed the plan because it was a good one. You couldn’t have known that a random third party would intervene and blow it up.”

I glance at him. He’s looking back at me, face a stone wall, but there’s something else behind his expression. His eyes narrow, almost like he’s concentrating. Almost like he’s waiting for something.

“How did Julien find out?” I ask him very quietly, leaning in to make sure nobody can overhear. “The only people that knew about the plan were Rocco’s guys and your guys, and only then it was need-to-know until the day.”

“That is exactly what Ronan’s dealing with right now,” Niall says, nodding very slowly. “And a question we need to be asking ourselves very seriously.”

The implication sends a shiver down my spine. In any big crime organization, the potential for betrayal and backstabbing is always there, but ideally, it’s counteracted by the bonds these men form with each other. We call it a family on purpose and for a reason—not because these guys are all related, but because a family doesn’t turn its back on its members, not for any reason, no matter what.

There’s always intrigue. Every Famiglia deals with some level of backstabbing and the threat of undercover cops infiltrating the highest levels. All crime organizations have a few feds running around with the soldiers.

But for a family like Ronan’s to leak an operation like what happened earlier to a rival? That’s unheard of. That’s enormous.

And it means the divisions in the Hayes Group run deeper than I realized.

As I drink my wine and let anxiety rattle around my chest, another person pushes through the crowd and lurks right next to Niall. I look back and it’s Seamus, his eyes slightly glassy, a wet stain on his chest, his cheeks bright red. He’s swaying to the side.

“You okay, cousin?” Niall asks him with a grin. “You imbibe a bit too much?”

“It’s her fuckin’ fault.” Seamus spits the words, staring at me the whole time. “You know that, don’t you? How the fuck can you sit there with this bitch right now, cousin ?”

“Easy there,” Niall says, smile fading. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk,” Seamus agrees. “And that bitch is still here. That’s the real fuckin’ problem. Hey, bitch, how’d you convince Ronan to turn his back on his family, huh?”

“Seamus.” Niall’s voice is hard now. He stands and puts a hand on the drunk. “You should walk.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. A part of me wants to hear it. Seamus is drunk, and he’s a sexist douchebag, but this is what he’s thinking, it’s what they’re all thinking, and it’s almost better if it’s finally out in the open like this.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Seamus says, shrugging off Niall. “The bitch says it’s fine, ‘cos she knows she’s fuckin’ our family up and probably suckin’ Ronan’s dick and makin’ him forget who he really fuckin’ is, and she’s doin’ it just to get some fuckin’ money and power.” He’s riling himself up and Niall grabs his arm tightly.

“That’s enough,” Niall says, but Seamus shoves him away.

Niall staggers and runs into me, and I’m knocked from the stool. The wine glass spills and I hit the floor in an undignified heap. I’m not hurt, but I have to untangle myself from the sudden appearance of more legs and feet as people swarm around the altercation.

By the time I get back up, Ronan’s in the mix. He’s got Seamus by the throat in one massive hand and his nostrils are flared as he pulls his fist back.

“Don’t you ever go near her again,” he says, lips pulled back in a snarl. A crowd’s gathering and more of the cousins and uncles are watching. “Do you hear me, Seamus?”

“The fuck are you doing?” Seamus says, gagging as Ronan tightens his grip. “For some fuckin’ Italian girl?”

“She is under my protection. Do you know what that means? You go near her, you speak to her, you so much as look at her again, and I will kill you. Do you understand me, Seamus?”

Seamus gags and nods. He looks scared. I feel horrible for him, and I wish I could fade into the background and disappear, but more eyes move in my direction. Cousins stare, and none of them are happy. Some are outright hostile.

“Go home.” Ronan releases Seamus and shoves him away. A couple of the younger Irishmen take him by the arms and drag him off.

Ronan seethes. He stares around him at the mass of his people, and for a moment, I think he’s going to tell them all off. I want to reach out and stop him—he already went far enough. I don’t want to see him destroy his family because of me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he ruined the one good thing in this world, if he became like me, lost and confused and without any real home, all because of one stupid drunken interaction.

“Show’s over,” he barks at the assembled people. “Fuck off now.”

That’s enough to make the crowd disperse. Ronan turns and takes my arm, pulling me close, but not into an embrace. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I glance at Niall, and he looks grim. “I should leave too.”

“Fuck that. You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Ronan—” I shake my head and gently pull myself away. “This is bad enough already.”

His jaw flexes. He’s pissed, and I can’t blame him. From his perspective, he came to my defense, and now he’s getting shit on from all directions.

But I’m not sure he understands yet what just happened. He will soon—but right now, he’s still angry.

I love that he came for me. I love that he protected and defended me, even if Seamus was just being a drunk prick and not actually trying to hurt me. My heart swells knowing Ronan will be by my side if something bad ever happens.

That doesn’t erase the bigger picture.

“I’ll get her back to your place,” Niall says and squeezes Ronan’s shoulder. “Damage control now, cousin. You got me?”

Ronan takes a breath and slowly nods. “Make sure she gets home safe.” He turns and stalks back to his table where more of the family has converged, and I can tell he’s already dealing with more frustration.

I feel like my chest is cracking open as Niall escorts me outside.