Chapter 3

Declan~

A year later, both Stewart and Ashton Oliver were no longer my problem, and I couldn't lie and say that I wasn't grateful for one less headache, particularly that one. Congressman Oliver had been a thorn in my side for too long, and his eldest son's death had been a welcomed one, and his younger son was wise enough to stay underground. Now, while I wasn't a good Catholic, Stewart and Ashton had been worse than any sinning man of religion. I didn't mislead people into believing that I was anything other than what I was. I also didn't mistreat innocent women, something that bothered me to no end. Of course, there was a difference between innocent victims and your garden-variety victims, and I knew the difference. So, when a man mistreated a woman that was indeed innocent…yeah, that type of shit didn't sit well with me.

That was also the reason that Cooper Donaldson was a problem for me. To the outside world, Cooper was a megalomaniac global financier, and he had enough money to hide all of his dirty secrets. While his name was associated with all kinds of politicians and wealthy investors, Ashton Oliver had been small time and never should have fallen on Cooper's radar, apart from Ashton's father being a congressman. They're friendship had been born out of the same sick need to abuse women, and while Ashton had finally gotten his comeuppance, taking care of Cooper was going to require a little more finesse. Luckily for Brandon Oliver, I'd never heard anything about him, apart from being spineless.

Now, the problem with Cooper Donaldson was that he didn't look like a monster. He was in his sixties, but took care of himself, so instead of looking aged, he looked distinguished. He was six-one, had dark brown hair, golden-colored eyes, and carried himself like a man that knew how impressive his net worth was. So, looking at him, no one would ever suspect that he was evil to the core. No one would ever suspect that he wasn't as charming as everyone believed him to be.

Nevertheless, all I had were whispers and rumors when it came to how he treated the working girls that made their living in my territory. Whether from fear or finances, none of the girls were willing to speak out about him, so it wasn't worth the risk to take down such a huge name if I had no proof. Plus, because most of the girls had their own personal demons to deal with, it was unfair to blame all of their troubles on Cooper Donaldson's sickness, even if it was said that he was into blood sports.

I also had Klive Simpson to deal with, though I didn't have to deal with him alone. He and his little merry band of misfits were causing problems for the Kotovs and Sartoris as well, so at this point in time, he was merely an annoyance more than anything else. Granted, in my line of work, I had a million annoyances a day, but still. I didn't mind it much if the issues made me money in the end, but to just ruin my day? Yeah, I didn't appreciate that shit.

I let out a deep breath as I glanced around the club, Noah making his way over to my table. It was ten in the morning, so the club was fairly empty, only having opened a few minutes ago. Vanity was a gentleman's club that catered only to men, and lots of business deals- shady and legit -were made within this building. We served lunch and dinner, then after eight, the girls came out and did what they did best; they turned men stupid.

Noah unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat down across from me. "Everything's set for tomorrow's shipment," he said. "Ronan is also wanting to bring on a new pilot, but I'm not sure that it's a good idea."

"What reason did he give for wanting to bring this guy onboard?"

"He claims that his family is beginning to become suspicious with how many flights he's been taking lately," he answered. "His wife is accusing him of having an affair."

"So, it's our problem that he can't control his wife?" I snorted.

Noah smirked. "You say that like women can be controlled."

"They can if you know what you're doing," I retorted.

"Christ, I'm going to love it when some female finally knocks you on your ass," Noah chuckled.

"Tell you what," I said, fiddling with the tumbler of my favorite whiskey, The Chosen. "The day that I get married, you get married."

"That's an easy bet," he remarked with a grin. "Since you refuse to entertain the idea, it's a deal."

Getting back to business, I said, "Well, let Ronan know that we can always find another pilot altogether if his domestic issues are more pressing."

"I already did," Noah informed me. "I just thought I'd let you know in case he tried to get a hold of you. Never underestimate a man's begging."

"Did you get the name of the guy he suggested?"

Noah nodded. "Already running a full background check in case Ronan ran his lips already."

"Honestly, when Nero took out Emil Schultz, I thought the expansion was a huge win for everyone." I shook my head. "The airports are becoming a fucking headache."

Noah eyed me. "Tha time o' the month, is it?"

I flipped him off.

Just then, one of our cocktail waitresses walked up to the table. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Murphy?"

Noah's cerulean-blue eyes roamed over her in an appreciative glance. "I'll take an Irish coffee, darlin'," he answered. "Black."

Turning towards me, she asked, "A refill, Mr. O'Brien?"

I shook my head. "Not sure if you realize it or not, but it's only ten in the morning."

Her lips twitched before saying, "Of course."

When she walked away, Noah said, "Laddie, ye need ta get laid if yer drinkin' whiskey a' ten in da feckin' mornin'."

Unlike Noah, my accent only came out when I was pissed or extremely irritated. However, his accent only came out when he was trying to charm a female or being a sarcastic asshole. Luckily for us, our grandparents had lived long enough to make a cultural impact on us, so we weren't quite fully Americanized, much to our mothers' delight.

Heritage aside, now his words had me thinking to the last time that I'd gotten my dick sucked, and admittedly, it'd been a while. While I wouldn't say that I picked up random pieces of ass regularly, I rarely went more than a couple of weeks without getting my dick wet. I could only blame it on the mess with the Olivers and Cooper Donaldson, but that was probably a lie. If anyone could multitask, it would be me.

"Are we still on for the poker game tomorrow night?"

Noah nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Maybe I'll pick up a bonus after I take all of your guys' money," I quipped.

Once a month, all the brothers and cousins had a poker game, and it got pretty rowdy sometimes. We always had it in the back room at Lir, a bar that we owned that had more bouncers than it had bartenders and servers. It catered to a rougher crowd, but nothing that we couldn't handle. After all, the entire city knew who owned Lir.

"You wish," Noah snorted. "Last I recall, didn't Aran take off with all our coin?"

This time, it was me that grinned. "Indeed, he did."

When our cocktail waitress returned with Noah's coffee, she gave us a terse nod before going about her business, and it was a small gesture that I could appreciate. Too many females liked to cash in on who we were, but we didn't hire our staff for easy pussy; we hired them to work.

As she walked away, Noah said, "Fuck, maybe it's time I got laid, too."

"If you're checking out the staff, then I'd say that it is," I retorted.

"I wasn't checking her out," he lied. "I was simply appreciating what is the female creation."

I rolled my eyes.

I couldn't help it.

After downing the rest of my whiskey, I asked, "Any more sightings of Klive's associates?"

Noah shook his head as he let out a quiet sigh. "No," he answered. "But it's just so damn hard to get a solid handle on who they are. They could be anyone since they're just a hodgepodge of criminals."

"They have to have a spot where they all meet and talk about…fuck, whatever it is that they need to talk about," I said before running my hand down my face. "I just have no idea if it's in our territory or not. Kotov and Sartori haven't heard anything, either."

"Well, we still have guys out looking for them, so that's all that we can do until we find out more information on these motherfuckers." Noah shot me a look. "Is that why you're drinking whiskey this early in the morning?"

"No, asshole," I replied. "I'm drinking whiskey because it's fucking cold outside."

Noah grinned. "It's practically a hundred degrees outside."

"You're a dick, you know that?"

"That's what makes me your favorite cousin," he joked.

"Lochlan is my favorite cousin," I retorted. "He's not an asshole."

"Thought I was a dick?"

"You're running a combo ticket," I drawled out.

The fucker just laughed, making me wish for another pour of whiskey.