He covered her mouth with his.
***
Kieran made sure a bullet was in the chamber before slipping the gun into the holster secured at his back and checking his watch. He would just make his three o’clock staff meeting. Grabbing the suit jacket from the hanger, he glanced at Rica sprawled out across the bed. Their shower session had put her to sleep. He ambled to the nightstand and picked up her phone. A few strokes and he was in her cell and scrolling through the screens. He set her alarm and typed in a short message. That would put a smile on her face.
He wasn’t just busy with his law firm--next to the bar it was the only other legitimate business he owned. But he was trying to close a deal with the Longshoremen’s Union. The off the top fees he would collect from the contract would put some significant money in his pocket while satisfying the dock dues set by the harbormaster. The union would be protected for the length of the agreement enforced by him and his brothers. He’d buried his name in shell corporations to cover his tracks.
Softly, he pulled the door shut behind him and twisted the knob to make sure it locked. He trotted down the steps and cut through the storeroom to exit the building. Leaning on his sedan were two of his dad’s men. Danny Sullivan peered up at him, and a little smirk formed on the man’s mouth. Ah hell, no way was he going to make his meeting.
“Your da wants to see you.” The older man straightened. His graying red hair and widening waistband was a testament to the gluttonous life he led.
Danny Boy Sullivan was Patrick O’Shea’s right- hand man and once upon a time he was a formidable taskmaster. When Kieran and his brothers were taken from their mothers they were dropped on Danny’s stoop. While Paddy O’Shea could make Satan look like a choirboy, Danny Boy was the demon leading the chorus. The sadistic son of a bitch.
“We’ll meet another time.” Kieran tugged on his cuffs to pull them down and raised his head. He didn’t blink. “I’m a little busy.”
“Make time.” Danny held out his hand. “Keys?”
“The old bastard couldn’t even provide you with a car?” Whatever brought on the summons couldn’t be good. Kieran eyed the younger man on the driver’s side. If he shot them… It was broad daylight. That plan was shitty. Were his brothers being beckoned too? Fuck it. If dear old dad wanted him dead, he would be. Danny would have known it would take a crew to kill him, not a few men. He dug his keys from his slacks pocket and tossed them to the guy he didn’t know before walking to the back door and waiting for Danny to open the door for him.
“Get in.” Danny Boy grunted before twisting around.
“Don’t you open the door for Da? I’m his son--you should have the same respect.”
“When you’ve done what he has, I might consider it.” Danny dropped into the passenger seat.
Kieran exhaled. He pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and slipped into the back seat. A scroll through his contacts, and he sent a message to his brother
Conall
.
On my way to meet Paddy. Let Shannon and
Fionn
know.
He waited. His cell vibrated for a second. Kieran tapped the screen to see
Conall’s
response.
Who came to collect?
Danny Boy and one of his men.
Danny? Kill them, we can drop them in the Charles.
No one’s looking for you? Have you heard from Shannon or
Fionn
?
Talked to Shannon last night. Something going on at the Home. Been a few days since I talked to
Fionn
but you know him.
I want to see what Da wants
. Kieran lifted his head to gaze out the window and get his bearings.
Heading into the Warehouse District. Let me know when you find
Fionn
. We’ll talk later.
He cleared the screen and slunk down in his seat, staring at the back of Danny’s head, imaging a bullseye in the bald spot above that ponytail he wore. In his mind he emptied the clip, reloaded and emptied it again.
Their training started early. In the beginning it was just him and Shannon.
Conall
and
Fionn
came later. Sullivan’s training philosophy was simple. No matter your age, if you didn’t work you didn’t eat. If you were old enough to walk then pulling a con was a breeze. If you didn’t meet your daily quota the beatings were brutal. If you didn’t do what you were told--
the beatings
were brutal
. Drunk-ass Danny Sullivan would use any excuse to break them down. How many times had he and his siblings stood in front of each other begging the asshole for mercy?
Kieran rolled his shoulders to ease the tension building between them. Not only did his tats tell his story, but they covered most of the scars left from the razor strap and cane that Danny Boy enjoyed striking them with. And if those items weren’t available, the bastard would hit them with whatever was handy. On second thought, bullets to the bastard’s head was too good. The SOB needed to suffer a slow and agonizing death.
They stopped. A few dark vehicles were parked at the curb. The area was still under gentrification. Some blocks had hip restaurants and converted apartment buildings while other structures were still derelict. Chains with an open lock hung around the handle of one of the double doors He exited the automobile. A brief wind whipped through the street, and Kieran raised his collar. He stalked to the door. It squeaked as he yanked it open. Watery sunlight poured through dirty, half-broken glass windows, flooding the large space. A card table surrounded by made guys was tucked in the corner. His father sat at it with his back to the wall. There was a time when his father’s generals had men of their own. Now those dogs loyal to his
da
didn’t have much and his father was forced to get involved in tasks instead of just giving orders. Paddy’s organization was built on layers of fear and mistrust. Kieran grunted. The dirty old fucker’s empire was dwindling. The knowledge gave him joy.
He closed the distance between them. “What do you want, Paddy?”
The guys spread out to flank his father. Paddy picked up his tumbler and swallowed amber liquid in one sip. “Is that any way talk to your father?”
“There is no reason for us to meet.” Kieran spun around on his heel. “I’ll tell my brothers how you’re doing.”
“I got some interesting information. Your little dock deal. I want in on it.”
“What are you talking about?” How the hell had Paddy found out about it? He hadn’t updated his siblings yet. Kieran glanced over his shoulder. “My businesses are legitimate, or have you forgotten that?”
“Stop lying to me, boy. I know everything you, Shannon,
Conall
and
Fionn
do. I’ll be generous; I only want fifty percent off the top since you’re my son.
Kieran stuffed his hand in his pocket and made a fist. Showing his ire to the old man would only expose his weakness. Only a few of his closest men were aware of his projects. He twisted around to face his dad. “If I was working on a sweet deal, you would be the last person I would split it with.”
“Beat the boy into submission.” Danny marched past Kieran.
“I’d like to see you try.”
Paddy’s second in command stopped, faced Kieran and growled. “Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Do you want to die today?” It was time to go. Kieran inhaled slowly to quell his growing anger. “I plan to kill you anyway.”
“Take Kieran to the upstairs office and remind him he’s an O’Shea.” Paddy’s voice boomed through the space.
Kieran snatched the nine-millimeter from beneath his jacket and aimed it at the closest person. He pulled the trigger and the pop filled the air. The bullet hit the guy closest to Danny in the belly and the man crumbled. “That was a warning. The next shot will be to your head.” He held Danny Boy’s gaze.
The men moved. Weapons were drawn.
“I don’t mind dying but I won’t go alone.” If it took his last breath Kieran was taking Danny Boy Sullivan with him. “I made a promise, Sullivan, I will keep. We’ll go to hell together.”
A slow smile spread over Danny’s lips, exposing yellowing teeth. “You
ain’t
man enough.”
“Put your head to the muzzle and find out.” Rage whipped through him. The cool one among his brothers, he never let his emotions get the better of him. To have the two men who made his childhood…the situation was trying his patience.
Time stood still. The faint buzz of traffic sounded through the broken windows.
The men circling him stopped and Paddy shoved his way between them. “Those businesses you’re so proud of. You don’t think you got them on your own, do you? That law degree you flaunt happened because I allowed it. Like I gave it to you, I can take it away. My blood runs through your
vei
--”
“I don’t need to be reminded of who you are,” Kieran snapped. He pressed his lips together. Paddy knew how to push his buttons.
“You have forty-eight hours to tell me yes. We’ll be seeing each other again.” His da turned around. “Let him go.”
Kieran casually walked backwards. He wasn’t stupid enough to give them his back. As irritating as it was to see Paddy O’Shea, he’d learned a few things. The old fucker’s organization wasn’t what it used to be, and there was a snitch in Kieran’s crew.
Winter was making its presence known with a distinctive chill in the air. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, which was unusual for the time of year. Rica secured the collar of her coat closer to her throat with her scarf and dipped her chin to protect her face. Her brief walk would end soon since she needed to head back and prepare to open Irish.
Musical notes floated from her pocket as her cell chimed. She dug it free and checked the phone.
Thinking of you
flashed on the screen as the alarm continued to ring. Kieran might seem cold to other people but he had a way of making her smile. Rica tapped the button to clear her phone. It had been almost a week since she’d seen him.
She pushed a braid behind her ear and trudged up the sidewalk. There were times when they couldn’t talk on the regular but lately he was going weeks without touching base. His absence was starting to worry her. She could call Shannon, or one of his other brothers… Rica shook her head. It was business, and he told her from the beginning there would come a time when he wouldn’t be around.
Martin wouldn’t tell her shit if she asked. Talking to that asshole was like chatting with a brick wall. He was part of Kieran’s crew and didn’t hide his dislike for her. The feeling was mutual but she played nice for her lover.
Thinking about it wasn’t going to change things. Kieran was about that business life, and there was nothing she could do about it. She would still have to talk to Martin, though, since he hadn’t made his weekly drop for her to deposit. He was responsible for protection collections, and his numbers had been off for a while. The discrepancies were growing larger. She knew what he was up to; however she didn’t want to disturb Kieran with the bullshit.
“That’s some kind of face you’re making, missy.” Roscoe sidled up next to her.
“I was lost in my thoughts.” She glanced at the older man. His jacket was zipped up, making his face appear cartoonish with the skin on his neck pushed up around his jaw and his eyes bulged. Rica grinned wide. “Did you fix the Bertha?”
“
Me
and that ice machine have an understanding. When I threaten it with the wrench she acts right.” Roscoe trotted to keep up with her. “What you doing out here? It’s colder than a witch’s tit.”
“Screwed many witches?” She shook her head.
“More like bit--” he groused
“Roscoe.” Rica burst out in laughter.
“What can I say? Women love this dark chocolate, and I don’t discriminate. Of course once they’ve had some of my sweetness they go crazy and I have to drop
they
silly asses anyway.” He shrugged. “Once, though…” He gazed off in the distance.
“Even with your arthritis?” She couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice.
“You kidding, right? Deep down what lady don’t want to take care of her man?”
“I don’t know. You would be more than I could handle.”
“That is my problem. I
ain’t
found a woman yet ready to put in the work to keep me.” He touched her arm. “Let’s head back to the bar.” Roscoe swiveled his head left then right.
“Something caught your eye?” His behavior was curious. They were friendly, but he’d never come looking for her before.
“No, ma’am, just taking in the neighborhood. It’s been a while since I walked anywhere since I like the comfort of a car.”
“I bet.” She sighed. “I was heading back anyway.
A black sedan pulled up to the curb. Roscoe grabbed her elbow and yanked her back, stepping in front of her. She clutched his thin shoulder to move him. The car door swung open and an older man with salt-and-pepper hair more white than black rose out of the shadowed interior. Armed men exited the driver and passenger sides and stood on the sidewalk. Their weapons weren’t obvious, but she’d didn’t miss the bulges under their jackets.
“Paddy O’Shea. It’s been a long time.” Roscoe’s tone was chilly.
Rica tilted her head. She’d never seen the man, but she was aware of who Paddy was. Kieran didn’t talk about his father, but every now and then when he was with his brothers he’d make a comment that usually ended with
old fucking bastard
.
Another man strolled around the rear end of the car. Wisps of his faded strawberry-blond hair danced in the wind. He hung back with his arms crossed.
“What brings you to the neighborhood?” Roscoe angled his body toward the big guy behind Paddy.
“I came to talk to the girl behind you.” Paddy moved closer.
“What do you want with me?” His stare made her uncomfortable. The old fart was sizing her up. She refused to shrink from his gaze.
“You’re Kieran’s side piece. That boy is a lot of things, but I never expected him to go for something like you.” O’Shea’s shoulders dropped and he exhaled. “Get in the car.”
Rica peered at Roscoe. “Is that wrinkled SOB talking to me?” Her words ended on a high note.
The redheaded guy stomped forward. “Move, bitch.”
“Paddy, I’m not sure who you’re looking for but I don’t think it’s her.” Roscoe scratched his head. “You brought all this manpower for a girl that might weigh a buck
o’five
soaking wet.”
“I got your bitch, fucking decrepit old man.” She shoved past Roscoe.
“Put her in the car.” Paddy pushed the door wider.
The man near the front passenger side gripped her wrist. She snatched her arm back. He wrapped his hand around her throat and hefted her up.
Roscoe shuffled forward. “Kieran won’t back down if you do this. That kid is as stubborn as you are.”
She scrambled, digging her fingers into her jeans pocket. The box cutter she used earlier was there. The scarf protected her throat but she couldn’t escape his grip. Her fingers brushed the cool plastic, and she shoved her hand deeper to clutch the weapon. She yanked it free and slid the mechanism up to expose the blade. In one sweeping motion she arced her arm up, slicing through the guy’s wrist. He released her and she stumbled back.
Drops of blood rolled down her palm as she extended her arm. “I
ain’t
going no damn where with you.”
Paddy peered at her through cold eyes. “Girl, I am not a man you want as an enemy.”
“Fuck you.” She sucked her teeth.
“Rica.” Roscoe spoke low. “Back up and get the hell out of here.”
“What about you?”
“
Me
and these guys go a ways back. I’m just going to talk to them.” He glanced at her through soft eyes.
“Nope.” She twisted to face Kieran’s dad. “Say what the hell you have to say.”
“You think a flimsy razor could stop me?” The big guy inched closer. “Kieran needs to accept the deal we offered him. He knows where to find us. He missed the first deadline. His da is being nice by extending him a second one.”
“
Nice?
More like desperate. I’ll let you tell him that.” She dropped her arm. Punk-ass bastards weren’t worth it. They were made men, but if they wanted to do anything to her, the old guy was right. Her little knife wouldn’t have stopped them. Calm spread through her. “If you have business with Kieran, you need to find him.”
Paddy leaned on the door. “The fucker will come to me. If he doesn’t, it’s not him I’ll come looking for.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a pretty little thing.”
“I’m not a thing.” She touched Roscoe’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” Rica turned on her heel and retraced her steps.
“Tell my son your life is in his hands.” Paddy’s wicked chuckle followed her down the hill.
***
Irish was bigger than it looked. Kieran took his time walking through the space. Rica had remodeled the place a year ago. She must have had a thing for shamrocks. There were images of four-leaf clovers everywhere. Funny--he never noticed before. He strolled behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of liquor and a shot glass.
Shannon and
Conall
had descended on his place earlier as if he hadn’t just spent several days with them. He’d just got rid of his brothers, they were having business, personal problems he wasn’t sure
ould
be solved in an afternoon unless they killed everybody. Death was a fucking fantastic equalizer. He loved his brothers but he needed time to think, alone. The bar was peaceful when there wasn’t anybody around and he could wade through the bullshit dogging his thoughts with a clear mind.
After his meeting with Paddy, he’d met with his siblings. He hadn’t meant to be gone a little over a week but they had a lot of shit going on. They were in agreement regarding the Union deal--their da could suck a dick if he thought he was getting any part of it. It was time to consolidate, close a few enterprises down and invest more in the other ones.
Kieran filled the tumbler to the rim. Dark brown liquid sloshed over his fingers as he brought the glass to his lips. His snitch wasn’t the only issue. Their dad was giving all of them grief. Paddy was a nuisance that would have to be dealt with. Killing the old man made good business sense, but he wouldn’t be the only one to die. Plans had been made, and it was time to execute them, a payback for the years of abuse. Deep barks of laughter swelled up from his chest. Death was a motherfucker.
His mirth tapered off. First, he needed to clean house. Going forward, he could only afford to have those he truly trusted around him. Change was inevitable. There was only one person in his crew that he knew hadn’t shared his information--Rica. Shannon agreed with him, and they’d come up with a short list of who the informant could be.
The door slammed. Kieran peered at the entrance. Martin ambled through the interior as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Kieran studied his old friend. As Kieran’s top enforcer, Martin made the weekly payment pick-ups.
“Boss.” Martin nodded and plopped down on the stool. He stood again and pulled an envelope from his back pocket and dropped it on the bar
beore
reclaiming his seat.
Kieran glanced at the packet. Drops were made every Sunday. It was Friday, so his guy was really late or very early. Inconsistencies bothered him. “Is there a problem giving that to Rica?”
Martin picked up a glass from the upturned stack and set it down. Kieran rested a hip on the lip of the counter, staring at Martin as he poured two fingers of alcohol into the tumbler and took a healthy sip.
“I must be working you too hard.” Kieran arched a brow.
“Sorry, boss.” Martin exhaled. “Collections have been a bitch lately.
Derrica
must have got impatient and sent one of the other guys out to pick up. People are claiming they already made their weekly payments. You’ve made it clear it’s not my place to question her, so I have been holding on to this until I could talk to you.”
Kieran picked up the package. By the weight in his palm he could tell money was short. “If you were so concerned…you wait to notify me with this bullshit? You didn’t feel losing my fucking money was important?”
“It’s not me, Kieran, I swear. Your problem is that black bitch on her high horse
’cause
she knows you protect her. We been friends a long time. I got no reason to lie to you.”
Shit was piling up. Rica hadn’t mentioned anything to him about collection problems then again if there was an issue she thought she could handle, she wouldn’t. Before he killed Marty for insinuating that Rica was stealing from him, he would see where the conversation led to. “Everybody lies, Marty.” He took a sip of his drink. “The question is whether the deceit is worth dying over.” His friend’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I did my part.”
“I hear you talking. I’ll take up your observations with Rica.” Kieran studied Martin though narrowed eyes.
“Like that will happen,” Martin mumbled low. “Her pussy got you tied tighter than a fisherman’s knot.”
“Jealous much?” Rica stomped from the hallway. She glanced at Kieran with no emotion on her face. “Kieran.”