That night while Rowan slept, I lay in bed and thought about my next moves. I had two big fucking problems—Oran’s treachery and the danger surrounding Rowan.
Damyon had earned his nickname for good reason. The man was literally a shadow—no last name and no solid business or personal associations. He appeared on the scene from nowhere, making a savage reputation for himself in a matter of weeks.
When I first heard whispers about him, I half wondered if he was an urban legend. How could a man garner notoriety in such a short time while maintaining his anonymity? How was he still alive with no organization to back him? I figured he’d been made up as a scare tactic, the story morphing as it made the rounds. Then I saw him with my own eyes.
It was about six months ago, around a month after the rumors started circulating. I’d gone to watch one of Torin’s fights. The location of our fight nights changed regularly to reduce the chance of being shut down. It was a pain in the ass, but the money was phenomenal.
That night, we were at a warehouse in Brooklyn. We preferred basement locations for better privacy, but this place was set near the shipyard on a rare, isolated strip of land. Knowing now what I’d learned about Damyon’s association with Wellington, it likely explained his appearance that night.
Tor was the last fight on the schedule and the only one I was interested in, so I didn’t show up until late. Anyone who had come for the fights was already inside. I was on my way in when I heard a strange sound around the side of the building. A mewling like an injured animal would make.
It was probably nothing, but I decided to take a peek because Tor was usually in charge at these things, and he would be occupied getting ready for his fight. And if for some reason the cops had surrounded the place, I wanted to get the drop on them and sound the alarm. I quietly approached the corner of the building and listened. Again, I heard a high-pitched keening.
Slowly, I peered around the metal siding.
Three men stood over a fourth who lay on the ground. He was moving but in a disjoined, sickly way. I’d only taken them in for a handful of seconds when one of the three turned to look directly at me as though he somehow knew I was there. I didn’t slink away. I wasn’t in the habit of cowering. That was how I found myself staring into the most arctic, merciless set of ice-blue eyes I’d ever seen with the scar I’d heard so much about running from temple to lips.
Eventually, the two other men looked my way as well. I cut my eyes to each of them in turn, then briefly to the man on the ground before casually turning and walking away. I left them alone, and they seemed to do the same for me. Nothing ever came of the encounter. The morning after, however, when our men went to the warehouse to ensure it was free of all evidence leading back to us, they found the man who’d been writhing on the ground. His tongue had been cut out then shoved back down his throat, and at least half the bones in his body were shattered.
We weren’t kind to our enemies. It would be a lie to claim otherwise. However, it took a special kind of ruthlessness to do that sort of damage in public. I realized that day that the rumors were true.
Damyon was a psychopath and practically untouchable with so little known about him. And now, he might or might not have wanted Rowan dead. I had no idea what to do about that or where to even start. For the moment, the best I could do was broadcast my claim on Rowan and hope that kept the wolves at bay.
The Oran situation, on the other hand, was much more straightforward. I knew the steps that needed to be taken; I just hated to do it. But it made sense to deal with Oran first. If he was connected to Damyon, he might have information to help me get to the man.
God help us both if Oran didn’t want to talk.
I’d do whatever necessary to keep Rowan and my family safe, but I hated to think about what that might mean.
I rolled to my side and watched my sleeping wife. She faced away from me, giving me a perfect view of the ivy inked along her spine. She was so goddamn strong. But even the sturdiest trees needed solid foundation for their roots. I wanted to give that to her—to see her thrive—and I’d cut out the heart of any man who posed a threat to her, even if that man was family.
I took Rowan to her parents’ house again the following morning so she wouldn’t be left alone while I met with my family. Her father had to work, but he made arrangements for security to stay at the house with Rowan and her mother. I would have preferred to leave her in the hands of one of my cousins, but I needed them all present for this conversation. It was time to bring them into the loop and decide what to do about Oran.
The Moxy had a short window of time each day from six to ten o’clock in the morning when the club was closed for cleaning. I’d set up our meeting for nine and arrived ten minutes early. Torin was already inside, sitting at the bar and scrolling through his phone.
“Thanks for being here,” I said as I approached. “I know it’s probably early for you.”
“No fights last night, so I wasn’t out late.”
Late was relative. Most of the time, his nights and days were swapped. I wasn’t sure if it was that or simply his personality, but the guy seemed to be in a perpetually bad mood. He was reliable and loyal—I had no problems with him—but I didn’t fully understand him either. I had a feeling he liked it that way. He’d always been sort of a loner.
“You in the ring anytime soon?” I would have thought at twenty-eight he’d be done with that shit, but the chip on his shoulder kept him in the game. His choice.
“Nothing on the books right now. We’re showcasing a new guy tonight in from Cuba. Figured I’d see what he’s got. If he looks like a good fit, I might set up a match with him.”
“Let me know if you do. I’ll come watch.”
“Don’t encourage him, sir,” Stormy chided in her soft Southern twang as she rounded the corner from behind the bar. “No reason for him to be doing that. He’ll just end up hurt.”
The corner of my mouth twitched upward. “Nothing like a little pain to make a man feel alive.”
Torin grunted.
Stormy set the stack of glasses she was carrying on the counter and rolled her eyes. “You need to feel alive, go bungee jumpin’ or run a marathon—no need to risk brain damage just for a little adrenaline.”
I rapped my knuckles against Torin’s head. “Nothing there to risk, Stormy.”
“Fuck you,” Tor said wryly. And if I wasn’t mistaken, I think he might have even smirked.
The front door swung open, letting in a blinding shaft of light while Conner, Pops, and Nana filed inside.
What the fuck was Nana Byrne doing here? I glared at my father.
He raised his hands in annoyance. “Don’t start with me. She has a doctor’s appointment in an hour. You needed to meet? This was the only way it worked.”
Christ.
Nana continued toward the bar, leaning heavily on her walker.
Stormy grinned. “I’m happy to have Nana’s company while you boys talk.”
“That’s sweet o’ ye lass,” Nana said. “But for now, just hit me with a quick shot o’ whiskey, then I’ll listen in on the current state of affairs.”
“Ma, it’s nine o’clock,” Pop fussed. “And we’re about to go to your cardiologist’s office. You really want to show up stinking of whiskey?”
She scowled back at him. “And what’s he goin’ to do te me, Jimmy Byrne? Put me in time-out? I’m eighty-five, and I’ll have a nip if I feel like it.” She turned back and nodded at Stormy, who bit back a smile and poured a respectable shot of whiskey.
Nana downed the liquid as though it was apple juice, then turned herself around. “All right, let’s get this show started.”
No one was willing to argue. I gave a nod to Stormy, telling her to make herself scarce, and we selected a table large enough to fit our group and pulled up chairs.
“We not waiting for Oran?” Conner asked.
My father looked at me expectantly, his curiosity piqued. Family meetings generally involved the heads of each branch of the family. Of the three original Byrne brothers, Brody was now deceased, and Tully, who was the least involved of the three, rarely participated anymore. Torin, though he was the youngest of Tully’s children, had assumed leadership of that line. Conner had stepped up as representative for the single Byrne sister, Mirren, and my father and I often worked together as he wasn’t ready to pass the torch just yet. That left Brody’s line unaccounted for at our meeting.
“I didn’t invite Oran because he’s the subject of our meeting, and for the same reason, I didn’t think it wise to call in Shae either.” As the one and only female Byrne heavily involved in the family business, she was also Oran’s younger sister.
My father sat back, eyes narrowing. “What exactly is this about, son?”
Four sets of blue eyes bore into me. I forged ahead.
“My concerns started the day of Uncle Brody’s death.”
Pop grunted. “Not this shit again.”
My hackles raised, and in an uncharacteristic show of temper, I slammed my hand on the table. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but it needs to be said, and you’re going to fucking listen.”
Tension filled the room with a raging flood.
I took a slow, even breath and told my family everything I’d learned in recent weeks. How Oran had been the only person to know where Brody would be the night of his death. About the woman I’d seen him with and her disappearance. And finally, the stolen guns that had reappeared in the hands of the Russian.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when Nana was the first to respond, her pruned lips pursed tightly together. “These are some very serious accusations, Keir.”
“Agreed, that’s why I wanted to discuss it as a family before making any decisions.”
“Aye, and that’s exactly what should be done,” she said, nodding and crossing her arms over her chest. “Oran is family, just as much as any of us, and he should be given an opportunity to explain. You’d want at least as much if it were you in his seat.”
“I planned to do just that,” I told her. “But I think we should all be on the same page about how we approach him.”
“Sooner rather than later,” Torin said with an edge to his normally dry tone. “If there’s reason to be concerned, I wouldn’t want him getting wind of our suspicions.”
“I agree,” Conner chimed in. “I say we do it this morning. Wait for him upstairs. That’s our best shot of getting honest answers.”
My father frowned. “I can’t join you, but I suppose it’s best you three handle the situation. He’s your cousin,” he said reluctantly. It wasn’t easy for Pop to let go. If Nana hadn’t been there, I wasn’t sure what he’d have done.
“What are we going to tell Shae when she asks why she wasn’t informed about her brother?” Conner asked. “I’m the one who has to work with her, and I don’t want to spend the next six weeks having to watch my back in my own damn office.”
I’d thought about that and had an answer. “Dad’s got her babysitting Devlin, the guy sent over from Dublin.”
“What guy from Dublin?” Conner challenged, sitting taller.
I exchanged looks with my father. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”
Conner had just returned from his honeymoon days earlier and was spending most of his time with his new wife.
Pop shrugged. “It wasn’t worth disturbing the honeymooners.”
I gave a brief explanation. “It’s not really relevant at the moment, but the guy just showed up out of the blue. Says he was sent over by Dublin to check on the Albanian issues.”
Conner sneered. “That’s been resolved for weeks.”
“Exactly. That’s why Shae’s been assigned to keep tabs on the guy. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Conner looked from me to my father.
Pop shrugged again. “Who knows. Folks from the old country do things a little differently. We’re mostly independent of them, but some old rivalries are still alive.”
“Just what we need,” Conner muttered.
Torin grunted.
Nana grinned. “Just like the old days. This has been a real treat, fellas.” She stood, effectively dismissing our meeting. “Now, go talk to your cousin and get this sorted. I never did tolerate my boys fightin’, and I don’t plan to start now.” She banged her walker into the nearby chairs, shuffling her way toward the door.
Pop just watched, shaking his head in defeat. “Call me when it’s over,” he added quietly.
I tipped my chin. Nana might have been unbothered by what she’d learned, but I wasn’t so optimistic. I had also intentionally avoided mentioning the connection between Oran and Rowan because I didn’t want to discuss the possible implications in front of Nana. She was a tough old woman, but it would hurt her heart to know what I planned to do if Oran tried to hold back information. I never did buy into the prodigal son. People were either friend or foe, and there was no going back once that line was crossed.
Oran kept an office across from mine above the Moxy, though he had little to do with the club itself. Like his father before him, he had assumed the role of the face of our organization. Where my father was the mastermind, Uncle Brody had been the front. He schmoozed with powerful people in all walks of life. Oran had followed in his footsteps, making sure he had an in with everyone who was anyone.
The setup had always worked for me. The last thing I wanted was to talk to anyone, let alone be friendly. However, with much of my time being eaten up running the strip club, and Conner handling our Bastion club, oversight of the family empire as a whole had slowly been transitioning from my father to Oran. I hadn’t thought the power trip would go to my cousin’s head, but it appeared I was wrong.
The three of us made ourselves comfortable in the large corner office. Conner sat on the leather sofa while Torin and I each took a chair. We were quiet on the way up, but Conner started conversation once we were seated.
“Seems I missed quite a bit on my honeymoon. I hear you managed to squeeze in a wedding while I was gone.” Conner’s stare demanded an explanation.
I tipped my chin, acknowledging his underlying jab. “I’m glad you brought that up because we need to talk about that as well.”
“I knew Uncle Jimmy wanted in with the governor. That was the last I heard.”
“He did, but that wasn’t a part of my reason for marrying Rowan. It’s complicated, but the reason we moved so fast was because Rowan’s in danger. Damyon is somehow connected to a family friend. Rowan discovered that friend had a woman chained in his house, and he and Damyon are now aware that she saw the woman.”
“Jesus Christ, she’ll have a target the size of Rhode Island on her back.”
Tor grunted his agreement.
“I’m aware,” I bit out. “Like I said, it’s been a complicated couple of weeks.”
Conner was silent for a second, but judging by the way his eyes remained trained on me, he wasn’t done. “Marriage—it’s a bold move. Must be some girl to warrant that sort of protection.” He was prodding for information. Fine by me. I had no need to hide how I felt about Rowan.
“She’s mine, and now everyone knows it.” I met his stare straight on.
Conner grinned. “Well, I’ll be damned. Congrats, man.” He turned to Torin and smirked. “Looks like you’re next.”
“Oh, fuck no.”
Conner and I laughed, though it died quickly as the reality of our present situation filtered back into our minds. We weren’t certain when Oran would arrive, but luck was on our side. Not ten minutes later, our cousin filled his office doorway, steely gaze meeting each of ours.
“Isn’t this a cozy family reunion? To what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice was edged in wariness, as it should have been. We didn’t show up unannounced like this without cause. Grave cause.
I stood as Oran strolled to take his seat behind the desk. I kept my body language casual, but I was keenly aware of my holstered gun, loaded and ready. Men were nothing but animals when cornered. I didn’t want to think my cousin was capable of shooting at us, but his back was firmly against the wall. Figuratively and literally.
“We’d like to talk to you about some issues that have come to light.”
“I see. And what would those be?”
“Most recently, I happened to see a couple of SIG 550s in the possession of someone who shouldn’t have had them.”
“Who?” His stare hardened.
“Men working for Damyon. The Shadow.” I didn’t give him more information. I found my interrogations more productive when I let my subject squirm.
“Could the guns have been sourced elsewhere?” he asked, not overly nervous.
“Doubtful. You know that. Not military grade, like ours were.”
He rubbed his chin absently. “I suppose they could have been behind the theft, but how could they have known about the shipment?”
The room was silent, our stares three sets of deadly daggers pointed at Oran.
“That’s what we’d like to know,” I finally said.
He snapped from his thoughts, his eyes slowly roving from one of us to the next. “You don’t seriously think I had something to do with that?”
“You tell us. You’ve been the one pushing to keep gun operations running. You took lead on the deal. You were the only one with full knowledge of the details.”
“This is fucking insane,” he growled, flashing his teeth. “You can’t possibly believe I’d betray my family like that.”
“I don’t know, Oran. Maybe betrayal comes easy to you. I saw you talking multiple times with that young server from downstairs as though you two knew each other well. Very well. I wouldn’t have thought you’d disrespect your new wife like that, either. Our father’s taught us better. Yet, oddly enough, she disappeared not long after I noticed you two together. Just never showed up for work one day. But I don’t suppose you’d happen to know anything about that either.”
Oran pointed his finger at me, fury flashing in his eyes. “I was trying to help her. And I don’t know anything about her disappearing.” His adamant denials made my anger blister.
“Then how the fuck do you explain the fact that you were the only one who knew your father had decided to stop by Moxy the night he died?” I shot back at him. “It wasn’t part of his routine. You expect us to believe it was a coincidence?”
Oran shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the desk on his way up. In the same heartbeat, Torin, Conner, and I drew our guns.
“I did NOT set my father up to die. Losing him fucking gutted me, and if taking a bullet is what I have to do to prove that, then pull the goddamn trigger.” Oran’s eyes blazed.
Seconds ticked by. Five. Ten. Fifteen.
I slowly lowered my gun, though my cousins kept theirs raised. “Then how do you explain it all, Oran? Because we need some fucking answers.”
His anger flickered and faded to something that resembled dread. He placed his hands flat on the desk, leaning as though weary from the weight of his burden. “I hadn’t said anything because I couldn’t ever get proof, and I hated to make allegations I couldn’t support. Not allegations like this.” He slowly lifted his head until his tormented gaze met mine. “Caitlin knew. She was the one who made the call to Dad asking him to stop by the club for me. I had a splitting headache and asked her to call him while I lay down.”
The room exploded into a deafening silence.
Caitlin? Sweet, demure Caitlin? Was he trying to blame everything on her? I peered at my cousins on either side of me, trying to understand what was happening, but they wore confused expressions that matched my own.
“What exactly are you implying?” I demanded.
Conner lowered his gun but took a menacing step forward. “You throwing your own fucking wife to the wolves just to save yourself?”
“You three truly think I’m capable of that?” Oran sneered, his eyes cutting to each of us.
My hackles raised. “You’d be forced to come to the same conclusions as us if you were in our position. Now, tell us whatever the fuck it is you have to say.”
He took a deep, weary breath, his shoulders sagging. “Something didn’t sit right after Dad’s death. I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling that it was all too coincidental, but I didn’t know how else to explain it. Then the guns were stolen.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My notes about the exchange were at my home office, thinking it was safer than here at the club. No one else knew anything about the drop. I hadn’t even told our guys about the shipment when I normally would have, but Dad’s death had me paranoid. A day later, the guns were gone. Another baffling coincidence—how unlucky was it that someone just happened to come across the shipment and steal it? But again, I had no direct evidence implicating Caitlin or anyone else. How the fuck was I supposed to accuse my wife of that shit without a stitch of evidence? We might not have been childhood sweethearts, but she’s my fucking wife. I didn’t know what to do except start watching her like a hawk.”
“You keep your home office locked?” I asked.
Oran grimaced. “No. I considered starting to lock it after the guns disappeared, but I decided that would tip her off to my suspicions.”
“And you haven’t been able to find anything on her since then?”
“I’ve searched our house top to bottom, looked through her phone, and even fucking followed her when I could. She’s so damn clean, I’ve questioned my own sanity.”
“She was at Moxy,” Tor interjected tonelessly. All eyes turned to him. “I didn’t think anything of it, but I saw her there having words with that girl.”
“That girl?” I asked.
Torin finally lowered his gun. “Yeah, Darina, the server who disappeared. Caitlin was talking to her out back one day. I thought it was weird, but not my business.”
A cocktail of emotions stirred under my skin—disbelief, wariness, relief. Could that be our answer? Had sweet Caitlin been guilty of these unforgivable crimes against our family?
“She said you’ve been working with her brother,” I said to Oran, recalling my conversation with her outside Paddy and Nana’s place.
Oran’s face creased with disdain. “Seriously? Flynn’s an asshole with a chip on his shoulder big enough to sink the Titanic. I steer clear of him at all costs.”
Motherfucker.
I’d never even considered Flynn Donovan. “Could he be using her? Manipulating her into giving him information?” I wasn’t sure what leverage he might have, but it would explain a lot.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Oran answered gravely.
Before the meeting, I’d prepared myself mentally not to be swayed by denials just because Oran was my cousin. I had shut out all emotion and tried to view him as I would any other man I suspected of fucking us over. Even using my most unbiased filter, every fiber of my being agreed. He was telling the truth. Oran hadn’t betrayed the family.
I was so goddamn relieved.
I slid my gun back into its holster, leading my cousins to do the same. All four of us sat as we processed the implications of this new information. I was the first to vocalize my thoughts.
“Could Flynn have actually believed he’d get away with this?” The whole thing dumbfounded me. “What could he possibly have hoped to achieve?”
Conner shook his head with incredulity. “The Donovan family crumbled years ago. There’s no reviving it at this point.”
“I’m done wondering why,” Oran said with lethal calm. “The question is, what are we gonna do about it?”
I looked back at Conner. “You still have that stash of sodium pentothal from when we needed info out of that Albanian?”
He nodded. “After seeing how well it worked, I stocked up.”
Good. “Then I say we head to your house, Oran, and get some answers.” I held his tormented stare, my chest tightening. “I’m sorry to have doubted you. I hope you can understand.”
His gray eyes sharpened to polished steel. “That’s the thing. I do understand because the trail led directly to my door. That’s the worst part. I think she set me up to take the fall.”
That was fucked up.
How could she have sworn an oath, stood by Oran, and let him inside her body, all while forging his death warrant?
That was some cold shit. I couldn’t even imagine how my cousin must have felt.
“Come on, let’s get this over with. This shit ends today.”
