Oran, Conner, Torin, and I piled in my car to go confront Caitlin. We made a quick stop at the Bastion club on the way to retrieve the items we’d need, then arrived just before noon at Oran’s apartment building.
I texted Rowan to check on her while I waited for Conner to run inside Bastion. She assured me all was well. I hated that I had to worry about her, but dealing with Caitlin helped. At least I was moving toward a solution on one front. Once this was over, my cousins and I would find a way to deal with Wellington and Damyon.
“You ready for this?” I asked Oran quietly as we walked to the elevator.
“Don’t worry about me.” He’d been silent on the way over, nothing but resolute determination etched on his face, but I knew this had to be difficult.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. We can take care of it without you.”
“If she answers to anyone, it’ll be me. It’s my goddamn father she stole.”
Fair enough.
None of us said another word on the way up or even as we entered the apartment. Caitlin greeted us in the living room, her smile faltering at the cutting stares she received in return.
“What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Oran nodded toward the sofa. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes drifted down the line of us before she complied. Torin, Conner, and I stationed ourselves around the perimeter of the room.
“You’re kind of freaking me out.”
No one said a word.
Oran slowly stalked toward his wife. “How far back have you been planning this, Caitlin?” His voice was the menacing rumble of an angry panther.
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Was our marriage all a part of your plan to strike at us, or did you simply use the opportunity to your advantage?”
“Strike at you? Oran, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her wide eyes followed him intently as he began to pace.
“You made the call to my dad that night. You and I were the only ones who knew he’d be there.”
Her jaw dropped as though ready to dispute him, but he continued.
“I didn’t want to believe it, but when the guns went missing, I knew something was wrong. We had a mole at best and a fucking traitor at worst. You did a good job making it look like me. Fooled my cousins.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a black 9 mm. Stepping forward, he casually placed the barrel against her temple.
Caitlin’s body shuddered with a sob, tears filling her eyes. “Please, Oran. I didn’t want to do any of it. Please, he gave me no choice.”
“Flynn?” She gave a jerky nod.
Oran lowered the gun, still staring at her with ruthless calm. “You better pray that’s the truth.” He shot a look at Conner, who pushed off the wall and joined them with a small black box in his hands.
“Wha-what’s that?” she stuttered.
Conner lay the case on the coffee table and took out a syringe and small glass vial.
“Oran, what’s he doing? Please, baby. You’re scaring me.”
His patience thinning, he snatched her chin in his hand, squeezing her cheeks between thumb and fingers. “You should be scared, Caitlin. You’re about to tell us everything we ask, and if I judge you even the tiniest bit guilty, I’ll kill you my fucking self.”
Three yawning seconds passed in poignant silence before Caitlin jerked out of his hold and scurried away from him.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” she hissed, eyes blazing. “You’re fucking cowards, all of you. You deserve everything that’s come to you and worse.”
Oran lunged for her, snagging her wrist, then clamped his other hand around her throat. Torin and I rushed over to restrain her arms behind her back. She thrashed against us like a feral animal.
Jesus Christ.
A part of me had still felt certain there’d been a misunderstanding. She couldn’t have possibly been responsible. But there was no refuting the vicious hate spewing from her eyes. Her deception had been so extreme, I wondered if there weren’t somehow two of her because I’d never met the woman in front of us.
Once Torin and I had her secured, Oran released his hold, allowing breath back into her lungs. She coughed and wheezed. Her body vibrated with hate and fury when she finally lifted her stare back to her husband.
“I won’t tell you shit. I don’t care what you inject me with.”
Conner flicked the full syringe. “Why don’t we test that theory, huh?”
Torin and I held tight as Conner plunged the needle into her arm. Caitlin winced, clamping her mouth shut. We’d seen the drug in action, so we knew it was only a matter of time. Fifteen minutes later, her eyes rolled back as her lids drifted shut. Her entire body almost liquefied until we had to sit her down onto the couch.
“Caitlin, can you hear me?” Oran asked.
“Yes.” The single word was eerily toneless.
“Did you tell someone where Brody Byrne would be on the night of his death?”
None of us took a breath as we waited for her response.
“Yesss,” she slurred. “It was too perfect to pass up. Flynn was so excited when I called.” Pride lit her face.
A muscle twitched in Oran’s jaw—the only sign he gave that what she’d said had bothered him. “Why did Flynn want Brody dead?”
“He killed Daddy, of course.” Her voice grew disturbingly childlike. “And to weaken the Byrnes. If the Byrnes are weak, the Donovans can rise.” Her arms floated upward.
Oran slowly shook his head. “And the guns? Did Flynn take the guns?”
“He needed them.”
“Why?”
“For the scarred man.” She now had every ounce of my attention. This confirmed that Flynn was a link to Damyon.
“What was his name?” Oran continued, likely wanting to confirm we were talking about the same scarred man.
Caitlin shrugged. “Don’t know. Flynn never said and wouldn’t let me join him at the meetings.”
Before Oran could continue, I held up my hand. “How did you know he had a scar, Caitlin?”
Her lips quirked up in the corners. “Because I snuck a peek once. Flynn wouldn’t tell me anything, and I was curious.” Her eyes remained shut, but her hand lifted as though touching something before her. “He was unlike anyone I’d ever seen. Like Jack Frost had come to life, carved from pure ice.”
“Do you know anything else about him like where to find him?” I pushed.
Caitlin shook her head. “He’s no one. Just a shadow, and shadows can’t be found.”
I sat back against the couch cushion, disappointment a boulder on my chest.
“What about Darina, the young server at Moxy?” Oran continued the interrogation. “Did you have something to do with her disappearance?”
“Your slut girlfriend?” She scoffed. “I got rid of her.”
“Why? What did it matter to you?”
“You had no right,” she said, a sneer teasing at her lips.
“To cheat? That’s rather hypocritical coming from a traitor.”
“No.” Her dilated eyes slowly opened and met his. “No right to happiness.” The emptiness in her voice made my blood run cold.
Oran, however, was somewhere beyond reach. As though nothing she said could touch him. “All you did was damn yourself,” he responded in an equally hollow tone. “Because I never touched that girl.”
Caitlin gave a limp shrug and closed her eyes again.
Oran peered around the room for a second, then walked to the kitchen and returned with a phone in his hand. “Is this your only phone, Caitlin?”
A devious grin slithered across her face. “No.”
“Where do you keep the other?”
“Inside my box of tampons.” She half chuckled, entertained by her own cleverness.
Oran disappeared for a minute, then returned with a second phone. He lifted his wife’s head upright. “Open your eyes.” She obeyed. He swiped once the facial recognition had unlocked the phone.
He tapped several times, then slowly scrolled, his forehead creasing angrily. “The fuck? What is it? Some kind of Game of Thrones shit? Are you fucking kidding me?” Oran shot a look of incredulous disgust at his wife. “Tell me you are not in love with your own brother.”
“Of course, I love my brother,” she said with saccharine innocence.
“Have you fucked him?” Each word dripped disdain.
“No,” she shot back, a touch of emotion resurfacing.
“Do you want to?”
She finally opened her eyes again, leveling him with a semi-lucid stare. “More than I ever wanted to fuck you.”
Jesus. I shook my head. “Tor, go find something to tie her up with. Oran, think we can text and make him believe Caitlin wants to meet up?” We needed to focus, no matter how disturbing the degree of her dysfunction. Traveling down that road at the moment wasn’t going to help.
Oran grimaced and returned to scrolling. “We could figure out where Flynn was living and go to him, but setting up an ambush in neutral territory gives us more of an advantage. Looks like they did meet up on occasion, so that might work.”
He texted out a message and waited.
The phone buzzed.
“Says he’s got a meeting in an hour and asked if she can wait until tonight.”
I looked at Caitlin, coaxing her face toward mine. “Caitlin, look at me,” I said softly.
Her eyes cracked open.
“You love Flynn, right?”
She nodded.
“All you’ve ever wanted was to be with him—to make him proud?”
Moisture pooled on her lashes. “Yes,” she breathed.
“I bet that means you worry about him, don’t you?”
Again, a nod.
“You’ve even followed him, wanting to be close. To protect him. That’s how you saw the scarred man, am I right?” My heart thudded in my chest.
“The men he works with are so dangerous,” she whispered.
“Where does he meet with them, Caitlin?”
“The warehouse.”
“I need you to tell me where it is.”
A tear broke free and trickled down her cheek. “On 30th across from the High Line.”
I looked at Tor, who now stood behind her. “Secure her.”
He bit off a section of duct tape and placed it over her mouth, then set about taping her hands.
I turned back to Oran. “An hour doesn’t give us much time, but we have the element of surprise.”
“Let’s get that fucker.”
I’d never seen this scale of operation come together so quickly. We summoned every man available and each were given a specific station in or around the warehouse. Luckily, only one warehouse was situated on 30th across from the High Line, so we knew we had the right place.
It was run-down and looked abandoned. So stereotypically perfect for a lowlife like Flynn. The interior was full of dust-covered shelves still loaded with inventory, which made for excellent cover. One portion of the building by a garage bay showed signs of recent activity—tracks in the dust-coated floors and several crates that were newer than anything else in the building. Six of us positioned ourselves inside, just out of sight. We only had minutes to wait before the side door opened, and Flynn entered.
The stupid motherfucker was alone. It was no wonder the Donovans had ceased to exist. No one survived in our world without people watching your back—that was why families stuck together, and men like the Russian were so rare. There was power in numbers.
Knowing Flynn was meeting with someone, we had all agreed not to make a move until both parties were present and we could assess the situation. We sat silently while Flynn remained glued to his phone.
A half hour passed, and just as I’d begun to think the meeting had fallen through, a knock sounded at the metal door. Flynn rushed to open it. When the scar-faced Russian walked in with two men flanking him, I couldn’t believe our luck.
A calm certainty chilled the blood in my veins.
This was our chance—two birds, one stone. I wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
“Mr. Donovan,” Damyon said evenly in his Russian accent. “Thank you for meeting with me again.”
“Of course, you know I’m always happy—”
Damyon held up his hand. “Before you continue, you should know that we aren’t alone.”
Flynn stiffened, his eyes darting to the sides.
“Please do join us, gentlemen.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Things were not supposed to go down like this.
Oran and I shared a wary look, then stepped from the shadows. We still outnumbered them, and I’d be damned if I ever showed an ounce of fear to a man like the Russian, advantage or not.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Flynn spat, his face contorting in anger.
“If anyone here is answering questions, it’s you, Donovan, so shut the fuck up until you’re spoken to.” Oran’s command sliced through the room with lethal calm. He then turned to Damyon. “I’m surprised someone with your reputation willingly deals with this sort of incompetence.”
He raised his palms in an acquiescent gesture. “Normally, I wouldn’t. But you see, I didn’t come to the city for business and have no plans to stay long-term.”
A shocked silence echoed in the air.
“Is that so?” I cut in. “Because it looks like you’ve been establishing connections between Flynn here and your time at the Wellington house.”
Damyon raised a brow. Seems we managed to surprise him as well. “Tell me, Keir. Were you interested in my activities or those of my associate when you were watching the house?” His use of my name was intentional—a display of his knowledge and power.
“Your associate. You were just an unlucky coincidence.”
Flynn began to fidget. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your Russian friend here works with Lawrence Wellington, the shipping mogul. Apparently, the two are in the skin trade together,” I explained.
“Not exactly,” Damyon said. “We have a mutually beneficial arrangement for the moment.”
“You’re telling me you weren’t the source of the woman he has chained up in his house.” A tendril of anger snuck its way into my voice.
“Lawrence is too focused on financial gains to mess with keeping a pet. Now, his son, on the other hand…”
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sending my heart rate into orbit.
Stetson? The fucking runt? He’d been responsible for the girl in the attic? Surely not. If that was the case, he was infinitely more dangerous than I’d ever suspected.
I clenched my fists to keep from pulling my gun. An overwhelming need to get the fuck out of there jackhammered inside my head, demanding I do whatever was necessary to get to Rowan.
“Yes,” Damyon continued. “I was a little surprised as well. Though, I shouldn’t have been. Young Stetson fits the mold perfectly—spoiled yet neglected—makes for a nasty combination.” He tsked. “But that is not why I’m here. It has come to my attention that the items I acquired from Mr. Donovan were not his to distribute. As I said before, I’m only in town briefly and have no interest in making enemies.” He dropped his chin in a gentlemanly nod. “Please accept today as a sincere token of my apologies.”
With the flick of his wrist, light and sound exploded outward. The effect was so intense, I had no choice but to clamp my eyes shut, cover my ears, and drop down to the ground in the hope of avoiding possible gunfire. The sensory assault didn’t last long, though the smoke filling the room lingered.
“What the fuck was that?” Oran’s words were almost inaudible over the ringing in my ears.
“A goddamn flash-bang?” I called back. “Who the hell walks around with that sort of thing in their pocket?”
Disoriented and choking on smoke, we searched the area, but Damyon and his men were gone. At first, I thought Flynn had escaped with him. Then I noticed a body on the ground. Caitlin’s brother lay in a pool of his own blood, his throat slashed wide open. The Russian had killed him before escaping. An apology?
What the fucking hell?
I ran toward the door, hoping our men stationed outside had managed to stop him. They didn’t. And worse, those we could see were gagged and bound.
“He must have had an army of his own men out here,” I thought aloud. We’d thought he was working alone, but it looked like we’d been wrong.
“Yeah, but he didn’t harm anyone except Flynn. What the fuck does it all mean?” Oran stood at my side, both of us baffled.
“No fucking clue.” I took out my phone, and my heart thudded to a stop. Rowan had texted only minutes earlier. Her ex was on his way over to talk, and she had no idea he was a sociopath.
“Fuck!” The ragged curse exploded from my smoke-ravaged throat. I took one lurching step before a pair of hands wrenched me backward.
“Where are you going?” Oran barked. “He could still be out there.”
I didn’t even think. My fist was deep in his solar plexus before I realized what I’d done. “Don’t fucking care. Rowan’s in trouble, and if you get in my way again, I’ll break your fucking jaw.”
This time, no one tried to stop me.
