Chapter 4
4
FIONN
Anger like I’d never felt thrummed inside my chest, making it hard to breathe. My fingers itched to turn into a fist and smash against the car window, but I held back the rage. This wasn’t Daire’s vehicle, it was Sloan’s, and causing unnecessary damage would only give my uncle another reason to lecture me about responsibility.
“We’re here,” Daire said, and I turned to look ahead, focusing on the small cabin surrounded by an unmaintained lawn. It wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d never actually been to Mastic Beach, but I’d anticipated something like Southampton, with long stretches of sand—covered in snow—and crashing waves. It wasn’t quite that. Actually, it wasn’t anything special. Even though this detective lived near water, it looked more like a swamp than an actual beach, and even with the majestic vision of freshly fallen snow brushed across the ground, a trailer-park version of any decent town would be prettier.
Daire had said it was no Southampton, and he wasn’t wrong.
“Okay, I take what I said back. This is a dump.”
“Not all of it. You’re seeing one area.”
I crinkled my nose. “It’s a shithole.”
“You’re just spoiled.” He quirked an amused grin in my direction. “You grew up in Southampton. You had it too good. Not everyone was raised by someone like Sloan.”
I turned to stare at him. “It’s. A. Shithole.”
He sighed and shook his head as he opened his door, stepping out of the car. I considered staying in the cab and letting Daire do all the communicating with this disaster of a cop, but it would only disappoint Sloan further, so I reluctantly left the car. I met Daire on his side, and we walked toward the cabin together.
Before we could knock, he nudged me with his shoulder. “You do the talking.”
“Why?” I glared at him. “Men like this look down on me because I’m younger than Sloan.”
He gave me a soft smile. “Sloan became boss even younger than you are now. Do you think people wanted to listen to him? He made them listen. You do the same.”
“You have more faith in me than my uncle does.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I wanted so badly for Sloan to see my potential, and every time it looked like he would, I let my emotions win and get the best of me. But I’d made it my mission to prove to Sloan I could do this.
No more tears.
Daire didn’t say anything, and I was glad. Ignoring him, I knocked on the door of the crappy little house, which creaked with a strong gust of wind. It sounded ready to collapse.
We didn’t have to wait long before the door opened. The man who stood on the other side was exactly the kind of person I’d expected. Tall with square shoulders, the ex-detective had pure white hair in a combed-back style. He had a beer gut and wore a white tank top and brown shorts, obviously unbothered about getting dressed for the guests he was expecting. He stared straight past me at Daire.
“You Daire?” he asked in a gruff, no-nonsense tone, his Brooklyn accent thick and nasally. He sounded like a man who’d smoked too many cigarettes in his life. The acrid smell lingering in the air made me scrunch my nose.
“I am. This is Fionn Killough, the boss’s nephew.” He gestured at me.
The ex-detective gave me a once-over and grunted, throwing the door wide open and turning his back, then walking through a small living room littered with empty beer cans and dirty dishes. The stench was tear inducing, and I held my breath as I followed him through the disgusting room toward a kitchen with a small round table, which didn’t look much better. The sink was overflowing with plates and empty glasses, and boxes and trash were piled on the counters. It took all my effort not to dry heave at the sight and smell.
The detective waved at the table, which was clear, as if he’d cleaned it for the visit, and I made sure to keep my face expressionless as I took a seat, careful that I wasn’t sitting on anything gross. This suit cost a fortune.
Daire took the chair beside me. “Sir, this is former Detective John Pellegrini.”
“Italian?” I asked automatically.
Pellegrini grunted. “Born and bred in Brooklyn, but my parents came over from Prato.”
I nodded, assuming that was a city in Italy. It made sense why he was on Folliero’s payroll; although, the Company had a fair few Italians on ours, too. When it came to money, it didn’t matter who offered it, as long as the spies got it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were Irishmen in Folliero’s little black book, too.
“Daire tells me that you have information about a rat problem we’re experiencing.” I couldn’t help sliding my gaze over to the counter, where a mouse was standing on its hind legs, chewing a piece of dried cheese that looked like it had been sitting there for weeks. I held back a cringe. Ironic, considering he was a rat right now.
“Depends. What you got?” Pellegrini smiled, showing stained yellow teeth.
Daire cleared his throat. “I told you, what we have depends on what you give us.”
“You got any money here?” Pellegrini narrowed his eyes on him.
“Maybe.” Daire kept his voice calm and crossed his knee, his posture giving off a casual I’m not fucking around vibe that I’d always found sexy. It was hard to tear my attention from him—my mouth was watering—and glance back toward Pellegrini.
“Tell us what you know,” I demanded, taking over.
Pellegrini’s gaze shifted to me. He hummed, then stood, walking over to his fridge. Throwing open the door, he glanced at us over the top. “You want a beer?”
“No,” I answered bluntly. “What I want are answers. I’m a busy man, Mr. Pellegrini. Come and sit down and give me what I want.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Daire smiling proudly, and it was all I could do not to straighten my back and puff out my chest.
Pellegrini grunted and kicked the fridge door closed once he had a can in his hand. He walked back and threw himself down on his chair, like a child who’d gotten into trouble. He opened his beer and took a long slurp, some of the alcohol sloshing down his chin and onto his white shirt.
I cringed. “Mr. Pellegrini?—”
“Yeah, yeah.” He let out a loud belch and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Diaz. You want to know about the informant she had.”
“Yes.” I sat up straighter. “What information and how much you provide us with will determine how much cash we hand you in return. So, talk.”
“Hm.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly thoughtfully. “Diaz was a bitch.”
I stared, unamused. From what I understood, a lot of male detectives had the same view of any woman in their field.
“She was a pain in the ass to criminals, to cops, to everyone. She was a know-it-all bitch.” He grunted, and for a brief moment, I felt bad for Diaz. She’d had to work with lazy bastards like this. Pellegrini looked like the type of man who liked criminals—even the lowest forms—to grease his palms, all while preaching about protecting the force from women detectives. If I didn’t hate Diaz so much or want to know who she had as an informant, I might’ve shot Pellegrini right here and now. I’d be doing the world a favor.
“I don’t care what Diaz was like. If this is all you have, we will be leaving.” I went to stand, but Pellegrini moved lightning fast for a drunk and grabbed my elbow.
Daire slapped the hand away from me and glared at the former detective. Unmasked fury swept over his face and he gritted his teeth. “Never touch him. Ever.”
Pleasure at the surprise protectiveness from Daire simmered low in my stomach and my cheeks heated in desire. The anger on his face transformed him from a regal, untouchable man—who rarely showed emotions—to one who was protective and furious and handsome.
Fuck . My cock twitched, and it took all my effort not to get hard in seconds. I crossed my legs to prevent them from seeing what the sight of his anger did to me. Damn it, I was mad at him. I couldn’t let his reaction affect me like this.
Pellegrini held up his palms. “Sorry, sorry!”
“He is never to be touched,” Daire growled out, eyes flashing. “I will cut your hands clean off if you do it again.”
I let out an excited breath, my chest shuddering under the exhale, and focused on Pellegrini again. Butterflies danced inside me, making me feel fluttery and light.
Pellegrini grunted out a laugh and sat back in his chair. He grabbed his beer and took another large slurp, then slammed it down on the table. The empty can crumpled under the force. “Do you wanna know about Diaz or not?”
“Yes, we do.” I kept my tone neutral, even though I was fucking giddy on the inside. Sloan would be proud. “Tell me what you know.”
He burped and thumped his chest before answering. “Listen, Diaz didn’t trust us, all right? She liked to keep her informants close to her chest.”
I wonder why. “So, you don’t know who her rat is, then? Are you wasting our time?”
“No,” Pellegrini snapped, glaring. His fingers twitched where his hand rested on the table. “Like I said, she kept her informants close to her chest, but she needed to write down their contact information, didn’t she? And I know where to find it.”
“You think we haven’t been through her belongings?” I asked. “We searched her house from top to bottom, and everything she owned has now been passed on to living relatives.”
“Relatives who didn’t give a damn about her,” Pellegrini growled out, slamming his hand on the table. “They were happy to give us anything they found with names in it.”
“And have they found something?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know you were looking for it.” He glared at the table. “I passed everything I found to the Folliero Family. They wanted to check if they knew anyone on her list, and if they did, they’d deal with them. After they were done with it, they were going to give it back so I could do some blackmailing of my own, but they haven’t been returning my calls.” His jaw clenched.
“So, let me get this right.” Any pleasure I felt about seeing Daire’s protectiveness disappeared, leaving behind a buzzing anger that beat against my temples at Pellegrini’s confession. If the Follieros had the list of informants, they should’ve passed it on to Sloan.
They hadn’t.
This was a termination of their association agreement with the Killough Company, and Sloan wouldn’t like hearing that Elio had been hiding Diaz’s rats from him. “You passed any interesting belongings from Diaz to the Follieros, believing you’d get it back. And now that you haven’t, you’re trying to convince us to give you money for telling us that you gave it to Elio Folliero’s men?”
“Well... yeah.” He grinned in a smarmy way. “It was six months ago that her relatives gave me the book. If you were such good friends, you’d have it already, wouldn’t you? What does that say about your alliance with Folliero?”
The bastard knew he had us by the balls, and I wasn’t awed by it. I sniffed and glanced at Daire, who had his composure again. His back was straight and his eyes dark as they rested on me, waiting for my move.
“How much did you expect for a small amount of information like that?” I clenched my teeth together, reminding myself of Sloan’s lessons. Stay calm, and don’t let them know they’ve pissed you off. Your face must always be blank. Let them guess what you feel. “You didn’t give us what we wanted.”
“But I told you where to get it. I at least deserve a quarter.”
“A quarter of a million?” I chuckled, resting my fingers against my lips. “You want a quarter? Don’t make me laugh. You’ve given us nothing .”
Pellegrini’s smile fell and he shoved to his feet, pointing a finger at me. “You wouldn’t know where to find that book without me.”
I leaned forward. “And you only told us because your favorite little Italians aren’t talking to you. Are they not playing nice?”
Daire chuckled low in his throat. “And now he’s telling on them because he didn’t get his way.”
I laughed harder and glanced into his eyes, which twinkled with pride.
Pellegrini hissed between his teeth, spit flying and nearly landing on my freshly polished shoes. “You think this is funny? I gave you information, and now I want my cut, or I’ll take you to my cop friends and make sure you land your ass in prison.”
I shot to my feet. I towered over him to convey my dominance to the former detective, and it earned me a pained wince from Pellegrini.
“Do not threaten a Killough,” I said calmly. “You’re nothing but used goods, Mr. Pellegrini, and we can make you disappear like you never existed.”
Pellegrini swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “I want my money.”
“We’ll give you ten, that’s all.” I took a step away and offered him a smile. “Take it or leave it. Either way, Mr. Reardon and I will be leaving, and if I get even a hint that your officer friends are sniffing around us, we will end you for good. Am I clear?”
His chest heaved and nostrils flared. “Ten is fucked.”
“We’re not going any higher.” I crossed my arms. “Ten or nothing.”
“Folliero’s men gave me a hundred.”
“And you gave them the rats’ names. Something we wanted that you didn’t give to us.” I shrugged. “A shame for you. We would’ve given you half a million for that book.”
He came toward me, stumbling. “You fucking?—”
Daire shot in front of me like a wall of security, his posture defensive. Even in a suit, his body looked amazing, the kind of armor I enjoyed having. Too bad it didn’t come with him wanting more than sex.
He raised his hand toward Pellegrini. “I’d be very careful about what you say next.”
Pellegrini’s cheeks and forehead turned a bright red and his glare intensified. “Ten is fine.”
Daire grunted like he didn’t believe him but nodded, backing away and guiding me to move with him. We walked out the door, and Pellegrini followed, half stumbling in a way that confirmed he’d most likely been drinking all morning or was still drunk from last night. When we got to the car, Daire pointed at the opposite side, and I moved to stand there while Daire popped the trunk, pulling out a few stacks of hundred dollar bills from a black duffel bag and passing them to him.
Pellegrini watched, jaw tight enough to shatter, and his attention caught on the bag with the many other stacks of cash he’d never get. “What if I can give you more?”
“Like what?” I asked, though I wasn’t expecting much.
“The Follieros. Obviously, they aren’t telling you what they should, are they? Maybe I can keep an eye on them for you. Share what they’re doing.” He tried to smile, but it was fake, and I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
I pressed my lips together and walked next to Daire beside the trunk. I grabbed out another ten grand and passed it to Pellegrini, and the ex-detective’s smile was real this time— almost excited, as though thinking about how much beer he could buy with it.
“Keep us informed.”
Pellegrini nodded and staggered his way back into the house.
Daire and I watched him until the door closed.
“You don’t honestly believe he’ll tell us anything, do you?” Daire frowned at me.
I blinked up at him. “Of course not. Elio isn’t stupid, and with Pellegrini cut off from them, he won’t ever find out anything of importance from the Italian mob.”
“Why give him the extra cash?”
“To make him go away without trouble.” I shrugged. “It was worth it to know Elio’s got something we want and hasn’t told us about.”
He gave me an impressed grin. “Smart.”
“I know.” My chest swelled with smugness as I flounced to my side of the car.
He chuckled as he unlocked the vehicle, and we both got into our respective sides. As soon as he hit the ignition, Daire put his foot down, and the SUV took off back toward the main highway and home.
I stared out the window, taking in the large houses we passed and the snowy landscape of the Hamptons. Everything was slow paced here, unlike the city, where the streets were filled with cars and people. I preferred the quiet, and I loved Sloan’s home—I had since he took me in as a kid and later as his apprentice, much to my mom’s distaste, which she made sure to tell me the last time I’d talked to her. But I didn’t regret a moment, even with the punishments that came with my failures. Sloan was the only father figure I had.
“Question time,” Daire murmured. “Pellegrini. If you were the boss, what would you do with him now?”
“Hm?” I glanced at him and settled into the leather of the BMW. The seats were toasty and the inside of the cab was warm from the heater blasting. Outside, winter was in full swing, gray clouds clumped together with snow beginning to fall again. I loved the cold—it came with skiing and snowmobiling, some of my favorite hobbies, even though I hadn’t done them in a while.
“If you were in Sloan’s position, what would you do with Pellegrini now?”
I thought about my options carefully. This was the most substantive conversation Daire had shared with me in a long time, and if it meant we’d have to discuss work to get him to talk more, I would take it. Usually, when we went off to find out information about the rat, he would keep his words to the bare minimum. When we fucked, it involved a lot of grunting, groaning, and sobs, but he didn’t have a lot to say except to order me around.
“He’s basically useless. He gave the book to Folliero, and now the Italians don’t want anything to do with him. He’s a threat who could call in his cop buddies to come after us because we didn’t pay him what he wanted.” I took in Daire’s strong jaw. I couldn’t keep my eyes to myself, even if I wanted. “If I were Sloan, I’d send Ardan to deal with him. Or maybe ask Cillian, Aspen, and Rowen to take him for some fun and games.”
Daire smirked and drummed the steering wheel with his fingers, a sign I’d made the right choice. “Choose, then make the call.”
“What?” My mouth popped open in surprise. “That’s Sloan’s decision, not mine.”
“Your uncle wants you to start making some choices on your own. He trusts you, despite what you think.” His gaze slid over to me and the softness in his eyes had my stomach melting. “He wanted me to guide you to be a boss, Fionn.”
“Sloan’s going to be around for a long time,” I said in a rush, panic seizing my chest. I couldn’t imagine a life without my uncle. As far as I was concerned, Sloan was the only family I had. Mom and my brothers had all but forgotten about me once I’d gone to live with Sloan. Mom called randomly—mostly when she wanted money. The last time I’d talked to her was a few years back. They lived in Erie, Pennsylvania, near the lake. I sent them money every month to help my two younger brothers, Diarmuid and Bellamy, with college fees and other expenses. I hadn’t actually talked to my brothers for over ten years, though. I never tried and neither did they.
“Yes, he is, but the mafia life is dangerous. You never know what’s going to happen.” Daire smiled sadly. “He wants you prepared, and you made a choice with Pellegrini, a good one. Call Ardan to take him out.”
Swallowing became difficult. I’d never made the phone call to Ardan about killing someone. I’d never needed to because Sloan always made them. The fact that Sloan trusted me enough to decide how to handle someone was both terrifying and exciting. After the outburst yesterday, I was sure I’d fucked up one too many times.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my phone from the inside pocket of my jacket and scrolled the names, finding Ardan’s, and then tapped it. A few rings later, Ardan answered.
“How can I help, sir?” Ardan’s sharp, blunt voice was sobering. On the other end of the line was an assassin, ready to kill at my orders. I would finally take another person’s life through one of our men. A first of many, probably.
Sloan was in the process of having someone design an advanced phone app that we could send secure messages on. Our last one had been compromised, so we had to go old school until everything was confidential again. The DEA and government agencies were upping their techniques on us.
I glanced at Daire from the corner of my eye and got a nod in response. Taking a deep breath, I straightened in my seat. “How are you today?”
“Good.” I heard Ardan’s controlled excitement through his voice, even though he stayed professional.
“Do you remember a man named John?” I asked, recalling the things Sloan had recently implemented to avoid directly saying what he wanted done, in case we ever had anyone listening to our calls. He’d never cared before, but the heat on us was growing.
“No sir, I don’t. What was his last name?”
“I don’t remember. He was a guy who lived across the street from me when I was younger. I think my father knew him.” I glanced at Daire, who sent me a wink. “He was a funny man. He loved a woman with the last name Pellegrini.”
“Really?” Ardan snorted. “An Italian, I presume.”
“Of course. With a name like Pellegrini, she must be, right? Last time I heard, she was living in Mastic Beach.” It was simple, to the point.
“Don’t know her. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I need to go to work.”
My throat constricted and I cleared it. “Yes, go ahead.”
The line went dead, and I stared at the screen of my phone, which slipped back to the home picture of me and Sloan at my eighteenth birthday party. The trust my uncle had put in me to make decisions like this had me floating high on adrenaline. The blood in my veins pumped so loudly it sounded like a jet engine in my ears. My head pounded from the thrill.
“I did that,” I whispered, staring at my phone in wonder. “Was it okay? It wasn’t too obvious, was it?”
“You did that.” Daire reached over to pat me on the shoulder. “A little obvious, but that’s all right. You’ll get more chances to practice.”
I turned my head toward him, and his hand rose to my cheek, fingers caressing my skin gently. The act was intimate and my breath caught. As though he realized his mistake, he yanked his hand away and gripped the wheel again, focusing on the road.
My insides lit up with a mixture of pleasure and need, the warmth of his fingers still lingering on my cheek. This was the second time in two days he’d touched me outside of sex. I didn’t know what had changed, but I drank in every tiny bit of affection Daire gave me, even if it was foolish.
My heart ached and so did my soul, the deep need growing inside me, even though I wanted to tamp it down and move on, find someone who would love me in return. What was wrong with me? I’d told Daire not to talk to me unless it was about work, and within an hour, I’d faltered.
Maybe I was weak.