Chapter 25 Ronan
Chapter Twenty-Five
RONAN
The call from Harry Kennedy comes before I’ve even sat down at my desk, the city skyline serving as my backdrop for the rest of the evening.
I thought the change of scenery would help lift the permanent bad mood that has been following me around like a storm cloud these past few weeks, but I was wrong. I already know whatever Harry has to say isn’t good because he never does courtesy calls.
Standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the Empire State Building, I answer Harry’s call and hold the phone up to my ear.
“Yeah?”
“What the fuck are you playing at, Ronan?”
My stomach drops at the icy tone of his voice.
Harry’s not exactly a warm guy, but I’ve known him a long time, and he’s always spoken to me with a quiet respect. But right now, there’s nothing but animosity in his voice.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t insult me. You leaked sensitive, high-level intel about one of my shipments! Shit only your side had eyes on, and because of that, it’s now in the hands of the Caldwells.”
The Caldwells?
Fuck.
Harry offers me a never-ending string of expletives, and I pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger as I wait for him to finish.
“I didn’t leak anything. Neither did any of my brothers.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your brothers did or didn’t do. What I care about is that I’ve got a warehouse in ashes and twenty million dollars' worth of product gone. Someone sold me out, and all signs point to you.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, considering recent events, but I would have thought that my longstanding relationship with Harry, as well as my reputation, would be enough to earn me the benefit of the doubt. But it seems it’s not.
“We’re not behind this, Harry. You know me. We’ve done business for years.”
“I used to think I knew you.”
“Harry, come on—”
“No, Ronan. We’re done here.”
And just like that, my mood goes from bad to worse as he hangs up the phone.
“Fuck!” I slam my phone down onto the desk so hard the screen cracks, but I don’t care.
This is the third hit I’ve taken because of this fucking mole, and they don’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon. If anything, they’re only raising the stakes.
I spend the next few hours trying to talk Harry down, refusing to let him back out of our working relationship.
I call twice, leaving messages both times before taking another route and sending a message through his second-in-command.
I offer to meet face-to-face on his territory, but I get nothing but silence in return.
Only when I leave him yet another voicemail offering to write him a check for the money he lost do I get him back on the line.
“Have you officially lost your goddamn mind?”
“I thought you’d be pleased?”
“I don’t need your charity, Sullivan. I need my product.”
“Which I don’t have.” I lean back in my chair and turn around to stare out of the window. “What I do have is a mole inside my operation who is feeding information to the highest bidder.”
“A mole?”
“Yes. Trust me, Harry, I wasn’t the one who leaked the intel on your shipment.”
It takes everything I’ve got to keep the conversation civil, to sound reasonable instead of furious.
Harry’s old-school and of my father’s generation, which means he values loyalty more than profit.
I can tell he wants to believe me by the way he pauses before he speaks.
“You’ve got one chance. You better find out who’s doing this and fast because if another deal goes sideways, I won’t be calling again. I’ll be sending someone.”
“Understood.”
He ends the call, and I sit in silence.
The Sullivan reputation is hanging by a thread. Any more cracks, and everything my father fought so hard to build will crumble, all because some coward is using my trust against me.
I get to my feet and start pacing around my office. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears after the call with Harry, and the walls feel like they’re closing in, slowly suffocating me.
The mole is always ahead. Every move we make, they’re already there, laughing while we scramble to put out fires. But at some point, the game must come to an end, and I refuse to let them be the one left standing.
I grab my phone and call Kieran.
“Get Brennan and Cormac to meet at your place. I’m on my way.”
He doesn’t ask questions. He simply grunts before hanging up as I’m halfway out the door.
“You look like you’re about to kill someone.” Kieran pours me a drink as I walk into his study fifteen minutes later.
Cormac and Brennan are already seated around the old poker table, both frowning as they notice the expression on my face.
“Give me a reason not to.” I take the glass my brother hands me but set it down on the bar, untouched.
Brennan’s jaw is tight. “We heard about Kennedy. That fucker is really pulling out?”
I nod once. “Unless we find the mole and prove it wasn’t us. That’s the third deal in a month that’s gone to shit.”
Cormac looks like smoke could come out of his ears in a second or two. “Someone’s bleeding us dry. And they’re fucking smart about it.”
“That’s what pisses me off the most. This isn’t some rookie mistake. Whoever is behind this knows how we operate.”
Brennan nods. “No outside player could’ve fed the Caldwells that intel. Not unless they had someone watching our every move.”
Kieran stalks out from behind the bar, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and takes a seat at the table. “So, what do we do?”
I pick up my glass and take a sip, setting it down again. “I’ve got Angus looking into some of our guys, but we need to do more. We can’t wait for him to stumble across something. We need to flush this bastard out ourselves.”
Cormac leans forward. “How?”
“It’s time we set the trap.”
“Are you sure it’s the right time?”
“Would you rather wait until our entire operation goes up in flames?”
“I’m just saying, if our guys catch wind that we’re questioning their loyalty…”
I raise my eyebrows. “Care to finish that sentence, brother?”
“We can’t afford for any of them to walk.”
“They won’t.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Brennan leans back in his seat. “We pay them enough to keep their loyalty.”
I shake my head. “Right now, loyalty means shit. So, I think it’s time we set our trap.”
Kieran takes a swig straight from the whiskey bottle. “I agree.”
Brennan looks between all of us, his eyes falling on me. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think we should stick to the plan we had last time. Feed different pieces of fake intel to different parts of our operation. Each department will get slightly different locations, names, and drop-off times. Something that sounds legit but isn’t.”
Kieran nods. “Then we wait and see which one leaks.”
“Exactly.” I rub at the stubble on my chin.
“It’s a solid plan, Ronan.”
“Good, because it’s the only one I have.”
Cormac frowns. “And if it doesn’t work?”
Kieran takes another swig straight from the bottle. “Since when are you the pessimistic one?”
“I’m just making sure our asses are covered, that’s all.”
“You didn’t seem to give a shit about covering our asses for the past few yea—”
I slam my fist on the table. “Enough! Let it go, Kieran.”
Brennan shakes his head. “When does Kieran ever let anything go?”
“That’s right, little brother. And you still owe me a grand from our poker game.”
“That was two fucking years ago.”
Kieran taps the side of his head and smirks. “And yet, I haven’t forgotten.”
Brennan looks at me for backup, but I just shrug.
“Don’t look at me, I just offered twenty million to Harry Kennedy.”
Cormac turns to face me. “You did what? Jesus Christ, Ronan.”
“He didn’t accept it. It was a gesture of good faith.”
“Or complete idiocy.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Cormac.”
Kieran whistles under his breath before taking another drink, and I shoot him a look.
“What? I’m on your side here!” He holds up the bottle of whiskey in a mock toast. “I think the plan is solid.”
“You think it’ll work?”
“If it doesn’t, then at least we’ve ruled a few people out. But if it does work, we can narrow the leak down to a department, and then we close in.”
Brennan shrugs. “It’s risky. If any of the fake intel involves our allies or critical supply lines, it could cause more damage.”
“Which is why we don’t give out anything that would actually hurt us. We make the intel just real enough to pass as credible but fake enough to isolate the mole.”
Cormac gives a slow nod. “We take back control over the flow of information and see what gets out.”
Kieran leans back. “Exactly.”
I look at each of my brothers in turn. “No one outside this room hears about it. Even one loose comment could blow this wide open, and we can’t risk it.”
Brennan drains the last of his whiskey and puts the glass down. “All right. We’ll need to coordinate the fake intel today and push it out tomorrow.”
I take a sip from my glass. “I’ll handle the intel itself. Each piece will be tailored specifically to each department. I’ll loop it into existing operations and make it subtle enough that it won’t draw attention.”
Cormac’s eyes narrow. “We’ll need eyes on the ground, tracking if any of the fake intel leads to movement from outside players. If someone takes the bait, we’ll know fast.”
Kieran nods.
“I’ll get our most loyal guys on it. No one who’s been inside our meeting rooms in the last six months.”
Brennan raises an eyebrow.
“You have loyal guys who haven’t been inside those meetings?”
“Two or three quiet ones. I trust them to watch and report, but more importantly, not to ask questions.”
As the plan starts to take shape, hope flickers inside me for the first time in weeks. It’s small, but it’s enough.
“If we do this right, we’ll have our mole exposed within days.”
And if we don’t, we’re not just looking at the end of our empire.
We’re looking at all-out war.
After the meeting, I drive home with my hands clenched tight on the wheel. My mind is already running simulations, planning which departments will get which fake drops and calculating potential consequences of each fabricated lie.
I’ve narrowed my focus to warehouse logistics, shipping schedules, and the accounts team. They’re isolated enough to keep the plan contained but important enough that I imagine the mole won’t be able to resist taking the bait.
I’ll make sure to code each leak differently.
Maybe I could buy a storage facility set to receive a fake weapons shipment as well as a fake cash transfer.
I could even set up a meeting between me and a supposed foreign contact.
It would be enough to warrant the mole’s attention, but not too much to put real assets at risk.
And if any of it gets out? We’ll know exactly who to pin it on.
My mind is so full that I barely register pulling into the garage at the house and killing the engine. It’s almost midnight, but the lights are still on downstairs as I enter through the kitchen, which means Ciara must still be up.
The thought of hearing her voice melts some of the tension from my body.
I don’t know how I ever felt fulfilled coming home to an empty house and a bottle of whiskey. Right now, Ciara is all I need.
The soft sound of her laughter comes from the TV room, so I creep to the door and press my ear against it to soak up the sound. It seems she’s alone too, which pleases me more than it should.
When Ciara laughs again, I push open the door and my blood heats when she glances over her shoulder at me. There’s color in her cheeks and a spark in her eyes that I haven’t seen in days.
It seems having Mila visit did her some good.
She smiles. “Hey. You’re back.”
“And you’re still up.” I lean over the back of the couch and press a kiss to her temple.
“I wanted to wait up for you.”
“I’m glad you did.” I perch on the back of the couch and stroke my thumb over her cheek.
She leans into my touch, her green eyes scanning my face in that way she does when she’s trying to figure out what’s on my mind.
I force myself to smile, hoping she won’t ask too many questions. “Did you have a good evening?”
Ciara looks away as she nods. “Yeah, Mila left an hour ago.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, you know… ordered takeout and watched a chick flick.” She keeps her eyes averted.
I narrow my eyes.
“Is everything okay with her?” I ask because it’s clear something is on Ciara’s mind.
Her throat bobs as her eyes remain on the TV, so I reach out to gently stroke her cheek again.
“Talk to me, Tine Bheag.”
“Mila’s not in a great place. She’s still grieving.”
I wince at Ciara’s words, but she seems too lost in her thoughts to notice.
“That’s understandable.” I try to ignore the guilt pooling in my stomach.
“I think talking helped. There’s not much else I can do other than be a listening ear.”
“She’s lucky she has you.”
Ciara shrugs, and I can tell she’s becoming even more lost in her head, so I climb over the back of the couch and pull her against me. She nestles against my side, and I stretch out my legs, biting back a groan at the soreness in my muscles.
I’m starting to run on empty, and the sleepless nights are taking their toll, but I can’t afford to take my foot off the gas just yet.
“I’m glad Mila was here.”
Ciara tilts her head to look up at me. “Because it wasn’t Stephan keeping me company for once?”
I wince. “Not…exactly.” I sigh. “Look, I trust you. But my trust isn’t the issue here.
It’s knowing what this world can do and how easy it is to lose what matters most. I see someone near you, and I react like I’m under attack.
It’s like the night in the warehouse all over again.
You and Mila managed to walk away, but what if next time we’re not so lucky? ”
Ciara’s face softens as she reaches up to stroke my cheek. “You won’t lose me, Ronan.”
“I know, but the fear doesn’t always listen to logic. But I want to be better for you and for us.”
She moves to rest her head on my shoulder. “You’re trying, and that’s what matters.”
I wrap my arm around her, letting myself exhale for the first time today.
I don’t tell her about the trap we’re setting to catch the mole because the fewer people who know, the better.
But the clock is ticking, and every hour I don’t catch them is another hour they could burn everything to the ground.