Chapter Twenty-Six Tiernan
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TIERNAN
What I needed to do right now was read the file Sam Brennan sent me on Lyosha’s adventures in Moscow, then try to gauge his next move.
What I did in practice, however, was streamline the entire night of Luca’s wedding to figure out which guest had followed her—Angelo or Tate.
Tate’s motive was flimsy at best. He was happily married, his wife had just given birth to their son, and, judging by the fact he had almost set the entire city on fire when I kidnapped her, it seemed unlikely he’d jeopardize his relationship for a quick shag.
Then again, Angelo was a member of the Chicago Outfit.
Touching the Camorra princess was a war declaration.
One the New York–based Mafia would win by a landslide.
I was hitting one dead end after the other. The crime scene was contaminated now, and my suspects were high-profile enough to refrain from conducting themselves sloppily. Their phones and computer records all came back spotless.
“It’s not Angelo who did this,” Achilles said.
“He’s my best bet.” I cracked my knuckles.
“Let me spell it out for you, in case I wasn’t clear enough.
” Achilles stacked his feet on my desk at Fermanagh’s, sitting back leisurely.
“I’ll be fucked and damned if I let you drag an Outfit and family member into my dungeon and watch you shred off his skin with a kebab slicer to interrogate him based off your hunch. ”
“It’s not a hunch,” Fintan said heatedly. “He disappeared right after she did for an entire hour before he came back. He’s also the single, childless one between the suspects, so fewer strings attached.”
“So did the fourteen other men,” Achilles pointed out.
“Thirteen, seeing as we crossed off oxygen tank fella.” Tierney was keeping score.
“Shut up, piccola fiamma. The grownups are speaking now.”
“Piccola fiamma?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Little flame.” Tierney rolled her eyes coquettishly. “He has a slight obsession problem. I tried to gift him an autograph and a pair of used underwear, but he’s relentless.”
I scowled at Achilles. I didn’t appreciate him shutting my sister up. I appreciated even less that he seemed to haunt her no matter where she went.
“Oh, and no one’s asking for your permission to talk.” Tierney skewered him with a glare. “Mr. They-Haven’t-Built-a-Condom-Big-Enough.”
“I’ve good news, sweetheart. The condom’s been built. Wanna give it a try?”
“I could do without watching my sister and brother-in-law engaging in verbal foreplay while we work.” I returned my attention to the suspect list in front of me. “Let’s stick to the subject.”
“Luca’s in Chicago, so I’m speaking here on his behalf,” Achilles said. “And I’m telling you he won’t be game to interrogate his wife’s brother unless you come to him with a concrete piece of evidence.”
“Okay, can I play devil’s advocate here?” Tierney paced along the small office.
“Doing the devil’s PR is actually the perfect job for you, if you weren’t too lazy to hold one,” Achilles mused. Tierney shot him a deadly glare but continued.
“Angelo is basically family to the Ferrantes. He’s going to be seeing Lila socially for decades to come. Why would he run the risk Lila would snitch?”
“How the bleeding hell can she snitch?” Fintan frowned. “She’s nonverbal.”
Achilles shook his head. “It was a misdiagnosis. She is hard of hearing, but intellectually astute.”
“What?” Fintan’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, and he turned to look at me. “You knew about this?”
I nodded.
“When did you find out?”
“Pretty much on our wedding night, when she tried to kill me several times,” I said dryly. “She confessed a few days ago.”
“She speaks?”
“ASL, yes. It was obvious from the get-go intelligence wasn’t the issue.” Tierney stopped at the open-space kitchenette, pouring herself a three-hour-old coffee. “Jury’s still out on her brother, though.”
“I’ll have some of that coffee.” Achilles pointed at Tierney with the hand that held his cigarette. Everyone in the room, including the coffeepot, knew the order wouldn’t fly.
Astonishingly, Tierney poured another cup.
She strutted her way to Achilles’s side of the desk, raised her arm, and poured the dark liquid over his head.
He snatched the paper cup quickly—no more than a few droplets of coffee grazing his attire—and flicked it on Tierney’s dress.
She sucked in a breath, staring at him in rage.
Her miscalculation surprised me. He was, among other things, an assassin.
Killer instincts were what kept him alive.
“You asshole!” she growled.
“Tierney, get out,” I ordered.
“What? Why me?”
“Because you’ll end up hitting him, and something tells me he’ll hit you back, and then I’ll have to kill him, which will derail all my plans.”
“He should be the one to go!”
“I need to negotiate Angelo with him.”
“You know what? Screw all of you.” She stomped away, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.
She’d get him next time. My twin shared my uncanny ability to turn rage into power.
Achilles flaked drops of coffee from his Tom Ford shirt, turning to me. “As I said, Angelo’s motive doesn’t add up.”
“Neither does Tate’s,” I responded.
“Why isn’t Lila solving this predicament?” Fintan frowned, gathering the documents in front of us into a stack. “Surely, she could point the attacker out for you if you showed her pictures of all the men in question.”
“That’s the problem.” I tapped a pen to my desk rhythmically.
“She remembers what happened, and has vague flashbacks, but she doesn’t remember his face at all.
Probably blocked it as some sort of a coping mechanism.
And since Achilles cares more about saving face than about his sister… ” I trailed off.
“Bring me a shred of proof he did it, and I’ll help you gut him alive,” Achilles said. “You’ve got the wrong guy, Callaghan. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think those pesky things called feelings are clouding your judgment.”
“I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to kill the bastard myself,” I conceded. But it had nothing to do with feelings. I needed to bury the secret with him.
“Stand in line, fuckface.” Achilles tossed his phone between his fingers. “I don’t think I’ll even be able to get a few kicks in, with the way Enzo and Luca are consumed by it. You still keeping your filthy hands off my baby sis?”
He was talking about the nice duffel bag full of cash he disposed of at Fermanagh’s every first of the month.
Not for long.
“For now,” I said noncommittally.
“Mama said you sleep in the same bed. Is that right?”
“Yeah.” I ran a hand over my hair. “Your sister has trouble sleeping. It’s better with someone around.”
“And you don’t mind spooning?” Achilles snorted.
I said nothing. It was none of his goddamn business what Lila and I were doing at night. Suddenly, I had less need for that duffel bag full of cash.
Fintan stood up, knocking his coffee cup over the documents I had printed out.
“Shite,” he hissed.
Achilles rolled his eyes. “How do you let him work with you? He’s a useless drunk.”
“And Enzo is a fuckboy who likes making coats out of his victims.” I hitched one shoulder up. “You don’t choose family.”
But if I could, I’d choose Fin all over again for the way he walked through fire for me.
“I’m not drunk,” Fintan mumbled, gathering the damp papers and taking them to the nearest trash can. “Just tired.”
“Anyway.” I jerked my chin toward Achilles. “All the other suspects are low on my list after reading Brennan’s report. Tate and Angelo are at the top. I suggest we start with bringing Tate in and take it from there.”
“Might require a little legwork. He’s in England now, fawning over his newborn.” Achilles collected his wallet and cigarette pack from my desk, standing up.
“Guess we’ll have to lure him back in the good, old-fashioned way.”