Chapter 5
Rian
“She seemed terrified,” Aodhan comments.
I smirk, glancing up at him as I type out the last few texts to my men. Rolling my shoulders, I watch the passing city as we drive to the quieter suburbs. I prefer my penthouse and the security it provides. It also limits unexpected visitors, but my father refuses to leave the home he built with my mother, and I refuse to uproot a dying man.
“She’s not terrified. She’s furious. I doubt she’ll run, but Cormac put the tracker on her car, right?”
Aodhan nods. “He debated putting one on Luca’s for retaliation, but in the end left it.” Luca tried to plant trackers on our cars while first negotiating the marriage. While I can appreciate the effort, I’m still annoyed at the nuisance of having to scan all of our vehicles.
“Hmm. He would have found it right away like we did,” I say, though I probably would have had the same thought as Cormac.
“But it would have been fun to tease him.”
I exchange an amused glance with Aodhan, and then the humor is lost when we find Cormac waiting at the front of the house as we park. Work never stops, and some days I hate it more than anything. Today I would have enjoyed staying in that house, teasing Isabelle further.
“Gio was spotted in Jersey this morning,” Cormac says as I climb out of the car.
“Luca’s Capo?”
Cormac rolls his eyes. “Capo to be, at most.”
My shoulders tense. “When was this? While we were meeting with Luca?”
He nods and shows me the photo on his phone.
“What’s he doing there?”
While we all have business in the neutral territory of Manhattan, the Famiglia holds the rest of New York up to Boston and some parts of Canada. They have no reason to venture into Jersey since it’s our territory. We run from Jersey City to Philadelphia and down to Richmond. The East Coast is ours. This is why our war never seems to die down, we’re too close to each other. Of course, there are other syndicates farther west. The Outfit rarely venture out of Chicago, only coming as far as Cincinnati at times. The desert is the Camorra’s, from Santa Fe to where they choose to reside in Vegas. I’ve heard whispers of them venturing into Texas, but I can’t be bothered to check. They seem to leave us and the Famiglia alone as we do them. The West runs drugs while we prefer to run guns. I dabble a bit more with alcohol imports to wash our money at the bars, and I know Luca prefers his clubs and whatever underground nonsense he has going on.
“We lost track of him, but then he resurfaced in New York a few hours later.”
My eyebrows pinch. “So a short trip…perhaps to visit someone then. A conversation that couldn’t be tracked.”
Cormac shrugs. “Or a drop-off? Could just be checking in on a stash.”
I shake my head. “They wouldn’t risk anything stationary we could find. But a person? I can see it.”
Grabbing the pack in my pocket, I smack the end of it on my palm and hand one to Aodhan, who takes it begrudgingly. “You know the more time I spend with your father, the less I want to smoke these.”
I laugh, lighting the end of the cigarette. “Yeah, I get that. A nasty habit, hard to quit.”
Sighing, I glance between him and Cormac. “What did Declan say?”
“Said Gio avoided cameras like he was a ghost.”
My eyebrows flicker. “He’s worried about someone in our surveillance?”
Cormac shrugs. “He didn’t say.”
“Have Declan check back to see if they’ve slipped into our territory before without notice.”
“How far back?” Cormac asks, already dialing on his phone.
I blow out a long drag, exhausted from being back in this city. “As far as he can. Something doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Like he was too familiar? Someone could have fed him the information,” Aodhan offers.
Nodding, I crack my neck to the side and then my knuckles. “Yeah. We can all slip into each other’s territory occasionally, but not on a whim while avoiding all the cameras. So either someone knows our cameras intimately enough to guide them or they have eyes on our systems.”
Declan’s affronted voice rings out in the air from Cormac’s phone. “No one is in our system. And what am I looking for exactly?”
“Anything. I’ll send Cormac, he knows all about moving unseen in the shadows.” I smirk and then laugh as Cormac punches me hard in the arm.
He shakes his head and nods at Aodhan to drive him over to Declan’s and hands him his phone. Walking over to the car, he pauses and looks back over at us. “I think it will be fun.”
I raise an eyebrow.
A smile flirts on his lips. “To have a woman bring you to your knees.”
He slams the door closed before I can comment while Aodhan snickers under his breath, and Declan lets out a low whistle before I grab the phone and end the call. I punch Aodhan in the stomach, pushing him away so he can’t say anything else. He dodges the next swing of my fist before heading back to the car, not containing his laughter.
“I hate you fuckers,” I mutter and walk into the house.
* * *
"It’s officially been arranged. I’ll marry Isabelle in a few weeks.” I settle in my chair, resting my ankle on my knee as I watch the nurse help my father with his medication.
He waves her off, drinking down the pills before handing her the glass of water and nodding her dismissal.
She gives me a small smile before hurrying out the door and shutting us in.
“Yeah? How’d she take it?”
I lick my lips, rubbing away the grin that threatens to form and shake my head. “Pissed, but she accepted. Her family seems overjoyed, already planning to spend meals together.”
“And Luca?”
Shrugging, I run my hand down my face. “Doesn’t trust us, but was civil enough.”
“You think he’ll show up to the family dinner?”
I nod, tired of the political games we’re all forced to play. It’s times like this I wish I had a sibling to share the responsibility. Cormac, Cillian, Aodhan, and Declan are my brothers but they aren’t my father’s heirs. And I can’t just hand over the keys to the kingdom.
“Of course. Do you expect him to leave me unsupervised?”
My father’s lips curl in amusement. “It would be a show of good faith.”
I study the tired lines etched on his face. The heavy rise and fall of his breaths as his lungs fail him. His bloated stomach from his recent chemo treatment. My throat aches and I glance away, hating how hard it is to look at him sometimes. “Yeah, well…we would do the same,” I finally answer him.
We sit in silence for a few minutes and I’m sure he’s fallen asleep, but when I look up, our gazes meet.
“So, tell me about her.”
“Isabelle?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
He nods.
“I don’t know her.”
My father rolls his eyes. “Son, I’ve known when you were lying since you were five. Try again.”
I scoff. “I don’t have a tell.”
“You do, and I’ll share with ya if you tell me about yer woman.”
My tongue runs along the back of my teeth, and I grin. “I could just ask Aodhan. I’m sure he’s caught it.”
“That boy forgets to wash behind his ears. He’s caught fuck all.” He laughs, then grabs the towel to cover his mouth as he starts coughing.
The familiar sense of time with my father slipping through my fingers has my heart squeezing tighter. Especially when the effects of his disease are so violently in front of my face. A reminder of what is running amuck, and we are too late to stop it. A reminder of the years I spent away from this home, avoiding any acknowledgement of my mother’s death while leaving my other parent behind. Doctors told me that there’s nothing we could have done, that my father may or may not have had signs I could have seen if I was around, but we’ll never know. And at the end of the day, only he’s responsible for his health.
But that doesn’t comfort you while you watch your da slowly disappear in front of you. As every trace of him, the person you grew up admiring and watching, slowly dwindles to something else. A brutal testament to the mortality of men and how fast it goes. It’s part of why I agreed to the marriage, because I don’t want to lose any more of my family either.
Peace between us and the Famiglia seems impossible after decades of hatred sewn into our souls. While Isabelle is beautiful, and probably more than I deserve for a wife, she’s not the beacon of hope Luca is falsely portraying.
I sigh, a soft smile tips on my lips. “Ma would like her.”
“Yeah?”
Nodding, a laugh lurks in my throat. “She’s not afraid to give her opinion. She’s…uh, very passionate.”
“Ahh, so true Italian. Got a mouth on her. That’s good, son,” he says, chuckling softly. “You don’t want a resigned wife. You want a partner, someone who will challenge you, question your beliefs, and improve your character.”
My eyebrows raise. “Mom did all that?”
“Your mother…” His tongue peeks out between his dry lips as he stares up at the ceiling. “Your mother shattered the bubble I stubbornly placed around myself and forced me to see the world for what it is, for what it could also be.”
His gaze returns to me. “The problem is the men.”
I cock my head to the side.
“I’m not talking about your merry band of brothers, they’re good men. But the fucking rest of them, especially those sodding bastards, O’Malley’s. They’ll think you’re being pulled by a woman’s string. The distrust begins, the rumblings of revolt start, and it's hard to get back.” He is right, the O’Malley’s are as traditionally Catholic as you can get. While they don’t exactly push for women to only be homemakers, they make plenty of comments saying women are to nurture the next generation.
“Yeah, I got it,” I say, tired of the games again. But I understand the delicate power balance it takes to run an organization like ours. I’ve watched my father strike down anyone who opposed him growing up. “How we treat one another in private can be different from public. I know, Da.”
“You think you know until you see the hurt and disappointment in your woman’s eyes and she doesn’t speak to you for a week.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t get better. It took me too long to realize honesty and openness go further than trying to hide things.”
We stare at each other with mirroring sad smiles. “I miss her.”
He nods. “Me too, son. I can only hope I’ll be with her again soon.”
I swallow, looking away from him and blowing out a breath. “Can’t wait to leave me, huh?”
My father is silent for so long until I finally turn my attention back to him. He’s watching me expectedly. “You don’t need me anymore. You haven’t for a long time, but I hope…even if this is an arranged marriage. I hope you find even a fraction of the happiness and love I found with your mother. Because even that fraction…some never find it.”
I shrug, pushing away the emotions swirling in my chest. “Sometimes men in this life never find it. A burden we’re all aware of.”
“How’s that saying go? Life is what you make it. Happiness can be what you want it to fucking be. Drink lemonade or something.” My father sinks farther back into his pillows, his eyes blinking heavier.
Standing, I pull at the sleeves of my shirt. “I was thinking of having the wedding here, so you can?—”
“No.”
His curt tone makes me frown. “No?”
“This family gets married in the church.”
I roll my eyes. “When’s the last time we went?—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck. O’Callaghans get married in the church. Ya hear me?”
Clenching my teeth, I stretch out my shoulders and give a quick nod. “Yes, sir.”
He grunts as I leave his room and grab my phone, knowing I’m going to have to pray for a fucking miracle to get the cathedral he’ll want. I hope whatever god is listening hasn’t already forsaken us.