Chapter 24
Rian
“This place still gives me the creeps,” Cillian says, settling onto one of the black couches.
I don’t bother answering him, focusing on the chess board before making my move. Cormac sucks on his teeth with a grin and I glare at him. Cillian sighs, hating being ignored like the attention whore he is.
“Just sit there and be pretty. We’re still waiting for Declan,” Aodhan says, handing him a finger of whiskey.
Cillian takes it with raised brows. “Whiskey, aye? Gonna be a long night then?”
“Fuck,” I curse, knocking down my king when I see Cormac has me cornered. I stand, letting Aodhan take my place so he can have some real competition. I’m shit at chess, always have been. If anyone can beat Cormac, it’ll be Aisling.
Cillian scoffs. “What if I wanted to play? You didn’t even ask.”
“You’re the reason we can’t have glass pieces anymore,” Cormac drawls out, not sparing him a glance as he resets the board for Aodhan.
“That’s not tr—” He cuts off when I pierce him with a glare. I down my whiskey in one swallow and move to make another from the bar on the far wall. This is a room that my father and his closest men used a lot, one we usually stay clear of. It's also one of the safest rooms in the mansion, soundproof from anyone eavesdropping with a frequency humming in the walls to disturb possible bugs.
I rub a hand down my face, tired after barely getting any sleep last night. “You itching for a fight, Cillian?”
There’s a tense silence for a moment before we all pause and glance back at Cillian. He’s working his jaw back and forth, staring at the long wall with photos of generations of Irishmen.
“Aisling is making the moves to return home.”
Aodhan and I exchange glances. He’s always been protective of his sister, even when she doesn’t need it. Others may think that Cillian is a heartless killing machine, and for the most part he is, but if there’s one thing he loves in this world, it’s Aisling.
Declan opens the door, walking in and immediately picking up on the strain between all of us. “We ready?”
I nod, sitting next to Cillian. The room is set up for this purpose, three black couches placed around a large round table. During the winter, the fireplace would be lit, adding another layer of ambiance. If it'd been my father and his adversaries, cigars would have already been lit.
Declan opens his laptop, grabbing the remote off the table to turn on the projector. “Okay, I finished watching the footage of the market Conor visited and cross-referenced them with the gun deliveries. I can pinpoint a handful of ones that were potentially affected due to outside interference that shouldn’t have been, unless information was leaked.”
My fist curls, hating the betrayal that still courses through me. Conor’s body is already feeding the fishes in the Hudson, but my anger has not diminished.
“Did we find anyone who isn’t in the notebook helping Conor?” Aodhan asks, taking in the dates and cities our deliveries were hit.
Declan nods, and puts up the names. Cormac blows out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face before shaking his head.
“Fuck. How do you want to handle this? Discreetly? I can grab them one by one.”
I lick my drying lips. “No, Conor’s disappearance will make them suspicious. We’ll grab them all tomorrow, shove them in the basement and wait.”
Cillian leans forward, twisting the knife in his hand. “What I don’t get is why the guns? We’ve been decreasing our shipments of both guns and alcohol, instead starting legitimate businesses. So why would Luca focus on the guns?”
“And how long have these men been feeding information to them? A lot of the traditionalists’ unrest is because of the ambushes on the routes. They don’t like being reminded that old times are behind us,” Aodhan adds.
“That’s not all. Johnny seems to go MIA for a few hours every couple of days.”
I groan at Declan’s mention of my cousin, his drunkenness at my wedding just another infraction adding to why I can’t stand him. My father has pushed to give him more responsibility over the years, most likely because he has a soft spot for him since he’s from my mother’s side, but I’ve held back. The man can barely get himself home most days, let alone hold responsibility for the lives of multiple men on his crew.
Cormac snorts. “Johnny would sooner quit drinking than ever betray us.”
A hollow laugh escapes me. “I would have agreed with you before my marriage, but now I’m not so sure.”
Aodhan glances back at Declan, then me. “And what is the point of the marriage if the whole time Luca’s been disrespecting us? We all have ears in each other’s territories, but we don’t interfere with business.”
Cillian and Cormac agree with slow nods, and something about Aodhan’s tone rubs me the wrong way. I grind down on my molars before pouring myself another glass and then facing him.
“Say it.”
Aodhan hesitates for a moment, only briefly looking at Declan. “What if Isabelle is?—”
“No,” I say, the ice in my voice making my stance clear. “Think about it, truly think about it. Does Isabelle seem like the type? Believe me, my suspicion was there. But you’ve all spent time with her.”
Cillian smirks, twisting his knife faster. “She’s fiery, but she wears her emotions on her face.”
“She has too good of a heart,” Cormac says softly. “They would have never involved her with business willingly.”
Aodhan stands, rubbing at his bad shoulder. “I know. Fuck, I know. I watch her every day, the way she’s basically adopted Deirdre like a long lost grandmother. I’m just— fuck! ”
His shout doesn’t bother any of us. Aodhan has been betrayed the most by this revelation. Ottawa was one of our deadliest ambushes. If the bullet had gotten him only a few inches over, I would have lost him. The worst part is that Ottawa was a delivery we had picked up at the last minute, and we figured the ambush had been the Camorra or even the Cartel farther south, given the dealer had been one they usually dealt with. It never crossed my mind that it could have been the Famiglia and that we were betrayed by one of our own.
“Go back,” Cillian says suddenly, pointing out a spot on the map that Declan had been cycling through on the screen. “There.”
Declan frowns. “It’s an empty lot. Buildings have been abandoned for a while.”
“I don't think they're abandoned,” Cillian says, shaking his head. “I drove past it the other week. If it’s not a real shop, then it’s a front.”
“What street was it again?” Cormac asks, scrolling through his phone when Declan answers and holds up a text for me to see. “Johnny and a few more of your cousins asked for a ride the other week just a road over. I didn't think anything of why they were that way, given we called a tow to get their broken down car to the shop.”
My stomach twists and I lean forward, running my fingers through my hair. There’s only one possibility of why they’d be hanging around abandoned buildings, trying not to garner attention. “I told the men no more wash spots. We have enough to sustain the money. We need more business to front the legal line in case the feds start sniffing around.”
“Say it’s a front, where’d he get the money? Johnny pisses away everything he gets,” Cormac says, the defeat in his tone making me glance away. It’s making us think of all our men in a different light, seeing what they’re doing right under our noses.
“It’s no coincidence we gave Johnny access to the information passed between wash spots, and suddenly we got hit harder,” Aodhan says through gritted teeth.
We’re silent for a moment, knowing with certainty that Johnny’s loyalty is no longer with us.
“Let me know the next time he visits,” I tell Declan. “Now let’s go over the financial reports. Which families need the most support this month? Make sure to add some for Conor’s wife and daughter, but keep eyes on the wife.”