Chapter 6
Chapter Six
KIERAN
The lock to the storage unit gives after a few steady twists of my pick, a deafening click echoing in the otherwise empty corridor.
Holding my breath, I wait for footsteps to appear, but the unit remains quiet except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead.
I slide the roll-up door just far enough up to duck under before closing it behind me.
One hand instinctively goes to the weight of the gun at my back as my other pulls out my phone and switches on the flashlight.
Even though I know Cormac isn’t here, my gut won’t let me relax.
There has to be something here that Cormac didn’t want us to find out about, and I don’t put it past him to have the place rigged with traps.
But after scanning for any wires or red dots and coming up short, I decide to start searching.
The unit isn’t big, maybe the size of a single-car garage, but it’s crammed with boxes stacked in uneven towers.
A couple of duffel bags are shoved against the back wall, and there’s a set of shelves along one side overflowing with more boxes.
Most of this stuff could easily fit into one of the spare rooms at the house he’s renting, so why the hell is he paying so much to keep this place?
What did he not want me to find?
Crouching down and dragging the nearest box closer, I lift the lid.
Inside are bundles of handwritten letters, their corners yellowed with age. I pull one out and hold the torch up so I can quickly scan Cormac’s sloppy cursive. It appears to be nothing but romantic shit and sappy declarations of love, but my brows knit together.
This doesn’t seem like Cormac at all. He never let a woman hang around longer than a week and rolled his eyes whenever anyone asked him when he was planning on settling down.
I snort under my breath as I read another. I didn’t realize Cormac had a girlfriend, but from these letters, it seems that whoever she was mattered a lot to him. More than he ever let on.
I fold the letter and shove it in my pocket, not because I care about his love life but because it doesn’t fit.
Why would he keep hold of the letters he wrote rather than the ones he received? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the things that don’t make sense usually matter most, and I’m not willing to risk overlooking anything.
I push the box aside and move to another one, this one even heavier.
My fingers brush against a folder inside, so I drag it out and flip it open.
I balance my phone so that I can see better and read through the contents.
“Holy shit.”
There are financial records for every single account connected to Sullivan Investments.
But it’s not just the main ones that Ronan and I oversee.
It looks to include accounts that have been buried so deep that even I didn’t know about them, which means Cormac sure as hell shouldn’t have known about them either.
I flip the page to find detailed, handwritten notes on payments rerouted to an offshore account. It’s nothing unusual, given our family’s line of work, but what is unusual is the two columns of names listed on the adjacent page.
At first, it looks random. But then I catch my father’s name, and my stomach sinks. Even though it’s been almost a year since his death, it still hurts to see or hear his name. But my father’s name isn’t the only one on the list that makes my stomach sink.
Ronan.
Brennan.
Ciara.
Lorcan.
Riley.
It’s not lost on me that every member of my family is listed here, including myself, except for Cormac.
I stand frozen, the pages trembling slightly in my hands as the realization crashes over me.
This isn’t just a random list of names. It’s a fucking target sheet.
I reach into my pocket and yank out the letter I grabbed earlier. My eyes flick between the handwriting on the love letter and the notes in the folder, noting the identical way certain letters slant or curve.
“Son of a bitch.”
My voice sounds hollow as I check the handwriting again, but there’s no denying they’re written by Cormac.
Despite wanting to prove to Ronan that I was right all along, a pang of guilt hits me as I dial his number. I guess a tiny part of me, the part that values the fact that we share the same blood, wanted to be wrong about him. But I can’t deny the truth that’s in my fucking hands.
The line connects.
“What is it?”
“I searched the locker, and do you want to know what was inside?”
Ronan sighs. “From the tone of your voice, I’m guessing it wasn’t bags of candy.”
“Boxes of financial records documenting shady transfers to offshore accounts that I didn’t even know we had. But don’t worry, it gets worse. I found a fucking kill list, Ronan, written in Cormac’s handwriting.”
There’s a pause.
“You’re joking.”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
“You must be misreading it.”
“Ciara’s name is on it, by the way, along with Riley’s and every other member of our family. Except for Cormac.”
Ronan exhales on the other end of the phone. “There has to be an explanation.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “An explanation? He’s got Ciara and Riley’s names written down next to a list of known enemies of our family, and you think there’s a fucking explanation? Are you really willing to risk finding out if it’s nothing but a bluff?”
“I’m saying—”
“You’re saying you don’t want to face it.
” My voice is sharp, slicing through the silence of the locker.
“You’re so wrapped up in this bullshit loyalty to him that you can’t admit what’s right in front of you.
He’s betraying us. He’s betraying you. And if you keep protecting him, you’ll go down for it, Ronan. ”
“Kieran.” His voice hardens, a warning edge. “Watch your tone. I’m still your boss, and Cormac is still family.”
I slam the folder shut, my hands shaking. “Are you really willing to risk having your kids grow up without their father because his ego was so big that he couldn’t admit when he was wrong?”
Ronan doesn’t answer right away. His breathing deepens like he’s trying to keep a lid on his temper.
“Until I know otherwise, I’m holding onto hope. Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Jesus Christ, Ronan. What more proof do you need? His handwriting is all over this.”
“I said what I said.” I rake a hand through my hair, my chest heaving.
It’s clear there’s no getting through to him, not like this.
“You either need to get on board with the reality that our brother is a fucking snake in the grass or get out of my way. One way or another, I’m going to find Cormac, and I’m going to end this before Riley ends up paying the price.”
Silence stretches on until finally Ronan sighs. “I think I’m too close to this.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I won’t stand in your way. Not anymore.”
His answer takes me by surprise. It’s not like Ronan to back down so quickly, and I find his answer unnerving.
“I’ll be home soon. We’ll talk more then.”
We hang up, and I shove the folder back into the box, though not before tucking the incriminating page deep into my jacket pocket. After all, if I’m going to take down my brother, I’m going to need proof.
On the drive back, I decide to pay a visit to one of our clubs in the city. As much as I want to focus all of my time and attention on this situation with Cormac, I have other responsibilities to uphold, and I don’t want to risk people becoming complacent.
I turn down a side alley beside one of our clubs and find Kyle, the manager, already waiting outside, shifting nervously on his feet.
He thrusts a stack of papers into my hand the second I roll down the window, and I quickly scan the numbers.
It doesn’t add up. It’s not by much, but the loss is enough to piss me off.
Our guys know better than to waste time with excuses.
“Fix that.” I don’t bother with explicit threats.
Kyle knows there will be no more chances if this happens again.
He nods, stuttering something about an oversight, but I don’t bother answering.
I simply fix him with a stare, one that he will think about every time he touches the register.
A few miles down, I swing by the warehouse on the river.
Two black SUVs sit outside with half a dozen men stationed at the doors.
One jogs over to my window with a clipboard, and I flip through the pages, checking dates and weights. But unlike the club, these guys are clean and efficient, so it comes as no surprise that everything lines up.
I hand the clipboard back and give a short nod, which has the guy exhaling as if he’s been holding his breath since I arrived.
Driving away, I can’t help but think how second nature this work has become. But I guess this is all I’ve ever known.
Most people my age grew up learning how to throw a football or fix a car. I grew up learning the street side of our business and the right pressure points to press to make a man break without laying a hand on him.
If I had the choice, would I have chosen this life?
Maybe. Power has its perks, and money sure as hell opens doors. People listen when I walk into a room, even if half of them do it out of fear. But there’s always a cost. Every deal, every shipment, every body that disappears, it chips away at something I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.
And though I told my brother I wasn’t sure I wanted kids, deep down I do. I’d love to have a mini Riley or a mini me running around the house, driving me crazy.
But the thing that gnaws at me is whether I would want to raise my own kids in this world.
Gripping the wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening, I think of my future.
My father didn’t get to choose, and neither did I. But if I had a son or daughter, would I let the family name drag them under the same way it did me and my brothers?
I can honestly say I’m not sure.
The headlights cut through the dark as the city skyline looms closer. The empire never sleeps, and neither do I, it seems. I have at least another hour before I reach Ronan’s place.
It’s getting late, and Riley might already be asleep, but I miss the sound of her voice, so I quickly call her just in case she is still up.
“Hey, you. Everything okay?” Her voice floods through the car speakers, instantly soothing the storm brewing inside me.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“If I had known how needy you were, I would’ve never agreed to marry you,” she teases, and I huff a laugh.
“Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you are. How was your day?”
“It was great. Mila and Lucy came over, and we spent the day by the pool.” Riley chatters away, filling me in on all the gossip from her day with the girls.
The normalcy of it all makes my chest ache, but I’m glad that she had fun. It’s not lost on me that my presence in her life has shaken up her world, and the fact that she’s still able to laugh and smile is more than I could hope for.
“It seemed to cheer Ciara up. I know she’s fed up with being pregnant and eager to meet her babies. But I think Ronan is nervous. About becoming a dad, I mean.” Riley gives a little laugh.
I smirk. “Better him than me.”
There’s a long pause. So long that I have to check the call hasn’t been disconnected. “Riley? Are you there?”
“Don’t you…want kids, Kieran?”
The question lands like a punch to my gut. After all the shit that’s gone down with Cormac and seeing the way Ronan is being eaten alive by the stress of keeping his wife and kids safe, my answer isn’t as simple as yes or no.
But I can’t tell Riley that. I can’t dump my fears on her on top of everything else.
“Eventually. But we’ve got plenty of time to figure all that out.” I do my best to sound casual. “No rush, right?”
“Right.” But there’s something in her tone, something tight, that makes my stomach twist.
“I’ll be home in an hour. Wait up for me?”
“I’ll try.”
Her voice lingers with me long after the line goes dead, and I can’t shake the echo of doubt in her voice when I told her we can figure the whole kids thing out.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I wonder if she’s feeling a little insecure about our relationship. I mean, she has a good enough reason to if she is.
I haven’t been present at all over the past few days. But I make a silent vow as I speed out of the city that whatever fears and doubts I have, I won’t let them cost me Riley.
If she needs reassurance, she’ll get it. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing I know for certain.
My future is her.