3. Cian
Chapter 3
Cian
“Something stinks.” With just those two words, Finn sums up the uneasiness among us all as we climb toward his father’s office.
The estate’s grand staircase is six flights of wide steps that begin in the large, open foyer and end on the third floor. My feet drag as I follow the others. I’d rather stand down in the foyer and count the lights on the five-layered chandelier or crawl around on the floor picking out the individual-colored fibers in the expensive hall rugs than reach the top of the stairs. I don’t want to get up to where Shane Gallagher waits for us, because then I’ll be forced to explain what I know. And I’m still pissed.
But as we pass the second-floor landing, I catch myself glancing down the window-lined hall toward the door that leads to Harper’s suite, and my heart executes a weird thumping twinge in my chest.
Furious as I am, she’s still in danger. We need to ensure we pick her up before the De Lucas do.
Beside me, Darren rubs at a smudge on his cheek, his movie-star blond hair somehow still perfect even after throwing at least one grenade back there. His chemical-blue eyes are unreadable as he toys with a lighter, though the line of his mouth transmits suspicion. “Yeah, I don’t get it. Enzo is a nobody. He was never this smart when his brother was in power.”
“And if he had this much talent for strategy and evasion, why wasn’t he part of his older brother’s administration?” Rory adds more kindling to the pile.
Shane’s office is darker than the hall outside, decorated with plush brown leather and heavy, dark wooden furniture. We stand together in front of the desk, the same line we’ve held for years, and face down the Irish Kings’ top three men.
Shane’s flanked on both sides by his cousin Donal and Thomas Brennan—Harper’s father and the man I’ve answered to since I turned nineteen.
“Our intelligence pointed toward Enzo De Luca being there tonight.” Finn bites the bullet and delivers the bad news to his father. “He must have changed course at the last minute.”
“He’s anticipating our movements.” Shane growls the words at the carpet. Even while seated at his desk, his tall, imposing frame is menacing. Rough gray stubble clings to the angular jawline he shares with his son, though his is pock-marked with scars from the countless times our enemies have tried to off him. “I want to know how .”
“Cian managed to get some information off his hard drive during our sweep.” Rory volunteers the information, though I wish he wouldn’t.
Shane’s expectant eyes fall on me. “Well?”
“I found out that the De Lucas don’t have Harper.” I hold my breath while the room reacts. Donal—the underboss of our clan and Darren’s father—glances up at my words, as does Thomas. “I also discovered her current whereabouts.”
“He doesn’t have her?” Donal balks, his severe facial features knitting together in disbelief.
I shake my head once. “He never did.”
“Why the fuck would he lie about that?” Darren snaps beside me.
“Why else?” Shane drops a heavy fist onto his desk. “To manipulate us.”
“He wants the leverage.” Finn’s line of thought follows his father’s.
“And he will very soon have it.” The words are bleak, but I say them anyway, triggering a second wave of reactions.
Rory nudges my shoulder. “What did you find, Cian?”
“While I was on Enzo’s computer, he received a message with a photograph of Harper. It included the coordinates. I deleted it, but it’s safe to say he has operatives on the ground who know exactly where she is.”
“And?” Thomas explodes, spit flying from his mouth onto Shane’s floor. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Hawaii.”
The room erupts. None of the side conversations or divided mutterings stop until Shane recaptures everyone’s attention.
“This poses a grave threat to Harper.” He steeples his fingers, sinking into thought.
“Let her be captured,” Donal suggests, disdain and irritation thick in his voice. “We wasted time and resources searching all this time. Harper Brennan has just as little respect for this family as that sister of hers.”
Finn bristles at the reference to Riley. The two of them are romantically involved these days. Engaged, actually. When Harper disappeared before the wedding, their father forced Riley to fill in. All that time they spent together pretending to be husband and wife must have rubbed off on them, because now they’re a couple for real.
“Leave Riley out of it.” Finn can talk back to Donal. He’ll be the head of this mafia one day, and Donal would do well to remember that.
Donal scowls at Finn but keeps Riley’s name out of his mouth. “Harper Brennan’s safety is no concern of ours anymore. She deserted her duty, so let her fend for herself.”
I grind my molars together. If he were my equal, I’d tell him to watch his fucking mouth.
I’m more pissed off at her than anyone else in this room, but even I wouldn’t suggest abandoning her to the clutches of a sick dirtbag like Enzo De Luca. And why the fuck isn’t her father as up in arms as I am?
“Enough.” Shane raises a hand for silence. “Harper will answer for her behavior, but we need to deal with the bigger problem first. Enzo has been hunting for her, and he’s now within striking distance. We need to get her back before Enzo grabs her and attempts to use her as leverage against us.”
Gratitude for the levelheaded leadership of Shane Gallagher streams through me. I respect the man, partly because of the way he isn’t swayed by the more vicious men of our crew.
“He’s managed to field our every offensive, so we need to change our approach. I’m going to send a solo operative to take care of this.” Shane rises from his desk. “Cian, I’m assigning this one to you.”
My entire world screeches to a halt.
The idea is so beyond absurd and impossible that I blurt exactly what I’m thinking. “Absolutely not.”
My words shock the room. They shock me too. I’ve never spoken back to Shane Gallagher once in my life.
The man tilts his head at me as a dangerous silence fills the room.
I scramble to recover. “What I meant to say is, my plate’s full. I’ve got to handle the Weldon delivery, the Prince Hotel drop-off, and?—”
“This takes precedence,” Shane says. “Darren, can you handle Cian’s work schedule in the short term?”
Darren nods.
Shane begins to dismiss the room, but I’m so desperate to keep this from happening that I step forward, despite how dangerously disrespectful doing so is.
“Finn should go.”
“As much as it pains me to admit,” Finn throws me a look, “I’m still not ready for any solo ops. My arm’s not back to one hundred percent yet.”
“Rory, then,” I rush on. “He’ll be able to track her better.”
“I need Rory here.” Shane silences the room yet again, his intense, scrutinizing stare drilling into my face. “His tracking skills are going to help us mount a counter-offensive. You are the only one I can spare.”
“But—”
“Cian, if you ever make me explain myself to you again, I’ll cut off both your thumbs.” Shane always speaks with the ice-cold apathy of a deadly serious man. “Go pack your things. You’ll be on a plane to the islands tonight.”
“Understood.” Forcing those three syllables out is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long, long time.
Because…this can’t be happening.
That’s all I can think as I wander, like a lost man, to my suite on the third floor.
Going solo to pick up Harper is a terrible idea. I’m too vulnerable to that woman and her charms. And now that I know I’ve worried myself sick for nothing, that she ran away and ditched me on purpose? I’m so pissed that I can barely see straight.
I lost it during the mission tonight just from seeing a photo of her. What’s going to happen when I’m alone with the living, breathing, real thing? Self-control will prove a tall fucking order if I get my hands on that woman.
My familiar suite appears foreign to me. The walls covered with books, the training and workout equipment I keep up here, the desk and office space, my small kitchen…
An unmistakable darkness roils beneath my ribs, and there’s no stopping what comes next. I’m too far gone.
I overturn furniture, rip glass and ceramics out of the cabinets until shattered crystal and porcelain layer my kitchen floor, and tear stuffing out of pillows. I’m about thirty seconds from setting fire to my bookcase when horror interrupts my meltdown, and the truth slams me in the face.
I’m doing a spectacular impression of my father. All that’s missing is a bottle of whiskey, a bludgeoned woman lying motionless on the floor, and a ten-year-old version of me watching through a crack in a closet door.
I lace my hands behind my neck and drop my head.
Why did Shane have to pick me?
My cell phone vibrates against my thigh. Someone already booked my plane ticket. The flight details blink up at me mockingly.
How the fuck am I supposed to keep my personal history with Harper Brennan out of this equation?
I want to do a good job, but the lack of closure from that night in the alley haunts me.
Why, I don’t know.
Harper and I aren’t friends. We aren’t lovers either. Except for that one night three years ago, we haven’t shared a single meaningful experience.
Her engagement announcement to Finn still broke something inside me. The part that pretended I was just fine existing on the outskirts of her life, watching from afar but rarely interacting. The part that acted like I’d rather fuck a hundred women than the only woman who drove me crazy. The part that told me I wouldn’t be jealous of the man Thomas and Shane eventually chose for her to marry.
Not that I want to marry Harper.
This isn’t about that. This is about the way she kissed me that night. I remember every detail, and can I just say, what the fuck?
One minute, I’m doing a line of shots with five women, and the next minute, I’m trying to work out how the girl who lives rent-free in my head somehow showed up at the same bar I picked at random.
Since I don’t believe in coincidence, I went over to talk to her. She was there that night for a reason, and I wanted to know why. Did I do a good job finding out? No. But that’s to be expected. Whenever I’m within a ten-foot radius of Harper Brennan, words spew from my mouth, I say whatever I say, and usually she ignores me or leaves.
Nothing about that night unfolded the way I anticipated.
I didn’t expect to lose control of my stupid mouth and needle her about Finn. I didn’t expect her to toss wine in my face. And I definitely didn’t expect to follow her out, push her up against a wall, and stick my tongue down her throat.
It was supposed to be a simple kiss, something I’ve shared with more women than I can count. Instead, she infected me with a sickness that killed my appetite for anyone but her and left my brain—as well as other key body parts—in some strange state of atrophy.
The way she touched me. That soft, supple body. Her delicious scent. The moans she uttered against my mouth, goading me to do her in a back alley like a damn mutt in heat. I wanted her so badly, I offered to take her home. I would’ve begged if necessary.
The crazy thing is that she agreed.
Except, as it turns out, Harper Brennan never intended to go home with me.
She played me.
When I think about how easily she fooled me, I want to bend her over my knee, spank her ass until it darkens to a cherry red, and then fuck her until she begs for forgiveness.
Harper made a chump out of me that night, and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive her for that.
Although at least the truth came out. Harper may try to hide it, but she lusts after me too. No woman can fake that kind of reaction. And despite the fact that getting caught could have landed us both in hot water, she kissed me anyway.
Eagerly.
She craved my touch as much as I did hers. Yet she still ran away.
She hid in the tropics while I ran around the state like a jackass, terrified that someone kidnapped her.
If Enzo’s men don’t find her first, I might save them the trouble and murder her myself.
I grab a cab off the estate and ride to JFK with all those same thoughts cycling through my mind.
This will be my first out-of-state assignment for Shane, and I’m nervous for multiple reasons.
I don’t trust myself around her being number one.
Even though I’m livid and my nerves are shot from worrying about her, and I know she needs protection, I don’t trust myself to carry out this mission without getting in my fucking feelings about her.
If I don’t find a way to pull myself together, I might slip and reveal what a serious hard-on I have for this girl to the rest of the family.
And that is a worst-case scenario I’m unprepared to face.