Chapter 37
Brody
I pace a hole in the Ritz’s marble lobby. It’s been eight hours since I called Declan, more than that since I’ve seen Trinity.
Where the hell did she go?
As pissed as I am, I don’t want to see her walk through that door with Declan’s hand around her neck. So if she’s going to disappear, she better stay gone for a little while longer.
I stop short when Declan and Connor stride through the hotel lobby doors, flanked by two of our men.
Declan looks at me with his lips fixed in that half-smile that haunts my days. Despite him not being on his home turf, his confident swagger hasn’t faded. As he approaches, the stench of cigar smoke wafts off him, a scent that just a few days ago felt familiar, if not comforting.
Now I struggle not to gag.
When he reaches me, Declan claps me on the shoulder, a token gesture containing no warmth and a lifetime of expectation. “You caused a hell of a mess and dragged me halfway across the country. This prize better be worth it.”
“It will be.”
I nod at Connor. We don’t hug—never really have—but he’s still my brother. Taller and thinner than me, with Declan’s dark eyes and a calm, observant presence, he’s the eldest and the favorite child. Always has been.
The familiar pang feels milder than normal for some reason.
“What are we waiting for?” Declan’s never at his best first thing in the morning.
Or ever. Still, since I don’t have a death wish, I pivot and lead the way to the elevator bank. The enforcers stay in the lobby, keeping a watchful eye on the hotel’s entrance.
Once we’re in the suite, Declan settles on the sofa, pulling out a fresh cigar and waving a hand at me. “Get on with it.”
Swallowing the sting of his dismissive tone, I pass the hard drive to Connor, who sits down beside Declan and sets up his laptop on the mahogany coffee table.
“So you lost the girl but managed to keep this?”
I glare at the back of Connor’s skull as I beeline for the mini bar, in desperate need of a drink. “Shit happens. I got what we needed.”
Connor shakes his head, snorting as he glances around while waiting for his PC to boot up. “Will you take me captive next?”
I down a mini bottle of vodka in one shot. “Maybe if you grow an ass and wear a skirt.”
“Like you could afford me.”
“The drive, Connor.” Declan’s sharp command shuts us both up.
I stand back, waiting for the flicker of pride in Declan’s eyes when he realizes I stole the keys to the Irish Kings’ empire and dropped them into his palm.
Connor clicks away at the keyboard, his shoulders tense as Declan grows impatient.
Declan taps ash off the end of his cigar. “What’s the damn holdup?”
Connor flicks a glance at him. “It’s password protected. I’m trying a few basic ones before I go through the effort of cracking it.”
Trinity’s not stupid. She’s not going to pick “password” or a string of easy numbers.
But she is devoted to her friend.
I rattle off the date of Angelica’s kidnapping.
Declan and Connor give me the same exact scowl. Like father, like son.
I shrug. “Try it. Can’t be worse than whatever you’re doing now.”
After Connor types the password, the screen turns green.
He gives me a single nod. “We’re in.”
Declan gives no acknowledgment, which doesn’t surprise me.
The password working doesn’t surprise me either. I know Trinity. Well, enough to hack a password, apparently.
That confirmation tightens around my heart like a fist, squeezing my chest with every breath.
Too late to consider that now.
Connor clicks though the folders. I sip another drink as I watch his expression. His careful, smooth, blank face never gives too much away, but as he navigates the secrets Trinity spent years gathering, his brow wrinkles.
He’s confused.
Declan finishes his cigar and tosses the butt to the carpeted floor. “What do you see?”
Connor glances up from the screen. Not at Declan, but at me. “The intel on the New York operations is exhaustive. Bank accounts, supply lines, safe houses… It’s a complete decapitation plan.”
“So we can use it?” Sounds like I hit pay dirt, so why does Connor’s expressionless face match the numbness tingling through my limbs?
Declan smirks. “Great. What’s the problem?”
My brother shrugs. “You said this contained information on the whole family. East Coast and West Coast. But the intel on us is nothing. Most of our names aren’t even in here.
Publicly available information, known associates, things we gave Maeve for her hotel security briefing last year.
A twelve-year-old with a good laptop and an interest in public records could find this shit. It’s worthless.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I drift closer, lean over Connor’s shoulder, and examine the screen while blood roars in my ears.
Trinity and I were both playing a game, but from the moment she held me at gunpoint in the hospital, hers was entirely different from mine. She crafted a beautiful, believable lie with only a few words to gain my help, even though she could’ve fled on her own.
She had the chance. Had the means.
But she wanted me with her.
Declan releases a sharp laugh that drips with contempt. “So the girl ran Brody ragged for a weapon she built to self-destruct her own family.” He sneers up at me. “You fell for it. She got into your head.”
I bristle, anger rising from the soles of my feet and shooting all the way up to my hairline. Are you fucking kidding me? “This is everything you’ve ever wanted. Leverage on the Irish Kings. On Shane Gallagher’s legacy. How is this not a win?”
“You spent the last week thinking with your dick, Brody. This woman got the better of you.” Declan scoffs. “She launched World War III between us and Rostov. You’ve killed over a dozen of his men so far and injured Kruschev. You know that bastard is Rostov’s son? You risked really pissing him off.”
Because I’ve got bigger things to worry about at the moment, I file that information away for later.
“I was keeping our asset safe—”
Declan waves an impatient hand. “You risked ruining us all, and for what? To protect Shane’s little bitch of a daughter? Admit it. You got played.”
“You ordered me to abduct her. I couldn’t let her get killed on my watch.
” I curl my hands into fists and fold them behind my back.
If I let them swing, I’ll deck my father in his obnoxious face.
“We have Finn’s weakness, right here on this fucking drive.
Three decades’ worth of intel at your fingertips. What more do you want?”
Declan either doesn’t notice my rage or doesn’t care. “Have some competency next time. Don’t make such a mess.” He flicks a hand, discarding me as easily as he did the end of his cigar, and focuses on the laptop. “Show me what we can do with this, Connor.”
And just like that, I may as well not exist.
All their attention is on the screen. No congratulations. No thanks. Not even a “good job getting all this dirt on my mortal enemy.”
Just a “do better next time” and a dismissal.
A simmering, smoking ember sizzles to life in my chest and blazes hotter and hotter with each breath.
Declan glances up at me, and for a moment the ember calms, soothed.
Okay, maybe this isn’t a total loss yet.
He knows how much energy this took. He’ll give me a little props, a little respect, for—
He snaps his fingers. “Brody, fetch me a drink from the bar downstairs. Whiskey.”
That’s the last straw.
The casual snub of all my effort. The mockery of how I dealt with everything over this last week. The knowledge that I’m the one who nabbed all this info on Finn and the Irish Kings yet receive disdain instead of praise. Not Connor. Not Declan. Me.
My injuries, my struggle, my life… None of that means anything to him, and none of it ever will.
A guard dog would be more important to Declan. I might as well be a ghost or gum on the bottom of his shoe. He’ll never view me as an equal. He’ll never truly see me as a son, not the way he does Connor.
He doesn’t value my devotion or acknowledge the risks I’ve taken. The training I’ve endured, the bullets I’ve dodged, the fists that landed…
I’m nothing to him.
But Trinity…
Her friend was everything to her. She believes she’s a loner, that she needs no one, but she dedicated her entire life to a single person.
Trinity loved Angelica, and she gave her youth—her life—for justice.
Compared to that level of loyalty, Declan’s childish desire to bring down the NYC Gallaghers is meaningless.
I look at my father and brother as they huddle over the laptop and dissect the files Trinity spent years gathering.
Declan is nothing but a scavenger digging for scraps, waging a war he can’t even define.
Do either of them know why or when the East and West Coast Gallaghers severed ties? Do they even care? I imagine the answers are in Trinity’s hard drive, but do they matter?
Declan’s married to the imagined insult of being part of the lesser branch of the family, and Connor acts as his loyal dog.
What the actual fuck am I doing here?
The only person who’s ever truly cared about me since Mom passed is Maeve. She’s the only one in this family whose chest cavity houses an actual beating heart.
And she risked everything for Kellin. For love. Just like Trinity.
The pair of them embody devotion.
Meanwhile, I’m just an errand boy. A glutton for punishment who’s chasing a participation trophy that never made it off the factory line.
This past week, I had something worth a million hard drives.
I had Trinity, and I let her go.
I swallow down the rush of bile that rises in my throat, pace away from the couch, and shove a hand through my hair. The wound on my thigh twinges, a reminder of how Trinity remained at my side even after she found freedom.
How she tricked me to get me to stay when I was wounded and had no chance of following her if she ran off.
I study the wall where I pinned her and fucked the anger out of us both. The duffel bag sits on the side of the bed, a t-shirt she bought last night spilling out of the zipper. The remains of the beignets still lie in a sad pile on the ground.
She’s everywhere except where she needs to be.
I pull the gun from my waist and aim at the back of my father’s head before releasing the safety. Declan and Connor both tense at the soft click.
“Give me the drive.” I keep my voice low, but I know they hear me.
Connor pivots first, his eyes widening at the sight of my weapon. Declan slowly turns around, unfazed by the barrel directed at his forehead. “What’s this? You’re going to throw your life away for a piece of ass? Didn’t I teach you better?”
“Actually, you never taught me anything worth a damn. And she’s more of a Gallagher than you’ll ever be.” I adjust my stance. I’m taller. Steadier. More like myself than I have been in years.
I inch closer to the couch, my aim never wavering. Declan and Connor keep still as I reach down, unplug the drive from the laptop, and slip it into my pocket.
The gun stays up as I back away toward the door. Connor reclines against the couch, his eyes dark and thoughtful. The little twitch to his lips might be a smirk, but it’s impossible to tell with him.
When I reach the doorknob, Declan stands but doesn’t try to stop me. He may not consider me a man, even after all these years, but he knows I’m a dead shot. He won’t risk me pulling the trigger.
“If you leave, Brody, you’re done. Think about it, son.”
I bark out a laugh, the sound nearly hysterical. “I’m not your son. You may have called me ‘son’ over the years, but you didn’t treat me like one.” Shaking my head, I turn the knob, lower the gun, and step out into the hall. “Fuck you, Declan.”
The door clicks shut behind me. I exhale, releasing years of pent-up anxiety over my relationship with that man.
Not my father. Never was and never will be.
A sense of calm washes over me. I know what I need to do now.
I need to find Trinity and fix what I broke.
I just need Trinity, period.