CHAPTER TWENTY
conall
The conference room in my building was set up for the meeting, and I took a measured moment to inspect it. The chairs were perfectly aligned around the sleek, modern table—twelve seats, evenly spaced. The pens and notepads were set precisely at each place, just as I had arranged them earlier. Even the scent of fresh coffee and polished leather seemed calibrated to maintain order.
The dim overhead lighting cast shadows across the long table where Maxim, Angelo, Ilias, and Cosimo Oliveto had gathered.
But then there was Paddy. Slouched beside me, he tapped his pen against his notepad in a jagged rhythm—offbeat, erratic. It didn’t match the steady tick of the clock on the wall. I clenched my jaw and focused on the clean edges of the papers before me, but the tapping gnawed at my nerves, digging under my skin like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Stop that,”
I muttered, snatching the pen from his hand and aligning it parallel to his notepad. The imbalance was corrected, but Paddy just grinned, unrepentant, like he enjoyed unraveling the threads I kept tightly wound.
He had already irritated me incessantly on the way down from the penthouse, asking when dinner would be. Paddy and Brody were overly excited about the prospect of the meal.
“So, Conall,”
Maxim’s voice cut through the room like a blade, “what do you have for us that justifies our being here at this ridiculous hour? Your sister is furious, by the way.”
I exhaled sharply, pushing the intrusive thought of rearranging the water bottles on the table out of my head. My hands smoothed over the folder in front of me three times before I opened it. “Let’s start with this.”
I spread a map of the Vanello docks across the table, smoothing out the creases with precision. The corners had to be aligned before I could continue. Only then did I gesture to the red markings. “We’ve been monitoring the docks for two months. My contact detailed the guard shifts, shipment schedules, security measures. It’s tight but not impenetrable.”
My fingers hovered a second too long over one of the red marks, and I quickly withdrew my hand before it became obvious. I hated when people noticed.
“The guards rotate every six hours. They have four main checkpoints, but the weak link is here,”
I pointed to the northeast corner. It’s a blind spot between the storage containers, unguarded for a fifteen-minute window during the shift change. O’Rourke had been worth his weight in gold, as the saying goes. The guy was a genius at gathering intel.
“What about the shipments?”
Angelo asked, his voice steady yet laced with curiosity.
“They’ve got two main shipments scheduled weekly, Tuesdays and Fridays, usually late evening. Drugs come in with the Friday shipment, guns with the Tuesday one. Women every other Thursday.”
My jaw clenched with fury. “We choke their supply chain by hitting both days in consecutive weeks. Target the cargo, destroy it, or free those trafficked, and send a message.”
Paddy leaned forward, his grin widening. “I have a better idea. Let’s steal the cargo instead of destroying it. Nothing says ‘we’re in charge now’ quite like taking their precious stock and selling it back to their rivals.
Maxim’s lips twitched with amusement, yet his eyes remained cold. “It’s not a bad idea, but the logistics might pose a challenge. What’s their security detail like?”
I tapped the folder. “They have a core team of about twenty men at the docks, heavily armed but predictable. O’Rourke’s intel suggests they rely more on intimidation than on strategy. If we hit them fast and hard, they will scatter.”
Cosimo chimed in, his voice low and thoughtful. “Do we have an escape plan? The docks become difficult to navigate once the alarm is raised.”
“We’ll arrange boats at the south pier,”
I replied. “Quick extraction, minimal exposure. We can provide men to cover during the retreat.”
Angelo nodded, his expression one of approval. “Good. We need to synchronize this with our other moves against the Vanellos. After that, they will be like a wounded animal—dangerous and unpredictable.”
Paddy leaned in closer, his voice low yet audible. “You’ve planned this well, brother, but when do we eat?”
“Soon,”
I murmured, half-smiling despite my better judgment. “After this, I’ll sit down and eat like a regular person.”
“You’d better make it a big one,”
he teased. “You’re going to need the energy for your lovely wife.”
I resisted the urge to straighten the already aligned papers in front of me. Instead, I focused on the conversation shifting toward Cosimo, whose presence had been a risk from the start. The moment he leaned in with too much interest, questioning my marriage, I felt it—a prickling sensation at the base of my skull. A warning. I noted the tension in Angelo’s frame and the way Maxim stilled, listening more than responding. The air shifted, a quiet unraveling that only those attuned to details would notice.
“Enough,”
Ilias said, raising his glass in a playful toast. “Let’s focus. Conall, you’ve laid out a solid plan. Now, the question is, when do we move?”
“Next Tuesday,”
I said confidently. “We’ll focus on the gun shipment first. It will cripple their operations and give us the upper hand.”
Maxim leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Make sure it’s clean, Conall. No loose ends.”
“There won’t be,”
I assured him.
“So, congratulations are in order?”
Cosimo asked. His sharp eyes were on the faces at the table. He had recently allied with us by turning over one of his soldiers, telling us he admired our loyalty.
“Another one down, then,”
Ilias said grimly, though I noticed he offered little commentary.
“Who was the lucky bride?”
Cosimo pressed, leaning slightly forward, his knuckles white against the arms of the chair.
Angelo tilted his head. “Why the hell would you care, Oliveto? I think we’re done here.”
I noticed Angelo watching him intently. It wasn’t an overreaction. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. His tone felt off, and I suddenly became acutely aware that we had recently let Oliveto into our circle — perhaps we had been too hasty.
“You don’t need to know everything, Cosimo. Some things are still private.”
Ilias smiled genially as he rose to his feet, but there was no warmth in his expression
Cosimo cleared his throat and stood, pushing his chair back with more force than necessary, a red flush spreading across his cheeks as if he sensed the tide turning in the mood of the room. “I’ll see myself out.”
“You do that.”
I glared at him, refusing to stand or acknowledge that I could be pissing him off. My gaze shifted to Sean, who waited briefly before taking the cue and following after him.
After the door closed, Ilias paused for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure I trust Cosimo.”
“Me neither,”
Angelo agreed. “I thought he’d be a good ally, but now …? We need to be cautious around him.”
“Enough about that jerk. Married?”
Maxim slammed his fist hard against my shoulder. “You didn’t invite us. Dick.”
“Don’t be insulted. I wasn’t even invited, and she’s my sister,”
Angelo grumbled.
“I was.”
Paddy grinned at them. “I guess you don’t rate. Plus, my new sister is going to cook for us tonight. There’s even going to be cake.”
He winked as Angelo frowned again.
“That’s messed up,”
Angelo grumbled. “Don’t rub it in.”
The meeting concluded with handshakes and quiet promises. As we stepped into the hallway, Paddy slapped me on the back. “Let’s go, brother. I need some of that dinner your wife promised.”
I smirked. “Just don’t overstay your welcome, Paddy. “
“Never,”
he replied with a wink. As we walked toward the elevator, I thought about the dinner waiting for me at home. “She already loves me the most.”