Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brendan
W hen Da died last October, I didn’t understand why Tag moved out and stayed at the loft. In my experience, my brothers had always been my strength and I couldn’t imagine needing space from them. The past three days, living in the loft since I lost it on Bryan, I get it.
Tag did it as much for us as for himself.
Because a Quinn in emotional turmoil is not fit company.
I back my Harley into a spot next to Bryan’s and turn off the throaty rumble of my girl’s mighty engine. There are easily forty bikes in the gated lot tonight—but it’s a Friday night, so that doesn’t mean much.
The boys love to hang out.
Many of them had shitty home lives growing up and enjoy the bonding of the brotherhood that belonging to the Dublin Devils offers.
My boots take me up the wide wooden steps and across the porch to the green doors of the clubhouse. The familiar scent of leather, whiskey, and cigarettes hits me as soon as I push through the door. The main room is rocking, and I get a rousing welcome.
I raise a hand to the boys having fun with the female entertainment of the night, and head back to the private meeting room. After dropping my phone into the lockbox, I take a deep breath. There’s no avoiding this.
They’ve given me a wide berth for the past few days, but there’s news and Tag wants me looped in. If it involves Nora, I need to be here.
Tag is already seated at the head of the long ebony table, Sean to his right, spinning the handle of the gavel in his hand as the two of them shoot the shit. Bryan, Kieran, Keefer, and Hennessy are milling around and fill out the room.
“Am I late for the party?” I take my seat as the others come to the table.
Bryan drops into the chair beside me and sets two Guinness down. “No. Tag and I only got here five minutes ago. You’re fine.”
I accept the beer and meet my brother’s gaze. “Are we fine?”
Bryan tips his glass to clink mine and flashes me a crooked smile. “How are the kidneys?”
“Fucking sore. How are the ribs?”
“Same.”
With that, he takes a drink and gives me a nod. “We’re fine.”
Tag waits until the six of us are settled and then sits forward in his seat and gestures to Sean. “All right, brother. Why are we here on a Friday night?”
Sean points the gavel toward Kieran. “You have the honors, Red.”
Kieran takes his cue and opens a folder sitting in front of him. “My little army of misfits has been busy since Brenny found out about the task force. I’ve had men following the agents involved on both sides of the river, and one of them came to me this afternoon with something disturbing.”
He tosses out a couple of ten-inch glossy photos and we pass them around and take a look. They’re of Niall McGuire and a brunette woman.
“Who’s the sheila with the tits?” Keefer asks.
Kieran leans forward, resting his forearms on the carved surface of the table. “That’s Laura Sanford, Jordan Kelly’s personal assistant.”
“And she’s meeting with Niall McGuire?” I ask.
“Worse,” Kieran says. “She’s Niall McGuire’s new fuck buddy.”
“Fucking hell.” Tag pounds the base of his fist against the wood. “How long has this been going on? Has he been influencing the investigation?”
“I’d bet my fucking balls he’s pointing the interest of the task force straight at us,” Sean says.
Of course he is. The question is, how much damage has been done?
Tag nods grimly. “Tell Finn to hack into any and every system he needs to. Track her calls. I don’t care what he has to do. I want to know how long this has been going on.”
“If the McGuires have their hooks in someone that close to the daily operations of the task force,” Bryan trails off, looking over at me, “we could use our own connection to influence Kelly.”
“Absolutely not,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“Brendan—” Sean starts.
I slam my palm on the table. “No! We are not dragging Nora into this shit. The entire reason she and I backed away from each other was to keep her clear of it. It’s too dangerous.”
“Piper has helped us a dozen times,” Sean argues.
“That’s different and you know it!” I’m on my feet now, voice echoing off the walls. “You and Piper are married. She grew up in our world and never had a chance of leading a violence-free life. Nora is different…” I swallow hard. “She and I don’t have that.”
“Don’t you?” Sean’s voice is quiet but cutting. “I saw you tear out of the gym Sunday night. I also heard what happened outside the Shamrock. Can you look me in the eye and tell me she’s just a fucking friend?”
Tag raises a hand and we both fall quiet. “Regardless of your intentions to protect Nora, if Niall knows about the task force and about Jordan Kelly, then he knows about the man’s daughter, too. There’s no keeping her out of it now.”
I lean into my knuckles, adrenaline pushing at me to jump the fucking table and wipe that smug smirk off my older brother’s scarred face. The need to pound on someone is overwhelming, but it won’t change anything.
Because they’re right.
The McGuires having an inside influence on the task force positions them to paint an even darker picture than reality. Not only would they know what is about to go down, they could also nudge the direction of the investigation and pin shit on us, making us look bad.
They could make sure Jordan Kelly never sees us as anything but monsters.
And if they know about Jordan, they sure as shit have plans to leverage him if he doesn’t play their game.
My stomach flips and I swallow the burn of bile pushing at the back of my throat.
“Fucking hell.” Sean interrupts my internal plummet into panic.
Tag’s scowl grows more intense. “What?”
“That McGuire fuckwad Frenchie and Drake picked up scoping our warehouse.”
“Aye. Malcom Myers. What about him?”
“What if he wasn’t there to gather intel or steal something? What if he was there to test our security or, worse, plant something that would make us look bad when Jordan’s team swoops in?”
Cue a round of muffled curses around the table.
It’s a distinct possibility.
Tag looks at Sean and Keefer, his gaze murderous. “The two of you will go over every property we run with a fucking microscope. I want every box opened, every skid moved, every fucking inch of everything with our name on it checked. I don’t care if you have to enlist the entire fucking MC membership to do it. I want it done and done fast.”
Sean nods. “We’re on it.”
Then Tag turns his gaze back to me. “I’m sorry, B. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Nora is our way in. We’ll do our best to keep her clear, but we’re running late to the game and need to catch up or the fucking McGuires might sink our ship.”
The reality of his words turns my guts like soured milk. I hate this. I hate everything about Nora being dragged into our world, but… “What do you have in mind?”
Nora
The rocking bass thumps in my chest as I weave my way through the Friday night crowd at Legend. Lights flash in a dizzying array of colors, slicing through the dark like electric lasers. Half-dressed bodies move to the pounding rhythm, lost in their night, drinks raised high, laughter echoing off the walls.
I’m three weeks into this gig, and every shift frees me a little more from the cocoon of cotton I was wrapped in. I’m surer all the time that this isn’t for me long term, but many women work in clubs to get ahead and pave the way for their futures.
I can do this. It’s like diving into an ocean of pure energy every shift, jolting me back to life just like Tanya said it would.
My father is losing his mind. I know it’s petty to find pleasure in his moral outrage, but every time he tells me what I ‘can’t’ do, I’m prouder of myself for doing exactly that.
Doesn’t matter.
Kate and I have enough saved to start hunting for a flat of our own. Just thinking about it sends a thrill up my spine. No more living under Jordan the Warden’s watchful eye—just me and Kate carving out our own space.
“Nora!” Jay’s voice cuts through the din as he approaches me at the servers’ station. He’s got a confident swagger and makes black slacks and a Legend polo shirt look better than should be possible. He’s also a great boss.
He’s taken an interest in me and has been really supportive.
Kate says he’s into me, but I don’t think that’s it. If I were to guess, I’d say he’s playing the protective older brother role, keeping an eye on me as I discover this dazzling new world.
“Leave your tray there and come with me.”
I glance back at my section. “What about my orders?”
He waves a hand at the bartender. “Jinx, get one of the other girls to deliver Nora’s drinks. I need her for the next hour or two.”
“You got it, boss,” Jinx says behind the bar.
I wipe my hands on my apron, wondering what this is about. I haven’t spilled anything on anyone this week. In fact, I’m really getting the hang of things. An hour? “What do you need me for, Jay? Am I in trouble?”
“No, you’re not in trouble. I need you to cover one of the VIP rooms.”
My heart skips a beat. “A VIP room? Isn’t that for experienced servers?”
He chuckles softly, like there’s an inside joke I’m not in on. “You’ll do great. Just stay in the room, entertain your guest, and when they leave, you come back and finish out your shift.”
Something twists in my stomach—excitement mixed with apprehension.
The VIP rooms are where the high rollers spend their nights. They have one-way glass looking out over the club, but don’t have to bother with the chaos of the crowd. I’ve heard the people who rent them out for the night pay up to ten grand a night and expect an intense level of service.
I’ve also heard that they can get handsy and demanding.
“Take this.” He holds out a bottle of top-shelf scotch. “There’s a limited bar selection in the room. This will be the perfect icebreaker. Just see to the guest’s needs and keep him happy. You’re in Room 5.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best.” I hesitate but grab the bottle of scotch.
Jay’s casual demeanor eases some of my nerves, but I can’t shake the suggestion that I’m about to ‘see to the needs of a stranger’. The way he phrased it sends a shiver down my spine.
It feels creepy.
Tension builds in my tummy as I head to the private hallway that leads to the VIP rooms and find the gold placard that reads,
VIP Suite Five
I draw a deep breath and then let it out. Jay’s been good to me. He wouldn’t expect me to compromise my principles, would he? Is this a test? Has he been supporting me or grooming me?
Suddenly, I’m not sure I know anything anymore.
It’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s fine.
I shake off my anxiety and turn the handle of the door to VIP Suite Five.