5. Eoghan
Chapter five
Eoghan
T he last few weeks have been an absolute shit show of epic proportions. The night of Alessia’s birthday party, my cousin's wife was shot after they’d left my parents’ house. We ramped up security at all of our bars and the casino, which means fight nights have been canceled until Carlo Cataldi is found. That slimy bastard has eluded us at every turn and Finn is determined to find him no matter the cost, which is why every one of our men has been tracking down even the smallest possible leads that could tell us where that asshole has been hiding. Between helping with the search and running all four of our bars, getting extra security, and installing more security cameras at the bars, I’m run the fuck down.
When I got the call from my brother after Giada was shot, we didn’t know who or why she was targeted or if she was even the intended target. I called a cleanup crew to take care of the car Luca was driving and the body of the gunman Finn had taken care of, but unfortunately, it wasn’t before Giada took a bullet to the shoulder. When we arrived at the scene, not even fifteen minutes after the crash, I scoured the would-be hit man's car and found a picture of Giada and one of Luca. So they were after the newlyweds. That narrowed the list of suspects considerably, specifically down to one person—Giada’s brother, Carlo. He knew the two were married, and he was fucking pissed. It ruined his plans for the Russian alliance he was banking on, and desperate men do desperate things. And make stupid mistakes. Namely, hiring a hit man who would keep pictures of his targets in his car. Fucking amateur.
Since the shooting, I’ve kept someone on Gemma. It’s completely under the radar. I don’t want her thinking this life is spilling into hers. She’s an innocent in all of this. I know she’s been friends with Alessia for over a decade, so she understands certain aspects of this life, but she’s always been on the periphery, never knowing the true scope of what being a part of a criminal organization entails. But Carlo is reckless and might consider hurting someone who has any connection with my family. Finn didn’t agree when I brought it up to him, and I wasn’t keen on the idea of being too insistent and raising his suspicions so I simply put one of my guys, Tommy, on her and told him to keep it quiet. If Finn finds out, oh well, but at least Tommy won’t go blabbing to everyone about the job.
Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to see Gemma much other than the few times I ran into her at my brother’s house, where she was visiting Giada while she was recuperating from her gunshot wound. I could tell something had been bothering her, but anytime I tried to talk to her, she brushed me off. Not unlike most of our interactions, but this one felt different. Like she was trying to keep something from me instead of the normal annoyance she’d pretend to have at my advances.
I haven’t made it to the gym either, but the trainer I lined up for Javier has been there working with the kid. Once this is all taken care of, the plan is to have Javier get a few fights under his belt at one of our fight nights, and I plan to woo the hell out of Gemma. I’m sick of dancing around this attraction, and I sure as hell am sick of letting her avoid it. We just need the dark cloud of Carlo Cataldi that’s been hanging over our heads to be taken care of. Then I can focus on the feisty blonde who hasn’t stopped running circles in my mind.
Yesterday, Finn called and told me they had a new lead, and he thinks this one might be it. God, I fucking hope so. I’m so tired of this Cataldi asshole having us by the balls. He’s like a damn phantom menace that could jump out at any moment and try to kill someone I care about. My brother and Alessia, along with Luca and Giada, went up to Shine this morning to check out the lead. There’s some old lake house Giada remembers from her childhood that wasn’t in any property records, and we’ve been keeping surveillance on it. It’s the perfect hiding spot for Cataldi since we know he’s the type to stay close to the chaos and mayhem he’s been spreading around.
When my phone rings and I see Cillian’s name flash on the screen, I hope to hell he has good news for me.
“Hey, Cill. What’s up?”
“They found the lake house. Property records show it belonged to Giada’s grandfather on her mother’s side. The house hasn’t been sold, and all the taxes have been paid on it since his death. Utility bills are in the name of a corporation I tracked to the Caymans.”
“Let me guess; it ties back to the Cataldis.”
“It doesn’t tie to anything, so yeah, it has Carlo written all over it.”
Offshore bank accounts are a favorite of Carlo and Francesco Cataldi. Hell, for anyone trying to hide money. Certainly works well for my family from time to time.
“Do they know if he’s there?”
“Someone’s there, and I have money on it being Carlo.”
“When do we leave?”
“How fast can you pack?”
I look around the penthouse I keep close to my brother’s safe house/penthouse. This is where I have most everything I’ll need for what we’ll be walking into when we finally go after Carlo.
“Won’t take me long. I’m at my penthouse by the warehouses.” Another perk of this place is it’s situated on the same block as the warehouses where we keep our inventory. Everything we need to start a small revolution is housed only feet from my front door. Not to mention the personal arsenal I keep here. Much like Finn’s place, the exposed brick and open floor plan gives the space an industrial feel. And also, like Finn’s, I keep a cache of weapons in a secure room on a lower level, though mine doesn’t come with a gun range.
“I’m going to have my guy hack into the county’s planning department and see if they have a digital copy of the building plans so we’re not going in blind. Finn wants this taken care of tonight.”
“Can’t come soon enough.”
Cillian grunts his agreement and tells me to be ready within the next two hours. Plenty of time to pack a couple bags of special goodies to greet that fucker Carlo with.
The drive to Shine is quiet as most times spent with Cillian are. Sometimes, I wonder if my brother's lieutenant likes me. Not that it would matter one way or the other. He’s loyal to my family, and that’s what’s important to me. When we went after Alessia’s ex, he was just as quiet, so maybe this is him preparing to take a man’s life. Me, though? I have no reservations when it comes to wiping pieces of shit like Carlo from the face of this earth, and I’ll be damned if I let it affect my mood like my brother’s brooding lieutenant sitting next to me.
The last time Finn had me come to the clubhouse with him was before he was married. In fact, it was when he’d finally decided to make the moves that were the catalyst for the overdue mission we’re going on tonight. Carlo has been a thorn in our side for far too long. He was never going to get out of this alive, but there was a chance he could have gotten out of it without a painful death. Maybe. Okay, probably not. But going after Giada cemented the fact that he’ll be in as much pain as possible before his sorry existence is ended.
When we pull up to the clubhouse, the prospect at the gate opens it for us and we park next to my brother’s car and unload the bags that were in the hidden compartments in the trunk and back seat of Cillian’s car. Obviously, anytime we’re transporting weapons, we take extra precautions and make sure to drive the speed limit so as not to call attention to ourselves—but shit happens. If we were caught with the small arsenal we brought with us, we’d be looking at life behind bars. I have much better things to do with my time than sitting in an eight-by-eight cell until the day I die, so most of our cars also have several nifty hiding places that we put to good use.
With our hands full, the prospect jogs over and opens the door to the clubhouse for us. When we step inside, all eyes turn to us, and a round of hellos fills the space. Cillian and I walk to the bar at the far end of the room where Luca and my brother are sitting with cups of coffee in front of them.
We drop the bags to the floor and Cillian turns his attention to Finn.
“We made a trip to the warehouse. Brought a few extras just in case,” Cillian says, surveying the guns and knives on the bar. “I looked into the property records for the address you sent me,” he tells Finn. “It’s had the same owner since the sixties. Antonio Russo. Giada’s grandfather.”
“It’s Carlo then. You’re sure it was never sold?” Luca asks my brother’s lieutenant. He hasn’t been around us the last several years, so he doesn’t know that Cillian is the last of any of us to go in half-cocked. He doesn’t make any move unless he’s one-hundred-percent sure who the players are and any other little kernels of information he can glean from his sources.
Cillian shoots Luca a look that conveys my cousin just said something incredibly stupid. I have to stifle a laugh at Cillian’s obvious displeasure that someone would even think to question that he isn’t prepared to the point he could probably tell you every last bit of information on the property and the man inside the house.
“Of course,” Cillian replies. “The taxes on the property have been paid every year from a shell account that ended in the Caymans. If I recall, the Cataldis are particularly fond of using shell companies to hide their money.”
“We go tonight. Before dawn breaks, I want that fucker six feet under,” Finn says. This is what I’ve been wanting to see and hear from my brother for months. The stone-cold determination that Carlo dies tonight and we finally show every other asshole what happens when you fuck with the Monaghans and the people we love. This is the boss that has the other families bowing to his authority.
“We have a plan?” Ozzy asks as he, Jude and Linc walk to our group. I smile at the MC president and the two enforcers as I shake their hands.
“To go in and kill Carlo and anyone else we find,” Luca replies
“Sounds solid,” Jude says, his lip curling into a deadly smirk. He looks down at the bags Cillian and I brought in. “And look. You brought more toys.”
“Of course we did,” I say, smiling broadly. “A few things for our newest shipment and some of my favorites.” I open one of the bags and pull out several handguns, placing them on the bar top. “A .22, great for quick kills and easy to dump. A couple38 Specials—classics in their own right.” Then I pick up a long barrel .45. “And my personal favorite, the .45.” When I was a kid, I loved the movie Dirty Harry, and every time I hold one of these, I picture myself as the actor telling the bad guy to make my day. What can I say? I’m just a big kid at heart.
“Very nice, mate,” Jude says, taking the .45 from my hand and examining it. When he places it on the bar, a short woman with long black hair tucks herself under his arm.
“Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Tanya brought some things over, so Charlie and Cece are warming stuff up, and Cece made enough bread to feed an army.”
Jude’s hand goes to his stomach, patting it a few times. “Fuck yeah.”
The woman rolls her eyes but smiles at the tall Englishman before turning her gaze toward me. “Hi, I’m Lucy,” she says, holding out her hand for me to shake.
“Eoghan,” I reply.
“Shit, sorry. Where are my manners? Eoghan, I’m pleased to finally introduce you to the bane of my existence and the love of my life, Lucifer.”
A bark of laughter bursts from me when Lucy takes the opportunity to wallop her man in the gut, and he releases a grunt of pain.
“Jesus, woman. I think that’s a perfectly reasonable introduction.”
“You would,” she replies while shaking her head. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Eoghan. Jude, also known as the asshole that I share my bed with, has told me so much about you.”
“Hey, what about love of your life?”
She looks at him with a bland expression on her face. “I said what I said.”
He laughs and kisses her hard on the mouth. She returns the kiss with just as much ferocity, and if I wasn’t so amused by their antics, I’d probably feel mildly uncomfortable.
When he releases her, she waves at me before turning back toward the kitchen.
“Goddamn, I love that woman,” Jude says, staring after his girlfriend.
“Are you sure she feels the same?” I ask with laughter in my voice.
“Aye, she does. She hated me on sight, though. Probably wouldn’t have spit on me if I was on fire, but I eventually wore her down.” His smile stretches across his face as though he’s remembering those times with sweet fondness. It’s an odd thing to see on the biker’s face.
“Oh yeah, how’d you do that?” Maybe I can get some pointers to thaw the heart of a certain blonde in Boston.
“I didn’t let her push me away. And damn, that woman tried,” he replies, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. “How about a game of pool before we eat? Winner plays Lucy.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Jude and I play an aggressive game of pool as Lucy sits in one of the stools off to the side and talks shit to her man, which seems to only serve in getting him more riled up. I forgot how competitive the asshole is when it comes to any kind of game of skill. Fucker always has to try to one up everyone.
“Eoghan, how are you at darts?” Lucy asks and Jude growls.
“Shut it, Lucifer. I’m trying to concentrate.”
A light laughter falls from her lips before her fingers go to her mouth, imitating a zipping motion.
When he takes his next shot, he misses and inadvertently sets me up for a winning shot.
“Better luck next time,” Lucy says as I sink the eight ball in the pocket.
“Maybe I would have fared better had you kept your damn trap shut,” Jude mumbles as he lays the pool stick on the table and shoots Lucy a narrow-eyed glare.
“Maybe, but what would have been the fun in that for me?” Lucy hops off the stool and walks to where platters of food have been laid out on the bar. “Soups on, and I’m starving.”
She saunters away, and Jude shakes his head as he smiles to himself. I swear, I don’t think I’ve seen the man smile as much in the last hour as I’ve seen in the last five years we’ve known each other.
After dinner everyone takes off with their women, and Cillian heads to his room that one of the ladies here set up for him.
It’s late, but we plan on leaving to find that asshole in just a couple short hours. That thought alone has me wired and ready to get this shit over with so we can get back to Boston. I think about what Jude said as I sit back on the black leather sofa in the clubhouse. A couple of the guys are playing pool and some are shooting darts, but my mind is going in a million different directions at the moment, so my concentration would be shit if I tried to join them for a game.
Instead, I send a quick text to Tommy.
Me: What’s going on, man?
Tommy: Nothing much. Gemma has been in her apartment for a few hours. I think she’s in for the night. Gonna head home.
Tommy hasn’t been on her for the entirety of the last few weeks. When she was at work one day, I had a motion-activated camera set up outside her door that would send a notification to my phone whenever it was activated. I didn’t want him to have to sit in front of her building all night, every night. I’m not a monster, after all.
Me: Okay. We’ll be back tomorrow. Cataldi will be gone by morning.
Tommy: Bout fucking time.
I’m sure everyone in the organization is looking forward to getting back to business as usual.
I slip my phone into my pocket and head outside. It’s a clear night that we’re about to make very bloody. I think about what we’re walking into and let my mind wander to tomorrow when all is said and done. My family will be on top in Boston. The Cataldi organization will be dead, with no one left to resurrect the crumbling syndicate. I think about the weight that’s been around our necks finally lifting. What that’s going to look like and mean for me.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I dial the number of the only person whose voice I want to hear.
“Hello,” Gemma answers groggily, as though I’ve woken her up.
“Hey, blondie.”
“I should have known you would call and wake me out of the best dream I’ve had in ages.”
“I hope I was in it.”
She chuckles sleepily into the phone. “Sorry to disappoint. I was making out with Henry Cavill while he was dressed as a 1900s detective.”
“Most girls would dream of him in his Superman costume.”
“Well, I’m not most girls. You should know that by now. I’m going to go back to my dream now.” She lets loose a loud yawn.
“Wait,” I say before she can hang up. “Let me take you out next week.”
“Eoghan,” she groans into the phone.
“Listen, blondie. I know your reasons, and I know why you think they’re valid, and I’m not one to beat a dead horse.” Her laughter sounds from the other end of the line. “Give me a shot, Gemma. Come on, a little date won’t hurt you.”
“It might end up hurting you.”
“I might like it,” I say with a smile on my face. “Are you scared or something?”
She scoffs. “Of what, pray tell?”
“Falling in love with me.”
At that, she laughs outright, but I don’t take offense. Well, not much.
“What do you say?” I press.
She groans and I know she’s thinking about it. “I’m busy next week.”
“With what?”
“Washing my hair.”
Cheeky woman.
“I’m not hearing a no…” I let the sentence trail off.
“You’re not hearing a yes, either.”
“So I have a shot?”
Gemma’s throaty laugh widens the goofy-as-fuck smile on my face even more. “I have to go. Henry is calling my name from dreamland. I’ll talk to you next week.”
She hangs up, and I think I’ve finally broken past the first barrier with that wildly infuriating and unforgettable woman. I’ve never had to work so hard to break down a woman’s walls. Shit, I’ve never cared to. Gemma was right to be wary of me at first. I didn’t gain my reputation as a playboy by sitting at home and twiddling my thumbs. But that was before she turned that hard aqua gaze in my direction. There was a shock to my core I’d never experienced before, and I was instantly addicted to that feeling, to her.
“You’re shite at picking women up.”
I whirl around and catch Jude blowing out a puff of smoke before his lip tips in a smirk.
“Honestly, mate. My eighty-year-old grandfather would probably have better luck with whoever you were on the phone with.”
“Fuck off, prick,” I reply with no real heat behind my words. “I’m laying the groundwork.” What he doesn’t know is this is probably the furthest I’ve been able to get with Gemma. She didn’t tell me to fuck off outright. That’s progress in my book.
“So little Eoghan’s gone and found himself a girl. Could it be true love?” The sarcastic British asshole asks.
“Could be, my friend. It definitely could be.” It’s the truth, and I’m not going to deny it.
“Well, buckle up, then. You’re in for the ride of your fucking life.”
I sure as fuck hope so.
Sneaking in is the easy part. When I was a kid, I decided I wanted to master picking locks. I don’t really know where the urge came from, but once I get something in my head, good luck trying to get it out. Naturally, in my family’s line of work, it’s come in handy a time or two. Carlo only had one guy in the house with him, who Cillian quickly and effortlessly disposed of. Having Carlo fire a shot at my cousin nearly has me unloading my .45 into the man’s chest as I stand behind my brother, my gun staying trained on the slippery motherfucker as he bleeds from the bullet wound in his arm courtesy of my brother.
“You think killing me is going to somehow save your sorry ass?” Luca asks Carlo, raising his gun to Carlo’s forehead.
“No. But if I’m going to hell, I’m taking you with me, you fucking rat bastard.”
This asshole doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s obvious he’s trying to get out of the painful death that awaits him at our hands, and he almost gets his wish by the look on Luca’s face. Hell, I’m ready to end his existence this second until the MC president walks in the room, smiling at Carlo like we’ve delivered an early Christmas present to him.
“Now, now, boys. Don’t kill him too fast,” Ozzy says, walking up to the bed. “I haven’t had my fun with him yet.” The MC president digs his gloved finger into the bullet wound Finn gave Carlo, and it takes every bit of strength in the soon-to-be-dead man to not scream out in agony.
“You fucked up, Carlo. You went after what’s mine. Twice.”
Ozzy whips out a hunting knife from his belt and plunges it into Carlo’s stomach. Sweat pours down the soon-to-be-dead man’s face as he tries to hold back his scream. I have to give him some credit. A wound like that has got to be excruciating.
“Hurts like a bitch, don’t it? Funny thing about stab wounds to the stomach. It takes a few minutes for them to kill you, but it’ll be the most painful last minutes of your life. I bet if I keep the knife inside you, it’ll buy me and my friends some extra time.”
“You all have no idea what’s coming for you,” Carlo says, his wild eyes darting to everyone in the room as sweat pours down his face. “You think you’ve won? I’ll see you all in hell before long.”
“Maybe, but it won’t be today.” Luca raises his gun to Carlo’s forehead and fires.
Pride flares in my chest as I watch my cousin stare at the prone body of the man who nearly killed his wife. It’s been a long time coming for Luca to finally be able to exact the revenge he came to Boston for. Even though I was angry when Finn told us of Luca’s existence and what they’d been up to the last several years, there’s a peaceful calm that washes through me and the entire room as we stare at the dead man who terrorized my family and people I cared about for far too long. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again, no one fucks with the Monaghans and lives. We can now put this chapter behind us and move forward as the family I’ve always been proud to be a part of.
By the time we get back to the clubhouse, the sun is high in the sky. My brother and Luca got back hours ago, but I went with Cillian, Knox, and Cash to a pig farm an hour outside of Shine. Apparently, the farmer likes to keep his pigs well fed, and when the need arises for the Black Roses to dispose of a body, they get fed extra well. Cillian wanted to check out the guy’s setup in case we find ourselves in need of an alternative form of cleanup, and I wanted to see what they could do.
I’m not going to lie; I kind of wish I hadn’t. To be honest, I’m going to have to tell my mother she’s no longer allowed to make her Sunday pork roast ever again. To Cillian’s credit, he simply looked on with mild interest then took the guy’s number before heading back to the truck. That man was completely unfazed like he is with most things in life, it seems. He’s a fucking psycho if that didn’t have at least some effect on him.
When we walk inside, it’s dark, everyone having already gone to bed, probably exhausted from pulling an all-nighter. My head is finally quiet enough to go back to the little room Ozzy offered me earlier. After taking the shower I was in desperate need of, I collapse onto the queen mattress, not even bothering to get under the plaid comforter.
The last thoughts I have are of striking blue eyes and a wicked smile that would scare the piss out of most men.
Fuck, I can’t wait to go home and see my girl.