Chapter Thirty-One
Jaxon
“I don’t typically do this, just so you know.”
Fionn’s Irish accent is thick, but he’s easier to understand when he’s talking slowly, like he is now. He’s relaxed as can be, sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, the radio on low, the window down so he can blow cigarette smoke out of it.
I’m not sure what we’re doing here, but he assured me it’s where we need to be. And though he isn’t an asshole about it, he makes it known that it isn’t an option.
“Then why are you?”
I’ve already wondered if this was a set up.
Why the fuck is this guy helping me? I don’t know who he is, never heard of him before, but all I can assume is he’s some high up guy in some important Irish mafia ring who doesn’t like whoever the Marcellos are, and I’m a reason for him to look into them.
“Harvey had one opportunity.” He holds up a finger while bringing the cigarette to his lips with his other hand. He blows out the smoke slowly, dropping his hand. “Just one opportunity to use my name. That was the deal. And he used it on you.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?”
“Dunno,” he says, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window. “Whatever he saw musta scared him, I suppose.”
“He did look like a pussy.”
He turns to me with a smirk. Then he chuckles.
“Aye. A pussy.”
I’m curious about what the fuck earned him an opportunity with this guy, but I don’t ask. Because there’s movement from the alley—a side door opening—and Fionn sits up straight.
“There.” He points forward, toward the door. Someone steps out, then someone else. The light from inside is enough to show that one is much shorter than the other, smaller in stature, making me think it’s a woman while the other is a man.
They walk toward us, the building door closing and the darkness taking over.
They come back into view once beneath the street lights, stopping at a black Escalade. The man pulls something from his pocket and the lights on the vehicle flash twice. He pulls open the passenger door, and before the woman disappears behind it to get into the car, she looks around.
And I see her.
“That cunt,” I growl.
“Don’t like me ma either,” Fionn says humorously.
She steps into the car and the man closes the door, walking around the front to get into the driver’s side.
“That’s Julian Marcello. Son of Rafael Marcello—head of the family.”
“Must be old,” I mutter.
“Eighty-two. We’ve been waiting for the fucker to die since he was seventy.”
I huff out a breath and shake my head, staring at the two of them as they sit in the car and talk. I can’t make out what they’re saying, and there’s so many shadows in the car that I can hardly see anything at all.
“What happens then?”
Shrugging, he says, “Families are weak when there’s changeover. Even if they don’t care about who left, died, was murdered, whatever. There’s change. There’s unknown.”
“And you want to strike when they’re weak?”
“A smart man would.”
“Could we hurry things along and allow her to get caught in the crossfire?”
“You wanna take out the head of the Marcellos?” He barks out a laugh.
“You got a gun? I could shoot the bitch right now.” I gesture toward the car.
“Why do you want her dead so bad?” he asks.
I grit my teeth, and answer without having to think about it.
“She hurt my girl.”
“Oof.”
The car finally starts up, the lights coming on, blinding me. A second later, it drives off. They go by, not paying us any attention.
“We going after them?”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? Why not?”
“Because I have a better plan.”
He opens the door and gets out. I stare after him. He ducks his head back in, grinning.
“You coming, or what?”
He closes the door just as I open mine. I find him at the trunk.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter as I come around to see what he’s doing.
“I’m quite proud of this.”
There are custom-made cases of weapons that fit perfectly into the trunk space, something that would have us both in prison for the rest of our lives. And he’s just driving around with it…
“You ever use a gun?” He reaches for a hand gun.
“Yes.”
Fionn hands the gun to me. I take it and check to see if it’s loaded—it is.
“You’ll need this too. In your boot.”
I take the knife from him next, and shove it into my boot so it’s sticking out by my right ankle and parallel with my leg.
He gets himself ready with his own equipment, then pulls out a Halligan. A fucking Halligan. He kisses it before closing the trunk, and giving me a strange look.
“She stays behind.”
I have no idea what that means, but I’m sure I’m about to find out.
I follow Fionn across the road and down the alleyway. We stop at the same door my mother and Julian came out of.
Fionn plants his boots beside the door and flips the Halligan in his hands like he’s done this a thousand times. The tool looks heavy. I’ve never held one before, but he moves it easily despite the weight of it.
“I’d step back if I were you,” he warns, and sets the forked end against the crack of space between the door and the frame.
He jiggles it a little, getting it under the lip, then he shifts his grip and the metal groans as he lets out a grunt.
The frame gives an inch, and he shifts his feet, repositioning again and the door opens a little more.
He flips to the other side of the tool, leans his weight into it and gives it a hard shove.
The lock snaps.
He yanks the Halligan free as the door swings open, tossing it aside. It lands with a sharp clank, bouncing on the ground.
“Hurry up or you’ll miss the fun.”
Fionn is already inside, turning on his heel and hurrying down the brightly lit hallway. I don’t notice all the noise until I step inside and realize what’s going on.
Only, I don’t know what’s going on…
What the fuck are we doing? What are we walking into?
I follow Fionn wordlessly, but it seems no matter how quickly I move, I can’t catch up to him. He turns, I turn, but he’s still ten steps ahead and disappearing around corners.
This building is like a maze, and though I hear sound like something is going on beyond the walls, everywhere we turn is empty.
Until it isn’t.
Fionn turns left into a room, and there’s a loud crack—like wood snapping in half.
When I finally make it in, I see a wooden chair in pieces on the floor, and Fionn with a gun to a guy’s head. The man looks more annoyed than anything, sitting in a highback chair behind a desk. He’s clean shaven, his dark hair slicked back with too much gel.
“I already told you, asshole,” the guy says.
“And it ain’t good enough. I want more.”
“I don’t have anymore.”
“Who was just here?” he demands.
I stand in the doorway, watching. The guy seems to ignore me, staring ahead.
“Don’t act like you don’t know Julian. You know his face as well as you know your own. I’m the one who knows your little s—”
Fionn pistol whips him on the side of the head. The guy grunts, then growls as his hand goes to his head and he jumps to his feet. Furious eyes are on Fionn.
“I already told you if you came back, I’d fucking kill you!” the guy shouts. “I really don’t wanna do it, but I will.”
“The fuck you will. Who was with Julian, you fucking prick?”
Fionn jerks forward, as if he’s going to attack. The man flinches away, then shouts, “Flavor of the week. Don’t know her name. The fuck do you care?”
“I’m bored,” Fionn says with a smile. “Nice seeing you.”
He gives him the peace sign then walks toward me, gesturing toward the door. I step into the hallway, he steps out and leads us back the way we came.
“What the fuck was that?” I shout after him, but all he does is laugh, the sound echoing throughout the hallway.