CHAPTER TWO
Connor Quinlan – Astoria, New York – August
M y father’s name is carved in stone.
It’s been eighteen months since we laid him to rest, and now his legacy is forever chiseled into the family plot.
Aiden Quinlan
Husband. Father. Leader.
Da was a loyal capo to former mob boss Fergus O’Rourke for decades. He had a sharp mind, ruthless hands, and a vision for our family’s future. But a future he never could have imagined found us when Ma’s family ties through her cousin led my brothers and me to rise to power on our own.
We are no longer just the Quinlan sons of Astoria. Today, we stand as Manhattan kings.
Griffin, Shane, and I took over after Troi Keller died, and we swallowed his empire. Now, our word is law. The Greeks hold the deeds to the real estate, but we own the streets.
And the streets are mine.
My domain to keep order.
But with all our power, we couldn’t have this damn memorial service sooner.
It only took a few months to get the headstone engraved.
But it’s taken over a year to get Da’s brother Finn here from Waterford to do the unveiling.
Da’s other brother Uncle Patrick insisted we wait.
Not bothering to tell us Uncle Finn was in fucking prison.
I shift my weight as the speeches drag on. One by one, my brothers and sister Sabine climb to the podium, reciting heartfelt words, each of them mentioning their families. And how Ma and Da’s marriage and parenting served as an inspiration.
I seem to recall a lot of yelling and beatings. But a lot of love, too.
I stare down at the empty index card in my hand, its blankness taunting me because I have nothing to say. Not about family and kids. Not about love. Not about building a future with another person. My world has been stripped down to war and vengeance.
I’m the steely spine of Quinlan Empire. With our cousins Trace and Rhys, I enforce order on the streets. Today is a rare day that I look civilized dressed in a sharp suit.
My older brother Griffin, who leads our clan, sits with his wife Ava, the Greek princess he married to ascend to the throne.
Their twin toddler sons sit up sharply between them like little soldiers.
Makes sense, Ava was military before her deadly brother, Ares Zervas, forced the marriage with Griffin.
Ewan, our oldest brother who hadn’t been part of Quinlan Empire initially because of his political obligations, didn’t run for re-election and now serves as Griffin’s most trusted advisor.
His wife Darcy manages their three daughters like a doting mother.
They recently revealed they have yet another wee one on the way.
Ewan is going for a son, even if he doesn’t admit it.
Shane, the youngest Quinlan and brooding bastard, sits with his hand splayed protectively over his wife Lennox’s pregnant belly.
Sabine, Shane’s twin, settled down before any of us. Her billionaire husband keeps her steady as she steps up to speak next.
As far as Da’s kids, that leaves me.
Alone. At thirty-seven.
And for the first time in a long time, I know why. I can’t get her out of my head.
The woman I’ve been obsessed with since she waltzed into Shane’s trailer looking for a drug dealer named Havok months ago. The one who burns in my memory like a branding iron.
I’ve kept tabs on her and tried to stay away. But I couldn’t.
I didn’t buy that she was a junkie. She acted more like a PI.
One late night two months ago, I found her in a dive bar getting drunk.
The kind of reckless drinking you do when you’re very angry from a tough day.
But she didn’t drop any hints about her real day job. She needed an outlet, and I was it.
She remembered me from the trailer and thought I worked security.
She said she was trying to kick the hard stuff, but no one trying to kick the powder would have thrown back all the whiskey she was drinking that night.
I didn’t care. She was utterly perfect in her imperfections.
The most beautiful goddamn hot mess I’d ever seen.
And fucked. Over and over. All night.
I just never got her name. I told myself it didn’t matter when she walked out with the rising sun, and that I’d never see her again.
But I was lying. I’ve been going insane trying to find her again.
She’s the only woman who’s ever made me think maybe . Maybe I could have something real. Something more from a woman than an anonymous fuck. She seemed as crazy and unhinged as me.
Then she disappeared. Wasn’t showing up in the usual places. I’d been worried that Havok, a known ruthless drug dealer, fucked her up or killed her. I can’t get her out of my mind. I crave her and the way she made me feel.
Shane has a spy network that could have found El Chapo, but I’m terrified to ask him for help on this one. In case she’s as venomous as she looks.
I keep my speech short, not that anyone cares. They’re restless and hungry. They’ve been sitting too long in banquet chairs here at The Orchid.
I give my father a salute with his favorite whiskey in a glass. “You’re one of a kind, Da.” I take a sip and want to gag because this drink tastes like piss, if I’m being honest.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I notice my cousin Rhys slip out of the room with his phone pressed to one ear. But seconds later, Quinlan Empire’s lead assassin is back, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd. Not for his brother, Trace, our enforcer. For me.
Something’s up.
As soon as I’m off this damn dais, hating all the eyes on me, I make my way to Rhys.
“What’s going on?” I ask .
“Noel Tahiri,” Rhys deadpans, tucking a strand of long brown hair behind his ear. “Blade tracked him down to a seedy club on the border between our territory and the Italians.”
My body goes stiff at the sound of the new Albanian kyre’s name. Shane killed his predecessor Levin Berisha when he and his henchmen stormed Lennox’s nightclub, and the kyre himself tried to rape her.
The Albanians are a cancer on the stability of our reign.
If my venomous one-night stand is some kind of PI or undercover cop, then she and I have a common nemesis. The Albanian Brotherhood is a problem that needs solving. By solving, I mean destroying. And I’m the solution.
“Anything special about that club?” I ask Rhys. “Is Tahiri just having a happy hour cocktail?”
“He owns the building and is running guns and drugs out of the stockroom. Surveillance shows an apartment above,” he murmurs. “And DEA is about to move in.”
“ DEA? ” I scrub a hand down the back of my neck. Crap. Tahiri is toast.
“Their High Intensity Drug Trafficking Areas Unit team is the most aggressive I’ve seen,” Rhys informs me.
And why we’re not trafficking narcotics.
Griffin sees us talking and hikes up to Rhys and me, looking less than pleased. “This is Da’s final fucking tribute. Can you two take one damn day off?”
“I will when the Albanians are history,” I say.
And I need to put down every last one of them like the rabid dogs they are. Drag them to my torture chamber and dump their bloody bodies to remind everyone of the kind of brutality they’re fucking with.
“Your obsession with the Albanians will be your undoing,” Griffin rouses me .
No, not finding that sexy bird I fucked will be my undoing, but I don’t voice that.
“They put their hands on Lennox,” I remind Griffin. “They destroyed her club.”
“DEA is on the scene,” Rhys adds, helping my argument.
“We can help Tahiri,” I strongly suggest. “Make him owe us.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Griffin runs a hand through his light auburn hair.
“There are enough Quinlans here,” I say. “You don’t need me for this. You need me on the streets, keeping your reign intact.”
Before Griffin can argue, I step away, but notice Rhys doesn’t follow. Rarely are my brothers and I not in agreement. I just challenged Rhys’s loyalty.
His brother Trace joins us, feeling the tension from several feet away. With more details gathered by our trackers, Trace agrees we should get over to that club and help Tahiri.
Griffin looks for Shane, who’s sitting with Lennox and our mother. Shane is our fixer, our mastermind. But today, he’s Ma’s strength.
“Be fucking careful,” Griffin grits out through clenched teeth and stalks off to be with his wife.
Rhys and I pull off a perfect Irish exit, leaving without any goodbyes. We just dip out of the gathering and disappear into the sweltering August heat.