Poison and Wine

Chapter One Callum

Ear splitting cries of terror and agony echoed through the empty warehouse. Kneeling down onto the blood-splattered floor, I eyed the man tied to the chair. A pinkish hue stained my hands from battering his face. “I want a name, Bobby. All this can end if you just give me a name.”

With disgust glittering in his brown eyes, Bobby spit out of a stream of blood onto my shoes. “Never.”

Tsking at him, I shook my head. “You disappoint me.”

“Fuck you, Kavanaugh.”

“Since I like blondes with big tits, you’re not my type,” I mused. After rising to my feet, I nodded at my brothers, Quinn and Dare. “Maybe you two can get our friend talking.”

As they started pummeling Bobby’s chest and abdomen, I stood back, admiring their handiwork. While some children inherit the family business of banking or medicine, my brothers and I were born and baptized in the blood of the Irish mafia. My grandfather had risen through the ranks to become a clan leader in Belfast. He’d been blessed to actually pass on his power, rather than having it ripped from his hands through assassination or mutiny. At his death, the ornery bastard had bestowed it on his firstborn son, my father. It had been my father’s dream to bring the Kavanaugh empire to the states.

Ten years ago, Hugh Kavanaugh had brought me, Quinn, and Dare to Boston while the rest of our family remained protected back in Belfast. At barely twenty, it’d been hard leaving everything I’d ever known, especially my mam. But any tears I tried to shed at her loss were beaten out of me by my father. I could still smell his harsh, whiskey-laced breath against my face. “An Irish clan member must never show weakness, and your love for your mam is a fucking weakness.” His fist pummeling against my cheek sent blood spurting from my mouth and nose. “The love for any woman is a bloody weakness!”

My lips curled in a sneer at the memory. Fucking ironic that his disgust for the love of women was what led to his demise. Some days when I stared down at my hands long enough, I could see his brain matter and blood sprayed across my skin. I was thirty when I pulled the trigger, but when I stood beside him, I became that heart-broken twenty-year-old kid again.

Over a year had passed since that day, but his spirit still haunted us. His murder at my hands was why we currently found ourselves grappling for power. Old alliances had been burned by my act of patricide. But in spite of all we had lost, I would do it again; and all for the love of a woman.

If anyone could restore and elevate the Kavanaugh name, it would be my brothers and me. As the oldest son, I’d been the obvious choice to take my father’s place. I’d spent my entire life preparing to take over. Because of our wealth, I’d attended the finest schools in Belfast, and I’d graduated with a business degree from Trinity College. Despite all my talents, I was nothing without my brothers.

With his brute strength and towering size, Quinn made a natural enforcer. When you threw in the rippled scars that ran from his temple down the length of his left side, he oozed menace. As a true phoenix risen, Quinn had survived a car bomb that had been meant for my father.

Darragh, or Dare as we called him, was the opposite of Quinn in both appearance and personality. He was shorter, leaner, and where Quinn had been broody even before the bomb, Dare excelled at being the life of the party. Even now a cruel smile was curved on the bastard’s lips as blood splattered along his hands and arms.

Glancing over my shoulder, I eyed the exit of the building where my brother, Kellan, stood guard. Unlike the three of us with our dark hair and blue eyes, Kellan possessed strawberry blond hair and green eyes like our mam.

I jerked my chin up at Kellan. “Want me to take watch and let you have a go at him, boyo?”

After clearing his throat, he called, “I’m grand.”

At twenty, Kellan remained wet behind the ears when it came to the grittier side of our work. Dad had brought him over from Belfast three years ago while our youngest siblings, Maeve and Eamon, remained with our mam. While I felt he’d never truly possess a heart for the harsher side of our business, Kellan was a whizz with numbers and served a purpose within the organization.

When my phone buzzed in my pants pocket, I ignored it. After it continued to go off, I grunted and dug it out. “This better be fucking good to interrupt a perfectly good torture session.”

My father’s younger brother, Seamus, chuckled. “It is. I need to speak to you and your brothers.”

“When?”

“As soon as you finish with whatever poor fucker I imagine you have strung up.”

“Meet me at the house in an hour.”

“See you then.”

At my brother’s expectant faces, I tucked my phone back into my pocket. “We need to wrap this up. Seamus needs to talk to us.”

I knelt down once again in front of Bobby. His head lolled forward as blood dripped out of his mouth. “Last chance,” I said.

“End me.” A shudder went through his body. “If you don’t, they will.”

“While I normally don’t take commands from traitors, I’ll oblige you just this once.” After grabbing my knife from my holster, I unsheathed it. With a quick flick, I sliced Bobby’s throat from ear to ear. Jabbing my knife at Quinn, I said, “Arrange a clean-up, and then meet us at the house.”

As he nodded, I started over to the door with Dare on my heels. When we reached Kellan, his face paled slightly at the sight of our blood-stained clothes and hands. He recovered and handed us a bag with a change of clothes.

After stripping down to his briefs, Dare groaned. “Man, I’m starving.”

Kellan shot him a look of disgust. “How can you possibly be hungry after what you just did?”

Dare flashed him a grin. “What can I say? I worked up an appetite.”

Chuckling, I replied, “I’ll text Lorna and tell her to have lunch prepared for us.”

“I want dessert, too,” Dare replied before licking his lips.

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

After rinsing our arms and legs with a water hose and scrubbing as best we could, we toweled off before slipping on new dress pants and slightly wrinkled dress shirts. We would need minutes under a scorching hot stream to truly get clean, but at the moment, this was the best we could do to ensure we didn’t look conspicuous.

We followed Kellan out the door to a waiting SUV. Once we were all inside, I gave the driver a nod, and we began the trek from the Southside back to the posh streets of Beacon Hill. Silence hung heavy in the air except for the bass thumping from Dare’s rap music. After all the years and all the killings, you would think one would grow numb to all the violence. But for each and every one of us, there was always a price to pay.

In the front seat, Kellan’s low murmuring caught my ear. “Sé do bheatha, a Mhuire, atá lán de ghrásta.” Of course, he would be saying the Hail Mary in Irish to acquire absolution for our sins. Although I didn’t have much use for mass or prayers, I found myself reciting the next verse in my head.

Is beannaithe thú idir mná, agus is beannaithe toradh do bhroinne, íosa.

I didn’t see how there could possibly be salvation for me with all the blood on my hands, but buried deep within me was a tiny seed planted by my mam that left a sliver of belief.

As we sped along, I couldn’t help the dread that filled me from Seamus’s requested meeting. Seamus had been my father’s right-hand man here in the states. He could have fought my accession after I murdered his brother, but Seamus had known my father’s cruel brutality just as my brothers and I had. Like my uncles in Belfast, they had been grateful to see me leading the family instead of my father. Seamus was also my top advisor.

Once we arrived home, I trudged through the backdoor into the kitchen. “Hello, Lorna,” I called pleasantly. She momentarily paused in bustling around. “I hope I didn’t put you out asking for lunch.”

To my brothers and me, Lorna held more than just the position of cook and housekeeper. She’d been a part of our family for as long as I could remember. She was the only woman our mother had entrusted us with. With her own children grown and starting lives of their own, Lorna had agreed to my father’s business proposal to accompany us to Boston. Since I knew it hadn’t been easy for her, I made sure to fly her back to Belfast anytime she seemed homesick.

Lorna smiled as she blew an errant strand of silver hair out of her face. “Not at all.”

I smirked at her as I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re a terrible liar, Lorna.”

She laughed. “After all these years, you think I would be used to your wild schedule by now.”

After bestowing a quick kiss on her cheek, I said, “Just do what you can.”

I then made my way out of the kitchen down the long hall. As I stepped into the living room, Seamus reclined on the sofa. He turned his tortured green eyes to me. The last five years hadn’t been kind to him. First, he had lost his only son and heir, Rian, in the car bomb that had scarred Quinn. Then two years ago, his wife had been so overcome with grief that she had taken her life. I’d never known the love of a wife or a child, so I couldn’t imagine his suffering. I only knew from the agonized look in his eyes that I never wanted to have to experience that pain.

“Are you hungry?” I asked without a hello.

“I could eat.”

“Lorna’s whipping something up.” I motioned to him. “Come on in the dining room while we wait.”

Seamus rose off the couch to follow me. After he and my brothers took their seats, I strolled over to the bar to pour a glass of whiskey. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Trust me when I say I wouldn’t have called a meeting if it wasn’t something truly important.”

“Aye, we’d surmised as much.” After pouring myself a glass, I poured one for Seamus. I grabbed the tumblers and headed over to the table. “What’s the threat this time? The Bratva or the Triad? It sure as hell better not be any other Irish around here.”

“They’re all a clear and present threat as our current position is still precarious. We desperately need a way to elevate the family.”

Dare leaned forward in his chair. “You want us to take out more families?” His words caused a grimace from Kellan.

“I was thinking of a way that entailed less bloodshed,” Seamus replied.

Quinn appeared in the doorway. “How does one possibly elevate their position or territory without bloodshed?” he countered.

“Through an alliance.”

With a grunt, Dare asked, “You really think anyone willingly wants to work with us now?”

The now he referenced was after our father’s murder.

“Alliances can be made unwillingly.” Gripping his whiskey glass, he threw back the contents before he spoke. “I should be disappointed that none of you guessed what I’m speaking of, but then I have to remember none of you randy fuckers give a shite about commitment.” He nodded his glass at Kellan. “Except maybe you.”

While my brows furrowed at his comment, Quinn sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re talking about marriage.”

“Aye, boyo, I am.”

I tensed. “A marriage between us and who?”

“The Italians.”

I groaned. “While an alliance between another Irish family is hard enough to swallow, the thought of mixing blood with Italians makes me want to boke.”

“It could be worse,” Quinn remarked.

“How so?”

“It could be the Bratva.”

“True,” I chuckled mirthlessly. I couldn’t even begin to imagine our family aligning with the likes of them. “So, which Italians did you have in mind?”

“The Neretti’s.”

A growl reverberated through my chest while Quinn and Dare cursed under their breaths. “You can’t be serious,” I demanded.

Seamus narrowed his dark eyes at me. “If you think you can do a better job making the decisions for this family, put me to ground and see where it gets you.”

I held up my hands. “I’m not knocking your judgment, Seamus. It’s just of all the Italian families they’re the last one I would want an alliance with.”

The Neretti’s had held a powerful stronghold in New York City and the boroughs since the turn of the century when their first ancestors had come over from Sicily. While the Kavanaugh’s had grown their wealth through liquor and gambling, the Neretetti’s dirtied their hands with prostitution and pornography. Some of the earliest snuff films were financed by the Neretti’s. In later years, they had elevated themselves to wine and dine with politicians and the elite, but their business dealings remained in a seedy underbelly.

With a shake of his head, Seamus argued, “Once again, that shows your lack of discernment. Joining forces with the Neretti’s ensures we keep power and gain territory as well.”

“And what do they possibly get out of the union?”

“They’re an old name family, but they’ve lost too many men in the last couple of decades. They need the manpower that we and our allies can provide to protect their territory.”

Dare glanced between us. “Just which one of us do you plan to marry off?”

Seamus opened his mouth, but I beat him to it. “Me.” The moment the words left my lips dread filled my chest. Anger soon replaced it. After everything I had seen and done, I was pissed at myself for feeling dread at the thoughts of marrying.

At thirty-one, I shouldn’t have been surprised by an arranged marriage. By the time I was twenty-five, two marriage contracts had already been dissolved between myself and other Irish families. Both were because of betrayals by the girls’ families. Like many in the mafia, my father believed a man shouldn’t be wed too early. He should learn the ropes of the business while also enjoying himself with as many different women as possible.

“Why you?” Dare countered.

“Don’t tell me you want to get roped into this?” Seamus asked.

With a grin, Dare replied, “Fuck no.”

I eased back in my chair. “Of course, it has to be me—I’m the first-born son and leader of this family.”

“The alleged pick of the litter, eh?” Dare teased.

“Fuck you, third born,” I threw back with a smile.

He flashed me a wicked grin. “Third born yet blessed with a third leg for a cock. I’ll manage.”

While Quinn and I chuckled, Seamus shook his head. “Don’t count any of yourselves out of being part of a marital alliance. We need to make as many as possible.”

“Just not the Bratva,” Dare muttered under his breath.

Seamus’s eyes narrowed at Dare. “How quickly you forget my dearly departed wife was Bratva.”

“She was only half Russian.”

“She was still Bratva, and she made me an excellent wife.”

Dare’s expression softened. “Aye, Seamus, Elena was the best. My apologies.”

Kellan cleared his throat to change the subject and in turn ease the tension. “I didn’t think Alessio Neretti had any daughters?”

“Caterina is his only one.”

“What does she have to say about our upcoming nuptials?” I questioned.

Seamus exhaled a breath. “That’s where the unwilling part of the alliance comes in.”

“I sure as hell don’t like the sound of this.”

“Alessio Neretti would never dream of aligning with our family. His sons would, but he’s too much of a traditionalist to go outside his Sicilian brothers.” Seamus drew in a harsh breath. “But even if he did, Caterina has been unable to marry for the last two years.”

“Once again, I really don’t like the sound of this.” When Seamus remained uncharacteristically silent, I cocked my brows. “Don’t hold me in any more suspense. Why has my bride—the daughter of a high-ranking member of the Familigia who would have unlimited marriage proposals—remained unmarried?”

“Because she’s been in a convent.”

Holy motherfucking shit. While Quinn’s eyes bulged, laughter burst from Dare. I narrowed my eyes on Seamus. “How can you possibly marry me off to a nun? She’s married to God!” I snarled.

Amusement twinkled in Seamus’s blue eyes. “She’s only a novice.”

“She’s a nun.”

With a shake of his head, Seamus replied, “She hasn’t taken final vows yet, so she’s only a novice.”

“Does that really make a fucking difference?”

“For our blackened souls, it does. The last thing we need on our conscience is kidnapping a full-fledged nun.”

A grunt of disgust came from Kellan. “I would think kidnapping and forcing a woman into marriage is bad enough regardless of her religious status.”

Seamus chuckled darkly. “I’m aware I’m a fucking hypocrite to remain a practicing Catholic considering the line of work I’m in. But I do hold some things sacred. The fact that Caterina hasn’t fully given herself over to the church makes this a little more palatable.”

“It sure as hell isn’t palatable to me.” I threw back the remaining whiskey in my glass. “My future wife is a fucking nun!”

In the past year, I’d rarely entertained the thoughts of marriage. With all the chaos following my father’s murder, it had been pushed to the back burner. But whenever I did imagine it, it was always with an Irish virgin from one of our ally families. One who I had some form of common ground with.

There was absolutely nothing in me that could be compatible with an Italian nun. Her entire world revolved around her faith to where mine was often just an afterthought to keep my soul out of eternal damnation. As an Italian, she wouldn’t know any of my Irish history, the foods I loved, or the difference between good whiskey and absolute shite whiskey. She wouldn’t know the folklore or superstitions or the important holidays.

When my thoughts turned to my future bride’s appearance, disgust rolled through me. Images of the nuns at the Catholic schools I’d attended flickered through my mind. The thought of even trying to get my dick up for any of them was useless. “Do I get to see the lass you’ve brokered for me before the ceremony, or are you keeping her appearance hidden because of undesirability?”

Seamus reached into a coat pocket to retrieve several pictures. He slid them over to me. “I would say even a blind man would be able to get it up for a body like that.”

Curiosity got the better of me. Snatching up the pictures, I peered down at my future wife. With just one fleeting glance, I knew he was right. Hell, she could make a half-dead man rise to the occasion.

In the first picture, Caterina wore a tight black cocktail dress that fitted perfectly against her ample curves. Her long dark hair flowed in waves almost to her waist. The next picture showed her at the ocean where she wore a red bikini that showcased her fantastic tits. No one who saw the pictures would’ve believed the young woman in them would aspire to become a nun.

With a smirk, I replied, “I suppose I can muster the strength to fuck her now and then.”

Seamus snorted. “You’re lucky I’m not taking her for myself.”

“You’re a dirty old bastard considering she can’t be much more than eighteen.”

“She’s almost twenty-one.”

“And you’re fifty.”

“Forty-five,” he countered.

“You’re more than old enough to be her father, you pervert.”

Seamus laughed. “I’m giving her to you, aren’t I?” He gave me a pointed look. “While I’m fully capable of satisfying a woman that young, I’m too old to raise one.”

I chuckled. “Is that right?”

“Aye, I need one that’s been properly broken in. A lovely widow who has raised her children and wants to focus solely on spoiling me.”

“Best of luck finding that,” I snorted.

Dare rattled his knuckles on the table. Jerking his chin at the photographs, he said, “Come on. Give us a look at our future sister-in-law.” I tossed the photographs across the table at him. Kellan and Quinn leaned over to get a look as well.

“Fecking hell,” Dare muttered at the bikini picture. “You’re a lucky bastard, Callum.”

“Whatever,” I chuckled.

“She’s a corker,” Quinn grunted. With a shake of his head, he added, “What a waste of a body to be a nun.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Kellan added with a shy smile. Leave it to him not to sexualize my future wife but instead focus on her beauty.

Turning my attention back to Seamus, I asked, “The pictures leave me with even more questions.”

“Such as?”

“Why the hell would a beautiful and sexy young woman want to become a nun?”

“From the intel I’ve gathered, she was escaping from an arranged marriage with a sadistic pedophile.”

The mood in the room shifted at the mention of Caterina’s fiancé. As the heaviness permeated the table, I knew what each one of my brothers was feeling. But there was one of them more effected than the others. My attention shifted from Seamus over to Kellan whose jaw clenched.

In my father’s regime, the clan believed a husband had the right to treat his wife and daughters in any way he saw fit without any interference. They were his property. I’m sure it was the same in the Neretti family.

That archaic and bullshit ideal was one of the first fucking things to go when I took over. I might be a cold-hearted killer, but I would never be someone who physically or sexually abused women. Neither would my brothers. Any man who thought he could take a hand up against a woman was dealt with. Painfully.

Clearing my throat, I tried to ease the tension in the room. “While I’m sure as hell not like her former fiancée, do you really think this runaway bride is going to want to stick around to be my wife?”

He grimaced. “Not entirely.”

With a growl, I swept out of my chair. “Dammit, Seamus. This has fucking disaster written all over it!”

“It doesn’t have to be. Unlike her fiancée, you’re young and handsome. While you can be an ornery bastard sometimes, you’re not a sadist.”

“High praise indeed,” I muttered.

“In the end, you can give her the worldly things she possibly misses outside of the religious order.”

“Or is it maybe more possible she’ll resent the hell out of me for taking her away from a life devoted to God?”

“You can always negotiate to make sure it’s worth her while. Perhaps in five or ten years” time when our position is more stable, she can go back to the order.”

“If she”s married to me for any length of time, she won’t be a virgin,” I countered.

“Don’t worry. The order allows you to re-devote your life to chastity.”

Cocking my brows at him, I said, “You’ve really done your homework on this one.”

“It was necessary to ensure there were no loose ends.”

While I wanted to argue with him that there were infinite loose ends that could unravel, I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I resigned myself that I was about to be a married man. For better or worse, Caterina Neretti was going to be my wife and the mother of my future children.

After throwing back another shot of whiskey, I asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

“We leave for Palermo in two days.”

My brows shot up. “She’s in Sicily?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. I just imagined she was in a church somewhere in New York.”

“Caterina joined The Sisters of the Sacred Heart, which is a missionary order. She currently serves in a clinic that doubles in medical aid as well as a food pantry in a remote village outside of Palermo.”

“It sounds like she’s as beautiful on the inside as out,” Kellan remarked.

Dare threw his arm around Kellan’s shoulders. “Sounds like you have a crush.”

Kellan’s face flushed. “I do not.”

“Tis a sin to be coveting your brother’s wife,” Dare teased.

Shoving Dare away, Kellan countered, “I’m not coveting her. I just said she sounded caring.”

I grinned at him. “I’d say I’d need to keep my eye on you, but I know you’re far too honorable to try to put the moves on my wife.”

Kellan glowered at me. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I only said she sounded nice.”

“And beautiful,” I countered.

“Fuck off,” he muttered.

Seamus chuckled. “All right, boys. Back to our plan. I’ve secured us a house outside Catania, which puts us on the opposite side of the country from where Caterina currently is. We should be well hidden since anyone looking for us will think we fled back to the states. You’ll be married from there as well.”

“Why can’t we just get married here in Boston?” I asked.

“It’s vital that we do not leave Sicily until you are legally wed both on paper and by a priest.” Seamus shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he dropped his gaze to his lap. “Ideally you would consummate the marriage before we leave Sicily.”

The air around us once again grew thick and tense at Seamus’s suggestion. As agony rippled through my chest, I knew each one of my brothers was seeing the beautiful face of our sister in their mind. But there was one of us that it pained worse than the others. Kellan started to bolt from the room, but I hurried over and grabbed him.

Staring into his haunted eyes, I pronounced, “I will not force my bride. You have my word that she won’t ever suffer what Maeve did.”

Although I knew he hated himself for it, tears streaked down his cheeks. “Thank you, brother,” he whispered, as he swiped his face.

I squeezed his shoulders before turning back to Seamus. “If her family believes in that bloody sheet nonsense, we’ll fake it.”

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Seamus replied, “I don’t think they’re that hardcore, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to drive the point home to them about the legality of your marriage.”

“That’s fucking barbaric even for me,” Quinn grunted before throwing back a gulp of whiskey.

Dare nodded. “I agree.”

Although I didn’t feel much like celebrating, I held out my whiskey tumbler. “Let’s all pour another and raise a glass to my future bride.”

“I never thought I would see the day,” Quinn chuckled.

“Especially not to an Italian,” I mused.

With a wink, Dare thrust his newly filled glass in the air. “To my brother and the Sexy Sister.”