Chapter Ten
Braesal O’Malley
“I found her.”
Looking up from my desk, I saw Tyran enter my office and immediately slam his big frame onto the sofa that was pushed against the wall opposite of where I was sitting.
Leaning back, I looked at him.
“Found who?”
He looked at me, eyes widening for a fraction of a second. I hadn’t asked him to look for a woman. What I had asked for was for him to get me everything he could find on Christian Moreno.
“Maureen.”
Straightening in my seat, I leaned forward on my desk and glared at him. “I don’t recall asking you to look for her. She wanted out.”
Sitting forward on the couch, he looked at his feet. “Boss—”
“Why the fuck were you looking for Maureen?”
“Well, you offered—”
“I didn’t ask what I fucking offered. I asked why the fuck you were looking for her?”
Tyran Fitzpatrick had been my best friend my whole life. When I took over for my father, it was only natural that he would be my second. The only person I trusted.
Mostly.
In my position, I couldn’t fully trust anyone.
Everyone had a price they would sell their soul for.
I didn’t get to where I was thinking Tyran didn’t have one.
It was just that no one had found it yet.
“She’s in Nebraska.”
That caught me off guard.
“Where,” I growled.
“Diamond Creek.”
“Fucking hell!” I slammed my fist on the desk.
What the fuck was she doing there?
How did she even find it?
It was a tiny little town with less than two thousand people. In this whole fucking country, she left and found the one small town they lived in.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
If my father taught me anything, it was to never believe in coincidences.
“Duane did this.”
I looked at my friend. I loved him, but his fucking paranoia was a constant headache. Tyran was the type of man who thought danger lurked in every corner. And around every corner was someone waiting to take me out.
I was smart enough to know he wasn’t completely far off, but Jesus Christ, he was exhausting.
“Duane was a fucking idiot.”
“Don’t let Duncan hear you say that,” he murmured.
“There is no way Duane knew where they were. They moved thirty-eight fucking years ago. My father didn’t even know where they went. Hell, I didn’t fucking know until they died.”
Standing from my seat, I walked across the room to the bar. Pouring myself a glass of Midleton whiskey, I quickly emptied the glass before pouring a second.
When I sat back down, Tyran raised an eyebrow. A silent question as to why I didn’t offer him any.
“Buy your own fucking whiskey.”
Instead, he stood, walked over, and poured himself a glass, before sitting back down and waiting for an order.
He looked ridiculous sitting on my couch. His six-foot eight-inch frame dwarfed the brown leather sofa, leaving barely enough room for another person, much less the two that should’ve been able to fit beside him.
I questioned why I allowed my sister Caitlin to talk me into letting her decorate my office.
Because she’s your sister and you love her.
I did love her. Caitlin was one of the few people in my life that made me smile. Her and my niece, Maddie. When I found Caitlin’s fucking husband, well my sister might not like me much after what I had planned for him.
Growing up with a sister that lived in a different home was interesting. We didn’t spend a lot of time together, but thankfully our mothers got along well. Despite that, I was closer to her then I was to the brother I lived with for twelve years.
And then there was the brother I’d never met.
And let’s not forget, the brother who betrayed us.
You see, people called me the Irish Bastard.
But it didn’t offend me, because that’s exactly what I was—a bastard.
My father was a dirty son of a bitch and spread his seed anywhere he could.
This meant I had a half-sister and a half-brother.
Those were the ones I knew about.
My mom met and married a decent man, a mechanic. She wanted someone who made an honest living. I always wondered why she’d gotten involved with the head of the Irish Mob, but I never asked.
Knowing who my father was, I was afraid to learn the truth.
After getting married, my mother had another son. Then, when I was seventeen, she moved away.
She didn’t ask me to go.
Her and her husband took my brother and moved out of my life.
Shortly after, she had another boy.
I may be a bastard, literally and figuratively, but to me family was important. Family meant everything.
Family meant nothing to my father. Shit, his father, Casper O’Malley the former head of the IRA, banished his son to the States so he wouldn’t have to clean up anymore of his fucking messes. It wouldn’t shock me to find out I had other siblings still living in Ireland.
After getting rid of his son, my grandfather married off my aunt to the man he wanted to leave his legacy to. Now, that man’s son ran Ireland.
I also recently learned my grandfather was fucking around on my grandmother. Had two little girls with his mistress, and now I had a cousin who was a fucking Italian.
And a member of the goddamn Soulless Sinners.
Add him to the other half-breed cousins that were in the Golden Skulls, and I would be caught in the middle of a war that had nothing to do with me. Well, almost nothing. Fucking Nolan was dead when I found him.
“What have we learned about the Italian?”
“Not much. They keep things pretty close to the vest over there. Though he was arrested for shooting Montana.”
“That fucker deserved it, I’m sure. He dead?”
“He survived.”
“More’s the pity. They charge him?”
“No.”
“Where is he now?” I asked, wondering what I could gain by helping him if the need arose.
“Don’t know. He disappeared.”
“I told you to watch him.”
Tyran sat there, spinning his glass in his hand. He wouldn’t look at me. Which told me he fucked up.
“Did you lose him because you were looking for Maureen?”
“She’s in fucking Nebraska.”
“You already fucking told me that,” I shouted, slamming my hand on my desk.
He lifted his glass and drained it before getting to his feet. Placing the glass on my desk, he finally looked me in the eye.
“She knows something. Why else would she fucking run?”
Closing my eyes and letting out a ragged breath, I tried to temper my anger.
“She didn’t fucking run,” I said between clenched teeth. “And she doesn’t know shit. Maura never wanted to be in this life. She took the opportunity that was available to her and got out.”
“Then why the fuck did she run to him?”
That was a good question. Did she run to him? If she did know something, what was it and who exactly did she run to? She had options in Nebraska.
“We don’t know she ran to anyone. It could be a coincidence”
Tyran looked at me with an expression I had never seen. One that said I was an idiot. He was a brave motherfucker to question me.
Maura was special. While there was no love lost for Duane, the useless shit, I had a high regard for his brother Duncan. Duncan loved Maura like a little sister, not just because she was married to Duane, but because Maura was good. She was pure. She deserved better than staying in a life she hated.
She was also Darcy’s sister-in-law. Though Darcy took off long before Duane and Maura got married, I know they would have been close. So, for Duncan and Darcy, I took care of Maura and her daughter Colleen.
“Colleen would know.”
Rising from my seat, I glared at my friend. In that moment, I needed to remind myself he was my friend.
“Leave that girl alone. She is Duncan’s fucking family.”
“But—”
“ENOUGH!” I roared. Walking around my desk, I stood toe to toe with Tyran. He might have a few inches and more than a few pounds on me, but he was loyal. And he knew I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head if I had to.
“What the fuck are you doing questioning me?”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need your fucking protection. I have been doing fine for the last fifty-five fucking years.”
A look passed over Tyran’s face, and I knew he was keeping something from me. I tilted my head and watched him as I asked, “What did you do?”
Surprise marred his face briefly, but was gone in an instant.
“Nothing,” he said, looking me in the eye.
Tyran was hard for people to read. He never smiled. He never frowned. You would think the man had fucking Botox for how much his face remained a stoney silence.
But I knew him well. Had spent almost every single day with him since we turned eighteen, and almost that many before we became adults as well. I knew his tells, his micro expressions.
Turning my back on him, letting him believe I trusted him, I gave him an order.
“Go tell Duncan, Cian, and Mac to pack a bag. And pack warm. We’re going to fucking Nebraska.”
I sat back down at my desk, and when Tyran left, closing the door behind him, I made a phone call.
When the phone connected, I barked, “Why the fuck didn’t you call me when she got there?”