Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
TALLY
O ne thing Joe continually spoke on was having the ability, and grace, to pivot. Today’s change is monumental, but standing in the living room of Paddy O’Connor, surrounded by his most trusted men and those he clearly loves—his family—is the in I’ve been after.
Keegan’s hand rests on my hip as he stands behind me, talking quietly in my ear, every now and then letting me know who’s who.
There’s not really any need for his explanation, given I have an extensive dossier at my fingertips if needed. Admittedly, it saves me a whole lot of trouble later when I go to add my notes about today. The wire I’m wearing will take that onerous task away.
When Ronin whistles from across the room, Keegan leans down, enveloping me in his warmth and scent, telling me to wait here.
I watch him leave, and check on Rafferty, who’s talking to one of Ronin’s sisters in the corner, Tynan watching over him. And me. He’s been splitting his attention between us, and I wait until he’s checking on me again before indicating I’m going to the bathroom.
His intimate distance stings like gnats biting my skin. It’s hard to bitch about it, though, when I was the one insistent that we only had one day. We both know the ring on my finger is off the first chance I get. Tynan is after the commitment, the future, not just the symbolism.
Collecting empty plates on my way, I use them as a way to venture through the house.
I don’t need an excuse, apparently, since I’m family and welcome, according to Jeanie.
The look from Paddy told a different story.
He’s accepting, but I suspect he’s also aware I’m not wholly committed to forever and ever with his only son.
I think he should insist I tread carefully; it sits a lot better for me keeping this pack at arm’s length.
Lessens the inevitable fallout. And it’s coming.
You can literally feel the waves of discontent and simmering resentment coming from some people here.
Ronin’s suggestion that he’s aware of what’s happening behind his back, and his father’s, isn’t really a surprise.
I want to know why they haven’t acted on it.
Perhaps they’re simply waiting until the antagonists make a move.
It’s not an unusual way of exposing all your enemies in one sweep, but it seems out of character.
Then again, that’s me painting all people involved in the Mafia with the same brush.
I move to where Walsh stands with Black, Patrick, and the Fanning brothers—Sean and James.
As I anticipated, Walsh is the spokesperson, yet again. “You probably should have mentioned ya connection to the O’Connors, Tally.”
He might be an Alpha, but compared to the O’Connors, his dominance is watered down. Even if he barked in my face, I could easily avoid obeying his command.
“I didn’t see the reason. And it’s the same reasoning I shared with you about that other matter after the event a while back,” I answer, turning to face the others.
“Hello, Black, Patrick, Sean and James. Or should I call you Mr. Black, Mr. Doyle, and Mr. Fanning and Mr. Fanning?” I say their names carefully.
Not for me, but for the small transmitter I’m wearing.
They each acknowledge me but don’t answer my question, so I keep talking. “I’ve made it very clear since the second I started working for you that I keep my mouth shut. I’m not involved in what they do. They don’t have a lot of interest in what I do, besides what time I finish.”
Walsh wears his anger like a sunburn. Even the tips of his ears redden. The others are better at masking their emotions, though they mirror each other in their aloofness.
Turning to Walsh, I keep my tone softer. “There was no intention of playing you, Walsh.” Using you, on the other hand, most certainly. Actually, I lied, every moment we’ve been together has been intentional.
I kiss arse like a seasoned professional. Because I am. “One thing I know, and no offense, but Alphas lose interest very quickly. Invariably, something better always comes along, which is why I work as hard as I do. My independence is important.”
Patrick slides his hand into his pocket, drawing the conversation to him. “There’s a difference between being courted and wearing that ring. You get that, don’t you?”
“I do, Patrick. But I also know a ring means different things to different people. You play chess?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. My question isn’t actually aimed at Patrick. I want Black’s attention, because I saw him playing on his phone at the bar one night and made a passing comment about it because it was odd. He ignored me then, but he doesn’t this time. I have his attention.
“Any piece, or person, except the king can be sacrificed. It’s happened before, it will happen until time runs out. Depending on the situation, of course.”
Sean, the older Fanning brother, stares me down in his confusion. He’s nothing more than a wasp, a distraction. Unlike Black, who is the most dominant and most scheming. Regardless, they’re all involved in things they shouldn’t be, including playing games behind Ronin’s back.
My need for justice might have started years ago, but it seems my husbands are under my skin more than I figured. Staring down at these four men, my mission hasn't changed but the reasons for it seem to have gained more reason and momentum.
I drop my gaze. I was being borderline aggressive in my targeted approach, but as I suspected, only Black takes note. For the others listening, my chess-based innuendo passes over their head.
They don’t say a word or react. They wait for Black’s lead as to how they should respond.
Which, again, confirms his role as the mastermind.
He rarely speaks, only assesses, but today, not only does he talk, he’s forthright with an accusation I already suspected would be made toward me.
“Should I presume you set the fire at The Shamrock, then?”
“You can presume all you like, but I had nothing to do with it.” My answer is probably too forthright for an Omega, but I’m eager to finish up and go.
“Perhaps you were sharing stories you’d overheard with your pack, then?” His voice drops low as his dominance starts to show itself.
I shake my head, maintaining a steady look at him but not at him in the eyes.
And then I purposely shrink, making myself smaller, my voice softer as I add a little more vulnerability to my presence.
“Again, Black, what happens between one group of people and another is not my business. I live to serve. Besides, if you thought I was responsible, you would have already called me in to have a wee chat. Or got the police involved.”
In much the same way I can sense Sean’s lack of intelligence and his vindictive nature, I’m frighteningly aware of Keegan’s presence the moment he enters the room.
The power of his presence is like a grounding touch.
It’s exquisite, like a gentle buzz that dances over my skin.
I don’t turn around when he comes in, but I do pretend, as my attempt to downplay the depth of our bond, to startle when his hand cups my butt.
Inappropriately low, given the crowd, but it is Keegan we’re talking about.
Walsh is the first to jump to attention, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how quickly he starts mooching up to Keegan.
Walsh’s hand shoots out to shake Keegan’s as he does an overcompensated greeting, drawing him into their circle.
Doing everything you shouldn’t do if you’re trying to hide the fact we weren’t just talking shit about me and the O’Connors.
“You should sack my wife, Walsh,” Keegan says. His voice ripples with dominance, making him growl out Walsh’s name, although he delivers obvious the threat with a smile.
Keegan’s arm snakes around my waist, and he tugs me to where he considers a safe distance is. “How’s business, boys? Caught any criminals recently?”
Black is like a chameleon, but I knew that already. From the sanctuary of Keegan’s side, I watch him transform from foe to something else—not friend, more begrudging employee.
“We’re working hard, keeping the community safe.” Black laughs, as he, too, reaches to shake Keegan’s hand. “Congratulations. I had no idea Tally was yours.”
“Ack, it’s all good. Tally doesn’t believe it herself some days.” Keegan laughs at our inside joke before his voice dips and his play falls away. “There’s no changing the fact, though, she’s an O’Connor.”
Of course, the message is for me, but in a lot of ways, it’s for them too.
“Have you got any solid leads on The Shamrock fire yet, gents?” Keegan asks as he leans over to shake the hands of the other three Alphas.
A rumble of thinly veiled contempt gets hidden behind false smiles, a shuffle of movement, and I get a waft of their malicious lies in their scents too.
Patrick’s eyes move towards Black, and I steady myself because, clearly, it’s going to be offensive, given the look they share.
“We’re more focused on Des Kelly’s disappearance. And his son’s abduction. Any assistance would be welcome, Keegan.”
Keegan’s hand skirts up my back before clamping around my nape possessively. His touch is more dangerous to my well-being than Patrick’s poor attempt at subtlety.
My husband’s voice is like that of an arctic blizzard when he speaks, frigid and terrifying.
“See, we made it pretty clear that anyone touching our wife would be held responsible. Then we heard a rumor she did get touched, so in my mind, Des and Dessy got what they were due. We gave a warning. If we didn’t follow it up, we’d be looking like desperate Made Men and not the fucking royalty we are. ”
“So, you’re admitting your involvement, then?” Black asks. His cunningness is as obvious as a fox’s red tail.
Keegan scoffs before staring through both Black and Patrick. “And where did I say that, then? Ya fucking useless twats.”
“Keegan.” I swing around, hoping to calm him down, not wanting this to escalate more than it is. For no other reason than it’s my first visit to the O’Connor family home. I don’t want to cause another scene today.
But Keegan’s not into letting this go. “Ronin!”
“Aye.” Ronin is suddenly behind me, appearing as if was hiding in the shadows.
He holds his hand up, pausing the greetings and any conversation, to lean down and steal a kiss.
Not a peck, either. Ronin’s kiss is a show of possession and ownership.
And goddamn, it sets my soul on fire. I get a small smirk before he undergoes a personality bypass, transforming from the Alpha I know to a goddamn powerhouse.
He stands close to me, but also between me and Black. Ronin looks at Keegan with clear entitlement and unbridled dominance on his face, waiting for an explanation.
“These eejits are thinking we had something to do with Des and Dessy Junior disappearing off the face of the earth. Black here, basically accusing me of being responsible."
Ronin is smiling. Of course. He’s happy as a lark on the surface, but I’m getting lost by what lies hidden and waiting. His Alpha is out for business, and I’m powerless against him.
Ronin must pick up on it, because his hand glides under my jacket, his thumb trailing over my back as a way to keep me anchored. The rest of his focus is squared at the conversation he’s been dragged into.
“Well, there’s one way to finish this once and for all.” Ronin's voice is low, full of endless, unspoken threats. “Keegan, did ya top Des for being a major snake in the fucking grass? And before you be answering that, you remember it’s a sin to be lying on a Sunday.”
Keegan throws his hands up in frustration.
“As if I would lie on a Sunday, I’m a man of faith.
I wasn’t the one to snatch Des Kelly and his son off the streets before they walked into The Shamrock a few days past. I was not the one to empty my gun into his thick fucking skull.
I’d buy whoever did it a pint or two, though, because Des Kelly’s been thinking Paddy O’Connor and Paddy’s heir aren’t capable of ruling the Irish anymore, and that’s blasphemy. ”
“Ack, it is,” Ronin agrees. “It’d be a really fucking stupid move on anyone’s part to think they could stage a coup.
But the thing is, you should never underestimate the power of human stupidity.
Or is it stupid humans?” he muses, but it’s not in a nice way.
The dip in his voice as his Alpha threatens makes the air hard to breathe.
His thumb presses harder against my body, another message, to stay strong and be stronger than the men he’s toying with. “We sort that out, then?”
“We weren’t accusing either of you of any involvement. We know the way things work here, Ronin. You’ll be forgiving us, I hope,” Black placates, but his apology doesn’t alter the contempt he has for Ronin and Keegan.
I look at the two brothers, and as I suspected, they wear the same obvious hate in their eyes.
The older one, Sean, knows I’m watching him.
With his and everyone else's attention on what Black is saying, he flips his jacket to reveal his detective badge before he taps a finger on his holstered service revolver.
His threat is obvious.
And this detective is both an amateur and a fool because Keegan sees it happening at the same time I do. Keegan’s hand brushes tenderly over the back of my neck again before he moves like a flash of lightning.
A second later, one of the ladies screams, but she’s the only one who is making noise. Around us, there’s a weighted and deafening silence as Keegan holds the revolver to Sean’s forehead before trailing it down and pushing it between his lips, forcing Sean’s mouth open.
“Sean, here, needs a transfer, Black. His invitation to walk our streets has been revoked.” Ronin’s voice is low like a whisper, but he delivers it like an Alpha bark with brutal intention.
I sway on my feet, immediately under the influence of Ronin.
My mouth is full of the taste of his chocolate and pepper scent, while his presence is like a physical touch wrapping around me.
All I can do is watch. Sean tries to hold eye contact with Ronin, to convey his level of hate, but Ronin’s too strong and Sean too weak.
“Get the fuck out of my father’s house.”
Black and Patrick don’t wait for a second, they walk off. Sean’s pride extends to his brother, and the two of them try to stare Keegan, and Ronin, down.
“Now!” Ronin roars, making them stumble as they race from the room.