Too Dear for Deer

Chapter 7

7

SCOTT

The tower had its own restaurant for residents run by Michelin star chefs. The inside was as gorgeous as the rest of the building—all high inverted ceilings and soft lights. It had three-sixty-degree views of the city with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sophisticated atmosphere. The tables were made from dark walnut and the chairs were a soft gray. The bar in the alcove in the back was encircled by black walls, floors, and ceilings, giving it a fancy vibe.

The only difference since the last time I’d been here—which happened to be the weekend prior—was the large Christmas tree that glittered with multicolored lights in the corner and the tunes of the Christmas carols that flowed from the speakers.

Michael Bublé was currently crooning in his soulful voice, and while he was one of the better singers, I wasn’t in the mood for the holidays. Not yet.

I held in a groan. I’d never been a fan of Christmas.

“This is nice .” Deer hummed from where he stood beside me, staring around Icarus’s at Sky High Tower with wide eyes and agape mouth. He had the duffel I’d given money to him in hooked over his shoulder, but it appeared to sit lighter at his side, and I suspected he’d only brought some of the cash with him. I didn’t ask him why, though. That was his business. “I can’t believe you have a restaurant just for the people who live in this place. You have rich, and then you have rich . My mom has nothing on this.”

As curious as I was about his family, I didn’t ask. December was all we got, and I wasn’t getting more involved.

I chuckled as I slid my fingers through his and raised his hand so I could kiss the back. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

I guided him through the room toward a window seat.

Mr. and Mrs. Lightfoot waved at me from where they sat a few rows away, and I gave them a small one in return. They were a nice couple who lived near the bottom of the tower, which according to most of the tenants here, meant they weren’t worth associating with. Why? They didn’t make enough money. A lot of people who lived in this place were pretentious arseholes.

The only issue with the Lightfoots was that they had a grandson in his early twenties who was gay, as they informed me one day, and apparently, they thought he’d “make me a nice husband.” I’d held back a laugh because it felt almost as though they were trying to marry me to the idea of getting hitched with him . Despite that, they were good people.

“Come here.” I guided Deer toward the table and went around to one side, pulling out the chair for him. “For you, my dear .”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile he sent me was soft and shy while his cheeks burned a deep red. I made a note of how easy it was to embarrass him. It seemed no one had treated him the way he deserved, and as a Service Dom, I was going to change that.

He cleared his throat and dropped his head as he laid the duffel on the floor and took his seat. “Thank you.”

I laughed gently and helped him push the chair in before I went around to my side and took my spot with ease. “So. Deer Marshall. Diarmuid. I have a very important question for you before we start this adventure together.”

He cocked his head. “Is this a test?”

“Absolutely.”

He chuckled, a tight nervous sound, and played with the edge of the napkin in front of him. “All right. What’s your question?”

I sat taller in my chair. Linking my fingers together, I stared at him with all the fake seriousness I could muster. “What are your Christmas opinions? Good and bad.”

He frowned and glanced around the room, as if he expected someone to jump out with a camera. “Um, I don’t know?” He laughed. “What’s yours?”

“Righto.” I clapped my hands. I’d been waiting for this moment with someone who wasn’t Avery for a very long time. Hashtag and Zombie didn’t want to hear anything about it, and every time I tried to bring up the subject, they shut it down quickly. “First, this carol shit shouldn’t start until December.” I pointed at the speakers above us and made a face.

His mouth twitched and he chewed on his bottom lip, clearly trying not to laugh again. “It’s practically December.”

“Not good enough. It’s not December and anything Christmasy before then should be illegal. You can’t change my mind.” I shook my head. “Second, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”

“ Die Hard ? It’s that action movie, right?” He pursed his lips in thought and smoothed out the napkin he’d been playing with, not looking in my direction.

I slapped a hand over my chest and gaped at him. Was he really that young? But even people around his age had to know what Die Hard was. “I’m hurt. I’m not sure if we can do this anymore.”

He eyed me beneath his long lashes before he cracked a smile and laughed, eyes lighting up. Mischievous little bastard. “Everyone knows what Die Hard is, but I don’t think it’s a Christmas movie. You might as well call Gremlins a Christmas movie.”

I stared at him. “This date gets worse and worse. You are the most horrible choice of a partner for me.”

His face flickered for a moment, a wave of concern sliding over it, before it smoothed out when I grinned to show I was joking. “Maybe I’ll break up with you before you do it to me.”

“Hah!” I leaned forward with my elbows on the table, aware of the miffed looks I was getting from a new couple that had moved in a few floors below me. They sat at a table to our right, but I didn’t give a damn about them. Fuck them. “Sweet Deer, you’d never find a man like me again. I can make all your fantasies come true. You want me to wake you up servicing your cock or arse every morning? I’m there. I’m rare, sweetheart. Make the most of me.”

I didn’t think it was possible for his cheeks to flush any redder, but much to my delight I was wrong. He groaned and ducked his head, covering his face with his hands.

I reached across the table to pat his arm. “Sorry. I’ll stop now. Let’s order.”

He peeked at me between his fingers before he dropped his palms. “Are you always this way?”

I chuckled and motioned for one of the waiters to bring us a menu. Each week the choices changed unless you asked for something you enjoyed specifically. With the prices being paid, they made sure their tenants were happy. “No. I’m usually more serious, but my mate reckons I need to have some fun. I wasn’t expecting you, though.”

“Am I a nice surprise?” The shyness in his voice only made him more tempting. While I’d wanted nothing more than to bend him over the island and fuck him this morning, I had a need to drag it out. Make him yearn for my cock before I gave it to him.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. A real nice surprise.”

He groaned and rubbed his cheeks again as the waiter handed us the menus. After I thanked him, I perused the list.

“Scones.” I tapped the menu cradled in a leather holder. “Not as nice as the scones we’ve got at home, though. Your scones are sweeter and heavier. They aren’t terrible, just not like Australia’s.”

“What are yours like?” He peeked over the top of the menu in his hands, the genuine curiosity bright in his eyes. With a look like that, I’d be tempted to risk my life and take him back to my hometown one day.

“They’re similar to the British ones. Lighter, drier, and made with a lot less sugar. They’re great with jam and cream.” My stomach churned as I thought about home. There wasn’t anything wrong with the United States, but there was something special about being in the place you were born and raised. I missed so much about Australia, and that wasn’t even including my family. “Is there anything that interests you?”

He hummed as his finger slid down the list, lips pouted in thought. My focus narrowed on his mouth, succulent and wet from his tongue, and my imagination ran wild. I’d already seen what he looked like when he came—twice—but how would he react to me edging him? I’d get him to the precipice of that O cliff before I’d drag him back.

“I like the idea of poached eggs. The photo looks fancy.”

I snorted. “With the prices they charge, everything should be fancy . You get abouta mouthful of food, too.” I smirked at him and gestured at myself dramatically. “Do I look like the kind of bloke who only eats a sparrow’s shit worth of food?”

The corner of his lips quirked, amusement lighting up his face. The flush seemed permanent, and it spread across his jaw and down his throat, swooping into the V-neck of the gray wool shirt that belonged to Avery. The shirt was snug against Deer’s sinewy frame, but he was taller than Avery, so it made sense. “Why don’t we go somewhere else? A burger joint?”

“Because I’m trying to impress you.” I winked. “Is it working?”

“I am very awed.” He poked his tongue out at me, and I laughed.

“Naughty pet.” I gave him a slow once-over, my gaze dragging down his slim neck to his chest, where the shirt clung deliciously.

“Scott?”

The sound of my name had me glancing to my right. Rafe Miyamoto-Hargrave walked toward me, stalking across the room like a man on a mission, his grin wide on his tawny face.

I jumped to my feet and returned his smile. I held out a hand to him, and he shook it. “Rafe, how ya goin’, mate?”

He was a handsome man who stood a little taller than my six feet. With mid-length black hair that he always had professionally styled and sculpted shoulders meeting strong arms, he usually managed to pull the attention of nearly everyone in the room. He had a rounded, prominent nose that suited his squarish jaw and deep brown eyes. If I’d been interested in a long-term relationship, I would’ve flirted with him a long time ago. Anyone with a phone knew who he was and what kind of people he dated.

Rafe belonged to the Miyamoto-Hargrave line, an influential family who was famous in the States. His grandparents created the MH Group, and they owned a mass amount of shopping centers across the country. His grandmother was a legend in the Japanese business world, while his grandfather was just as great. Together, they’d jumped on a lucrative empire.

Rafe’s parents had taken over the business after his grandparents grew too old and eventually passed. Like his father, Rafe was a superstar when it came to running the company and making decisions, and he’d recently taken over as chief operating officer. He had the kind of mind that I envied. Even his Brazilian mother, who’d grown up in the poor outskirts of Belém, brought phenomenal ideas to the table. They were a family of geniuses, if you asked me.

I startled when I remembered Deer and gestured at him. “Rafe, this is Diarmuid, but he goes by Deer.” I winked. “Deer, this is Rafe Miyamoto-Hargrave, which I’m sure you already know.”

Rafe snorted and smacked me gently on the arm. “Don’t inflate my ego. I won’t fit through any doors with a big head.”

“Nothing could expand a thing that doesn’t exist.” I chuckled. “I’ve met some conceited bastards in this tower and you’re not one of them.”

Rafe laughed as he held out his hand to Deer. “Anyone who’s a friend of Scott’s is a friend of mine. Pleasure to meet you.”

Deer winced as he shook Rafe’s hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know who you are.”

I sent him an incredulous look. “You’re serious?”

Rafe patted me on the uninjured shoulder when he finished shaking hands with Deer. “It isn’t the end of our existence. There are plenty of people who have no idea who I am. Not everyone keeps up with the business world like you, Scotty.”

“Listen.” I pointed a finger at Rafe. “First, he tells me that he’s never seen Die Hard ?—”

“You’re kidding.” Rafe gaped at me.

“Right? And now he tells me he doesn’t know who you are.” I shook my head as seriously as I could. “I think I have to end this before it even begins.”

Deer rolled his eyes. “You’re as dramatic as my mom. I said Die Hard wasn’t a Christmas movie. I was joking about never seeing it.”

Rafe burst out laughing. “And the hits keep on coming for you.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Are you old enough to be his dad?”

I scoffed, then grinned. “Shut the fuck up, mate.”

Rafe’s laughter continued, and Deer joined in with him. Finally, I did as well, and the noise we made garnered some glares from the other patrons.

When Rafe had settled down, he nodded toward the bar. Behind the wall was the kitchen. “Did you hear we’ve got a new sous-chef? According to Armando from the fifth floor, the chef’s young, probably mid-twenties at the most. But Armando says he’s good. He’s doing lunch and dinner today. He only started this week.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I had no idea.” My mouth tilted to the side as I caught his curious glance toward the bar again. “Is he hot?”

Rafe was known for being interested in relationships, but he never minded a bit of easygoing flirting. I’d been around him enough to pick up on his playful smiles and saccharine words toward good-looking men.

He shrugged, then grinned wider. “Armando thinks so. I might come back for lunch and ask for an introduction. But for now, I’ll leave you to your breakfast.” He patted me on the arm again—this time the one with the injury, which made me wince—and turned toward Deer. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Diarmuid. I hope to see you around again because I haven’t seen Scott smile so much since I’ve met him. You’re good for him.”

“Be gone, traitor. Don’t tell him all my secrets.” I kicked at Rafe, gently getting him in the arse, and he laughed harder as he walked away from us.

The new couple sent me another glare, and I tipped my imaginary akubra at them.

Giving them a cheerful smile, I thickened my accent in a way that made me sound like a jolly tourist. “G’day, mate. Sorry about that. I hope I didn’t ruin your brekkie. The name’s Scott and I live on the one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth floor.”

Deer made an amused sound that he quickly hid behind his palm.

The man’s shoulders relaxed and he offered me a smile. “It’s fine. You didn’t ruin a thing.”

His wife nodded in agreement, her blond bob swinging with the movement. “Not a problem at all. I’m Sissy.” She held out her hand, and I shook it before I did the same with her husband.

“Louie.”

I winked and said my goodbyes before I returned to my seat. I smirked. “They’re new here. I was introducing myself.”

“Do you play up the Australian accent often?” Deer leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. The corner of his mouth twitched. He looked nice with the sun filtering through the glass wall and falling across him as a shining beacon.

“When it helps me get what I want,” I murmured.

The low hum of conversations filled the restaurant, and the smell of freshly cooked food flooded all my senses. My stomach grumbled as a reminder of how hungry I was now.

“Which is what?” He leaned forward, eyes slightly wider in curiosity.

I chuckled. “You know how you asked me what I did? I never really told you.”

He nodded, rather eagerly.

“I’m a golden retriever.”

He blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Golden retrievers are trained to retrieve , right? It’s how they got their name. We’ve taught them to find and guard those resources we need.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m the human version of that. I find things, the resources, that really rich people want. I’m the golden retriever of New York City.”

“I don’t think I understand. How do you do that and why does that make you special?”

“The things they want are nearly impossible to get. Even with money. It can be tickets to a very exclusive party or to have a chat with a certain politician.” I picked up the fork sitting beside the empty plate in front of me and played with it, spinning it between my fingers. “I know a lot of people, the right ones. Human beings, especially the kind with a lot of money, are quick to judge others. They look at those who are poorer than them and assume they have nothing to offer. I look at every person and I see opportunities. Connections.”

Understanding bloomed across his beautiful face, but I wasn’t done.

I nodded toward the Lightfoots. “That is Mr. and Mrs. Lightfoot. People in this building think the Lightfoots are below them because they have an apartment on the third floor. What they don’t know is that the Lightfoots have a grandson who’s best friends with the artist Truth Duke. Getting one of his new paintings is rare, even with money, because Truth Duke decided to sell them in random galleries for a small ten-dollar fee to give everyone a chance to buy one of his art pieces, under the condition they don’t sell it for at least ten years. Buyers have to sign a contract and everything. It’s all about being in the right place at the right time. Unless you know someone who has a grandson who’s best friends with him.”

He watched them carefully, and when they glanced our way and saw us smiling at them, Mrs. Lightfoot twiddled her fingers at us in a wave. We both returned it before we stared at each other again.

“They also have a daughter who’s married to a woman who plans some of the most exclusive parties in New York City.” I smirked. “And don’t get me started on who Mr. Lightfoot is friends with.”

“Oh.”

I shrugged. “The world is a web of connections. There’s six degrees of separation between people, or as some of us Millennials know it as—the oracle of Kevin Bacon. There’s opportunities, the kind that a lot of people waste because they’re fucking stupid. I take advantage of life and make friends along the way.”

My phone buzzed in the pocket of my suit pants, and I sighed, dragging it out. I already had a feeling I knew who it’d be, and I wasn’t wrong.

Avery

Hellooooooo. Did you fuck him?

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he wasn’t done. Avery wouldn’t stop until he got an answer, so I shot him back a text.

Scott

None of your business. Why are you awake?

Usually, he stayed up till the early hours of the morning while working in our club, so Avery slept in until midday, at least. It was 9:00 a.m. and way too early for him.

The waiter who’d brought our menus returned and smiled at us. The morning sun glittered through the windows and glinted on his short silver hair as he pulled out a tablet from the apron he wore. “Are we ready to order?”

Deer perked up and his stomach let out a fierce growl at the same time, making me chuckle. “Can I get the poached eggs with a side of French toast?”

The waiter hummed as he clicked something on the screen in front of him. “Absolutely. Would you prefer freshly squeezed juice, coffee, or both with that?”

“Juice sounds great.” Deer grinned wider and his excitement was charming.

The waiter turned to me. “And you, Mr. Cairns?”

I winced at his butchering of my name. I was used to it. Americans tried to throw a long A and R in there that Australians didn’t bother to pronounce. “I’ll have the chive-and-cheddar pancakes with maple-glazed bacon and a coffee with creamer.”

He finished taking our orders before he headed off right as my phone buzzed. I checked it, expecting Avery again—this time it wasn’t him.

Mr. Killough

The meeting has been brought forward. Get here ASAP.

Fuck. I massaged my forehead. Deer and I had plans, but this new message meant they had to be moved around. If it’d been anyone else, I would’ve responded that they could wait, but Killough wasn’t someone to trifle with. Avery and I had moved to America with his and Legend’s help under the condition that I’d always be available for Killough.

“Is everything okay?” Deer blinked at me with those big brown eyes, and warmth spread through my chest. Perhaps Hashtag was right. Deer was best suited to be an actual deer when it came to being a pet. He had the deer caught in headlights look down pat. With that expression, I’d give him the world.

“I have to leave early.” I smiled sadly. “I’ve been called in by a very important client who I can’t refuse.”

“Oh okay.” The disappointment in his tone was a knife straight to the heart. He was too sweet to be upset. “Do you want to cancel breakfast?”

“No.” I stood and swept around to his side. I swooped down for a kiss, and he tilted his chin back, offering his mouth like the lovely sub he was. The mint on his tongue was a bright burst of freshness, and I chased the taste on my lips after we ended the kiss. “Stay. Eat yours and my breakfast. They’ll send the bill to my account.” I crouched and stroked the back of my knuckle over his heated cheek. “When you’re done, go downstairs to reception. Tell them your name. I’ll organize a car and driver for you on the way out. You can use them to run errands. When I’m done with my meeting, I’ll message you, and we can meet up at that sex shop to choose your animal because I want to play tonight. What do you think?”

His pupils dilated and he gasped, a small breathy sound that turned my insides to lava. I was going to ruin him.

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that.”

I gave him another kiss, deep enough to have him moaning, before I left him. I went straight down to the reception, ignoring the Christmas decorations spread across the lobby, including the massive flashing Christmas tree surrounded by fake presents. They must’ve decorated the area this morning. After I’d talked to one of the receptionists about booking a car and driver for Deer, I ordered my own, and soon I was on my way toward Southampton, where Killough lived. Usually, I drove there myself, but I wasn’t in the mood this morning.

The drive was over an hour, especially with the traffic—though Saturday mornings were better than weekdays—so I played on my phone, making sure to text Skippy, even though it was some ridiculous time over in Australia.

I did some work on my phone, emailing important people as my mind kept drifting back to Deer. Innocent Deer with his big brown eyes and pouty lips. Deer with his long lashes, adorable blush, and the freckle right above his upper lip. Deer with his sinewy body and pretty cock. Deer with his thick eyebrows and slightly crooked front teeth. Fuck .

I slid my hand to my crotch and cupped my cock through my pants, giving it a good squeeze. I couldn’t do anything yet, but by God, I wanted to destroy him while bringing him to immense levels of pleasure. This waiting business I’d tried wasn’t going to work anymore. He was too beautiful to resist. I’d take him tonight. He was young enough to handle one orgasm after another. I’d wreck him until he was all jelly limbs and boneless from exhaustion.

Smirking at the thought, I settled in the back seat.

By the time I arrived at Killough’s mansion in Southampton, I was ready to take on anything he threw my way. I hopped out of the car, after directing the driver to wait, and walked toward the front door, sliding my hand to my lower back to check that my knife was still securely in the sheath. They’d take it away as soon as I entered, but I liked to know it was with me for the time being. I didn’t get a chance to knock before Killough’s butler, Mr. Hopper, opened the door with a scowl that befitted the man. He obviously hated everyone but his employer.

“Mr. Killough and guests are waiting for you in the formal dining room. You know where that is.” He nodded, and it seemed as if it took all his energy to do it.

I headed to my right and was stopped by a couple of mobsters. They patted me down, roughly, eliciting a grunt of pain from me when they touched my injured shoulder. Once they found my knife, they took it, then let me go.

Killough’s foyer was massive—a space of sparkling chandeliers, elegant marble tiles, and a split grand staircase that swept up to the second level like steps to heaven. Everything gleamed. I wondered if this was the kind of place Deer would love to live. He seemed in his element at the tower, but having a house meant more space.

I shook away my thoughts and headed into the formal dining room as I’d been instructed. As soon as I entered, I knew this wasn’t going to be a quick meeting. There was more than Mr. Killough in the room; although, he lorded over everyone from the head of the table. To either side of him was Conall Morrissey—his partner and pet—and Fionn Killough, his nephew and apprentice. The table guests also included Daire Reardon, Ardan Murphy—he fucking hated me, a lot —and Gabe Mancini.

Unlike the foyer, the dining room was dressed with Christmas decorations, which didn’t come as a surprise. Since Conall had entered Killough’s life, certain things had changed. When it came to Christmas, Conall was a fan. But opposite the gaudiness I faced in most places, the decorations in here were tasteful. The Christmas tree in the corner was white with glass ornaments and silver baubles, finished off by a star on top. The walls were lined with swooping snow-flecked garland and red bows. A piece of mistletoe hung above Killough, which I had no doubt Conall did on purpose.

Killough looked no different than any other time I’d seen him. He was still the bleached-blond, icy blue-eyed, suit wearing bloke he always was. The man clearly didn’t understand the meaning of changing things up. Also, didn’t he know leaving the dark roots was a big no-no? At least, that’s what my sister-in-law told me once. I knew jack shit about that kind of thing.

“Is there a holiday coming up I didn’t know about?” I teased.

Conall made an amused sound in the back of his throat and brushed a long strand of dark hair over his ear—the same one that had a spiked silver cuff curving around the outer shell. Nothing stood out more than that red collar buckled around his neck, though. Everyone knew what it meant—he belonged to the boss and only the boss.

Killough grunted and waved his hand impatiently to the seat beside Daire, who sat next to Fionn. “Sit. We need to have a discussion.”

So, he was in a serious mood. That wasn’t anything new. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Killough smile. Yeah, I’d much rather be at home or at the sex shop with Deer.

Pushing aside the thought—because I didn’t want to get a hard-on right now—I did as he’d ordered, taking the chair beside Killough’s right-hand man.

“What can I do for you, sir?” I asked, ready to get straight to business. The quicker I got this done, the quicker I could go meet Deer and have my filthy way with him.

Murphy glared at me from his side of the table, and I sent him a wink. He was one of the few who didn’t appreciate me much, but that wasn’t because of me. Murphy was Killough’s best assassin, and the guy didn’t take to anyone being more important than him in the Company. Killough had plenty of use for me, and right now that included weapons, something Murphy helped to handle.

“How are the ghost guns going?” Killough didn’t mess around. He was direct and to the point. No bullshit. It was a nice change of pace.

“Which ones?” I tapped my finger on the table and stared at him.

Killough pursed his lips and raised his chin. He was a handsome bloke with hard edges—in both personality and looks. He had a sharp jaw and a scar that sliced across his left eye as a warning of what he’d been through.

While I’d never studied his appearance too hard, all I could do was compare him to Deer, who was soft and innocent and so very different. I didn’t know why my mind decided to put them in juxtaposition, but I enjoyed Deer’s gentleness when I dealt with the hard attitudes of men such as Killough in my career life. Perhaps it’d be nice to come home and let go of all the expectations, to give pure pleasure to a man who never knew what it was to have that.

Killough cleared his throat. “Both.”

Conall’s mouth twitched. “Something on your mind, Scott?”

I shook my head and offered him a wide grin. “No, sir. Nothing.”

I didn’t want dangerous men knowing about Deer. I’d seen what those kinds of people could do to innocence.

“Right now, we need to get a fuck ton of high-strength nylon-based polymer. It’s illegal to buy in bulk without paperwork, and with how many guns you want, it’ll take time. We need to find someone who works within the offices of a chemical company that sells it so we can bribe or charm our way into getting what we want.”

“You mean threaten?” Conall grinned.

I laughed. “I said charm, didn’t I? Anyway, I’m working on it. Then, we gotta get our 3D printers to build them.”

“And the other ghost guns?” Killough leaned forward. “I was nearly sentenced to prison, and would’ve been if they would’ve used my gun against me, but it went missing while in evidence. I need weapons that can pass through metal detectors and can be used once and tossed. I know guys, but I hate most of those gun traffickers. Can your people build them?”

“Fuck yeah, but again, I need time with how many you’re asking us to make. Need to nail down what will work best. This isn’t an easy job, sir, especially with the cops sniffing around after the whole bar fight incident.” I gnashed my teeth together but forced myself to smile at him. Killough was usually patient, so I wasn’t sure what was pushing at his nerves to make him so twitchy.

Back in April, Killough got into a bar fight with his rival, the Mexican cartel boss, Thiago Reyes. It was a disaster, and men ended up dead. Killough was arrested, too, but he didn’t stay behind bars for long. I wasn’t sure what they found to get him out, but he was free within a couple of months. In that time, Conall and Fionn ran the Company, and they’d called on me here and there for favors.

“Good. I need them as soon as possible. We’re not taking any more risks with the cops.” Killough exhaled and linked his fingers together on the table. “Next order of business. Sweeney.”

I frowned. “Legend?” I glanced between all the men here, then back to Killough. “What about him?”

“He asked for help from us. He’s having issues with the Italians over in Australia. Can I trust him?”

No . I kept my mouth shut. I owed Legend for getting me and Avery out of the country. “He’s your ally, sir. Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve met him a few times, but I need more information.” He eyed me carefully, as if trying to read my mind. “You knew him. He’s the one who offered you to me like a prized bull. A billionaire who could pull all kinds of strings, he’d said. And he was right. But now I need to know he’s not pushing for more territory outside of the Southern Hemisphere. If I send a couple of my best men there, like Cillian and Fallon, I need to know he won’t turn around and...what is it he says? Feed them to the crocs.”

I snorted out a laugh. Yeah, that was Legend all right. That was a go-to method of killing in the north of Australia. The crocodiles were vicious, and while it wasn’t always the best way to get rid of a body—crocs loved storing their meat at the bottom of a river and letting it rot—the animals freed the mob of their problems quickly. Those teeth also did a lot of damage, making someone’s injuries almost impossible to detect, which meant getting rid of evidence, too.

“I wasn’t mates with Legend. He was a means to an end. I worked more closely with the Italian mafioso, Leandro Valussi. Legend figured out how to get things for himself.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and caught Murphy rolling his eyes out of the corner of mine. Arsehole. “But he kept to his word when it came to getting me and Avery out of the country. He’s got integrity. I reckon if you’re his ally, he doesn’t have a reason to betray you.”

“Good.” Killough stroked his chin. “Then, I’ll send Cillian and Fallon and a couple of the other men to help. There’s a few Miami guys who can go.”

“You should send Naoise’s nephew, the one who was in the accident with our other boys,” Daire said. “He’s good at being the watch, and after that crash, with all the scars he has now, he deserves a trip.”

“Finn,” Fionn said.

Daire cocked his head, and Fionn sighed.

“His name is Finn McCorkell.” He raised his eyebrows at Daire.

“What’s with Irishmen and the name Finn?” I laughed.

Fionn sent me a bored glance, but I didn’t expect much else from him. He was a stick in the mud, usually, and while I’d seen him grow since Killough went to jail, there was plenty of work for him to get more charismatic.

I clapped my hands. “Anything else? I’ve got things to do.”

I also had a man named Deer to do as well, but they didn’t need to know that.

Conall smirked and mischief flashed across his face. I’d been around him and Killough enough to know one of Conall’s playful moods when I saw it. He stroked the deep red collar around his neck. “Maybe I’ll keep you around just for the conversation. I enjoy your accent.”

Killough grunted and sent him a narrowed glare. “Pet, now is not the time to get a man’s tongue cut out because you want a reaction out of me. If you like his accent so much, I’ll make sure he can’t talk at all.”

“And I need my tongue right where it is. Makes my job so much easier.” I chuckled.

Killough turned his cold stare on me. “We’re just getting started, Scott. Tell me everything about the ghost gun operation.”

Fuck. What did I have to do to get back to Deer and take him to the sex store?

I sighed. “Righto. What do you want to know?”