Chapter 2 Quinlan Fallout
QUINLAN FALLOUT
Matteo
The video footage at the Velvet Vault doesn’t lie, but it also doesn’t tell me a damn thing I want to know. So much for my incredible hacking skills. A lot of fucking good they’re doing me right now.
I lean in closer, elbows on my desk, rewinding the grainy camera angle for the eighth time tonight.
After losing my would-be assassin in the Meatpacking district somewhere, I doubled back to the Vault.
And I’ve been sitting here for hours. The club’s main hallway flickers in black and white on the screen, timestamp blinking red in the corner. I watch it play out again:
21:07 – She slips past the bouncers like smoke.
21:09 – Enters my office.
21:10 – Gun out. Confrontation.
21:13 – She bolts.
I scrub forward to the alley cam. It’s only a partial angle and low quality. I can barely make out the edge of her ponytail as she runs. Blonde. Slender. Fast. Mask still on.
But it’s the way she moves that gets me. Like she’s done this before. Like she’s been trained. Who the hell would send an assassin for me? And a gorgeous one at that…
I’ve gotten hard over some fucked-up things before, but a masked assassin straddling me? That’s a new one. Still, I couldn’t deny the heat that had raced to my stupid cock.
And there’s no doubt in my mind that she felt it. She must have. That’s when she bolted. Only the disgust I expected to see wasn’t there.
Then there was that moment. That hesitation. She could’ve killed me when she first walked into my office and caught me by surprise. She should have. But she didn’t. Why?
And that’s what keeps fucking with me.
I rewind again to the second she points the gun at my chest. My reaction time was fast, faster than hers. But even before that, there was a flicker. A pause in her eyes. Blue and cold. But there’s something else too.
And then there was the way she said my name.
The voice. The accent, the faint Irish lilt. Like she was trying to hide it, but it seeped out all the same.
That hits somewhere I don’t want to admit. My gut clenches, no, it’s too high to be my stomach. That knot hits higher up in my chest, somewhere it has no right to be. I can’t remember the last time a woman affected me like that. Let alone one holding a gun to my head.
A soft knock breaks through my spiraling thoughts and the quiet buzz of the security feed.
“Matteo?” Rory’s voice filters through first, cautious. “What are you still doing here at this hour?”
I pause the video and turn my head as the office door creaks open. She steps in, wearing a baggy hoodie that’s probably Ale’s, and her green eyes go straight to the screen.
Alessandro follows in behind her, shirt unbuttoned at the collar and scars on full display.
Something he never would have been comfortable with before Rory came into his life.
Clearly neither of them were in attendance at the club tonight or they would have heard the commotion.
They must have stopped by for something else.
They both eye me suspiciously when they see me hunched over the desk, half-crazed with obsession.
“Merda,” Ale mutters. “You trying to give the cameras a nervous breakdown?” Then his gaze settles on the grainy image on the screen.
“What the feck happened here?” Rory blurts, her Irish lilt the complete opposite of subtle as she takes in the spray of plaster across the floor. “You have a female stalker on your hands, Matty?” Her tone is light, but there’s a note of unease in her voice.
I rub my face with both hands, leaning back in the chair. “Not a stalker. She was armed. She pulled a gun on me, right here, in my office a few hours ago. Walked right through the front doors of the Velvet Vault.”
Ale arches a brow. “And you’re just telling us now?”
“I handled it,” I mutter. “There was no point in bothering the happy newlyweds.” Damn, was that bitterness in my tone?
“Right. Obviously.” He crosses his arms, then unfolds them and laces one around Rory’s shoulders. “What did you do, flirt her into submission?”
“Almost. I got the drop on her and was able to disarm her before her shot hit true. But then she ran.”
“Through my nightclub?” he growls. “Cazzo, I do not need this sort of bad publicity right now.”
“Relax, she ducked out the back door. None of your VIP clientele were in any danger. She knew the layout of this place. This was planned…”
Rory takes a slow step forward, frowning at the paused footage on the screen. “Do you know who she is?”
“No.” I hesitate. “Not yet.”
Alessandro narrows his eyes as he regards me. “But you think you’ve seen her before?” Nothing gets by my cousin. He knows me too well.
“I think…” I exhale, frustrated. “I think I know her. Or I did. Something about her—her voice, the way she moved. There was a… I don’t know. A pull. A familiarity I can’t shake. Plus, she was pretty damned adamant I should’ve remembered her.”
Rory leans in. “What kind of voice?”
I meet her eyes. “Irish. Soft lilt. Controlled, but it was there.”
That gets her attention. Her expression tightens just enough for me to notice. Alessandro, too. His entire demeanor changes, body stiffening.
“Rory?” he asks, tugging her closer to his side, that fear in his eyes surging to the surface. “Do you recognize her?”
They’d been through hell only three months ago thanks to the Quinlans. Having another Irish mobster show up, female or not, couldn’t be ignored, especially when she starts throwing the Quinlan name around. Which was exactly why I hadn’t told Ale when it happened. Not until I had some answers.
She shakes her head quickly. “No. It’s probably nothing.”
“No. Say it,” I press. It’s only a matter of time until the truth comes out anyway.
It’s better they know the Quinlans are involved so they can take necessary precautions.
And I’d like to hear her take on the situation.
Her father, Cormac O’Shea, was tight with the Quinlans and if there was anything she remembered that could help us, now would be the time.
She glances between us, then folds her arms. “There aren’t many women from Irish mafia families who’d get that close to a Rossi in Manhattan without being noticed unless they had a damn good reason. Or a death wish.”
Ale’s expression darkens immediately. “You think this is Quinlan fallout?”
“I do and damn it, this is all my fault,” Rory says slowly. “I never should have gotten you all involved. This is someone tied to Conall, I’m sure of it. After the massacre at the estate—” Her words fall away.
“This isn’t your fault,” I blurt. “We were all there. We chose to be there, for you and for Ale. We all killed a lot of Quinlan and O’Shea men, along with who the hell knows who else. Besides, this is about Eoin Quinlan.”
Ale’s jaw ticks. “Conall’s cousin?”
I nod. “She’s his fiancé. Apparently, I killed him in the chaos of the shootout. That hot-ass assassin came for revenge.”
“Fuck,” Ale grits out. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
I shrug. “I didn’t want to scare her.” I tick my head at Rory.
“I’m not some feeble little thing, you eejit.” She shakes her head at me, then wags a finger. “That’s right… I do remember Eoin being engaged.”
I sit up straighter. “To whom?”
“I don’t remember her name.” Rory frowns, brows knitted. “Only that she was quiet. I saw her once, at my first wedding to Conall that never happened.” She stares at the screen again. “She looked young. Blonde, not bleach blonde, though. Strawberry.”
That makes something twist in my chest. A memory.
Sunlight. Laughter. Salt in the air. Blue eyes. Fire-kissed hair.
No. That was years ago. That girl is gone. And this woman was colder. Sharper.
Wasn’t she?
Alessandro drops a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll dig into it. I’ll have Leo double the security detail at the Vault. If someone’s targeting you, we’ll find out who and we handle it.”
“Already pinged the Gemini’s facial recognition network,” I mutter, eyes locked back on the paused image. “Nothing yet. The mask blocked most of her face.”
“You should go into Gemini Corp tomorrow and get some of the tech guys on it. More eyes could help.”
“Already thought of that, thanks cuz.”
“And you’re welcome to stay at our place tonight, if ya want,” Rory offers. “We wouldn’t want that trigger-happy lass following you home and catching you unaware.”
“I appreciate the offer, but the walls in your penthouse are too thin and the idea of hearing you guys fuck all night makes a bullet to the head sound like heaven.”
“Hey!” Rory swats at me, her cheeks turning rosy.
“Suit yourself, Matty.” Ale presses a kiss to Rory’s head before throwing me a reassuring smile. “We’ll find your mystery assassin.”
I nod slowly, but I’m not so sure. Because something tells me she doesn’t want to be found. Not until she’s ready to finish what she started.
And the worst part is I’m not entirely convinced I could pull the trigger when she does.