15. Eamon
Eamon
The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it doesn’t chase away the restlessness knotting my chest. I lean back in my chair, staring at the map of Dublin spread across the table in front of me.
It’s marked with red pins—territory disputes, shipments, and other business dealings that should have my full attention.
But my focus drifts, as it has every day since I got back.
Eve.
Her voice echoes in my mind, the way her words carried that distinct Belfast lilt. It wasn’t purely Irish, but not entirely foreign, either. It was unique, like her.
It’s been months, and I still can’t get her out of my head. I’ve spent hours tracking down every lead I can think of, but I’ve got nothing. Just the vivid memory of her fiery red hair, green eyes, and the way she could make me forget everything else with a single look.
I’ve turned to every connection, and every resource I have, but it’s all led to dead ends. The resort in the Maldives had no record of her booking. No surprises there, considering she’d probably used an alias.
And the worst part? The not knowing.
No pictures. No last names. Who Eve really is. Where she is now. Whether she’s thinking about me the way I can’t stop thinking about her.
The door to my office creaks open, and Seamus steps inside, his face a mix of irritation and concern. “We need to talk.”
I glance up, my expression flat. “If it’s about the Callahan’s, I’ve already?—”
“It’s not the Callahan’s,” he cuts in, crossing his arms. “It’s you.”
My jaw tightens, and I set the glass down slowly. “What about me?”
Seamus exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “The men are talking. They’re saying you’ve changed since you came back. That your head’s not in the game anymore.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” His gaze sharpens. “You’ve been distracted for months. You’re handling things, sure, but it’s like your fire’s gone. And the men notice. They’re questioning your commitment. And frankly, so am I.”
Anger flares instantly, sharp and hot. I stand, the chair scraping back against the floor. “I haven’t dropped the ball on anything. Business is running smoothly, and no one’s stepping out of line.”
Seamus doesn’t back down. “Not yet. But they will if they think you’re slipping. This isn’t just about keeping the trains running. It’s about power. Control. Perception. If they think you’re not the same man who left, they’ll take advantage of it.”
The truth in his words stings more than I want to admit.
“What do you want me to do?” I snap. “Throw someone off a building to remind them who I am?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Seamus says bluntly, his voice steady. “You need to remind them you’re not just present, but that you’re still the ruthless leader they fear and respect.”
The silence between us crackles.
Finally, I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face. "What about Liam O'Connor?" I say, my voice cold and measured. "He's been encroaching on our territory, hasn't he?"
Seamus raises an eyebrow, surprise flashing briefly across his face. "We've had reports he's been making moves, trying to undercut our operations in the Docklands. Nothing definitive yet."
I fix him with a hard stare. "Definitive or not, he's testing us. If the men need a reminder of who I am, then Liam's the perfect example."
Seamus hesitates. "You want me to send someone to deal with him?"
"No," I snap. "I’ll deal with him myself. Arrange a meeting. Somewhere neutral enough to keep this controlled but public enough to make an impression."
"You want to go face-to-face with him?” He shakes his head, incredulous. “You know he's the kind of rat who’ll have backup waiting."
I lean forward, my tone sharp. "Let him. I’m not walking into this unprepared. But the message has to be clear. Anyone who crosses me doesn’t get to walk away."
Seamus exhales, nodding slowly as the realization sinks in. "Alright. I’ll set it up and make sure word gets out. Everyone will know you’re handling this personally."
"Good," I say, leaning back. "And make it clear to Liam that this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a warning."
Seamus smirks faintly, the tension between us easing slightly. "He won’t know what hit him."
As he leaves the room, I stare at the map on the table, my focus narrowing on the Docklands. Dealing with Liam O’Connor isn’t just about business. It’s about reasserting control. The men need to see me at my best or, more accurately, at my worst.
Every time I try to focus on business, on the next move, I feel her pulling at the edges of everything, like a wound that won’t close. Her absence aches in places I didn’t know could hurt.
One part of me wants to hunt her down, to demand answers, to figure out why the hell she left.
The other knows I’ve got a job to do. A life that doesn’t have room for someone like her.
No matter how hard I try to compartmentalize, she keeps bleeding into the parts of my life I swore would stay untouched.
But I can’t let her go. Not yet. Not until I know who she really is.