Chapter 31
Ciara
Sean’s face is grimmer than usual. He recognizes the voice, even if I don’t.
I grab the phone from him and say, “This is the grieving widow. I had to kill your man because he didn’t have my fucking money.
So, here’s the fucking deal, arsewipe. Show your fucking face, give me my money, you get the corpse, and then we can call this quits, got it? ”
Sean presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. He blows me a kiss that sets my heart on fire. He is… everything I never wanted, and yet here I am.
“Well, Ciara,” the smooth voice says. “I wasn’t expecting that. You’ve got fire. I chose well.”
“Excuse me?” I spit out as Sean’s expression turns thunderous. He makes a slicing motion over his throat, indicating I should hang up.
“My money, arsewipe. Ten minutes, same location. If the Garda show, I’m going to Connor with a sob story about how your idiot lackey shot my husband. I’m really good with the waterworks.” I hang up, my hand shaking. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“Ryan O’Sullivan,” Sean says, sliding down the passenger seat and then lowering the back so he is out of view of anyone approaching.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my blood like ice. This is bad.
This means war.
“Positive,” he spits out. “The head of the O’Sullivan family put a hit out on me to get to you.”
“But isn’t he married?”
“Ronan,” he growls. “His son. He must’ve been trying to broker a deal to get you and Ronan married, when Connor and Donal made a deal for us.”
“That’s a reach,” I mutter.
“Not in this world, sweetheart. You are a fucking prize. Your dowry, your name, your inheritance… the old guard think like this is still the 1900s.”
“Fuck,” I breathe, placing my hands over my face. “So he wanted you out of the way, so I was back on the market.”
“Certainly looks that way.”
“Fuck.”
“Pretty much.”
“You could be wrong,” I venture.
“I’m probably not. Ronan is my age, unmarried, the eldest son of the O’Sullivan crime family. They are bleeding territory like a punctured artery. Old Man Ryan will be scrapping for ways to save his legacy.”
“So I’m scraps.” I feel really wonderful about myself right about now.
But I have to forget about my self-esteem and concentrate on ways to get my brain to work.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, starting up the engine.
“If O’Sullivan shows up, he’s not coming alone.
He’s arrogant, not suicidal, and we have no dead O’Neill. He will shoot us both where we sit.”
“Facts,” he says. “He’s probably secure that you don’t know who he is yet, but when he knows I’m alive and heard every word, he will want to silence us. Get moving.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m already gunning it out of the Industrial Park parking lot like the devil is on my tail.
I weave through the industrial maze, putting as much distance between us and Warehouse Nine as this rusted bucket of bolts will allow.
My heart is hammering against my ribs, not from fear, but from the sheer audacity of Ryan O’Sullivan.
To think he could just pluck me from one marriage and plant me in another like a prize rosebush is insulting enough; trying to kill Sean to do it makes it a declaration of war.
His desperation is showing, and it’s ugly as fuck.
Sean cranks the seat back up, his face a mask of cold, calculated violence. He checks the side mirror, his eyes narrowing as he scans the gray horizon for any sign of pursuit.
“Clear,” he grunts. “For now.”
“We can’t go back to the safe house,” I say, taking a sharp turn toward the city center, the tires struggling for grip on the wet asphalt. “That rat hole is compromised with the SUV left parked outside. We can’t go to your father’s without admitting we need the cavalry.”
“We do need the cavalry,” Sean states. He runs a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves.
“This isn’t just a hit, Ciara. It’s a coup.
If O’Sullivan is bold enough to target an O’Neill son—even if it’s just the spare—to secure a political alliance, he’s planning something massive. ”
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.
“You are not a spare. Not anymore. You are mine, and I’ll be fucking damned if someone thinks you are expendable for their own ends.
We don’t need Connor. We don’t need Donal.
We need a plan, more firepower and balls of steel to walk in there and shoot a head of family in the face for being such an arrogant cock.
” I slam my hand on the steering wheel, ignoring the dire clunking sound that echoes my declaration of war.
Silence descends as my outburst hits Sean’s shocked ears.
“I’ve gone so hard, I think my dick is going to break,” he mutters after a minute.
I shoot him a sideways glance, fighting the urge to smirk.
He chuckles, a dark, raspy sound that does dangerous things to my insides, but I force my eyes back to the road.
The humor is a thin veil over the reality of our situation.
We are two people against an empire, driving a car that smells like wet dog and rust. “We need weapons,” I state, cutting through the sexual tension before it distracts us both.
“And not the kind you use to inflict physical damage.”
“Intel,” Sean muses. “Apart from threatening to tell the entire Dublin underworld of his plan to annihilate me, we’ve got nothing.”
“We’ve got exactly what you just said. But somehow we have to get that point across without getting close enough for him to take us out.
As much as my first instinct is screaming at me.
We won’t get within a hundred meters of him to shoot him in the face.
Unless you are any good with a sniper rifle? ”
“Can’t say it’s a skill I’ve picked up.”
“Me either. Mental note: learn how to kill someone from five hundred yards away.”
“Dermot?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We can’t involve anyone. Not yet. This is our shitshow. We need to at least attempt to fix this before we go crying to the elders.”
“I wouldn’t say this is our shitshow,” Sean argues. “We are completely innocent in all of this.”
“Regardless, taking out Ryan O’Sullivan is not really an option unless we want a bloodbath that will make the Troubles look friendly.”
“Fair point, but not one I’m opposed to. The bastard tried to off me! But… for argument’s sake, let’s break it down. If he’s willing to start a war with the O’Neills just to secure your dowry for his son, then the O’Sullivan coffers aren’t just low; they’re empty.”
“And in this world, being broke is worse than being dead. It’s a weakness.
” I tighten my grip on the wheel, navigating the rusted sedan around a delivery truck.
“If we expose him and prove to the families that the O’Sullivan empire is a house of cards waiting for a stiff breeze, then we don’t need to fire a single shot.
The sharks in this city will smell blood and tear him apart for us. ”
“The O’Neills and the O’Byrnes being the great whites. He has risked everything on the hope that Connor wouldn’t be too bothered to lose me.”
His tone has gone bitter, and I reach over to pat his leg before returning my hand to the wheel. “Well, he thought wrong. Connor might believe in tough love, but it’s still love. And now you have me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, staring out of the window as I drive aimlessly, with still no destination in our sights. “I have ruined your life.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t get to throw a pity party for one. I have never met Ronan O’Sullivan, but I bet he isn’t as hot as you are, and his dick is probably tiny.” I hide my smile as his head turns to me.
“Who knew you were so shallow?” he asks with a hint of amusement.
“I have layers. Layers you will live to learn about, so where to? How do we handle this without going to our dads?”