31. Saoirse
Saoirse
Bad News
Iget the news in fits and starts as it trickles my way. It’s the kind of news that Declan can’t protect me from.
Two of my associates are missing. Maybe calling them associates of mine is pushing out the boat too far.
They are fixers. Men who take my money and make my bribes for me. They pay off politicians, city planners, and site inspectors.
They are the men who let me erase the O’Shea’s house with a bulldozer and never face the legal consequences. They have my back when I want to develop public land along the Brooklyn coastline or force a construction crew to pull twelve hour shifts when a project is running late.
I do it to be as feared and respected as my father was. I also do it because no one has the guts to tell me “no” to my face, because I’m connected to the ones who cut the checks and the throats.
Who would dare challenge me this way?
The police came to ask me questions. I told them to fuck off and I called my lawyer. But I’m not the only one they’re investigating. When wealthy men go missing, the cops can’t turn a blind eye.
Rian enters my office without knocking. “Declan sent me. You’re needed at home.”
I keep my eyes on my desktop. “Let’s try that again, shall we? And this time, knock.”
He stands there looming over me. I can hear him chewing the insides of his cheeks as he tries to keep a hold over his temper.
It’s not like he has a choice. He goes out, closes the door, and knocks.
“Come.” Patrick would be proud of me.
Rian is monotone. “You’re needed back at Sunnyside.”
“Why didn’t Declan call me?” It’s a fair question.
“I left him there, entertaining your guests.”
I’m intrigued. “I’ll follow you in my bodyguard’s rental.” Because I don’t trust you to have my safety as a priority.
He wants to command me, but we both know that would be him overstepping the mark.
“Sure. I’ll catch you in the parking lot, Mrs. Maguire.”
My office space is luxurious, with windows facing New York Bay and overlooking Shore Road. It’s more of a converted luxury mansion than an office.
“What’s the traffic like?” I ask my bodyguard, joining him in the car.
He’s not chatty, which I like. “Under an hour to Sunnyside.”
He leaves me alone with my thoughts, which I also like.
A police detective’s vehicle is parked in our drive. Two black SUVs are parked behind it. That must be the lawyers.
Frankly, I’m surprised there are only two lawyers.
I enter the living area and place my purse on the side table quietly. I’m dressed like the business woman I am; pencil skirt, white silk blouse, red-bottomed stilettos. My hair’s in a chic up-do.
If I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve put on one of my floral dresses—to try and look more innocent than I feel.
My lawyer pats the seat next to her while Declan introduces the two detectives to me.
I sit down without greeting them. They’re cops in my house. I’ll be damned if I make them feel at home.
“Now that everyone’s sitting down,” my lawyer begins to say, but I grip her wrist to silence her.
“What’s going on, Dec?”
He’s my husband, for better or worse. But he’s also my ally. And I need someone older and wiser to guide me on this.
I can tell Dec’s got his filter on by the way he leans to the side and watches everyone with two fingers pressed against his mouth.
“These detectives are here because Jim Blake and Gary Hopkins are still missing, Saoirse.”
I address the detectives directly. “We’ve already gone through this with the police. Yes, I know Jim and Gary through work. I invited them to join my board of trustees because they’re really good at expediting my projects.”
My lawyer lifts one finger to warn me to stop talking.
“Thank you for being so candid with us, Mrs. Maguire. But we’ve received reports—”
“From whom?” I mean, I have to ask.
“From a confidential informant.”
Someone ratted. I’ll put them in the ground myself.
“And we’ve been able to access several…dozens… transactions from your bank account into the missing persons’ bank accounts. We’d like you to come down to the station with us and explain the reason for them, please.”
“Consultation fees.” My lawyer suggests first.
But I’m bricking. “All of them?” I’ve been double dealing with Jim and Gary for six Goddamn years.
“How about we start with the ones you can remember, and that will give your husband time to contact your accountant.”
My lawyer whispers in my ear while Declan’s lawyer crosses the floor to go and whisper in his.
The detectives look away, giving us privacy.
“Tell them you’ll follow them in my car Mrs. Maguire. They can’t arrest you. This is a fishing expedition. Trying to rattle you.”
Her breath tickles as it puffs in my ear. I nod. “Mm-hm.”
Declan comes over with his lawyer. He whispers too. “They must have more on you to get the authorization to do this, pet. Darren will try and set up a deposition date. In the meantime, listen to Sharon.”
Darren is his lawyer. Sharon is mine. I couldn’t make this shit up.
“We’ll follow you to the station, guys,” Sharon gives the detectives a bright smile. “It’ll give Mrs. Maguire time to call the Comptroller and the Borough President, whom she also happens to know!”
***
It’s more serious than I thought. The two men have vanished. Literally.
Mrs. Blake woke up to find Jim’s side of the bed empty. His cards, watch, and phone were still on the end table.
Mrs. Hopkins is still waiting for Gary to come back from his daily morning jog. Again, the phone, watch, and cards were left at home.
I’m disbelieving. “Who the heck goes for a run and leaves his phone at home?”
The detective on the left gives me the old up and down stare. “It’s called digital detoxing. It gives someone time to process their thoughts without interruption.”
“Well, something obviously interrupted…” Making sarcastic comments under my breath is how I’m processing this.
They’ve made even more of a connection between me and the vics. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Jim and Gary are victims, just not mine.
Every time I made a deposit or a donation to one of their non-profits or NGOs, it was preceded by plenty of phone calls between the three of us.
Sharon is on the ball. She shrugs and bats her papers together. “Here’s my card. We’re here to help, but until you can place my client in the two gentlemen’s homes at the time they went missing, we have nothing more to discuss here.”
She ushers me out by pushing the small of my back.
I collapse in the car, but we’re not done yet.
“Mr. Maguire wants you to visit the wives. We need those optics, Saoirse. We can’t have those women pointing fingers at you.”
“Listen, I’m not some politician’s wife, so stop talking about optics.”
She looks at me like I’m mad. “You are part of a community. Irish Americans contribute to the very fabric of Brooklyn and Queens. The Maguire Foundation donates to some serious people.”
I get it. Those serious people don’t want this leading back to them.
“Fine. Take me to see the wives.”
***
Declan’s waiting for me when I get back, calls me into our bedroom suite.
“You need to fall pregnant, Saoirse. I want you to stop working until you are.”
He doesn’t need to explain to me where this is coming from. He’s a king. He needs an heir. And I could use the sympathy vote right now.
“What about running our property portfolio? Who’s going to do that?”
I know what he wants. I slip out of my pencil skirt and untie the bow on my silk blouse.
“I’ll take Patrick off Fourth Avenue and put him on property.” Declan has decided.
I lift the blouse over my head after letting down my hair. When I go to kick off my stilettos, Declan tells me to “Keep those on.”
I sway over to the bed wearing nothing but dark blue lace panties and Louboutins.
He throws off the sheets. His cock jerks up as I crawl up the bed toward him.
“You’ll make a lovely mother, Saoirse,” his gaze sweeps over me, his eagerness to possess my body very evident in his spasming erection. “Pregnancy will put some meat on those lovely bones of yours.”
“Mm.” All I have the energy to do right now is agree with everything he says and then fuck him.
Licking the end of his cock like a lollipop, I give a ravenous smile. “Mm. Want me to ride you hard? You big stallion.”
I dunno. I’ve gotten more adventurous in the way I approach my sex life with my husband. It’s easier to get my way afterward.
He lunges, rips the lace right off my crotch as he tears off my panties.
He’s usually so cool and remote, but when Declan’s with me he lets down his guard. He lets me mount him, ride him until he’s wet, and then he listens to my gasps as I come.
We fall back on the bed with our limbs entwined. He strokes my thigh with a thoughtful, almost worshipful, expression on his face.
“No more work until you’re well and truly pregnant, Saoirse.”
Finally, I’m able to think.
What happened to Jim and Gary has Finn O’Shea’s calling card all over it. So, this is how he plans on punishing me for moving on with my life?
I can’t be hooking up with an MMA fighter—or whatever the fuck he is—behind my husband’s back any old time Finn feels like it. That’s information people could use against me.
Digging deep, I go looking for the old hatred I felt for Finn.
I find it, but the emotion is softer, trying to be more understanding. Two youngsters from rival gangs, barely out of their teens, running away so they could be together forever.
How poetic.
Talk about good optics. The reality was different.
I was an innocent young woman manipulated into leaving her family and friends behind so she could be isolated and held in thrall by a hitman.
So, my hatred is no longer as strong as my desire for independence and success as an individual.
I can think straight so long as Finn is a safe distance away from me.
There’s a nagging doubt. A fucking significant one.
First Jim. Then Gary. My two sidekicks, my partners in crime.
The men who sat by my side while I took over Patrick’s empire and ran it higher and faster than I ever thought was possible. I positioned myself as Finn’s enemy and pushed his folks into a corner.
All for revenge, driven by hate.
And that hatred has come home to roost. Big time.
Now, I have to ask myself.
Am I next?