Chapter 12
Killian
I’m perched on a bar stool, chatting with Niall, one of my new bartenders. “If a lad orders it with cola, pour him the house whiskey. He won’t taste the difference anyway.”
“Got it.” Niall is a wiry fella in his forties with a rap sheet as long as my arm. Mostly fraud and forgery with a couple of bar fights thrown in. Smart as a whip. The kind of fella I can use and control.
“Boss, got company.”
I glance behind me to see Murphy, one of Da’s loyal soldiers who I brought in from Chicago, walking toward me with Sandro and Gunnar strolling in behind him. They’re both wearing black suit jackets, dress shirts and slacks like they’ve just come from a meeting.
“Thanks, Murphy.” He heads back to his post as I shake their hands. “Come for the VIP tour, boys?”
“Actually, we came to give you something. But,” Sandro sweeps his arms to take in the room with an amused grin. “We’d love a tour. This is classy, well done.”
“Come on, then. You can tell me while I show her off.” I lead them through the yacht, pointing out all the bells and whistles. “Of course you’re invited for the maiden voyage tomorrow night.”
“I’m not sure how Lennon would feel about that.” Sandro chuckles, peeking into one of the private dance rooms. “But I’m sure Gunnar and my brother would love to join you.” He glances at Gunnar, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gunnar says with a wry grin.
We’re on the top deck, walking around the pool when Sandro’s expression turns serious. “Listen, Killian, we got some information this morning about your father’s shooting.”
I stop and wait, tension coiling in my gut. Finally.
Sandro’s gaze darkens, despite the sun in his eyes.
“The shooter’s name is Ernesto Torres. He’s a 611 gang member.
His buddy gave up a few places he could be laying low, and Rocco’s got our men out searching those.
” He pauses to let me digest that before hitting me with the next bit of information.
“It was also confirmed that Mac wasn’t the target.
The 611 prick we squeezed, Joey Duran, he didn’t know who the target was, but said Ernesto knew he fucked up.
Also said Ernesto bought a new Corvette a few weeks beforehand. ”
My hands are perched on my hips as I shake my head. This isn’t adding up. “Who’s payin’ that sorta money for a bleedin’ rookie on a job like that?” I ask. “Plenty of pros out there who wouldn’t have fucked it up.”
Sandro and Gunnar share a glance. “Yeah, doesn’t really make sense to us, either. Hopefully we’ll find Ernesto today and get some answers.”
I walk them back down to the main deck, my mind reeling. But there’s also something I need to tell Sandro. After all, Sam is his employee. “By the way, I’ve hired Sam to train my dancers on the pole. Turns out she’s bloody brilliant on it. Hope that’s not a conflict for you?”
Sandro stops and cocks his head. “Dr. Sam? Really?” Then he eyes me with questions brewing that he decides not to ask. “As long as she’s available when we need her, I don’t see a problem.”
His phone buzzes. He checks it and his expression pinches with concern.
“Speaking of our multi-talented doctor. Lennon’s invited her out to Salt Line tonight with her and Sloane.
I tried to get them to go to The Eclipse instead, but they want something more low-key.
” His mouth twists as he repockets the phone.
“I’m not comfortable with the girls drinking out in public alone until we know more about this hit and who the target was.
They’ll be too vulnerable, not being cautious enough. ”
“Want extra guards on them?” Gunnar asks.
Sandro shoots him a sardonic grin. “I’d like my wife to be speaking to me at the end of the night.”
“I’ll go and keep an eye on the girls,” I say.
They both turn to me, their expressions a mix of surprise and confusion.
Join the club, boys. I have no idea why that popped out of my bleedin’ gob.
“I’m sure you have your hands full getting ready for tomorrow night,” Sandro says, eyeing me curiously.
Aye. I do.
I shrug. “Not much left to do. There’s a bartender I’m trying to scalp at Salt Line, anyway. Would give me a good excuse to be there. I’ll take my cousins who’ve just come from Chicago. We’ll make sure the girls make it home safe.”
“If you’re sure,” Sandro says.
I nod. “Can’t have my sister in harm’s way.” Yeah, because Lennon is the reason you opened your gob. Right.
“All right. Appreciate it.” He shoots me one last curious look before they head out.