6. Chapter 6
Callahan
I turned the shoe over and over in my hands, admiring the silvery -blue color, stained on one toe by a small spot of blood. The silk was soft in my hands, but the shoe had a surprising weight behind it, the toe hard but the rest of the shoe barely there and bendy.
I turned it this way and that, watching as the light reelected silver then blue on the shiny material.
“Are you even listening to me, mo nia?” Lorcan huffed in annoyance.
“Aren’t you supposed to be retired, old man? Go on a vacation somewhere and stop bothering me.”
“Why are you not moving on the warehouse? We had thousands of dollars of inventory in there and now it’s gone. We know who took it, have them on surveillance, and you’re not moving. Why?”
“Do you know who the ballerina is?” I asked conversationally, pointedly ignoring his question just to piss him off.
He sighed heavily. “No, Cal, I don’t. We’ve been over this. She seemed slightly familiar, but I don’t know that I’ve ever met her. My answer isn’t going to change the next time you ask me, either. Can we please talk about the fucking warehouse?”
I dropped the shoe on my desk with a loud, wooden thud. “I’m not moving on the warehouse because I already know who is responsible and have placed a man on his tail. What would be the point of storming their hideout, blowing my inside man’s cover, and possibly losing men in the process when I can just grab him next time he steps out to buy a pack of cigarettes?”
My uncle arched an eyebrow. “You have a man inside their organization? Who?”
“A man. A trusted man who wants revenge for a friend’s death. Nobody else knows who and you don’t need to, either.”
My uncle frowned. “Callahan, I can’t help you lead this organization if you keep me out of the loop.”
One of the men sitting on the couches behind my uncle looked over and arched an eyebrow. I stood from my chair and buttoned my suit jacket. “Lorcan, I have accepted your help gratefully, until now. I respect you as my uncle, my elder, the man that raised me, and as my previous Boss. But I am Boss now and I will not have you questioning me.” My uncle frowned at me and looked over his shoulder at the other men - higher ranking members of our syndicate that all trusted me to lead them. When my uncle’s eyes met mine again, they were chastised.
“Perhaps you’re right, mo nia. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a vacation. I’m thinking a visit to the homeland is in order. Maybe go see my Ma before she dies.”
I smiled gently at the older man and held my hand out to him. I took it and used it to pull himself standing before he pulled me into a hug. “I’ll schedule a flight and let you know when I’m going. You know I can be back any time if you need me, Cal.” I stepped back and squeezed his shoulder.
“Safe travels, old man,” I said before I pulled him back into a hug. “It’s time I do this on my own,” I whispered in his ear. He squeezed my shoulders with his frail arm and nodded against my cheek.
Lorcan left my office with his guards and I went to sit with the remaining men on my couch. One passed me a metal case of smokes and I took one and lit it, swirling whiskey in my glass as I sighed heavily.
“You know we stand with you, Callahan,” Liam said. He was loyal and steady and had been invaluable in his support. “Has there been any word from the inside?”
I set my cigarette in the ashtray and stood to remove my jacket. I sat back down and huffed a breath while I removed my cufflinks and rolled up my sleeves before picking my cigarette and whiskey back up. I took a hefty swig and stared at the amber glass, my elbows resting on my knees.
“He reports discord in the ranks. Elio’s control is slipping, as we suspected after the engagement party. It seems in the weeks since then, the discord has grown. He’s heard whispers from the Marinos about a plot to murder me after the wedding.”
Every man had a visible reaction to that and Finn thunked his glass on the table. “I’ll be damned if you die on my fucking watch, Boss.”
I smirked at my bodyguard and raised my glass in a lazy toast. “Don’t plan on dying on your watch, mo chara.”
Smoke swirled lazily through the air and more whiskey was poured as we talked shop for another hour. The men filed out one by one, making excuses about getting home to the wife and kids, or having business to attend to. I saw them each out, shaking each man’s hand.
Respect was important in our line of business. In most cases, respect was stronger than fear, and I planned to have my men respect me from the start.
I made my way to my room and removed my clothes before stepping into the shower.
It had been weeks since the exhausting engagement party and I still couldn’t get the ballerina out of my head. Rory was under my skin.
The way her soft skin had pebbled under my fingertips. How her lush lips had pillowed under mind, forming to the shape of my own. The little sigh that left her when our lips touched. How silky her soft, light hair had felt in my fingers. How the white-blond strands had looked wrapped around my tan, tattooed fingers.
My hand strayed to my cock and I stroked hard and fast as I pictured her there in the shower with me, water darkening her hair and dripping off her small, perky breasts. I groaned as my climax hit faster than expected, potent and buzzing through every nerve ending with pleasure.
I finished my shower and dried my hair as I walked into the bedroom. I swiped my phone off the nightstand and scrolled through several messages, responding when needed.
My inside man reported that the Marino house was quiet tonight but that Fern was on the warpath about my refusal of their dinner invitation the night before. I had a voicemail from Elio, ranting about how it was Italian custom to know the members of the groom’s family before the wedding.
Gobshite. The man was on my fecking nerves. I sighed, knowing I’d have to join them soon or they would suspect something was amiss.
I pulled on a pair of sweats and walked down the hall, knocking on Lorcan’s door. At his muffled permission, I entered. He was sitting up in bed, glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hands.
“The Marinos want to meet for dinner. It’s customary for Italians to meet the groom’s family before the wedding, apparently.”
Lorcan laughed through his nose and set his book down. “We’ll need to do that soon, then, or they’ll suspect you of more than just an unwilling groom.”
“My thoughts exactly. Have you scheduled a flight yet?”
“Yes. I booked it after I left earlier. I leave in three days.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll extend an invite to the Marinos for tomorrow evening. Sleep well, uncle.”
I grumbled on the way back to my own room. The stress of being Boss was heavy all the time, but with the engagement on my back, I felt weighed down by the responsibility of it all. Especially by the weight of the knowledge that Fern would be my wife in a few short months and I’d have to tolerate her for however long it took us to figure out what their plans were.