Filthy Dark: A SECOND CHANCE/SECRET BABY, MAFIA ROMANCE (THE FIVE POINTS' MOB COLLECTION Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  Even though we hadn’t reached that point yet, I clapped his back, then ran my hand over his hair. If the move stunned him, it stunned me. I hadn’t meant to do it, not really. I certainly didn’t mean to run my hand over his hair and muss up the messy tumble. But he didn’t pull back. Didn’t pull away or shove me aside.

  If anything, he bit his lip.

  I gulped, feeling oddly vulnerable, and when I looked at Aela and saw she’d gone all watery on me, it was weird to accept that she saw it too.

  Seamus, even though he had a real attitude right now, hadn’t rejected me.

  And that made me feel like I was on cloud nine.

  Before I got ahead of myself, ahead of where Seamus was really at, I headed to my room where I showered, shaved, and got dressed. My usual outfit consisted of jeans, a leather jacket, a tee, and boots because I worked in the warehouse. Brennan and I had the lackey jobs, not because we were dumbfucks, but because we just weren’t built for office work, even if a large percentage of our job was administrative.

  I ran the trafficking ops, he ran the bookies and loan shark operations, with both of us handling drugs if needs be though it was mostly my scene. That meant we needed a pair of shit-kickers more than we needed some hand-crafted Italian loafers.

  But when it came to meeting Da, we had to change into suits or he’d get pissy. And pissing Aidan Sr. off was never at the top of anyone’s agenda. Sure, I’d stopped being scared of him when I was a teenager, but that didn’t mean I wanted to deal with his sniping about me looking like a degenerate, so I wore a suit to keep the peace.

  I really wanted to head back into the kitchen, kiss Aela farewell and hug her, but I could hear them talking. I was tempted to listen in, especially when I heard Shay prodding his ma for more info on how rich they were, as well as her views on how to schmooze, but I had other things that needed my attention.

  Things like a blackmailer who was due to be paid soon. Things like a father who was running out of patience. Things like a war with way too many people ratting us out.

  We were used to having moles, but recently, we’d had a handful of men turn to the Famiglia, and trust me, a handful was four too many.

  As I headed into the elevator, I almost wasn’t surprised when I found Conor sitting in it.

  Kid was a weird fuck. I didn’t even know how long he’d been there, ass on the floor, legs out as he worked on whatever he was working on. With his ability to get comfortable anywhere? He could have been here ten minutes or ten hours.

  I scowled at him, demanding, “What the hell’s going on?”

  He blinked up at me. “Knew you were going out today, thought I’d make sure your security was tuned up.” Conor’s pride had been pricked when, over the last few years, two people had managed to get through his code. That was the height of hubris.

  I didn’t doubt that Conor was one of the best hackers around, but he was a cocky shit. Sometimes, he needed to fail to realize he was human too.

  “How’d you know I was heading out?”

  “Spoke with Da. Knew he was going to email you.” The doors closed, and with a flourish of his fingers over the keys, like a concert pianist adding a decorative flair to his performance, he tapped a few more times and then stopped. “Done.”

  “Everything good?”

  “Yep. Yours is tight, and I tuned it up with the next upgrade I’ve been developing.” He squinted at me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  “Not surprising. Takes a lot of time to get over what you went through.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll live.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you will.”

  “Found anything out about my blackmailer?”

  He hummed. “I have an address.”

  That had me gaping at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Because you were supposed to rest, and I knew you wouldn’t if I told you what I learned.”

  I glowered at him. “What did you learn?”

  He smiled at me. “You’ll love this… Cillian Donahue isn’t dead.”

  Fifteen

  Declan

  “What the hell are you talking about? Of course he’s dead. I saw him die.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Conor retorted, finally getting to his feet and coming to stand. He left his laptop on the floor, stretched, then bent down to grab it before yawning. “He’s not dead.”

  I grunted at his surety, then stormed out of the elevator only to find my brothers there, waiting on me.

  Gritting my teeth at the sight of them, then at the sight of the gas guzzling tank that I loathed riding in but knew would fit us all, I grumbled, “What are you doing here?”

  Eoghan and Brennan shrugged, exposing bumps at their shoulders that revealed they were carrying. I mean, I was too. But…

  Shit.

  Had I lost that much weight?

  I peered down at the suit which, I had to admit, hung on me where before it had fit like a dream, hiding the bulge of my piece where it was fully visible on their frames. “Crap.”

  “What is it?” Eoghan asked, his brows furrowed.

  “I look like a bag lady.”

  “I think bag ladies wished they wore custom-tailored suits,” Conor replied, carefully replacing his laptop in a carry case that Brennan held out for him.

  “You just need to get some weight back on you,” Brennan remarked. “You’ll look more normal in your usual gear.”

  True, and I wanted to hug the bastard for knowing exactly where my mind was at.

  Conor, as usual, had his head in the clouds.

  The last thing I needed was to look like a pussy. We already had enough fucking crosshairs dancing on our chests, we sure as hell didn’t need any more. And sometimes, the slightest glimmer of weakness was all it took for some motherfucker to think they could overtake your patch.

  Sure, I was an O’Donnelly, and that gave me more protection than most, but there was always some bright spark who started thinking shit they shouldn’t.

  Case in point Cillian Donahue.

  Mind racing as I leaned back against the fender, well aware we weren’t going anywhere until Conor’s baby was wrapped up tightly in the case he hefted everywhere with him. It was like constantly traveling to the goddamn airport. He couldn’t be without his laptop, which meant he had a very expensive pacifier.

  “Cillian died,” I said unequivocally.

  “Did you see him flatline?” Conor queried.

  I blinked at him. “No. Why would I have?”

  “Then how do you know?”

  “We went to his fucking funeral,” Eoghan groused, slapping Conor upside the head.

  “Was it an open or closed casket?” He wafted a hand. “We go to so frickin’ many, I can’t remember. Hell, I can’t even remember if Rogan’s was and that was last week. Jensen’s was open though, so I’m not too brain dead yet.”

  “Christ, I should have been at both,” I said guiltily.

  “Trust me, you didn’t miss anything,” Conor replied. “I mean, nothing changes.”

  “Is it supposed to?” I retorted.

  “Well, you’ve been to one and you’ve been to them all, is what I’m saying.”

  “Disrespectful shit,” Brennan grumbled. “Jensen took a bullet that could have been lodged in Dec, and Rogan died keeping Shay and Aela safe.”

  Conor huffed. “I wasn’t being disrespectful. I’m very grateful to them. Just don’t see why we have to stand around a fucking hole in the floor to show them that respect.”

  Eoghan, who was like Da, a goddamn eidetic, didactic freak, interrupted, “Donahue’s was a closed casket ceremony. So was Rogan’s.”

  Conor’s smile turned smug and he slapped Eoghan upside the head in retaliation. Eoghan would probably only allow us and Finn to ever do that without trying to do damage to a part of the other man’s body.

  Everyone knew Eoghan
had a fetish for kneecaps.

  Well, blowing them out.

  His wedding gift to his father-in-law was the reason this war with the Italians had commenced. Of course, it had been a war that had long since been brewing. Sadly, even though I’d been around for three wars, they just kept on coming. Rolling around every five or so years, but never with the big boys.

  In New York City, the Russians, Italians, and the Irish ruled the roost. There were spats with the Haitians and the Latinos, but the major players were never a part of the action.

  For the Russians and the Irish to be allied against the Italians was unheard of.

  We had a real chance of annihilating the scum sucking cunts. Although, they were like fucking cockroaches. Even a nuclear blast wouldn’t stop the fuckers from coming back.

  “If it was a closed casket,” Conor was saying, “then the body could have been swapped.”

  I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this. Back in 2010, we’d had some issues with a flurry of DEA agents trying to intercept our shipments.

  “If they put him in WITSEC,” I mused, “then there’d have been a court case. They don’t just protect people out of the good of their own heart.”

  “Might have just run off on his own merit. Might have been scared,” Eoghan pointed out.

  “Maybe. But remember when the DEA was sniffing around us? Seemed to be one step ahead of us?” I threw down. “It’d fit if he was the one feeding them intel. But there was no court case.”

  “Could have just turned informant. Never did like that piece of crap,” Brennan grumbled.

  “Where’s he living now?”

  “Astoria,” Conor told me.

  I shook my head. “Why the hell would he run away to Queens?”

  Conor blinked. “No. Illinois.”

  “Illinois, what?” Brennan snapped.

  “Astoria, Illinois.”

  My brothers stilled at Conor’s statement, and my lips twitched as I realized they’d come ready and willing to wage war on my blackmailer, who was halfway across the fucking country.

  “You could have mentioned it was a different fucking state, Conor,” Brennan snarled, his hands balling into fists.

  Conor was lucky that Ma had instilled in us a certain appreciation of our brother’s brain or he’d have had the crap beaten out of him right then.

  “Why the fuck do you think we’re here? To go fucking bowling?” Eoghan inserted, scowling at Kid.

  “It can’t be Cillian,” I muttered, breaking into the brewing argument. “He was loyal to the Points.”

  “Maybe Deirdre’s death messed with him.”

  “He had plans for her,” I said, unable to disagree with Brennan. Then, I muttered, “Please tell me that while you were sharing this with Eoghan, Da or Aidan didn’t overhear?”

  Brennan grumbled, “What the fuck do you take me for?”

  “An eejit?” Conor tacked on helpfully, earning himself a glower that would have felled a lesser man.

  Conor wasn’t lesser. Just a little whacko where reality was concerned.

  Eoghan sniffed. “Why the fuck didn’t you want me to know?”

  “Because you’re busy. These two have no goddamn life anyway. You’ve got Inessa now. I don’t want you getting involved with shit that isn’t important.”

  “Not important? Some fucker’s been skimming millions off you over the years and you think that ain’t important?” Eoghan growled. “I’m the security man. Why the hell wouldn’t you keep me in the loop?”

  “Bro, I triggered a fucking war,” I muttered under my breath, just in case the CCTV cameras were compromised.

  “And I didn’t? And you didn’t have my back? Help me out with getting the right weapon?”

  I grimaced. “I appreciate the loyalty, but I didn’t break Ma’s favorite vase or crash Da’s car. I caused a lot of shit.”

  “So have I. Anyway, back in ‘09, the Haitians were trigger happy. It was bound to happen,” he dismissed.

  “You know it makes Da happy when we’re at war. Means he can play.” Conor’s blasé tone had me grunting.

  “Well, just because he likes to play with his food doesn’t mean I want him to play with me. Even if he didn’t give me shit over the war, he’d give me a fuck ton of crap over the lying.”

  At that, each of my brothers shuffled around like we were teens again.

  Aidan Sr. did not deal well with liars.

  In fact, people had a tendency to lose extremities if they lied to him.

  While I was pretty sure I’d be safe, I didn’t feel like dealing with the repercussions of a lie that was older than my son.

  “We can keep this from Da,” Brennan reassured me, then asked Conor, “Can’t we, doofus?”

  Conor shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s preoccupied now anyway. If he did find out, your being injured would probably help, and the fact that Seamus is a lost grandchild is bound to take his interest. Of course, there’s the strip club and the—”

  My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the rituals Da had dragged us through when we were young. “Fuck,” I rasped. “I forgot about that shit. Two weeks of relative normalcy and it skipped my mind how insane Da is.”

  “You forgot about the drug den?” Brennan shook his head, but he was laughing as he did it. “Not sure how you forgot about that.”

  “Well, apparently Aidan Jr. did considering he’s a junkie.”

  Eoghan sighed. “Conor, you keep on saying that shit, he’s going to shoot you.”

  “Better than shooting up some…”

  When his voice petered off, I eyed him. “Shooting up what? He’s taking prescription meds, Conor. Not hardcore narcotics.”

  “Slippery slope,” was all he said, but he sniffed too. “Look, you might have all day to shoot the breeze in a parking garage, but I can assure you, I don’t.”

  “I need to speak with Da too,” Brennan said. “I’ll drive us both there, and I can drop you two off as we go.”

  When Eoghan and Conor nodded in agreement, I didn’t argue because I didn’t feel up to driving. This entire conversation was a mess just waiting to hit me between the eyes. I had a feeling Da wouldn’t find out, but he didn’t need to for trouble to be brewing.

  If Cillian wasn’t dead, if he was the one behind the blackmail, then I had a nasty feeling he’d have been charging me a hell of a lot more than ten grand a month.

  And if someone was pretending to be Cillian, having assumed his identity… well, there was an end game in play, wasn’t there?

  I rubbed my chin as I hefted myself into the passenger seat. That I looked like a bag of bones and a piece of shit was confirmed when neither of my brothers called shotgun on the seat and settled in the back.

  When we took off, the radio raged with some old school Queen of the Stone Age.

  Quite fittingly, the song that was blaring out?

  ‘No One Knows.’

  Even if it was one of my favorites, I grimaced. When the goddamn playlist agreed with you, things really were up in the air.

  DECLAN

  BEFORE

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Though I wasn’t actually grieving, I’d admit that if I was, hearing that on repeat was going a long way to pissing me off.

  I wasn’t in the best of moods.

  Not because today was the day my bitch of a fiancée was finally being put in the ground, but because I’d been stupid.

  Well, not stupid. More hopeful than anything else.

  Of course, Deirdre had a failsafe. Of course, she fucking did.

  Which meant the bones of my ruination were in the air.

  A handful of pictures and a goddamn gun were all that lay between me and the fucking noose.

  A noose held up by my own father.

  Sure, if it fell into the hands of a cop, I’d be fucked, but being fucked might have a happy ending. If Da ever found out about how I’d caused a war, then there were no happy endings. There’d be fucking nothing, beca
use I’d be in a body bag before the night was through.

  I rubbed a hand over my face, tired of playing a game, tired of looking like I was mourning when I was just glad that cunt was dead.

  I’d had five days of feeling like I was flying high, even having to keep my distance from Aela hadn’t spoiled my glee, and then boom. Today, in the mail, my nightmare started up again.

  Behind me, Deirdre’s body was in the ground, we’d dumped soil onto the casket, and I’d spent the past fifteen minutes shaking everyone’s hand and wishing I was anywhere else.

  I stared at nothing, going through the motions like a robot, until a soft hand slipped into mine.

  Jerking to life, my eyes were trapped in Aela’s.

  Fuck.

  I loved her.

  I loved her so fucking much.

  It was hard to keep my features under control, impossible even. Instead, I forced my entire being into rigidity, knowing that if I didn’t, people would figure out that she meant something to me.

  Now that Deirdre was dead, I thought we could be together. It was one of the reasons why I’d been floating on cloud nine these past few days, because with that bitch out of the picture, I was free to be with whoever I wanted. But this morning’s mail put everything on the backburner.

  Until I figured out who the fuck was behind it, I was at a loss. Which pissed me off even more.

  She jerked back, making me aware my hand had tightened around hers, and I let go with a wince. Her eyes were big in her elfin face, and though I longed to cup her cheek, to draw her mouth to mine, I didn’t. Couldn’t.

  Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  The future had been filled with promise with Deirdre’s death.

  Now, my end could be nearer than I’d like, and if Da ever found out, which was a distinct possibility because the ten grand the blackmailer wanted was going to be a bitch for me to get together, I’d be dead before I had a chance to really live.

  The last thing I wanted was to bring her down with me, and with that as a distinct possibility, I knew I needed to put some distance between us until I figured things out.