Once she’d meandered through the adjacent neighborhood and even rolled through the drive-through of a small coffee hut, she was satisfied no one was following. She sped up and made her way toward the intersection Cian had directed her to, praying she wouldn’t hit any traffic jams along the way.
At one minute before the designated time, she pulled up into a loading zone space half a block from the intersection. She placed her police parking emblem on the dash and slowly climbed out of the car, scanning the area for signs of Feds, or anyone else who might ruin the biggest break she’d probably ever get in her career.
At the intersection, she stood by a newspaper machine next to the park and pretended to be engrossed in her phone while she wondered what would happen next. When it did, it was so fast she hardly had a moment to think.
The dark, nondescript SUV pulled up alongside the curb, blocking any view of her from the opposite direction. The backdoor opened, and a man’s voice instructed, "Get in." Keira had no time to think, she could see the car was poised to resume driving in mere seconds if she didn’t move. It wasn’t a smart decision, but it was the only one she felt she had. She strode to the car and climbed in as it began to roll through the intersection.
The man next to her was big, bulky, and starting to go gray, meaning one thing—he wasn’t a MacFarlane brother.
"Where’s Mr. MacFarlane?" she asked as she reached for a seatbelt.
"Leave it," the man instructed, not even turning his head to look at her.
She let the seatbelt go, then glanced at the driver, who also didn’t fit the description of a MacFarlane brother.
"Where are we going?" she asked, careful to keep her voice level. Her heart was racing, but she held on to the fact they hadn’t taken her phone or her gun—yet.
Neither man answered her.
The car drove around blocks, weaving in and out of traffic, turning left, then right, in a dizzying maze, so she hardly knew where they’d gone, until she saw the same intersection they’d been in five minutes ago. But before they reached it, the SUV turned suddenly into an alley, rolling along until it reached the mid-block point, where a dark town car with blacked-out windows waited.
The SUV stopped, and the man next to her said, "Get out."
She narrowed her gaze at him but did as she was told.
She was startled when another man appeared as if out of thin air and grabbed her elbow before she’d even had time to shut the SUV’s door. He pulled her the five steps to the sedan, opened the door, and shoved her inside.
She landed sloppily on the big bench seat, and as she straightened, she came face-to-face with the man himself.
His dark hair was swept off his face, as neatly cut and styled as any Wall Street broker. He wore a dark blue suit, and a pristine white dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat. She looked up into the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen on a man, a jaw that could cut glass, and at least a day’s worth of stubble. It was the only indication that he’d been living rough. All in all, being on the run seemed to have suited Cian MacFarlane just fine.
"Mr. MacFarlane, I presume?" she said, righting herself and leaning back, away from him.
He didn’t smile, just gave her a small nod as the car began to move down the alleyway. Shit. She’d really been hoping they weren’t going to take her to some empty field and dump her body. Now she couldn’t be so sure.
"You’re investigating the murder of Danny O’Reilly?" he asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer.
"I am. Do you have information to share with me?"
He turned that icy gaze on her and her heart stuck in her throat for a moment. She saw the resemblance then, between him and Finn. But Finn’s hair was lighter, his eyes green and not blue, and his features softer. Cian was perfect, but so cold, so hard, Keira wondered what had turned him that way. Finn had a warmth to him that she doubted Cian had ever possessed. Even when he was angry, Finn was hot, not cold. Cian MacFarlane put a chill in the air that made Keira shiver, in spite of her best efforts not to.
He looked out the front windshield of the car as he spoke. "I have everything you need to get a conviction, and I’ll share it directly with you, and only you, but first I need a favor."
Keira swallowed hard. "Okay."
"I want access to my brother Finn—just five minutes."
Keira huffed in disgust. What the hell kind of person did he think she was?
"No," she snapped, protectiveness for Finn the only thing in her head for a moment.
He didn’t bat an eye. "Then I’ll return you to your car." He signaled the driver, who made a sharp left.
"That’s it?" She was incredulous. "You really thought I’d give you five minutes to execute your brother?"
Then she finally got a reaction from the man of ice. "Execute him?" His voice held a warning in it. "You think I want five minutes with Finn to kill him?" He scoffed. "You obviously know nothing about my family, Detective."
She remembered her conversation with Agents Don and Bruce. Apparently, they’d been telling her the truth.
"I don’t give a damn about what Finn says to the Feds, Detective. He’s not going to be locked up, no matter what." He reached over and pressed a button that raised the screen between the front seat and the back, closing them off from the driver. Then he faced her fully, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper. "I have a deal in place with the Feds to give them everything there is on my family. They’re not holding Finn to prosecute him, they’re holding him as collateral to make sure I show up and provide what I’ve promised."
Keira blinked at him. She’d gotten it right. Her instincts weren’t trash. Maybe she’d do justice to The Ace’s legacy yet.
"So you are an informant."
His gaze stayed steady, but he didn’t say anything else.
"Who’s going to take the fall if Finn’s not the target and you’re the informant?"
"I’ll be taking the fall," he said quietly. "But not until I have the people I love safely out of the way."
It was one thing to hear it from the FBI, quite another to hear it from the man himself. "You’re giving yourself up? You’re going to let them prosecute you?”
"I’ve spent years working toward this. My brother Connor is safe with witness protection. My brother Liam has an escape hatch where no one will ever find him. And Finn will be free soon, with all the resources he needs to disappear like Connor and Liam. I just have one more loose end to tie up, then my plan will be complete."
Keira still felt like she must be missing something. Agent Wagner hadn’t been fucking with her. Cian MacFarlane was a mobster who was ready to destroy his organization, prepared to serve life in prison, all so he could give his brothers a way out of the life.
"I don’t understand what all this has to do with information on Danny’s death, or why you want five minutes with Finn."
Cian sighed as if he was tired of explaining things to people whose minds couldn’t keep up with his.
"I want five minutes with Finn because he’s my brother and I might never see him again. This has to do with Danny’s death because I know who killed him and after Finn is freed and I’m in Federal custody, I will only give that information to you. You have jurisdiction for that murder, and I won’t share information about it with anyone but you."
"How do I know I’ll be able to arrest and prosecute whoever did it? How do I know you’re not going to give me Liam’s name or Connor’s? They’re both untouchable now. I don’t want to just solve the case in my own mind, I want the arrest and the conviction."
"And you’ll have it. Although, I’m guessing the time served will have to be concurrent with my other crimes—racketeering, tax evasion, conspiracy, who knows what else. I’m afraid the murder conviction won’t change the sentence much."
Her blood chilled. "You did that to him? Beat him to death?" Her gaze went to his hands, which she’d almost expected to be covered in blood or bruises, even though it had been far too long for the evidence to
still cling to his skin.
Cian huffed out a bitter laugh. "You probably won’t believe this, Detective, but I’ve only killed two men in my life. One was because I was extorted into doing it. The other was in retribution. Danny O’Reilly allowed the only woman I’ve ever loved to be taken by a monster. She’s alive, and I’m going to find her, but in the meantime, you can’t imagine the things that are most likely being done to her."
Keira shivered, trying not to let the pictures of cases she’d seen around the office pop up in her mind—women beaten, raped, mutilated, slaughtered.
"So yes, I beat a man to death with my bare hands. I didn’t enjoy it, I don’t expect to ever do it again, and I know it was wrong. If I existed in a different world, I would have turned him over to the police, and let them deal with him. As it was, I had to make a statement in order to insure no one in this organization ever turned on me like that again. I have to maintain control of these men until my plans can be finalized. As long as the woman I love is out there, nothing is over."
"Okay. You get in to see Finn now, and then after you’ve turned yourself into the Feds you’ll confess to Danny’s murder, as well?"
"Exactly."
She thought for a moment.
"If I get caught helping you, my career is over, and I might even end up in prison myself."
"You might."
Then she remembered Finn shouting as that car rolled past hers. The deafening sound of automatic gunfire, the screeching of tires, shattering of glass. The bullet that had hit the window over her head just as she’d managed to get the passenger door open and rolled out onto the adjacent ground, slamming her knee into the concrete curbing at the same time. She rubbed at the bruise, still in shock that it was the only injury she’d obtained.
"I’ll do this under one condition."
Cian just watched and waited.
"Finn has to agree to it. If he doesn’t want to see you, then I won’t help, and I’ll prove you killed Danny without your confession."
A small smile kicked up the corner of his lips on one side. "You care what my brother wants?"
Now it was Keira’s turn to look away. "Your brother saved my life earlier today. Those shots fired at the hospital were meant for me.” She cleared her throat. “It’s how my father died. A gang hit. Finn could have let it play out, possibly used it as a chance to escape. Instead, he warned me and got himself shot in the process. It gave me the few seconds I needed to survive. I owe him."
If she wasn’t mistaken, Cian MacFarlane looked…proud. "Finn is a good man. He’ll have a good life. Ask him if he’ll see me, then tell me where and when and how."
"It’s going to take me some time to figure out a plan."
"Not too much, Detective. Like everything else for me, time is running short."
They’d wound around back to the alley where he’d picked her up. The car stopped, and Keira looked around. There was no one else there. The SUV was gone. It was just her, Cian, and the driver behind the screen.
"How will I contact you?" she asked.
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and extracted a small flip phone. "There’s only one number. Dial it."
She took the phone from him and nodded.
"I’ll be in touch, then."
"I meant what I said about time, Detective. I have very little left. Don’t take more than twenty-four hours."
Keira opened the door and climbed out of the car. Then she stood there watching it drive away, a burner phone from a mob boss in her hand, and a weight in her heart.
Cian MacFarlane was the scariest, saddest man she’d ever seen.
Chapter 10
Being an organized crime boss was a constant bag of mixed alliances, exchanges, trades, threats, extortions, favors. From one year to another, Cian might have as many as half a dozen conflicts or partnerships with other organizations. In Chicago alone, he’d clashed with Russian and Mexican gangs over the last year. And his father had spent years making and breaking relationships throughout the upper Midwest.
But there was one friendship the Dublin Devils had always maintained, and Cian had decided it was time to use it.
Real estate developer and billionaire Stone Lowry wasn’t like the other men Cian dealt with. His image, while not pristine, was still clean enough for him to be a civic leader, philanthropist, and business guru. But what the rest of the world didn’t know was that Stone Lowry had started his rise as Robbie MacFarlane’s personal realtor.
The Dublin Devils required real estate. Lots of it. Safe houses, warehouses, businesses to clean the money they earned by running drugs and guns. And they had to buy and sell it frequently to keep it hidden. Early in the organization’s establishment in Chicago, a member from Ireland had referred Robbie to their cousin in Chicago. Stone Lowry was a first generation Irish-American, but he kept close ties to his family in Dublin. And as a fresh-faced, ambitious commercial real estate broker, he knew the Devils could provide him with a steady stream of commissions.
While Stone had gone on to become even more rich and powerful than Robbie, Cian knew that he still honored his debts to the Devils. Cian wasn’t sure Stone could help but he wasn’t sure he couldn’t, either.
"Right this way, gentlemen," the big security guard at the gate to Stone’s mansion in Glencoe said.
Cian’s driver rolled past the sharp, ten-foot high iron fencing and up the long drive to the excessively modern white limestone house.
"It doesn’t look that different than Statesville," Liam murmured, referring to the maximum security facility he’d spent time in. "No windows, high fence."
"Being a billionaire is probably its own kind of prison," Cian answered.
They exited the car, leaving Jimmy to wait while they were escorted in by more of Stone’s highly paid security team.
"I’ll need to have that forty-five in your left boot," one of the guards said to Liam.
Liam raised an eyebrow at Cian. Yes, Cian thought, they know what they’re doing.
After all their weapons had been collected, they were marched through massive teak wood doors, then an all-white, marble foyer complete with an original Picasso on the wall, and into the commercial grade kitchen at the back of the house. There, Stone Lowry himself was preparing dinner, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and faded jeans. At only forty-two, he was still fit, and his famous salt and pepper hair lay in thick waves against his olive skin.
"Cian! Liam!" he bellowed as he came out from behind the kitchen counter and gave them each a bracing hug. "I’m happy to see you both alive and well."
He directed them to barstools, then moved behind the counter to continue with his slicing and dicing.
"Thank you for seeing us," Cian said as he took a seat and accepted the Guinness in a chilled glass that Stone handed him.
"You know I’m here for you anytime. I’ve been to see your Pop, and I asked to be kept updated on his condition." He paused, an expression of sympathy on his face. "He’s not going to come out of this, is he?"
Cian kept his voice level as he answered, knowing that while he might know Robbie as a monster, there were many men, like Stone, who thought Robbie was their friend. "It’s not looking like it, but you know my mother won’t make the final decision until she’s given him every chance to come back, and she’s worried the priest with it so much he absolves her of the repercussions."
Stone shook his head. "The religion is something I don’t miss about my Irish family. But I’ll check in on your Pop and Angela again this week."
"Thank you," Cian said.
Liam slowly sipped his own beer and looked at Cian before glancing at his watch. We don’t have a lot of time he communicated. Cian took a breath and plunged in.
"I’m hoping you can help me with something. The night Pop had his heart attack, someone he used to work with went rogue and took something of mine. This is an older soldier from Ireland, Michael Riley."
Stone didn’t indicate if the name was familiar or not, so
Cian continued. "I want my item returned, so I need to find Riley. I know he’s holed up somewhere that’s isolated, with access to power and water, and bunker-like structures. It could be the basement of a bigger building, but what I know about him tells me that’s not likely. His work is often…messy and loud. I doubt he’d be someplace where others might hear or see it."
Stone’s gaze darted from Cian to Liam and back again before a furrow appeared between his brows.
"I’ve met Riley. He’s not a particularly balanced man, from what I recall."
"You recall correctly," Cian growled, his stomach churning like it did every time he remembered that image of Lila on the screen as Riley’s voice talked in the background.
"It sounds like somewhere industrial would be your best bet."
"And we’ve been through every industrial property we own at the moment, no sign of him there."
"I can easily pull up a list of all the unoccupied industrial properties in the metro region, my people keep databases like that for all sorts of contingencies. But there would be hundreds. It would take you weeks to search them all."
"We need a way to narrow down the possibilities," Liam added.
"We do," Stone answered.
Cian stood and began to pace as he always did when he needed to think through an issue. It seemed like he spent most of his time pacing these days.
"Every other time Riley came to town, he used a property that Pop owned—different one each time, but he’d be given what he needed from our inventory."
"But he wasn’t in any of your properties this time. And you checked your father’s personal inventory?" Stone asked.
Cian blinked. Liam stiffened.
"Personal inventory?"
Stone looked from brother to brother. "Well, fuck. I may have just stepped in something." He held out his hands. "I don’t want to get in the middle of family business. Your father’s not in the ground yet, and it would be incredibly disrespectful of me to—"
Touch of Dark: Dublin Devils 3 Page 8
