Fearless: An Irish Mafia Romance (Wild Irish Book 3)

by Vi Carter

  “Tick tock, Daemon lunch time is up,” I say and he glances at me like I’m a dog tugging at his trouser leg. I get the attention of the three other guys. They give me a quick once over, but I don’t hold anyone’s interest.

  I hit the bin easily with my apple, I’m impressed but I’m the only one. One of the guys shivers and glances away, like I did something disgusting.

  I walk towards the door.

  “Ciara wait, just give me one minute,” Darragh pleads behind me, but I let the door bang hard so he knows his time is up. I’m only a few steps down the hall when he’s behind me.

  “Do you have any friends?” he asks, falling into step beside me.

  My cat. “Loads. Do you?”

  “Of course I do. Look at me.” He smirks.

  “I am looking at you. So, I take that as a no?”

  His brows furrow, and he thankfully stops talking.

  My job won’t be worth doing if I have to work with Darragh every day. I always loved the solitude that this job offered, but now it didn’t seem worth the pay.

  “Have you any painkillers? My head is pounding.” Darragh rubs his temple.

  “I’ll check my first aid kit,” I say.

  He nods, folding his arms across his chest. He does look a bit pasty.

  Once we reach the locker room, I grab my trolley.

  “Painkillers,” he reminds me.

  “I was joking, I don’t have a first aid kit,” I say slowly.

  “You need to ring, Liam. I’m sick.”

  “I can’t just ring Liam. It’s not allowed.”

  “You can, because I said so.”

  I’m not comfortable with this, but the idea of getting rid of Darragh has me picking up the staff phone in the hall and dialing Liam’s office.

  “Mr. O’Reagan.”

  “Yes, Ciara.” I hate how he knows it’s me, but then I glance at the cameras in the hall. He must be watching us.

  “Darragh is feeling very ill,” I tell him.

  “Put him on.” I hand the phone to Darragh. Time ticks by, and already I have to shave twenty minutes off my lunch break to get my rooms complete.

  Once Darragh puts the phone down he smiles. “I get to go home.”

  “With pay?” I ask.

  He frowns at me.

  “Never mind,” I tell him and push my trolley, making my way to the next room.

  It’s bliss for the remainder of the day. Sometimes a spanner needs to be thrown into the works to make you appreciate what you already have.

  I had come a long way.

  My green Nissan Micra sits under a tree waiting for me to return. I pat the hood before getting in. I live only ten minutes from work, another thing I was grateful for. Kingscourt is one long strip, every second shop is closed, but it’s become home to me. I park on the main street and make my way up to my apartment.

  “Hello, Peaches.” I pick up my cat as I close the door behind me. Taking her with me, I go into the kitchen and get her a tin of tuna. Taking a forkful first, I scoop the rest into her dish.

  I had seen Peaches roam the streets of Kingscourt for weeks before I took her in. No missing cat posters went up, so I claimed her as mine. I knew what being homeless felt like.

  Cutting up celery, carrots and parsnips, I boil them before adding some to a stock pot. I have twenty minutes before it will be cooked, so I take the time to shower.

  My phone rings in my bag and I root it out, while trying to hold my towel up. The ring tone tells me who it is, Liam.

  “Hi, Liam.”

  “Ciara, sorry for the intrusion on your personal time.”

  “That’s okay.” I say tugging the towel closer.

  “We’ve had a problem with a room and I would really appreciate if you could return and help out. It would be double time.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I tell him. Double time wasn’t something I would ever turn down and he knew that.

  “Thank you, Ciara.”

  “You’re welcome, Liam.”

  I hang up and get dressed. I don’t have much time but pour myself a bowl of soup. In the process I burn my tongue while I scarf it down.

  “Be a good girl, Peaches.” I rub her behind the ear before leaving.

  ***

  The room is destroyed but I’m not on my own. One of the other girls is helping me. She’s Russian and doesn’t speak a word of English, but it’s amazing what you can learn from someone just by actions. The smell of urine is the first thing that hits me. Someone has just sprayed the room. A group of men had rented the room, and they sure had a party. The windows are already open but the mattress is what’s holding the smell.

  Once I have my gloves on, we pull the mattress off and leave it in the hall. It’s picked up within ten minutes and we start scrubbing the frame of the bed before moving onto the floor. Glass, cans, and cigarette butts litter the floor. How could anyone in their right mind leave a room like this?

  I leave the door open, but the smell is still intense, but not as strong as it was before. Laughter out in the hallway has me glancing from where I am on the ground.

  Darragh’s checking into the room across from me with three girls. They all laugh and smile at him. I shake my head when he pushes open the door and lets them in. His recovery is astounding.

  Our gazes meet and I hope my disgust is there, but he winks at me, so apparently it isn’t. I want to report him to Liam but I tell myself this level of irritation over a stranger is unwarranted. It takes over two hours to scrub the room. My gaze keeps moving to the door across the hall.

  “How could he be still at it?” I ask the other cleaner who stares at me and shrugs while pointing to her mouth.

  “No… English.”

  I wave her off. “Yeah, I know. It’s just ridiculous,” I say and she shrugs again, repeating herself. She takes all the dirty laundry out of the room and I linger a little too long, keeping an eye on the room across from mine. I tell myself I’m dragging it out because it’s double time. That’s the only reason I linger for another fifteen minutes before I decide that Peaches and home is where I want to be.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DARRAGH

  “Why is he here?” I angle my head toward DJ.

  “Come on, Darragh, he’s my mate.”

  I glance at Mark again. “If he fuck’s up, it’s on you,” I say.

  “He won’t. He’ll just be a lookout.” I’m not happy with bringing someone else in. Art is bouncing on his feet. He’s dressed in black from head to toe the same as me. Fitz arrives with the angle grinder and the spike strip, dressed all in white.

  “Want some?” Art cuts up a few lines and I grin at him.

  “Just what I need.” Taking the rolled up note I inhale a straight line of powder off a small table. The rush is always instant. I pass the note back to Art as he hits up another one.

  I clap my hands together. “Okay, bring it in.” Mark’s presence is annoying, but for DJ I’ll keep it quiet.

  I gesture to DJ. “DJ, you’re driving the jeep with the flatbed. I want you to block the Navan road and just stay in the jeep.”

  He nods.

  “Fitz, your job is to drop the spikes at the end of the Gardaí station. You got it?”

  Fitz nods too. But I’m not so fucking sure that he’s got it. If he fucks up, we can still do this.

  “Art, you are the digger driver. You get to take that bad boy out of the wall.”

  Art yelps his agreement.

  “I’ll cover you from the road. We have eleven minutes to get in and get out.” I look at each person.

  “What about me?” Mark asks, and I want to smash his face in.

  “You stay with DJ, he’s responsible for you.” I want him to say something back to me so I can re-introduce him to Rochelle. But he doesn’t.

  “Once the safe is on the back of the jeep, we drop it here and then me and Art will get rid of the vehicles while you open the safe.” I check my watch. We have five minutes. “Let’
s do this, bitches.”

  Art walks beside me, jumping up and down. We branch off. Fitz takes his own car to go to the police station, while DJ and Mark start up the jeep that has the digger on the back. We let them pull out first. The minute they leave the warehouse grounds, Art and I get into the stolen jeep and pull down our balaclavas. I fix my black gloves before starting the engine.

  I turn on the radio and stop when I come across some dance music. The beat has me pumped as I floor the jeep down the Cavan Road. Art howls and I laugh.

  Yeah, this is going to be fucking epic.

  Shivers race all over me with excitement. I love the rush; I love the lack of oxygen and the sensation of chasing air. It’s too close to discomfort but I love it.

  I slow down as I approach Kells, no one is around, but I reduce my speed to give DJ a chance to get set up. Art snorts some more coke off his hand and offers me a fresh line that he pours out onto the back of his hand.

  “After. I need to keep a clear head,” I say.

  The steel against my back has my knee jagging. It’s loaded and a scary part of me wants to use it. It’s a part of me, I try to keep a cap on. But it doesn’t always work out that way.

  I speed up as we come around the bend and approach the bank link. The jeep and trailer are blocking the road.

  “Showtime,” I tell Art, spinning the jeep.

  He jumps out and races to the digger. I get out and watch the road. Removing the gun from my trousers, I keep it at the ready. The roar of the digger is going to attract attention.

  Three young lads linger across the road, their phones on us. I ignore them as Art drives the digger to the wall. I check my watch. Eight minutes left. The bucket cracks the wall and debris falls down as Art keeps smashing at the wall around the ATM. The three boys are walking closer, phones held high. My gun rises and they freeze.

  “One more fucking step,” I warn. I glance at DJ and Mark, who sit in the jeep. Their focus is on Art as he gets the ATM out of the wall. I want to laugh as he swings the ATM in the air and lands it on the back of the trailer. Easy fucking peasy.

  Walking back to the jeep, I get in and Art jumps down from the digger. I wait until DJ has turned the jeep and drives in front of us. Glancing at my watch I note that we still have four minutes left.

  “You did good, man,” I say to Art as I stick her to the road. I have to slow down but once we leave Kells, I floor it the rest of the way, over taking DJ, I give him the finger.

  Art snorts again. “Ease down man, we still have to get rid of these vehicles.” He rubs his nose and yelps again.

  I want to join him but we need to finish the job first.

  Pulling in at the warehouse we wait. DJ arrives and Art turns the music up full and has a fucking party in the back. I focus on DJ as he reverses into the warehouse and tilts the trailer. Once the ATM is inside, I turn down the music.

  “You drive this one, I’ll take the other,” I say to Art. He climbs into the front, forcing me to get out of the jeep. “You know where you’re going right?” I ask him.

  He blares the music, his head bobbing. I smirk and jump into the other jeep and take off.

  “Fitz, we’ll be there in twenty,” I say and hang up. Art drives up beside me, still shaking his head to the music. I push the jeep harder, not allowing him to get in front of me. He slips back in behind me as another car flashes its lights at him. The minute the coast is clear he pulls out beside me again. Turning up my own music, I tap the steering before giving him the finger. I push the jeep to its max. Lights flutter across the hump in the road ahead, only this time, Art isn’t pulling in.

  I look at him and he gives me the finger. I widen my eyes, while gesturing to him to fall behind. He gestures at me to move over. My foot is to the floor and I’m not lifting it.

  The car coming towards Art is flashing his lights. I glance at Art again and doubt has entered his features. He pulls in behind me; the car in front jams its breaks on and swerves.

  “Wow! Crazy bastard.” I’m hyped as I pull into the Lakeside Manor.

  The hotel was shut down two years ago and vandals have smashed nearly every window in the building. I slowly roll down to the water and jump out when the front of the jeep disappears under the murky water. I’m not even back up when Art pulls into the hotel, going way too fast, he jumps and hits the tarmac his jeep and trailer sailing into the water.

  “Did you see that? I am the next James Bond.” He roars.

  “That’s the cocaine talking, Art. You wouldn’t pull that shit sober,” I remind him.

  He stands up and wipes grit from his face.

  A beat up Toyota slowly approaches us and we jump in. Only then do I remove the balaclava and gloves.

  ***

  “What did I tell you?” I ask the lads as we sit around the bundle of money.

  “Nearly two hundred thousand.”

  DJ looks up at me. I grip his shoulder. “Nice one, Darragh.”

  Art pats me on the arm. “Yeah, that was some fucking rush.”

  “So, what way do we split it?” The question comes from Mark, and his voice kills my buzz.

  “Evenly?” DJ asks.

  “He didn’t do anything,” Fitz pipes up pointing at Mark, who rises without his crutch.

  I don’t move but give DJ a pointed look. He needs to put his friend in place.

  “No. Twenty percent to each of us, and ten percent to Mark.” I hate giving him anything.

  Mark sits down. “Yeah, that sounds fair.”

  I don’t give a fuck how it sounds. That’s just how it’s going to be.

  “So now can we party?” Art asks, rubbing his hands together. It’s like Jekyll and Hyde with Art once he’s worked up, he’s loud.

  “DJ and Mark, you can get rid of the ATM tomorrow night,” I say to them and go for a beer.

  I hand Fitz a drink and Art, as DJ gets one for himself and Mark. “We cool?” DJ asks and I nod.

  “Yeah, we are cool.”

  “So how much do I get like, twelve grand?”

  I grin at Fitz. “Did you work that out in your head, Fitz?”

  He nods.

  Mark sneers and I don’t fucking like it.

  Art takes another line.

  “Something funny, Mark?” I quiz.

  “I can’t seem to sneeze but you’re on my case.” Mark states and glances at DJ.

  “Let’s all calm down and enjoy this. We just robbed a bank,” DJ says while pushing his hand into my chest.

  “You want one?” Art holds out a note.

  “You know, I don’t like that shit in here Darragh,” DJ whines and I give him both fingers, before I walk back ways over to Art.

  I blink several times after taking the line. “That is good stuff,” I say to Art but he’s already bending down for another line. “Did I tell you I got a job?” I say as I walk back to the guys. Lawn chairs are in a circle and I sit down and light a fag.

  “You are working?” DJ asks.

  “In a brothel,” I tell them.

  “No fucking way?” Art sits down, wiping his nose.

  “Lots of women?” Fitz asks his eyes wide.

  “Yeah, Fitz lots of women,” I say and he laughs into his hands.

  “We need to get him laid,” I say to Art.

  “Yeah, Fitz you need to wet that stick.”

  “I already have.” Fitz sits up straight, all his laughter gone.

  “By who?” DJ asks.

  I glance at Mark. His smirk is irritating me.

  “Well, she turned out to be my cousin.”

  Art spews his drink on his jeans. “Get the fuck out.”

  I can’t stop laughing.

  “She had a massive pair of tits.”

  I can’t breathe. “You’re a dirty fucker, Fitz,” I tell him and he grins.

  “Inbred,” Mark mutters under his breath.

  I heard him. “Something you want to share?”

  Mark stands without his crutch. “Yeah, there is. Every time you sp
eak, your voice just bounces around in my head.”

  I shrug. “What, am I talking too loud for you?”

  DJ stands up. “Darragh, leave it.”

  I don’t even waste a glance at DJ. “Come on Mark, you want to hit me?” I smirk.

  He stretches his arms wide. “Why would I want to hit you?”

  “You just look like you do,” I tell him. He knows who I am. I can see it in his eyes.

  “You came into my home.”

  I clap. “There we go. Took you long enough.”

  He rushes toward me, relying too much on one leg. I move quickly and he catches himself before he stumbles and falls. “You’re a scum-bag.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” DJ pushes him back but I’m all up for getting shit off our chests.

  “Rochelle really liked you.” I tell him.

  Confusion coats his features.

  I explain. “My baseball bat.”

  He charges again, DJ’s grip falters, and he rushes me. I’m not a fighter really but it’s too easy. I punch him and it knocks him off balance. He falls on his damaged hip. A roar tears from his lips.

  “Darragh.” DJ stands over Mark.

  “What?” I ask DJ.

  “Come on man, he has one leg.”

  “Yeah but he also has a big fucking mouth,” I tell DJ.

  “Did you beat him up?” Art grins as he swaggers towards me.

  “Yeah, while his friend held me down. Coward.” Mark just won’t keep it shut.

  He’s still lying on the ground and I’m tempted to kick him in the face.

  “You’re the coward, beating up Neill, how many of you jumped him?”

  He’s standing now. “It was a job.”

  “So was mine,” I say with a grin.

  “Nah, you’re a sick fuck. You enjoyed it.” His words rubs me up the wrong way and I step closer.

  “Shut your mouth or I’ll re-introduce you to Rochelle.”

  “You think you’re a god,” he sneers.

  I clench my fists. “I am a fucking god!” I roar into his face.

  He laughs and my blood pounds in my ears.