Dirty Truth: An Irish Mafia Romance (Dirty Liar Book 2)

by KB Winters

  Until I had that proof to wave under their noses, I had to understand their skepticism. I didn’t have to like it, but I had to at least understand it. Snitching was the absolute worst crime somebody in the lifestyle could engage in, and that’s exactly what they thought Flynn had done. Of course, some of that stink was going to rub off on me. A stink I was bound and determined to wash off, but first things first.

  On top of everything else, I’d hardly ever dipped my hands into the affairs of the syndicate. Oh, I’d kept more than a few of them from going to prison for this and that, but in terms of the day to day operations and proving my loyalty—I had been absent. And yet, because Flynn went MIA, I suddenly show up and now I’m the boss.

  Yeah, I got it. I got why some of them cast a wary eye at me. But I was also an O’Brien, and this whole organization had been founded by my father. Only an O’Brien was going to sit in the chair I now occupied and run my family’s feckin’ legacy, and that was that.

  If they didn’t like it—well, I preferred to not go there just yet. I knew it was a possibility somewhere down the line, but I preferred to kick that can as far down the road as I could. My hope was to win them over, have them all fall into line, and have the syndicate go on without missing a beat. That was my desire. My goal. One I hoped I could achieve, and only time would tell.

  “Has to be the motherfeckin’ Russians,” Emmett said. “I told Flynn we shouldn’t align with the likes of those red bastards—”

  Bryan spoke up, “Aye. If it wasn’t for Flynn, we wouldn’t be in this feckin’ mess in the first place.”

  My gaze narrowed in on Bryan. He was young, still new to the brotherhood and had a big feckin’ mouth already. He was a distant relative of ours—from the old country—if my memory served me right. But he was too distant to have any claim on the head in the organization. Too young to know better, though. He was a cocky little shite, and I never did like him. I liked him even less now.

  “If it wasn’t for Flynn, most of you wouldn’t even be at this table,” I very pointedly reminded them. “Most of you would be stuck in a drunk tank, collecting taxes for one of the other families, or six feet under by now. My brother gave you lads a purpose. He gave you something to be proud of, something worth fighting for. Or did you forget that, ya arrogant son of a bitch?”

  Bryan’s eyes widened, and he looked as pale as a ghost, realizing that maybe he’d crossed a line he should never have set foot near to begin with.

  “T-that’s not what I meant,” he stammered.

  “Yeah? Well, maybe next time you should think before you open your goddamn mouth. Or better yet, maybe you should just keep your feckin’ trap shut,” I snapped and then looked around the table at the men gathered there—most lowered their eyes, not willing to meet my gaze. “Now does anyone else have something useful to add to this conversation? Something that’ll actually make some goddamn sense? Or am I just wasting my time here?”

  The one thing I’d learned from Flynn was that you had to be tough and ruthless if you wanted to run the syndicate—if you wanted to gain the respect of the brothers. None of these men had ever seen me inside of a courtroom, had never socialized with me, much less talk like this during a meeting with them. They hardly knew me. They probably thought they could push me around, assuming I was the quieter, more passive, younger brother.

  You didn’t win in my field by being passive or weak. And I won—a lot.

  I wasn’t Flynn—I wasn’t nearly as ruthless, but I wasn’t a feckin’ pushover either. I was nobody’s puppet, and I would bend to nobody’s will. As the head of the syndicate, these men would bend to my will. And as I stared at each man around that table, I think most of them started to realize it, as well. If not, they would soon, I could promise them that.

  “If I was a betting man, I’d put my money down on the Russians, too,” I said. “I’d wager those commie arseholes were looking for retaliation. And what better retaliation than taking out Flynn’s wet behind the ears brother, aye? They probably figured the whole fucking syndicate would collapse with the last O’Brien dead. But they don’t know us, do they?”

  “What are we goin’ to do next, boss?” Emmett asked me. “We can’t just go killin’ Russians all willy nilly. It’ll start a fecking war, lad. And I don’t think any of us want a war in the streets. It’s bad for business—not to mention, it’ll get us all locked up. Or dead.”

  “Relax. We’re not going to run in and start shooting Russians at random—not without more intel first,” I said. My eyes narrowed on David. He had connections all over town. Regulars who came in to drink their sorrows away, people who talked too much while under the influence.

  “Dave, you know anyone who might talk?” I asked. “Anybody who might be connected that would know if there was a hit taken out?”

  “I might know a guy who knows a guy,” he said. “Not sure if they’ll have much info from the top or not, but I can ask the question.”

  “Just see what you can find out, aye?”

  “Will do, Aidan. Will do.”

  ***

  “I can’t do this anymore, Aidan,” Maggie said, rushing into the office with Gerard directly behind her. “I just can’t. I won’t. This is me, refusing to do this anymore.”

  She looked over her shoulder and scowled at him. He didn’t seem to notice her hard looks. Or if he did, he didn’t react to her hateful stare. Gerard was good like that. A true professional. His stoic nature and ability to let everything roll off his back were some of his strongest traits and among the things that made him an excellent bodyguard. He didn’t waste time or energy on things that didn’t require action.

  “He follows me everywhere,” Maggie blurted, nearly screaming. “Literally, everywhere. I can’t get a moment’s peace from this guy!”

  “That’s what a security guard does, Maggie,” I said with a laugh. “If he didn’t have you in his sight at all times, the bad guys could sneak up and take a shot at you.”

  “But the fucking bathroom? Excuse my language, but really, Aidan? Right outside my bathroom door!” she shrieked. “Right outside so he can hear every little noise I make in there? Because really, crapping in front of a stranger isn’t awkward or anything.”

  Maggie slumped down in the chair across from me, letting out a sigh. Gerard stood behind her, his big frame towering over and dwarfing her with his arms crossed in front of him—nary a smile on his face. He stood as perfectly still as a statue and had about as much emotion on his face as one, too. If any of this bothered him, most people couldn’t tell. But I could. I’d known Gerard long enough to see the subtle tells in his face—he was amused by Maggie’s rantings.

  I leaned back in my chair and smiled, trying to cheer Maggie up, but she scowled at me, too. In all the years we’d worked together, I’d never seen her do anything but smile at me. But the scowl on her face was vicious, something I didn’t know she was even capable of. It might have had something to do with the dark circles around her eyes.

  “Gerard? Please give Miss Burke a little bit of privacy, please. Stand a few feet away from the bathroom door, if at all possible,” I said and then turned to Maggie. “There. Better?”

  “A few feet? What about not following me to the bathroom at all?” she asked. “Jesus Christ, I can’t do this, Aidan. It’s been three days and I swear to God, it’s pretty damn obvious by now that whoever is trying to kill you isn’t after little ol’ me. Why would they be?”

  I shrugged. “I just want to keep you safe, Mags.”

  Her eyes softened, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. With a deep sigh, she looked at me and shook her head.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted,” she said. “I haven’t been able to sleep in days, my neighbors are starting to ask questions about the scary dude hanging around outside my house, and I just—I just can’t do this. I hate having a personal escort everywhere I go. My friends won’t even meet me for coffee right now because he scares the crap outta them. They all think
I have some creepy stalker because I obviously can’t tell them why I have a strange man following me around.”

  She was right about the assassin and a lot of things. And no, she couldn’t tell people why Gerard was following her around. But the good news—such as it was—was that I had an idea about who the assassin was and maybe, this all would come to an end sooner rather than later.

  It had to be one of the Russians. And there was no reason to believe they’d go after Maggie. She was my assistant, but she knew nothing about my life in the syndicate. She didn’t mean enough to me to be a hostage. She was probably safe, but Gerard served a dual purpose—in addition to watching her back, he’d been reporting back to me on Maggie’s whereabouts. He’d even given me a brief rundown of who she’d been with and what their conversations were about, too. It was a paranoid and a dickish move, but I had to do it. I had to keep close tabs on her in case she had any doubts about remaining loyal to me.

  “Fine, I’ll call off my dogs,” I said with a laugh. I motioned to Gerard, giving him permission to leave the room. “But if there are any more potential threats, you better bet I’ll be putting Gerard back on you. If not an entire army.”

  Gerard nodded curtly and left the room, closing the door behind him. Maggie looked back and watched him leave, an expression of obvious relief spreading across her face. As soon as Gerard had gone and it was just the two of us alone in my office, she slumped down even further in her seat and let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

  “Thank you, Aidan,” she said. “Everyone at school was starting to ask questions, and it was just getting too messy. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “I’m sure you will be,” I said.

  I might have let Gerard off-duty, but it didn’t mean no one would be watching Maggie. It just meant I’d have to be more subtle about keeping an eye on her. Besides, I knew her better than Gerard, and I could tell when she was acting weird better than he could. I knew what to look for. It might even be better if I took a more personal approach to looking out for her and keeping her close.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maggie

  “So, what are your big plans for the weekend, Maggie?” Aidan asked as we left the office together. “Doing anything fun and exciting?”

  “Studying, of course. Seems like it’s all I do sometimes. But I really need to try to finish a project. How about you?” I asked.

  “Work. Always work,” he said quietly.

  He locked up the office and together we walked toward the elevator. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was a strange tension in the air between us. Something that wasn’t normally there, which is what made it seem so pronounced. I gave my head a quick shake. Maybe because I was so tired I was imagining things. Seeing shadows that weren’t really there. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  “What exciting lives we lead,” I joked.

  I shot a look over at Aidan and smiled, hoping to see him smile back at me. Since the incident—as I’d come to call it—he’d been more serious than normal. A little more aloof. Standoffish. It kind of felt like he was isolating and steeling himself against everyone else. It hurt to see my boss so distant and cool, especially since we typically could joke around and converse like two old friends.

  But lately, it felt a lot less friendly. And that bothered me. A lot.

  “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for boring sometimes,” he muttered under his breath so low, I almost couldn’t make out what he’d said.

  “Boring is overrated,” I said.

  The elevator doors opened, and we entered in silence. Aidan was looking down, typing away on his cell phone as I stared at the floor numbers, counting down along with it. Things had never been awkward between the two of us, but here we were and it was awkward as hell.

  When we reached the garage level, Aidan let me step off first. I, of course, turned and waited for him to join me. He gave me a small nod as he stepped out of the elevator, and I fell into step beside him. As we usually did, we arrived at my car first. As I leaned against my Prius, I smiled at Aidan and tried to look as cute as could be. Tried to do something, anything, to get his attention. Or at least get him to crack a damn smile.

  “Well, whatever you do this weekend, don’t work too hard,” I said. “Have some fun, Aidan. Relax a little bit maybe? I think you need it. And you definitely deserve it.”

  “Aye, you’re one to talk, Mags,” he said. And for a split second, there was a glimpse of the old Aidan in there. But that small glimpse was quickly wiped away and replaced with what was now becoming the regular, more serious expression on his face, and it broke my heart. “See you on Monday.”

  “See ya,” I said.

  I unlocked my car and relished the feeling of not having a security goon tripping over me. It was nice to be back in my car, without having to look in my rearview mirror to see what my shadow was driving today. It was also nice to know I wasn’t being followed or having to watch every little thing I did or said.

  I smiled and started my car and pulled out of the garage, heading toward home. I waved and gave my horn a slight beep as I passed Aidan, who was getting into his black BMW.

  I had a feeling I’d see him before Monday—or rather, he’d be seeing me. I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to leave me alone—not after what happened and what I’d seen. I liked to think Aidan trusted me, and perhaps he did. But I also knew he was a cautious man. I hoped that after all of this, he didn’t have to have eyes on me all the time. Or that he’d never question what I might do or say to somebody else. Perhaps if I proved my loyalty, he’d let me inside that head of his—after I’d proven that could handle it.

  But then again, maybe it was all just the dream of a naive girl with a crush. Either way, I hoped this would bring us closer together. Yeah, sue me. I was using a dead man to get closer to the man I cared for. It was horrible, and I knew it, but people had done worse. And it wasn’t like the guy who died was a good person, right? He was there in that office for the sole purpose of killing Aidan, after all. And even though Aidan had plenty of flaws of his own, he wasn’t a bad guy. He’d been born into a crime family, but he was one of the good guys. He wore the white hat and wore it well.

  But either way, hopefully, he could see my loyalty to him trumped everything else—including my career and potentially, my own freedom. If that wasn’t enough to win him over, then nothing would, and it’d be time to move on. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  I was going to show him I could be everything he wanted.

  ***

  Gerard had installed security cameras out front and around the outside of my duplex. For his own use, of course. He’d said it helped him keep an eye on my property to ensure nobody could sneak up on us. The cameras were still up and Aidan assured me they’d remain on, just in case. Better safe than sorry, he’d said. He’d also told me I could also access these cameras myself from my home computer, to check on anything outside as needed.

  He gave me directions on how to set it up, but honestly, it was the last thing on my mind. I wasn’t concerned about anyone coming after me. I was a nobody and didn’t warrant the attention from a paid assassin.

  I relished being home and not hearing footsteps outside my window. Enjoyed the sensation of being truly alone for the first time in days. It was a wonderful feeling. But as I was sitting in bed and binge-watching Netflix, my phone buzzed, making me jump.

  It was a text from Aidan.

  Did you link your laptop to the cameras?

  I texted him back a simple, “Not yet” and tossed the phone on the side table, turning back to Sons of Anarchy.

  My phone rang.

  “Yes, boss?” I said with a laugh.

  “Why haven’t you set everything up yet?” he asked, without so much as saying hello.

  I sighed. “Because I’ve been busy.”

  The pint of ice cream and my Netflix stream might say otherwise, but Aidan didn’t need to know that.

  “Feckin’ aye, Mags,�
�� he said. “Let me walk you through it now.”

  With a sigh, I leaned over and picked up my laptop from the bedside table. I paused the TV, not wanting Aidan to hear the roar of the Harley’s. Talk about a guilty pleasure. He’d never let me live it down if he knew I binge-watched Jax Teller. There was only so much work and studying a person could do before they broke, and I was almost there. Sometimes I needed to stuff my brain with fantasies, get out of reality—which was what I was doing.

  “Fine, my laptop is on,” I said. “What do you need me to do?”

  He walked me through the process of giving him access to my computer, so he could set it up for me remotely. I let him have his way with my laptop, keeping up with Sons on TV via closed captioning as he linked the cameras to my laptop and did whatever else he had to do. I wasn’t really paying attention and honestly didn’t care about the cameras. I doubted that I’d ever access them.

  “Okay, you’re set up,” he said, interrupting my show. “Look at the screen, Maggie, and watch what I’m doing.”

  “I am looking,” I lied. “Do whatever you need to do.”

  “No you’re not,” he said. “I can always tell when you lie to me. Turn off the TV and let’s do this together.”

  A chill slid down my spine as I thought about what he’d said. How did he know I was lying? The TV was muted. There is no way he could’ve known I wasn’t looking at my laptop. And how did he know whenever I lied to him? Was he that good? Or was I that obvious? I flipped off the TV and turned my attention to the laptop screen, as commanded.