KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I burst into the old playroom and found myself surrounded by the game systems and pool tables my brothers used to use to keep themselves entertained in their high school years. It was a little surreal seeing that these things were still here. I imagined that Pops would have had them moved out in favor of something he could take advantage of, like…I don’t know. I just imagined he would have erased all evidence of us kids in this house.

  I walked over to the pool table and picked up the eight ball, remembering all the times, I sat on a stool and watched Killian play Sean and Ian, listening to the jokes they told each other that I didn’t yet understand. That was back when I was still in middle school, when I thought I was grown-up, but I really wasn’t. Then Killian stopped coming around, and Ian and Sean went off to college. Kyle didn’t play, and Kevin preferred to hang out with Mom. The two of them were inseparable. Kevin was a year or two older than I was, but he came after me. He was the last to come into the house. Mom retired not long after, and the two of them…I was kind of jealous of how close they were.

  “Some of these game systems are twenty years old. I bet they’d sell for a pretty penny.”

  I turned, surprised to see that it was Jack who’d followed me here. I was sort of hoping that Killian would have come looking for me.

  “I was hoping we’d get a moment or two alone, Stacy,” Jack said as he came toward me, his hands extended in a sort of gesture of peace. “I have some things I need to tell you.”

  “You do?”

  I didn’t know Jack well. He’d always been like a shadow lurking over the family. He was Pops’ business partner and the subject of many fights between Mom and Pops, but he was never really a guest at the house. He came to big events, but never at the house. Baptisms, confirmations, graduations…he was always in the audience and always provided a really nice gift, but he was never invited into the family. He was like that distant relative that Mom didn’t like, therefore he was more of a peripheral character in my childhood than an active participant.

  Jack gestured to the couches that were arranged in front of one of the two televisions that adorned this room. I sat carefully, watching him as he took a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

  He leaned forward and touched my knee lightly as if we had that sort of relationship.

  “I want you to know, first of all, that your father had nothing to do with what happened to Davis.”

  I cocked my head slightly. “How could you know that?”

  “Because I didn’t want to involve him.”

  “You?”

  He straightened up, watching me as though he expected me to explode. I might have a moment earlier, but now I was in a sort of shock.

  “Davis Grant isn’t his name. He’s really Chandler Collins. He worked for the Italians.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “He was a math teacher at the community college.”

  Jack took his phone out of his back pocket and played with the screen until he found what he wanted. Then he handed it to me.

  There were pictures. Davis with a dark woman; Davis with the same woman and two children; Davis in a suit speaking to a man I didn’t know; Davis sitting in a car outside of a restaurant here in Boston that I knew well, a restaurant owned by the Italian mob. Davis on his wedding day. Davis with his parents. Davis. Davis. Davis.

  But it wasn’t Davis.

  “He’s married and had three children. He was working undercover, gathering information for the Italians. Somehow he found out about you and thought he could get close to you to get information on me and my people.”

  I shook my head. “Why me? I wasn’t even speaking to my father at the time.”

  “But you’re related to him. You have information you don’t even know you have.”

  “No. He never…I…he never asked about my family. We never talked about…”

  I shook my head, my thumb moving over the phone screen again, moving through the pictures again.

  “He was undercover, Stacy. He lied to you, and he was good at it.”

  “We were getting married.”

  Jack looked at the floor for a long moment. “I have reason to believe that he would have disappeared before the wedding. He would have left you standing at the altar alone.”

  “Then why did you kill him?”

  Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “My sources suggested that he was about to report to his superiors. And that report would have ripped my organization wide open.”

  “What did he have? I didn’t—”

  “It wasn’t you, Stacy. He put a bug on Brian’s phone when you were having dinner. He was listening to every call coming in on his phone, saw every text message, read every email. He knew about Brianna’s kidnapping and knew what was discussed in meetings between Brian and me. He knew things about my organization that I couldn’t allow the DEA to learn about. I had to stop him.”

  “So you killed him.”

  “I killed him.”

  I stood up and began to pace. It was all a lie. Davis was never Davis. He wasn’t the mild-mannered college professor I thought he was. He was married. He had children. No wonder he never wanted to go to bed with me, why he always walked away. We made all these plans, but none of it was real. None of it. It was all a lie.

  Secrets. Killian was right. Secrets only ruined things.

  “This man you hired to kill Davis, is he the same man who’s after Killian?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  Jack was silent for a long moment. He slowly stood, turning off his phone and sliding it back into his pocket.

  “Brian knows what he’s doing. That’s why I trust him with protecting me and my men.”

  “What do you know?”

  “That this man will not stop until he’s completed the assignment.”

  “Then we’ll have to stop him ourselves.”

  Chapter 24

  Killian

  I took a long swallow from the thermos of coffee Stacy packed for me.

  “Want some?”

  Sean shook his head.

  “Why are you here?”

  He shook his head again.

  “You were always such a chatterbox.”

  “How could I be a chatterbox when you were always chattering?”

  “Oh, he talks!”

  Sean reached into the console and picked up the bottle of water sitting there.

  “I came because Pops asked me to. He didn’t want any of us alone. Ian’s with Kyle and Pops is driving Kevin back to Florida. He doesn’t want him up here because he’s the last one of us still not knee deep in this stuff.”

  “You were, too, once upon a time.”

  “I don’t mind helping out. Mom would want this.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. She’d want you to go to New York or Chicago and join some respectable law firm. She’d want you to have a happy, healthy life.”

  Sean’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. I think she accepted that this was our way of life. I think she knew we would all end up working for Jack someday.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Sean shrugged. “I talked to her a few times before she died. She said things…I think she wanted us to rally around Pops and keep him safe.”

  “She was sick, Sean. She wasn’t always clear in her thinking.”

  “She was clear enough.”

  Now I was the one shaking my head. “You were her baby. She wouldn’t want you involved.”

  “I’m a grown man. I can make my own choices.”

  I dragged my fingers through my hair, turning my attention back to the street. We were watching the address Jack had given us for the hitman. A search of local hospitals, vet offices, and clinics didn’t turn up anything. The guy must have managed to get his nose back into place on his own.

  But he’d have to come home eventually.

  “Why did Stacy think you killed her fiancé?”

  “Because I wasn’t there watching over her th
at night like I should have been.”

  “Why not?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Sean shrugged. “At least you were finally smart enough to tell her how you felt.”

  “You knew?”

  I stared at him, a little surprised. But I shouldn’t have been. Sean was always aware of what was going on around him, more so than everyone else in the family was. He wasn’t always this quiet and pensive, but he was always a people watcher, observant.

  “Mom knew, too. She commented on it once and said something to the effect that she hoped you would be patient.”

  “I was afraid to admit my own feelings because of her, but she knew?”

  “She knew everything. She was the smartest woman I knew.”

  That was true. Mom always seemed to know everything, always seemed to have what was needed exactly when it was needed, whether it was a good piece of advice or a twenty-dollar bill.

  I missed my mom.

  “Stacy’s refusing to talk to Pops. He’s called a dozen times since this morning, but she won’t talk to him.”

  “She’ll come around,” Sean said.

  “I hope so.”

  I was worried about her, to be honest. She was consumed with what Jack told her about Davis. We talked about it for hours, but she continued to be agitated, pacing the house, refusing to listen to anything I had to say. And I didn’t dare bring up Pops. She was so angry with him for trying to apologize…I didn’t know if that would ever be resolved. There was just too much under the bridge there.

  I just wanted my family to be whole, my wife to be okay in the same room with my dad, and for us to be capable of family gatherings without tears and screaming and frustration.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “They must have seen something,” I said, tugging it out and pulling up the text screen. It was definitely from Ian, but there was nothing yet. He was just checking in.

  “This is going to be a long night. I should go get us something to eat.”

  I nodded. “Do you want me to ask them what they want?”

  “They can fend for themselves.”

  I watched Sean go, slipping out of the car and walking quickly down the street, trying not to draw attention to himself.

  I leaned back and closed my eyes, wondering why the hell I was here. We weren’t going to find this guy until he came after me again. He was a ghost. It was his job to be a ghost. That’s why he was still alive.

  I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that Stacy had hired someone to kill me. She thought I killed Davis. I could understand that. But I couldn’t understand how she could hate me so much that she wanted me dead. She gave herself to me, knowing that when all was said and done, I would be dead.

  I wanted to forgive her, but I was struggling. I didn’t want her to know that, but I just couldn’t breathe when I thought about it. I looked at her, and my heart hurt. I loved her so much, but now I wasn’t even sure I could trust her. She said she loved me, but was that just a trick? Was she really past all of this? Did the truth really change anything?

  I had to believe it did.

  I knew, at the end of the day, that none of it really mattered. I loved her. I wasn’t going to leave her, so if she still wanted me dead, I’d be dead. That was all there was to it.

  I heard a noise and…

  Chapter 25

  Stacy

  Killian was out looking for his would-be killer. I was sitting on the couch, staring at the television, but not really absorbing it. All I could think about was all the things that could go wrong.

  I didn’t think I could live through another one of those phone calls.

  I got up, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. I should eat—I hadn’t eaten all day—but I couldn’t make myself do it.

  Davis lied to me. Everything was a lie.

  It all seemed so obvious now. There was one night, early in our relationship, we were on the couch, and I started to climb onto his lap. He was aroused, I know he was. But he lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the cushion, quickly moving away from me.

  “I have an early class in the morning,” he said.

  “So stay the night here. My apartment is closer to the school, anyway.”

  “I’d love to, but don’t you think it’s a little soon?”

  “It’s been two months. Some people start sleeping together the night they meet.”

  “I’m sorry, Stacy. Not tonight.”

  I’d been hurt. I thought there was something about me. He brought me flowers the next morning and swore that it was exhaustion talking rather than desire. I believed him. But now? He was married. He clearly didn’t want to cheat on his wife and that, I suppose, was commendable. But it was a red flag that I clearly missed.

  How many other things had I missed? How many other clues were there that I didn’t see, clues that could have saved my family and me all this heartache? How many clues were there that could have kept me from hiring that killer in the first place, that could have saved Killian from suffering the bullet wound in his shoulder, the cuts on his body, the struggle that lay ahead of him tonight?

  This was all my fault. I put the blame on Pops, but it was clearly all my fault.

  I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit here and wait for word.

  I grabbed my keys and had my hand on the doorknob. I screamed when I yanked the door open and found Pops standing there.

  “Sorry,” he said, raising his hands. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  I could see it in the way his gaze fell from my face. Something was wrong.

  “No. Not again. I can’t—”

  “He’s alive, Stacy. We just…things are complicated.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “He’s in trouble. I need you to go to the house and stay with Cassidy. I need to know you’re safe while we deal with this situation.”

  “No. I’m going with you.”

  “Stacy—”

  “He’s my husband. I won’t stand on the sidelines while he fights for his life!”

  He studied my face for a long moment, and then he nodded, biting back a small smile. “Okay. But you stay by my side.”

  I brushed past him and climbed into the car. When he didn’t immediately follow, I called back to him.

  “Do you need an engraved invitation?”

  Chapter 26

  Killian

  He shattered the window next to my head, stunning me. If not for that, I would have been able to fight him off. Not only did he break the window and knock me in the head, but also he had a Taser.

  When I was able to move again, I was suspended from a beam in the center of his renovated apartment. Nice furniture. He’d laid down plastic tarps to protect the carpets and the couches.

  “Welcome back,” he said.

  “Sorry about the nose.”

  He touched the edges of his swollen nose. “Not the first time it’s been broken.”

  “Yeah? Never broke my nose. Broke about everything else, though.”

  His eyebrows rose as he eyed me. “I’ve broken all my ribs, both my legs, and my right arm.”

  “Impressive.”

  He shrugged. “So, I sent word to your father. The cavalry should come soon.”

  “Why haven’t you killed me?”

  “Because your woman has gotten me caught up in the middle of something I don’t quite understand. I was hoping if I had you, I’d find out what this is all about.”

  “We were hoping you knew what this is all about.”

  “All I know is that your wife contacted me, hired me to kill you on her cue. Just before she sent the text telling me to kill you, someone else wired twice the money to my account that she’d paid and said that she would change her mind, but I should continue with the contract anyway.”

  “Who was it?”

  He shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’ve worked a doze
n times for Jack McGuire. But this wasn’t him.”

  “Was it my father?”

  “No. But it’s kind of sad you would think so.”

  I would have shrugged, but my arms were caught over my head, tied with rope. I twisted my wrists, trying to test the rope, but it was so tight I wasn’t getting out of there any time soon.

  “Whoever it was, he knew who I was, and he knew all about your wife’s contract.” He shrugged for me. “My guess? The guy is someone in-the-know with your family.”

  “My father thinks we have a mole.”

  “Very possible. I heard there was a kidnapping some time ago, too. Not to mention your little wife’s fiancé.”

  “We know you did that.”

  “Yeah. Guy was an Italian spy. I would have taken him out for free, but Jack insisted on paying me.”

  “You know Jack well?”

  “I’ve known him for years. Like I said, I’ve done a number of jobs for him.”

  “He trusted you to do this thing with Davis?”

  “He’s trusted me to do most of his top secret kills.”

  “Do you realize that he’s the one that told us how to find you?”

  The hitman shrugged. “There’s no loyalty in the mafia.”

  He walked closer to me, his eyes moving slowly over the length of me. He grabbed the front of my shirt and ripped it open, exposing my tattoos.

  “Been to the county jail a few times.”

  He wasn’t asking. He was observing. His fingers moved slowly over my tats, touching the ones that interested him the most. Then he snagged his finger under the top corner of the bandage Stacy put on the cut he’d given me that morning and he ripped it away, tearing a little bit of flesh along with it.

  I watched him, curious what he was up to.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  He picked up a baseball bat and slammed it into my ribs. I grunted, but controlled myself enough that I didn’t scream. He hit me again, and I felt two ribs break that time.