Breath of Deceit_Dublin Devils 1

by Selena Laurence

  Connor shook his head at the memory. Yeah, since he was twelve years old, he’d believed that, but now it looked like Cian had forgotten his promise.

  “To hell with later,” Connor spat. “There’s no way you guys can expect me to make peace with the man who fractured Jess’s wrist, her cheekbone, and two ribs.” The rage curled inside him, turning his stomach sour and making his head pound. “They could have killed her.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “They could have raped her. I will not make peace.”

  Liam’s voice was kind, but his words were less so. “You’ll do whatever the head of the family tells you. That’s how this works, kid. I know it’s hard, and you’re justified to want revenge, but timing is everything, and it’s not the time. Cian’s good to us. He wouldn’t make a decision like this if he didn’t think it was necessary. Finn and I both agree. You’re just going to have to be patient for your payback. Maybe in a few months. We’ll see.”

  Connor clenched his fists and stared at the cloudy sky above. Fuck Cian. Fuck Liam and Finn too. They couldn’t make peace with Vasquez if he got to the man first. So, he’d do what he had to. It wasn’t the first time he’d ignored his older brother’s orders; probably wouldn’t be the last. All that really mattered was making sure that bastard could never hurt Jess again.

  “Fine,” he bit out. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go take care of Jess, since no one else seems to give a damn.”

  “Connor, come on,” Liam pleaded as Connor stomped off into the hospital. But Connor didn’t respond. His thoughts had already moved on to more important things—namely, how he’d find Vasquez and get him alone to do it. Once he’d answered that question, Connor had guns to grab and plans to make. He was going to take down Alejandro Vasquez, and he was going to do it tonight.

  Chapter 10

  “That was fast,” Cian said as Finn stood in front of his desk at the club.

  “Yeah, the soldier we’re hosting is Vasquez’s cousin. He wants to meet right away.”

  “His cousin, huh? That puts a different spin on things.” Cian leaned back in his chair, considering yet another wrench in his plans. “He’s not going to let us use his cousin as the body to even the score.”

  Finn flopped into one of the other office chairs, looking at Cian from under his unkempt hair. “Nope. He wants him back. I can tell that already.”

  “Yeah, you know how that’s going—his grandmother or Auntie Maria or whoever is in hysterics, telling him if he doesn’t get his dumbass cousin back from those filthy Irish, she’ll never forgive him.”

  “Exactly,” Finn agreed, “which is why we’re going to use the cousin to demand something else in retribution.”

  “I’m thinking he gives us the slice of territory that runs along Front Street. It’s always pissed Pop off the Vasquezes have that. You know how he likes things neat and tidy.”

  Finn nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And it can never hurt to make Pop happy, can it?” he asked wryly.

  Cian didn’t let his expression betray anything. “No. It can’t.”

  Strategy agreed upon, Finn left to make the final arrangements for the meeting with Vasquez. Cian sat in silence, watching his screen saver flicker. The feds had been satisfied with the information he’d sent them on some of his family’s Cayman accounts, but they’d demanded more, faster. They were becoming increasingly difficult to placate, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they pulled one of his brothers in as leverage. The fact was, they wanted an end to the MacFarlane organization, and that meant every MacFarlane son neutralized one way or another. It was an outcome Cian couldn’t allow.

  He could tell Vasquez about the informant in his ranks. It might make Cian marketable as the source for Vasquez info instead of MacFarlane info again, but he knew it was only a stop-gap measure. He’d been in denial thinking he could somehow keep the feds satisfied with the bits of intel he’d been feeding them the last three years.

  At some point, they were going to make him pay the piper no matter what. They’d thrown out the lure, and now they were reeling him in, and they were good at what they did. They’d studied him ever since he’d agreed to inform. They knew his weaknesses, and they knew exactly how much power he truly had, which was a lot. There might be things his father didn’t tell him, but MacFarlane men and MacFarlane business answered to him. His father’s retirement had been final, and Cian did everything he could to keep his father out of the loop whenever possible.

  He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at the stubble that was spreading like wildfire. He needed to be smarter than ever now. Things were heating up all over the place, and one slipup could send the entire house of cards tumbling down.

  A picture of him with his brothers stared at him from the office wall. It had been taken at Connor’s twenty-first birthday, in front of the bar in their dad’s pub. Connor had been sneaking booze from the pub since he was sixteen, but that night, he’d marched up and ordered a round for his brothers and every other MacFarlane employee in the room.

  He looked at the picture, noticing the way Liam’s arm was slung across Finn’s shoulders, how Finn leaned his head toward Connor, the proud smile on Connor’s face as he held up the bottle of Jameson’s. And behind them all, him—arms around the entire pack—the protector, the mentor and boss. The one who’d made sure they stayed safe and healthy and happy. Robbie MacFarlane may have taught his boys how to rule, but Cian had taught them how to love.

  He needed the ultimate bargaining chip. He needed a way to make himself so invaluable to the feds, they’d agree to leave his brothers alone for good. His email notifications pinged, and he glanced at the computer screen to see a notice from Rogue.

  And that’s when it came to him. Cian realized the answer had been there for weeks. It had, in fact, fallen right in his lap, courtesy of Finn and his big ideas. Cian didn’t need another bargaining chip. He just had to leverage the one he had. He’d save his brothers for good. He regretted he’d probably have to sacrifice Lila in the process.

  The house was dark except for a small light in the kitchen when Lila let herself in with her key.

  “Mom?” she called out softly. It was early, only seven thirty in the evening, but she wondered if her mother had gone to bed already.

  “In here, sweetie,” May Rodriguez called out from the darkened living room.

  Lila turned to the right and entered the small room that housed an upright piano, a sofa, and two armchairs. Her mother was reclined on the sofa, a washcloth across her forehead. Lila sat carefully on the coffee table next to her. “Another migraine?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.

  “Yes, it came on after dinner, but I think I took medicine fast enough this time. It’s getting better bit by bit.”

  Lila’s brow furrowed as she looked at her tiny mother amid the piles of throw pillows and afghans. “That’s the third one in a month. I think you should go to the doctor and see what she has to say.”

  Her mother made a shushing noise. “No, that’s silly. I’m fine. I think today was because I accidently ate something with peanuts.”

  “Okay, if you promise, but if they get worse or more often, you need to promise me you’ll get it checked out.”

  “Of course.”

  Lila’s mother wasn’t the type of woman to spend energy worrying about her health or her own needs. She’d been brought to the US as a baby after the immigration laws of the mid-1960s had allowed a wave of immigration from South Korea. The family had been without English, without jobs, and without the large extended family they’d left behind in Daejeon.

  Lila’s mother had grown to become the family’s primary translator, and by the time she was ten or twelve, she conducted all the family’s business, making phone calls for her mother, explaining apartment leases to her father, and filling out all the paperwork for her little brothers to enroll in school. It wasn’t too much of a surprise she’d grown up to become a schoolteacher. And probably not a surprise she’d married a man
who needed her supervision as well.

  And as the thought of her father entered her head, Lila gritted her teeth, hating that she needed to bring it up, but it was past time.

  “He’s been gone a while this time, Mom,” she said gently. “Don’t you think it’s time to file a missing persons report?”

  Just enough light slipped in from the streetlights outside that Lila could see her mother stiffen.

  “He’ll be back,” May said resolutely.

  Lila sighed and rubbed her temple, wondering if the migraine was contagious.

  “It’s been six months, Mom. He’s never been gone more than a few weeks. Something’s happened, and you need to take care of yourself.”

  “What do you want? For me to divorce him? After thirty years, you think I should just sign a paper and end it because he’s gone on a longer trip than usual?”

  Diego Rodriguez’s gambling had always meant “trips,” as her parents called them. Trips to Atlantic City, trips to Vegas, trips to the Santa Anita and Pimlico. He spent his life searching for the next challenge, the next big win, the next fix. Addiction was an ugly beast, and Lila knew she’d been just as guilty of enabling him as May had.

  “Something might have happened to him,” she told her mother. “Don’t you want the authorities to know so they can try to see if he’s okay? What if he’s in a hospital somewhere and he can’t tell them who he is or something?”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do, Lila,” May chastised. “Your father can take care of himself. He always has. He’ll be back. He just found more games to play this time than usual.”

  The stubborn set of her mom’s jaw told Lila she wasn’t going to be able to change the woman’s mind. Her dad might be rotting in a ditch somewhere, and May wasn’t going to budge. And unfortunately, Lila’s suspicion was that the ditch scenario wasn’t too far from the truth of what was keeping Diego away. The odds of the man having made it as long as he had without getting offed by a bookie he owed or an angry poker opponent were phenomenal. As a student of the odds, Lila knew they weren’t in his favor.

  But until May was willing to admit her husband was probably dead, there wasn’t much Lila could do.

  “Okay, Mom, why don’t we get you upstairs to bed. I’ll bring you some tea and lock up when I go.”

  May sat up, handing Lila the washcloth. She patted her on the cheek. “You’re a good girl to take care of me.”

  Lila felt her cheeks heat. There was nothing good about her. If only her mother knew the truth.

  “You want anything to eat while I’m getting the tea?”

  “No. Bring me my tea, then you can go. You should go out, see some friends. Stop worrying about me and start worrying about when you’re ever going to meet a man.”

  Lila rolled her eyes as she helped her mom stand from the sofa. “I spend all day with men, Mom.”

  “Not the nerdy men, Lila. You need to meet a real man, one who’s strong enough to handle you and your big brain.”

  An image of Cian flashed in Lila’s mind, and she tried to control the shiver that worked through her. Somehow, she didn’t think the issue was a man who could handle her. No, Lila was convinced she couldn’t handle the man Cian MacFarlane was. But there was a part of her that would really like to try.

  Chapter 11

  The moon was just high enough for Connor to be able to switch off his headlights as he turned into the industrial park where Cian was set to meet Vasquez. It had taken a lot of skulking and eavesdropping, plus drinking a few shots with one of Cian’s guards to find out the place and time for the meeting, but as he rolled into the weed-choked parking lot, he saw the Audi TT Cian loved parked alongside a black Cadillac CT6 and knew he’d come to the right place.

  He quietly climbed out of the car, sliding his hand inside his jacket where the 9mm Glock rested in its holster. He fingered the gun, trying to calm the hum in his ears. Connor had held guns on men, been in a couple of minor shootouts, and plenty of fistfights, but he’d never killed a man before. Tonight, he would, because he’d be damned if Vasquez would get away with what he’d done to Jess.

  He quietly walked toward the door to the nearest warehouse, scanning the darkness around the building, watching for shifts in the shadows, listening for the slightest sound that might indicate Vasquez had men waiting to ambush Cian.

  As he reached the metal wall of the structure, he turned his back to it, pulling his gun out and holding it ready as he slid alongside the wall until he’d reached the door.

  “Your cousin is fine,” he heard Cian say just inside. “But I won’t just hand him over. You went too far with the girl. We can’t let that go without getting something in return.”

  “Jesus,” Vasquez muttered. “You fucking Irish think you can dictate how it’s all going to go. I got news for you, this isn’t the old world no more, and you can’t just take whatever the hell you want and not pay the price. Your pinche brother defiled my baby sister, man. He disrespected me the worst way he could. And did I get anything in return? Hell, no.”

  “Connor’s young. He was blowing off steam. We’ve all done it, and I dealt with him. He knows he did wrong, but he didn’t force your sister, and he never came near her again. It’s time to let it go.”

  “So what do you want to give me back, Ramon?” Vasquez asked. “And don’t go for broke here, bro. I’m not feeling all that generous.”

  Cian’s voice was calm as he began explaining the boundaries of the new territory he wanted in exchange for what Vasquez had done to Jess. It made Connor’s stomach turn. The idea that anything other than the complete annihilation of Vasquez could answer for what they’d done to his girl.

  The rage that had been coming in waves for the last forty-eight hours took hold of him again, and he didn’t stop to think, just yanked open the door to the warehouse, his gun drawn, trying desperately to fix something that should have never happened in the first place. Something that was all his fault and only he could mend.

  Like in a movie, time slowed. He saw Cian turn toward him, his face going pale in an instant. Cian’s mouth opened as he yelled for Connor to stop, but he already had the gun trained on Vasquez, who dove toward the floor.

  He pressed the trigger three times. Why he’d always remember that, he didn’t know, but he would. Bang. Bang. Bang. It took only a few seconds and then it was over, his hand falling to his side as Cian reached him and slammed him against the wall of the warehouse, arm against Connor’s throat. Connor could feel his air being cut off, and he let the gun clatter to the floor, no need for it now. As Cian yelled at him, Connor stood passively, staring at Vasquez where he lay bleeding on the cold, hard floor.

  Somewhere in the back of Connor’s mind, he noted that it didn’t feel like he’d thought it would—killing a man. The truth was he didn’t feel much of anything. The report of the gun still rang in his ears, and Cian was pressing so hard on his windpipe, his vision was black around the edges. But he wasn’t too concerned. He’d done what he came to do. He ought to feel something. But he didn’t. He really didn’t.

  “Jesus Christ!” Cian yelled. “How could you? What the fuck were you thinking?”

  Connor blinked and realized Cian had released him and was pacing the floor in front of him.

  “Is he dead?” Connor asked quietly, still staring at Vasquez’s body.

  Cian strode to Vasquez and squatted, putting his fingers on Vasquez’s neck. After a few seconds, he nodded. “Goddammit, Connor. When will you ever learn?”

  “He had to pay. Pop always taught us that. You make anyone who does you wrong pay. He nearly killed her, Cian. How was I supposed to just let that go?”

  Cian stood, crossing his arms. “There’s more than one way to make someone pay. And a right time and a wrong time to exact payment.” Cian looked exhausted. “You’ve started a war that could go on for years, Connor. You haven’t made it better. You’ve made it so much worse. Jess will be in more danger than ever. So will the four of us and anyon
e we’re close to. You may have just signed the death warrants of a whole bunch of people, and a lot of them are MacFarlane people.”

  Connor swallowed as the adrenaline he’d been running on for hours started to subside. He didn’t want to put anyone else in danger, he’d just needed to make it right for Jess. Make sure Vasquez would never hurt her again.

  Cian walked over to Connor and grabbed his face, pressing against his cheeks as he looked him in the eye. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked quietly. “I love you, goddammit, but I’m not superhuman. I can’t fix everything you screw up.”

  Before Connor could answer, a cell phone went off from Vasquez’s pocket.

  “That’ll be Vasquez’s men checking up on him. We need to get out of here and prepare. They may try to hit us tonight. Come on.” Cian moved to the door, listening for a moment before he opened it. Connor bent down and scooped up the gun, tucking it back in his holster before following Cian out the door.

  “Get in your car, drive straight to Pop’s house. We’ll need to get a plan made right away,” Cian instructed.

  Connor nodded as he opened his car door.

  “Connor.” Cian’s face was in shadows, but his tone was clear as day. “Don’t stop anywhere, don’t talk to anyone, don’t say a word to Pop until I get there. Understand?”

  “Yeah. I got it,” he answered. On autopilot, he climbed in the car, started it up, and drove toward his parents’ house.

  And still, he felt nothing.

  Cian’s tires squealed as he hauled out of the abandoned parking lot heading out of the industrial area. He hit the speaker phone on his steering wheel and called Finn.

  “I was just about to check on you,” Finn said as he picked up. Cian could hear the noise in the background and knew Finn must be at Banshee waiting for him to come back. “Everything go okay?”