by Cara Dee
“Would who be there?” I asked.
He let out a gruff laugh and took a sip of something. “Most people simply agree, Finn.”
“I’m not most guys, Uncle John.”
Pop cleared his throat to get my attention, and I turned away from him. I didn’t need a reminder to be respectful. I was respectful. I was also done beating around the bush. We demanded answers.
“Actually, it would be the two of us,” John responded. “You can pick the place.”
I scratched my forehead, squinting. “You realize I find this strange, eh? All due respect, sir, with everything going on, I can only agree to meet with you if you can give me your word that it will clear up some of this confusion. I’m getting married in three weeks, and the thought of something happening to my fiancée is keeping me up most nights.”
“Sweet Jesus, he’s not my son,” Pop muttered behind me.
“He knows what he’s doing, Shan,” Ian murmured.
I waited for John.
“Aye, I think I can clear some things up, lad. I come for your trust, and I realize it will cost me.”
My head snapped up. Now we were talking. He wasn’t going to get my trust, and it was interesting he knew he didn’t have it. That said, I had no problems meeting with him and hearing him out.
“Dinner’s on me then, sir,” I said. “Looking forward to seeing you.” We wrapped up the call, and I spun around to face the guys, arms wide. “What the fuck just happened?”
“I don’t know, you tell us.” Patrick smirked. “You having dinner with Uncle John? Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I folded my arms over my chest and faced Pop. “He sounded tired. I think. And he wouldn’t call me if he had other options.”
Pop didn’t respond, going into calculating mode.
“You know, this makes sense.” It was Eric who spoke up. “Your theory, Finn. I mean, there’s a shitload of bad blood between Gio and John, but it’s not only restricted to them. Why ice just one when you can take ’em all out? If the Italians are coming for the whole syndicate—”
“And if they know there’s a rift between the O’Sheas and Murrays,” I filled in.
“They’ll exploit us from every angle,” he finished.
“That’s a grim theory,” Pop said, “but one we have to prepare for.”
“It’s not exactly farfetched.” Patrick threw in his two cents too. “No one but old Ennis wanted Gio initiated into the Sons.”
That was true, which made it even more likely that John sought out the O’Sheas to build some bridges. Because the rift was undeniable—for all of us. The syndicate had been at a standstill for years because so many of us had been—or still were—in prison. And now, as more men were being released, our members were going to demand action.
“Why a sit-down with me?” I asked. “John’s got higher-ranking crew bosses in Philly who’re more logical options.”
Pop was one of them, and he gave only a wry smirk in response before he lit a cigarette.
“You’ve made enough ruckus,” Thomas said quietly. “These past two years, you’ve gone from up-and-coming to being a threat. That gives John two options. Get you on his side to take down Avellino, or risk facing both of you in a war he wouldn’t win.”
I considered what he’d said, and I wasn’t wholly on board with it. I was causing a ruckus, definitely, and it was starting to pay off—in Philly. I had a good crew, I could give them all the work they wanted, my legit business was doing well, and I’d expanded. In a short period of time, I’d greased a lot of palms. However, for this to reach Chicago, I had to stand out. I wasn’t accomplishing anything my father and the three top crews weren’t already doing.
“You can count me out, son,” Pop added. “I never had the desire to take top rank, and John knows it. Jim pisses his pants just being in the same room as you, ’cause he was there to witness my father’s plans for you. That leaves Old Phil. He just lost the last strip mall north of Snyder to the Vietnamese, and I suspect you have more people on your payroll in Whitman than he does.”
“God bless that old fuck. Last time we saw each other, he talked nonstop about his arthritis,” I chuckled.
“Well, there you go, little brother.” Patrick clapped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Uncle John probably knows you’ll rake in votes when that day comes.”
I wasn’t ready to celebrate or get my hopes up, but I took it as a partial victory—another step closer toward my goal.
A few hours later, I felt better in terms of security. We had every moment of the week of the wedding mapped out, and everything had been upgraded, from the vehicles we’d be driving in the city to the safety measures we’d take before going someplace.
Pop circled back to Uncle John to have him approve of the precautions we were taking. Despite his promises of clearing the confusion, we were still flying blind until my sit-down with him, and he reluctantly admitted everything we’d planned was necessary. Furthermore, he offered to cover our expenses, and that spoke volumes.
It was possible I ordered a few more cars for my firm because he was footing the bill.
“He’s ready to kiss ass,” Patrick said.
It sure seemed like it, but he would collect more points with us if he gave it to us straight rather than sugarcoating the situation in hopes of making it easier to get us to join him in taking down the Avellinos.
We weren’t the wife he had to protect from the truth.
Half sitting on the edge of the desk next to where Eric was working, I eyed his scribbled notes about the week we were returning to the city. The wedding was on a Saturday, and guests would start to arrive already on Wednesday, the Murrays included. It was going to be a stressful week with dinners, sit-downs, and making sure the women weren’t bothered by the security. We had to be three paces ahead of them; we had to know their every move and go there before they did.
Emilia had her final fitting with the girls on that Wednesday at one. Before then, she was having her last session with Father O’Malley. She would be out most of the day, whereas my only plan included picking up our rings.
It would be a good day to meet with John. And by then… A thought struck me, and I asked Eric to pull up the guest list on screen five. I scanned it quickly. Out of the almost three hundred guests, around sixty of them identified as Murrays and lived in Chicago.
“You’re planning something.” Pop was watching me.
“Everyone from John’s inner circle arrives on Tuesday or Wednesday,” I said, picking up the notepad. I began making notes for what I needed. “Chicago will be empty.”
“Of higher-ups, not eyes and ears,” Ian pointed out.
“We still have one man on our side there,” I replied with a smirk.
Pat knew where my mind was at. “Liam.”
I inclined my head. Our cousin loved his old man, but his loyalty had always laid with Ronan and Ennis. Like me, he was a man of protocol and tradition, and he was being released from prison in August with a big mouth and strong opinions. He was the one Murray I could trust fully, partly because he felt betrayed by John for how everything went down all those years ago. I bet John knew it too. He’d dug himself a nice little hole, and he needed our help to get out of it.
I spoke up. “If we wanna be one step ahead of John—without knowing what’s going on—we’re gonna have to go big. We can’t make any demands if we don’t have a hold on him.”
“But he needs our help,” Pop argued. “We won’t get more leverage than that. It’ll secure our position.”
Bullshit. This was an opportunity I wasn’t going to waste. “Why stop there?” I widened my arms. “The way I see it, this is a chance to give the O’Sheas something. We can’t forget we have men on our streets who count on us to make things right.”
My brother was with me. “Think about it, Pop. Our low-men ain’t gonna like working security at the wedding while the Murrays sit up there with us and enjoy the festivities. We gotta give them something, like Fin
n said.”
Pop sighed tiredly and sat down at the table. “Out with it, then. What do you have in mind?”
“On Wednesday, I sit down with Uncle John,” I said. “Emilia and I will take him and Aunt Anne out for a nice dinner first—we follow tradition and welcome them to our city—”
“Old-school,” Thomas noted.
“In the meantime, I want a crew in Chicago,” I went on. “With Liam’s go-ahead, we’ll have full access to Murray territory and—”
“What’re you expecting to find, a nonexistent paper trail to take down your uncle?” Pop asked in disbelief.
“Can people quit interrupting me?” I barked out. “Christ. No. It’s to send a fucking message. We don’t sit around and wait for answers. We get the upper hand. We’ll let him know we’re not just ready to invade his home—we’re already there.” I had two years of subtle surveillance to put to use. Within the syndicate, many of the Murray properties were common knowledge. In addition to that, I knew about a handful of other operations and locations Uncle John would’ve rather kept private.
Ian joined my father at the table, thoughtful. He didn’t look opposed to the idea. “You realize it’s no longer a sit-down, lad. John will see it as an ambush.”
“Funny, that’s how I see what the Avellinos did to my fiancée too,” I replied flatly. “I’m not putting all of that on John, but let’s not pretend he’s innocent here. If he knew what was good for him, he would’ve flown out here and delivered everything he knew on a goddamn platter.”
Pop sat forward, elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on his clasped hands. Worry creased his forehead, and he couldn’t let that hold us back.
“We’re just sending a message,” I repeated.
“Except you’re not, son. You’re challenging his rank. It comes with consequences.”
“Then so be it,” I answered. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t very concerned. Uncle John was fucked one way or another. “You said it yourself, he needs our help, and we’re all he’s got. Who else is gonna help him with the Italians? I’m not gonna tell him to surrender all his control. I’m only gonna gain some of it.”
“I agree with Finn.” Kellan spoke up for the first time in a while. “We’re not gonna rape his ass or nothing. Just finger him a bit.”
I let out a laugh and slapped my thigh. That was a good one.
“Your sense of humor, boy—I swear.” Pop shook his head at Kellan. And probably me too.
I appreciated my father’s worry, but it was time to let go. We’d been doing this since we were kids, literally. It was too late to go back.
“We can do this, Pop,” I said.
He waved a hand and sat back to light a smoke. “I don’t doubt that. It’s what happens once you succeed I’m worried about.” He blew out some smoke. “You’re making it clear to the entire syndicate that you’re the new head of the O’Sheas.”
I stared at him, waiting for anyone to speak up—to object. I was ready for this. I was prepared.
No one said a word.
Chapter 25
Emilia Porter
“Time to get up, baby.”
“I disagree.” My voice was muffled by the pillow. “I already tried that once.”
I’d woken up when Finnegan got ready for his run. With optimism in my heart, I’d stumbled out of bed and taken a shower, after which I’d collapsed on the bathroom floor. I suspected I’d still been drunk at that point. After getting up, I’d face planted in bed with my towel wrapped around me, fallen asleep once more, and that was where we were right now.
I was never drinking with the Irish again.
Finnegan shuffled around in the bedroom, probably getting dressed. Lifting my head off the pillow, I squinted at the clock on his side of the bed, only to promptly land on my pillow again. It was only ten in the morning. Fuck that noise.
“I take it your bachelorette party was a success?” There was too much amusement in Finnegan’s tone.
I yelped and whined when he shifted up my towel and bit my ass.
“This ass, princess…” He grabbed two handfuls and groped me.
“Leave me alone,” I complained.
He chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What did they do to you last night?”
“All of it,” I whispered. If I lay perfectly still, my headache wasn’t too bad.
“And how much did you drink?”
“All of it,” I whispered again.
I wasn’t sure who to blame. Grace, Nurse Wa—Vivian, and Brenda had bowed out relatively early. Before midnight, I knew that much. It’d been a day of silly games, good food, all the alcohol, gifts, and motherly advice about how to survive a marriage. Then it’d been Sarah, Luna—Kellan’s little sister—and me until…four? Maybe. And we’d just kept drinking and talking and drinking. So much drinking.
I blamed them all.
“My poor baby.” Finnegan stroked my butt some more. “I saw we got some cool gifts.”
That was something I’d learned yesterday. The smallest gifts came in big boxes, and the biggest gifts came in envelopes. Vivian and her family had given us a fancy soft-serve ice cream maker…and a spa slash golf weekend.
Since our engagement parties had been canceled, people had sent us a bunch of things, and Grace and Vivian had brought it all over for me to open.
“Can you be lazy with me today?” I asked in a pitiful voice.
“There’s nothing else to do around here,” he chuckled. “I thought we could join the others at the pool behind the main house.”
I was forced to lift my head again, so I could give him a weak glare. Huh, I’d half expected to see him in a suit, but he was wearing trunks and a tee. Delicious.
“That would require me leaving this bed,” I mumbled.
He smiled down at me and brushed away some hair from my face. “It does. The sooner, the better. You’re too much of a temptation right now.”
I wiggled my butt to sway him, and he groaned.
“Quit it, you little witch.” He stood up, adjusted his cock, and held out a hand. “Let’s go. We have one week to kill before we go back to the city, and I’m already struggling to remain a gentleman. Fuck—I’ve been struggling for months. Come on.”
I giggled sleepily and let him drag me out of bed. Oops, the towel slipped off of me.
Finnegan cursed, and the heat that flashed in his eyes was so sexy.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he told me, stalking into our closet. “One more week, Finn, you can do it.” He was too funny, muttering to himself.
We actually put the ice cream maker to great use. The weather was much better today, so it was all about pool fun and ice cream. We’d put the machine on a table on Shan and Grace’s patio, and I made us two cones while Finnegan came up out of the water.
Now…Finnegan was always filthy hot and ridiculously cut. With him in black trunks and with rivulets of water coursing down his body, there was no word in the English language to describe how edible he looked. He pushed back his hair and bent down to grab a towel from the lounger we were sharing, and I almost forgot the ice cream.
“Shit.” I turned off the machine. I supposed he wouldn’t complain about his ice cream being massive.
Grace and Ian stepped out onto the patio with beers and pitchers of margaritas and Bloody Marys for those who were ready for that. Basically, everyone but me.
“Brunch will be served soon,” Ian announced.
“Isn’t this the life?” Grace was in a great mood. “If only we could stay here forever.”
I snickered, sneaking a glance at Finnegan’s horrified expression before he composed his face. I was learning his tells, and I knew he was growing restless. He couldn’t sit still for long. Patrick and Kellan were much the same.
I walked over to our lounger and handed Finnegan his ice cream cone.
His forehead creased. “But, I want jimmies.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“If you call it what it is
,” I said and licked my own cone.
“It’s called jimmies,” he stated. “I can do this all day.”
Kellan and Patrick piped up from the pool, agreeing with Finnegan. Freaking jimmies.
“See?” Finnegan raised his brows.
“Then you get nothin’.” I sat down on the foot of the lounger and—
“Fine. Sprinkles.” He made a face. “Can you put sprinkles on mine?”
“Of course, Mr. I Can Do This All Day.” I returned to the ice cream maker and dipped his cone in the bowl of sprinkles.
“Why do I feel like this is only the beginning?” Shan mused. I didn’t know he’d been watching us from his spot. He, Grace, and Ian sat at a table under a big umbrella. “They’re gonna rile each other up until something or someone breaks.”
“Just my fiancé’s balls,” I said.
“She called me fiancé.” Finnegan was all smiles. “That’s how she gets away with anything.”
I grinned and walked back with his ice cream.
More people emerged for a day by the pool. Conn and Colm—they were my boys—Eric, a friend of Finnegan’s, Luna and Sarah—and thank fuck, they looked as hungover as I felt.
Now that the guesthouses were ready, Grace had plans to always have people over. If there was one thing she loved, it was to play hostess to the people she called family.
Luna rubbed sleep from her eyes, then quirked a brow at me, mischief seeping through her exhaustion. “Morning.”
“Good morning. No, I haven’t.” I laughed, answering her unspoken question.
Luna was…exciting. I felt less guilty for enjoying my new life when she was around. With Sarah, there was always that worry. If anyone took advantage of the wealth, it was her, but I wasn’t certain she actually enjoyed herself. Luna, on the other hand… In the span of twenty-four hours, she’d made me feel as welcome as Finnegan’s family. Like them, she’d grown up in this life.
“Well, why not?” She huffed and pulled back her raven-black hair into a short ponytail. Then she adjusted her green bikini and side-eyed Finnegan. “It’ll drive him mad.”
