Money. Family. Power.
Everything else is a waste of Ciarán’s time.
As the eldest son of the O’Hanlon Family, Ciarán knows it’s his responsibility to carry the weight of their sins on his shoulders. He will do anything to protect them at any cost.
When his sister, Eevee, finds more trouble than she bargained for, Ciarán’s world turns upside down by the secrets she holds.
Will tragedy bring them together or divide them forever?
Ciarán: The O’Hanlon Family Trilogy
Copyright© 2020by Theresa Sederholt
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in the book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book contains strong language, and violence. It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.
Publisher: Theresa Sederholt©
Author: Theresa Sederholt
Cover designer: Taylor Dawn
Formatter: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design
Editor: Jacquelyn Ayres
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Coming Soon!
Other Books
About the Author
Ann Alfano, you used to tease me that I was not going to dedicate a book to you until you died. I would tease you and say, “you better live a long time.” For once, I wish you would have listened to me. There is not a day that goes by I don’t think about you. The fun times and the adventures we would have. We laughed, we cried and, through it all, I was learning so much about life from you. I miss you so much and carry you in my heart always. Until we meet again, keep my bingo seat warm for me.
O’Hanlon Family, Inc.
Established 1945
Eevee
Revenge. It should really be my middle name, but it’s not. I’ve made my living in Vegas enacting revenge for those who don’t have the balls to do it themselves. Oh yeah, most people in this town talk the talk, but that’s where it ends. I come from a long line of revenge seekers. Since I’m not of the right gender, my dad thought the business his family built up over seventy-five years would automatically go to his three sons. My oldest brother, Ciarán, owns one of the oldest bars in Dublin. It’s there at the Lucky O I learned about keeping book. That’s the art of what is commonly referred to as loan sharking. My middle brother, Patrick, is the cleaner. He can erase anyone from anything. Like when a member of Parliament woke up next to a dead hooker, Patrick was called in to make it all go away—hence—the cleaner. Then there is Ronan. He is the one that Daddy swore would be the one to carry on his business, that is until Ronan joined the Priesthood. I thought that would be the day Daddy would drop dead of a heart attack. Instead, he wanted me to go with Ronan and become a nun. I’m sure Jesus himself was laughing at that one. When Daddy got the big C, he was too sick to fulfill his last contract. He asked Ciarán to take it, but he didn’t have it in him. He never expected his little princess (that would be me) to pick up where he left off. He tried to talk me out of it, but he was talking a blue streak all the way to his grave. It’s been eight years since he died, and I’ve never looked back.
My name is Eevee O’Hanlon, and I think I was born without a moral compass. That’s probably why I’m the most feared woman in this town. Vegas, a town that back in the day was ruled by the big time Mafia. Names like Lucky Luciano and Meyer Lansky used fear to rule the streets. At that time, it worked, but that’s old school. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I still use fear, but now it’s all done with computers, gadgets, and whatnot. However, no matter how much this town evolves, my form of justice will never go out of style. At the end of the day, someone has to invoke justice for those who can’t do it themselves.
My brothers never leave Dublin. When my dad died, they didn’t want to deal with me, so they shipped me to the States where they thought I was in college. Instead, I quickly turned what I did back home into a very lucrative business here in Vegas, the business of revenge.
Today is no different than yesterday, well . . . with one exception, a new contract just hit my inbox. I grab an espresso with a shot of black Sambuca to start my day before opening the file. Mr. Dax Sullivan must have done something really bad since the bounty on him is a cool ten million. That’s a lot of money for revenge. I scroll further down to get to the juicy part. Holy shit, Dax Sullivan left Jason Aiello’s daughter Savanna at the altar. Now that’s a guy with either a death wish or balls the size of King Kong. I scroll a little further and up pops a picture of Dax and Savanna. Wow, I can see why she fell for him. His tan muscles are accented by his very fitted red t-shirt. My eyes instantly follow the path of his very tight, white jeans that seem to be having some difficulty constraining his rather large cock. But just because he has it, doesn’t mean he knows what to do with it. I need to study every inch of him before I’ll agree to take the contract.
Apparently, Dax is an accountant, and I can tell you from experience—they are the worst. They have a reason for everything it’s all black and white. And spreadsheets up the ass which, by the way, I fucking hate.
After further digging, it seems Dax has money and is not afraid to spend it. He likes fast cars and fast women. So, how the hell did Savanna get him to the altar? Even more importantly, why the hell wasn’t she able to close the deal? Hmm, my interest is piqued; this needs more investigating. I head into the kitchen and make another espresso, except I make this one a double. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need more than this to dig into the life of Dax Sullivan.
Three hours later, I’ve found out so much about Dax that my head is spinning. Aiello sent me this contract for a reason. I mean, he has access to the top male assassins in the business, many within his own family. I know I’m good but my gut is telling me there is a lot more to this than meets the eye. I’ve learned all I can from the internet. My phone chimes with a new message. I’m being summoned to the Aiello estate, no doubt to finalize the deal. I grab my stuff and head out to meet with Mr. Aiello. Unlike others in my business, I don’t hide. I’m front and center in plain sight. It’s something my father could never understand. We had so many arguments about it. “Eevee, never let them see your face. Be a mystery to everyone.” That’s old school thinking. For me, I want my face to be the last thing they see when they meet their maker. He had his way of doing business and it worked for him. For me, it didn’t. I knew when I took it over that I needed to do it on my terms, not his.
Mr. Aiello lives in the Rancho Nevada Estates area, which is not that far from my place. When I pull up to the gates, they automatically open for me. Then again, I am one of the few people in thi
s town that has a purple Ferrari. It’s a long drive up to the house. When I get there, Mr. Aiello is standing outside. As I step out of my car, he offers me his hand. He’s always a gentleman, but he wouldn’t think twice about slicing your throat while he’s smiling.
“I figured I would be seeing you today. Let’s go for a walk.” He’s not asking, he’s telling.
“Well, you did summon me. Plus, you’ve piqued my interest. How is Savanna doing?” His smile is gone, and his face is like stone.
“As you can imagine, she’s very upset. I need to make this right for her, Eevee.”
I let his words sink in as we head toward the pool. “I understand, but I have to ask, why me? There are people a dime a dozen that can do this. People within your own family that would do this out of honor and respect.” I look at him and his smile has not only returned but it’s huge. If you knew the man, you’d be in shock.
“Yes, they are a dime a dozen, but I have a much different plan in mind. One that, shall we say, needs a woman’s touch. You know, Eevee, in life, if you are going to enact revenge, it should be like Manna from Heaven.”
We head toward the covered patio, and he’s got a spread that is sure to add ten pounds to my ass in one sitting. He pulls out the chair for me and waves off his help. Now I know it’s serious.
“First we eat, then we can discuss business.”
I’m never one to pass up a free meal but I do pass on the champagne. I need to have a clear head. “Amazing how you have all my favorites here down to the St. Joseph pastries. You must really want me to take the contract.”
“Not for the reasons you think. I don’t want Dax dead.”
Well shit, now he’s really piqued my interest. “Then, why exactly am I here?” He holds the plate of antipasto in front of me while I pull off some of my favorites.
“I want you to get him to romance you all the way to the altar.”
“Oh, okay. Then what, leave him there like he left Savanna? That’s pretty lame.”
He laughs, but then as fast as it started it stops. A wave of anger takes over and his eyes are like black daggers.
“No, I want you to marry the bastard. When that’s done, you get your ten million and I get my revenge.”
“Hell no! I swore on my daddy’s grave I’d never get married and I’d never have kids. Wait, I was stuck on marriage; what’s your revenge?”
“I want you to cut his cock off,” he informs me.
I grab the champagne bottle and fill my glass to the brim. “Why do I have to marry him to cut his cock off? Hell, I’ll go cut it off now and we can call this done.” I literately chug down my drink.
“I want him to feel all secure and confident. I want him to lose it all. His money, his wife, and his cock. I want him left useless to everyone, including himself.”
“So, I can divorce him?”
“Of course, Eevee; I wouldn’t leave you in a situation like that.”
I pour another glass of champagne, knowing I’m going to regret this. I chug that one down, too. After that, I put my hand out because in my world everything is sealed with a handshake. “Mr. Aiello, you’ve got a deal. Now, when do I start?” He shakes my hand before bringing it to his lips and with a gentleness I would have never expected, he lightly kisses it.
“Consider yourself on the payroll as of now.”
He gets up and heads inside, leaving me to sit here wondering what the fuck I was thinking when I agreed to this.
Dax
I had no clue what I was getting into with Savanna until it was too late. I wanted to take it slow, but once she got her hooks into me, it was like being at the top of the rollercoaster with no bottom in sight. She liked to play games. One of them was never telling me who she really was. She thought it was funny that she was able to hide her identity for so long. At least, she thought she hid it. Truth be told, I knew who she was from day one. However, I will deny I knew anything until my last dying breath. After all, she was my way into the Aiello family. When she finally had the big reveal as to who she really was, I acted surprised. At that point, I had figured out I wasn’t going to get Aiello’s business. I should have walked away then, but she’s hot as fuck; she was like I drug I couldn’t steer clear from. I went all the way to the altar with her—not out of love but out of lust. I wanted to fuck her every which way to Sunday.
I knew I should fear her father. After all, he is Mr. Vegas. He started out in New York and eventually moved to Vegas. My dad was in that lifestyle. You know that Mafia brotherhood: Cosa Nostra. Like my dad, due to my grandmother’s Irish lineage, I could never be made. I would always be on the outside looking in. I had to figure out a way in. A way to gain respect from Aiello. I thought I had it until I realized if I married Savanna, my cock would be bored to death having to fuck the same broad day after day.
Now I’m sure there is a contract for my head on a plate, like John the Baptist, except I’m no saint. It’s been four days since I left her at the altar. I begged her not to show up at the church, but she didn’t believe me. Now I’ve spent every day since looking over my shoulder. I won’t drive my car because it would be too easy to put a bomb in it. I’m cooking my own food, so I know it’s not poisoned. The only good thing is I own my accounting firm and I work from home. Fear has made me a prisoner in my own world. I need to figure out how I’m going to, literately, survive this. This is when you turn toward those you trust. I don’t have much family to speak of, but I do have some really good friends. When I was in college, I did a year abroad at Trinity College in Dublin Ireland. It was there I became friends with the O’Hanlon’s. They were my host family, and my creative accounting skills and knowing how to hide the paper trail got them out of a major jam. Even though I didn’t want to be in that lifestyle, I seemed to be drawn to the people in it. My motto is: you never know when they will come in handy. This is one of those times. I pick up the phone, but the more I think about it, the more I realize this needs to be in person. After quickly throwing a few things in a bag, I catch a cab to the airport and head off to Ireland. Hopefully Ciarán O’Hanlon will know how to get me out of this mess.
Ciarán
Why is it the oldest child always bears the brunt of it all? The youngest can do whatever the fuck they want, and the middle child is just caught somewhere in-between heaven and hell. I never could figure it out. Everything my dad did in his past has come to rest on my shoulders. Whomever he owes a favor to has become my debt to repay and vice versa. I’ve used it to my advantage when I’ve had to. However, now I have to repay a long overdue favor. Many years ago, my dad used the student exchange program as his way to bring in new blood for his business. Sometimes it worked and other times—not so much. One of the students was a guy that I was actually in school with: Dax Sullivan. His dad was a bagman for one of the five families in New York. He could never get any higher because he was a mutt. The Italians frown upon that. They have to be able to trace your family all the way to Sicily. When his son Dax became our next exchange student, Dad thought he could get his hooks into him. After all, he was a young, Irish-Italian guy who knew the business. It was actually Dax who helped my dad, Redmond, stay out of jail. Besides being my father’s savior before he left, Dax set up the books for my money laundering business. His accounting is so creative that it only takes me less than a twelve-hour turnaround time to clean my money and have it back into mainstream Dublin. Everything is untraceable. I know my family owes him a great debt but, honestly, after not hearing from him for so many years, I figured I never would again. That is until I received a very cryptic text message from him this morning.
Dax: On my way to you. In trouble—the kind that only you can help me with.
I tried to respond but it must be a burner phone. So, now all I can do is wait.
It’s that time at the bar after lunch but before the dinner crowd. We are right off of the Liffey riverbank in Dublin, which is one of the largest tourist areas. You have to pass The Lucky O to get to the Guinness plant, s
o we usually get a crowd coming and going. When the first shift at the factory is over, the bar fills up quickly. This is usually the time of day when I get most of my work done. Unfortunately, my mind won’t stay focused on the books. My office door swings open and Patrick comes barreling in.
“Don’t you ever knock?”
“What for? Or did you forget that we are not only brothers, but we are also partners?” he asks. I give him the flaming arrow death glare.
“Do you remember Dax Sullivan?” I question as he sits down and props his feet on the edge of my desk, knowing how much it bugs me. Like I said, brothers know just the right buttons to push.
“I vaguely remember him. I know what he did for you and dad. You’ve got to remember, Ronan and I were young and, hell, Eevee was still in diapers. Is there a problem?”
“Look at this.” I pass him my phone.
He quickly scans it and passes it back to me. “That doesn’t sound good. I was going to take off for the day, but I think I better stick around.”
“Everything has been quiet, so it figures the other shoe would be dropping.”
“Hey, whatever it is you know, the O’Hanlon’s always pay their debt.”
I know he’s right but something in my gut is telling me this is bad. There are cameras strategically placed all throughout the bar which are linked to my computer. At any time, I can see what’s going on. So, when there’s a light tap on my door, I look at my screen and see my hostess, Jenna. “Come in, Jenna.” She opens the door just enough to slip inside.
“Ciarán, there is a guy at the bar asking for you. I asked him his name but the only thing he would say is that you’re expecting him. What do you want me to do about him?” she asks. I pull up the camera that’s facing the bar and zoom in. It’s Dax. He’s older, but he still has that same chiseled look about him that all the ladies loved. The three bar flies are headed his way. They can smell new blood a mile away.
Ciarán: The O'Hanlon Family Trilogy Book One: Social Rejects Syndicate Page 1
