by AJ Sherwood
But was it wise? Kyou had hardly led a safe life. Brannigan seemed intent on righting all the world’s wrongs, even if it brought trouble directly to his doorstep. In their case, troubles shared would not be halved. They’d be doubled.
Remi’s confidence faltered. “You don’t?”
“I don’t think it’s wise, Rems.”
“What are we talking about?”
Kyou leapt out of his skin, jumping two feet. Spinning, he glared at Ari, who had appeared out of thin air. “God, I just about lost a baby. Don’t do that!”
“Occupational habit, sneaking up on people,” Ari said without any apology. “And dude, I wasn’t even trying to sneak. What are we talking about?”
There was not a single speck of interest in filling the assassin in. Kyou would rather bite his tongue off. So, of course, Remi immediately spilled the beans. “Uncle Kyou wants to meet Brannigan but won’t.”
Kyou glared at her. “Thanks a lot.”
Ari’s warm brown eyes flickered between the two of them, mouth curving up in amusement. “Yeah? Did something happen?”
Crossing his arms, Kyou mutinously looked anywhere else.
“Brannigan almost caught Uncle Kyou yesterday. Uncle Kyou was teasing him on his date and was at the same restaurant. But now Brannigan’s mad and hurt because Uncle Kyou was close and still wouldn’t meet him. He was mad this morning, said he wouldn’t answer if Uncle Kyou called him. So I texted him and asked that he not be mad. And he said he wasn’t, he was hurt that Uncle Kyou wouldn’t trust him, that he wants to meet. Daddy, I think they should.”
Kyou pointed a finger at her. “I no longer like you.”
Remi just rolled her eyes at him.
“Gattina, finish your soup,” Ari advised. “I’ll handle this.” He latched onto Kyou’s arm and hauled him toward the far end of the apartment, into the mostly unused dining room. Then he turned and leveled a penetrating stare at Kyou. “Congratulations. You’ve now fallen to the point that a ten-year-old child is having to interfere in your love life.”
Defensively, Kyou shot back, “I’m not dating him.”
“No, you only want to.”
“I don’t want to.”
Ari snorted, clearly disbelieving that. “Pull the other one, Kyou, it’s got bells on.”
“Fine, I want to,” Kyou bit off, temper rising. “Does it fucking matter?”
“Why are you resisting this so hard?”
“Because it won’t work! I’m a criminal, for fuck’s sakes. I realize he’s from a former mafia family, but Brannigan’s straight as a bleeding arrow, much like your brother. Can you imagine Luca bringing someone home who wasn’t a model citizen? Introducing him to the family? There’s no way in hell that I can be part of his life.”
Ari’s expression softened in sympathy. “Is that what’s holding you back? You think you won’t be accepted?”
Kyou abruptly realized he might have said too much. He’d been slipping up more and more these days. “Look, just leave it.”
“I clearly can’t. You’ve thought enough about this that you’ve considered a future with him. You’ve thought out the ramifications. That means you do want him, Kyou.”
“Just because I want it, doesn’t mean I can get it. We both know life isn’t that convenient.”
Ari’s head canted, and he was back to studying Kyou. “From what my daughter’s said, this guy clearly wants to meet you. I think you can, in fact, have what you want. You said he’s from a mafia family? You really think they’re going to care much about legalities?”
“Former,” Kyou corrected wearily. He really had said too much. “Former mafia. They’ve gone legit. They’re not going to drag their family back into the mud by welcoming a criminal in their midst. And consider, too, that part of the reason why I’m safe is that no one can put a name or face to me. No one can ID me. But if I step out into the light, then what?”
“Then you’re part of a family and you still hack anonymously. You’re over complicating this, Kyou. If you keep overthinking this and hesitating, you’re going to lose your chance with this man entirely. Do you really want to do that?”
“Uncle Kyou!” Remi called to him. “A red alert’s going off!”
“Shit.” Kyou flew back to the computer and leaned over her shoulder. It was a red alert, alright, and because Brannigan had sent out an email with all of the wrong keywords. Swearing, he pulled Remi sharply back from the desk, intercepting the email and deleting it before it could be read. Then he grabbed the same burner phone she had just used and called the man without thinking twice about it.
“Hello?”
“Brannigan, what the hell are you playing at?” Kyou snapped at him.
“Good morning, K,” Brannigan greeted cordially.
“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me, you bastard. Why the hell are you asking Whit to look into Mob financials? He’s good, but he’s not good enough to whisper through and not leave any tracks.”
“I didn’t think, after yesterday, that you’d want to do anything for me today.”
Kyou dug his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes to the point of pain. He wanted to scream, maybe punch something. Unfortunately, his target was on the other side of a phone at the moment. And he hadn’t ever figured out how to reach through a phone line. “Why? Because you think I don’t trust you?”
“You don’t.” It was said simply, without inflection.
And those two words hit Kyou straight in the heart, inflicting damage as they tore their way through. He flinched under them.
The phone was abruptly yanked out of his hand. Kyou spun, making a grab for it, but of course Ari was able to dance away and keep out of reach of him. Damn the man for being in both better shape and quicker.
“Brannigan, I’m Malvagio,” Ari introduced himself with a weather eye on Kyou. He put the call on speaker. “I’m one of K’s family. Has he mentioned us at all?”
There was a beat of silence, and one could almost hear how startled Brannigan was. “Nice to meet you, Malvagio. And yes, he’s mentioned that he has an inner circle, people he protects. I’ve never heard more than that.”
“He’s highly protective of us. I grabbed the phone from him because I want to ask you a question and clear the air a little. K seems to think that—”
“Malvagio, for the love of god!” Kyou burst out in frustration, leaping for the phone again.
“—he’ll do nothing but bring trouble to your door if he meets you out in the open,” Ari continued smoothly, as if he wasn’t playing keep-away with the phone. “Because of his own criminal activities, he’s afraid of what’ll happen.”
“That’s because he’s an overthinker, and he’s overprotective,” Brannigan rejoined with a huff of exasperation. “I don’t believe that at all. Can he hear me?”
“Yes, I’ve got you on speaker.”
“K, you really think that?”
“I know it,” Kyou ground out between clenched teeth. “And I won’t fucking risk you.”
“Malvagio. You’re closer. Do me a favor and smack him for me.”
Ari got that gleam in his eye that spoke of mayhem. Usually Ivan was their troublemaker, but Ari had his moments too. “With pleasure.”
“If you’re speaking to me, then can I assume that you, too, find this ridiculous?”
“We do. But K’s a bit shy—”
“SHY?!” Kyou screeched in outrage. “I AM NOT SHY!”
“And an introvert, and frankly, getting him out of the apartment takes either a disaster or an act of God, so we’re also not surprised he’s been so slow to move.”
“I hate all of you,” Kyou announced flatly. Then made another dive for the phone.
And missed, because an assassin’s reflexes were much better than a hacker’s.
“Anyway, we’re all rooting for you,” Ari said, smile purely evil. “We’ll do what we can from here to shove him out the door.”
“Thank you. I’m waiting for him.”
Ari ended the call and tossed the phone to Kyou. Fuming, he caught it, continuing to glare at the assassin.
“That,” Kyou stated coldly, “was unnecessary.”
“My friend, sometimes you have to take the risk.” Ari was still smug but somehow sympathetic as well. “I realize it’s scary to put yourself out there. You think I don’t know? But I think in this case, your fears are hampering you.”
Snarling obscene words—in Mong, because Mong was the most satisfying for swearing—Kyou stomped over to the desk. Remi had vacated the chair, and he curled into it, much like a cat into its favorite perch, ready to ignore the rest of the apartment.
Sighing, Ari gathered up his daughter and they left without another word to him. Kyou sat there and stared blankly at the computer screen, still fuming. Busybodies. He was surrounded by them. Kyou had excellent reasons for keeping his distance from Brannigan, damn it. It wasn’t that he wanted to, he just had to.
And that’s all there was to it.
Outside Kyou’s apartment door, Ari looked down at his daughter. “So…did you memorize Brannigan’s number?”
“And last name,” she told him proudly.
Ari gave her a high five. “That’s my girl.”
Remi beamed at him proudly. “What are we going to do?”
“All the things, gattina. But first, let’s check in with your other father, and Uncle Ivan. I’m sure they’ll want in on this.”
5
Brannigan
Brannigan was beyond surprised to hear from not one, but two of K’s family in the same day. After years of not hearing anything about them, of not knowing anything of K’s motivations, this stunned him. But it also signified that things were finally changing. K had relaxed his guard some, enough that Brannigan had a chance to glimpse what his life was like outside of hacking. It thrilled him.
And he hoped to God this signified a good change and not the reverse.
Nothing else happened that day, aside from K sending him an email with a list of potential people in the Irish Mob’s books. It was a good starting point, so Brannigan took that list with him into Roxbury the next day.
Roxbury had a small pocket that was respectable, but it was slowly losing out to the crime eating away at that section of the city. Brannigan rarely drove by himself through this area for the simple reason it was dangerous to do so. But today, he felt like living a bit dangerously. At four o’clock he left the office with the list, intending only to drop it off and chat with the head loan officer there about possibly contacting these people with an offer to buy out their high interest loan for something more reasonable.
The loan office was a small thing, taking up an old building, and very much temporary. Brannigan made several mental notes about getting them into a more permanent structure even as he did his quick in-and-out. His hope was to get them into a better building sometime in the next six months.
That accomplished, he almost went home for the day, but some instinct prompted him to go to the construction site on Walnut Park. The Mob was doing low-level harassment and some vandalism of the building projects. It wouldn’t hurt to swing by, make sure tht things were okay. Two of the apartment complexes there had been on the verge of being condemned due to water damage and age. They were still in the process of finding people temporary housing, moving the residents out until he could get the apartments renovated. Some of them had been standing for decades, so Brannigan would prefer not to tear them down completely. But last he checked, they were still finding problems during the interior demolition.
Swinging into the parking lot, he put his old work truck into park, locking it absently as he got out. When driving around in questionable areas, he never drove his nice cars. The truck was for situations like this one. Frankly, even if someone hit it, he wouldn’t be able to find the new dent. As he walked onto the site, his eyes catalogued the area. The townhomes were all squashed together, sharing walls, each unit a different color. This was an older complex dating from the sixties, and it hadn’t aged well. Half of them were vacant, the other half still occupied. He was greeted with suspicious eyes from the residents, people who held their bodies in a defensive posture, tracking his movements but without a word to say. Trust was hard won here. But then, these people had been burned many times.
Brannigan would have to prove his good intentions over and over before anyone believed him. But that was alright. He had time.
Stepping through the first open door he saw, he looked around carefully. Work had obviously been done here, and was still in progress, as they were down to studs. Hearing the knocks and bangs of things being ripped out, he headed that direction. “Hello!”
“Hey, Mr. Genovese!” a female voice called back. From around a corner, a familiar face popped into view, her freckles smudged with dust and ginger hair looking a bit white on top from the fallen plaster.
“Hey, Gaby. I thought I’d stop in and check on things. How’s it going?”
“The more we dig in, the more trouble we find,” she reported with a sigh. “Come see for yourself.”
Stepping through the area gingerly, Brannigan did as bid, then followed her pointing finger. Gaby had knocked out a good section of the living room, leaving only one wall not demolished, but the section she indicated was around the front picture window. It was clear even to his eyes how rotten it was. “That looks done for.”
“Basically is. It’s all water damage. The seals on the outside failed at some point, but with no one routinely maintaining things, it just seeped right into the studs. Right now, the window’s so loose in the frame, I bet I could push it out with a single shove.”
“Yikes. Are all the windows like this?”
“About half, or at least that’s what we’ve seen so far. All the plumbing’s iffy, the wiring is basically shot—I’m honestly surprised we haven’t had an electrical fire take the whole place out yet. So your timing on this place is good.” She rubbed at her nose, leaving a new streak of dirt behind. “But we can fix it.”
Gaby wasn’t his foreman, but she was the foreman’s right hand and good at her job. Brannigan had collaborated with her company on a total of six projects so far, and they did good work. He trusted her opinion on this. “Okay. Tell me if costs go up. I want this place done right.”
“Sure thing.”
“And also tell me if you’re getting hassled. I’ve heard some disturbing reports.”
Wincing, Gaby admitted, “Had a few thugs come by and try to muscle us out. Duke was here, though, and he threw them out on their asses. I don’t think that was the end of it, but they left.”
“When was this?” Brannigan asked in alarm.
“Day before yesterday. Haven’t seen them since, but we’re all on the lookout for them.”
He mentally swore a few times. “I’ve got security forming up and patrolling the area. You want someone to sit nearby, just in case?”
“I think we’d all feel better about it,” she admitted openly, hands spread. “It’s just so…unnerving working out here.”
“I’ll make a call and get it set up. For today, everyone knock off. I don’t want you out here after dark.”
“Sure. I’ll pass the word to lock it up for the night.”
Brannigan walked back out of the construction zone and to the sidewalk before he fired off a text to Gideon to get someone stationed out here by tomorrow. He was so focused on his phone that the hand on his shoulder startled him out of his skin. “The hell!”
“Sorry, sorry,” a man with a thick Russian accent apologized at his elbow. “Did not mean to scare you, da?”
Brannigan eyed him warily. Who was this? He looked…dangerous, to sum it up in a word. Rangy build, penetrating grey eyes, a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his black sweater. Brannigan’s instincts were going haywire because of him even though there was a genuine, amused smile on the man’s face. He belatedly realized that coming out here without Gideon was perhaps a poor life decision on his part. “An
d who are you?”
“I’m Eidolon,” the man introduced himself cheerfully. “One of K’s family. Ouch. Right now, he yell at me.”
“Yell?” Brannigan repeated uncertainly. He couldn’t believe he was finally meeting someone from K’s family in person. It was too surreal after six years of nothing but texts, emails, and phone calls. Was this man legit?
Eidolon slipped something from his pocket, holding it between thumb and finger to show Brannigan. It was a small, very compact earbud. With a wink, he slipped it deftly into Brannigan’s ear, which was almost instantly filled with the sound of a voice he knew very well.
“—can’t fucking believe you’re just chatting him up. God, Ivan, I’m going to kill you!”
“So he is one of yours?” Brannigan asked, bemused. They had earbuds? Like in spy movies?
There was a startled intake of breath. “Did he just give you his earbud?”
“I think he still has one in. But he gave me one, yes.”
“Shit. Eidolon, what the hell are you playing at?!”
“Shh,” Eidolon (Ivan?) soothed, smile metamorphizing into an impish grin. “I was curious. Just followed him for a while.”
A sound, like someone had just thumped their head against something solid, came through the bud.
“Bad men are following him,” Eidolon informed him.
“You mean aside from you?”
Eidolon snickered. “Da, aside from me.”
Brannigan listened to this by-play with fascination. This was all still surreal, as if he’d walked into a daydream and hadn’t yet figured out it wasn’t reality. He’d never have expected this in a million years and while Eidolon still looked a bit alarming, he couldn’t take it seriously while the man was messing so much with K and obviously enjoying it. Anyone who could tease was good in Brannigan’s books. “You could have just come up and said hi, you know.”
