by Elle Kennedy
He knew men like Flannery. Men like Rabbit. They had no qualms taking a life, but they were smart enough to know that you could gain more from a live puppet than from a dead man.
Cold steel dug into Sean’s forehead, but he wasn’t afraid. He was bored and annoyed and ready to pull the damn trigger himself, when Flannery suddenly chuckled.
“Put that gun away,” he told his thug, as if the man had been the one to raise it in the first place.
The bodyguard complied by lowering his weapon.
“And you,” Flannery said, jabbing the air in Sean’s direction. “Stop antagonizing my crew and trying to turn them into killers. Shame on you.”
Right. Like those thugs hadn’t murdered dozens—more likely hundreds—of innocent people at Flannery’s command. Like Flannery hadn’t committed murder himself. Though to the man’s credit, he didn’t look like a bloodythirsty killer. Nice suit, groomed goatee, fancy cologne. He looked more like a banking executive than the slimebag he was.
Flannery and Rabbit had already been on the outs when Sean was a kid, but Sean clearly remembered the man. His father had always brought him and Ollie along when he’d visited Rabbit, subjecting the boys to meetings they had no business being a part of, allowing them to witness things they had no business seeing. Sean recalled the night Flannery had walked into Rabbit’s pub, hoping to strike a deal about the drug routes Rabbit and the locals were denying him. Rabbit had laughed Flannery right out of the bar, and Sean would never forget the look in Flannery’s eyes. The veiled promise of death and destruction.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Flannery said with a sigh. “Because we both know you’re worth more to me alive.”
When the man made a move for the armchair, Sean glanced over at Bailey. “Grab that bottle of Jameson and some glasses, luv.”
Her eyes flashed, as if she resented being treated like an errand girl. “It’s three in the morning, luv. Should you really be hitting the whiskey?”
“Yes,” he said sharply.
“Fine. I guess I will too, then.” She crossed the open-concept room to the kitchen and snatched a bottle off the counter, then rummaged through the cupboards until she located some shot glasses.
She returned to the living area as Flannery and Sean settled across from each other, the former in the armchair, the latter on the sofa. Bailey poured three glasses, handed one to each man, then threw her head back and downed the remaining shot.
“A girl after my own heart,” Flannery crowed as Bailey sat on the couch next to Sean.
Sean swallowed the whiskey and set the glass on the coffee table. “Say what you came here to say,” he told Flannery. “Then leave.”
The man chuckled. “You know, I was also acquainted with your mother, lad. And she’d be rolling over in her grave if she knew what appalling manners you have.”
Sean arched a brow. “What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted.”
“To see Rabbit dead?” Sean suggested.
“Fuck, no.” A loud laugh boomed out of Flannery’s mouth. “If I wanted him dead, don’t you think I would have killed him years ago?” The laughter died as the man grew serious. “My whole life, there’s only been two things I’ve cared about.” He paused. “My beloved wife.” Another pause, accompanied by a slight smirk. “And money.”
Sean rolled his eyes.
“Well, at least your wife is first on that list,” Bailey spoke up, her tone dry. “It’s nice to see you have your priorities straight.”
“Oh, I do, sweetness. I know exactly what’s important.”
Flannery’s gaze rested on Bailey’s thin tank top, slow and appreciative, and anger boiled in Sean’s gut as the other man stared at Bailey’s breasts. He didn’t want the bastard looking at her. Didn’t want him anywhere near her.
“What do you want?” Sean repeated through clenched teeth.
“I want to destroy Eamon O’Hare.”
“That’s a lofty ambition. I wish you luck with that.”
“Wish yourself luck, lad—because you’re the one who’s going to do it for me.”
Fucking hell.
That’s what Sean had been afraid of, and he suddenly cursed Rabbit for dragging him into this mess.
“You know that second priority I mentioned? The money?” Flannery prompted. “Well, I have heaps of it. But my business continues to suffer from the lack of hospitality I receive from my fellow countrymen.”
Sean snickered. “You mean because nobody in Ireland will work with you? Do you really blame them for that, Ronan? You’re notorious for screwing over your partners.”
The man didn’t acknowledge the accusation. “I’ve been denied access to certain routes because of my brother-in-law. The locals are stubbornly depriving themselves of golden opportunities because of Eamon and his silly ideals.”
“You believed in his cause once,” Sean pointed out.
Flannery looked amused. “Who told you that? Your father? I don’t give a shit about the cause, lad. It was always a means to an end, a way to advance my business.” A dark cloud flitted through his eyes, so deadly it brought a chill to Sean’s spine. “The cause killed my wife.”
“She wasn’t just your wife. She was Rabbit’s sister, too.”
“And did her own brother try to save her?” Flannery spat out. “No, her brother is the reason she was killed. She died because of Eamon and his delusions, and the bastard deserves to pay for what he did. For what he continues to do.”
“And I’m supposed to make him pay?” Sean swiped the whiskey bottle and took another sip. He could feel Bailey watching him, practically see the frown on her lips. She didn’t like this any more than he did, but she was wisely staying silent, and he was damn grateful she wasn’t drawing any attention to herself. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”
“Eamon went to great lengths to bring you back to Dublin. You know what that tells me? He trusts you. They all do.” Flannery smiled. “Well, almost all.”
Sean narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “He’s right, isn’t he? There is a mole in the Dagger.”
Flannery was positively beaming now. “Of course there is.”
“Good. Great. Tell your little rat to take Rabbit down. You obviously don’t need me, then.”
“The situation is . . . delicate. You know as well as I do that Eamon’s soldiers are fanatically devoted to him. My man hasn’t been making much progress in changing their minds, and he can’t organize an outright mutiny. The change of leadership has to look natural.”
“You want your man to take over the Dagger? Is that it?”
“Yes, and once he does, all the doors that were closed to me will open right up.” Flannery shrugged. “And our friend Eamon will be destroyed.”
“I hate to break it to you, but being ousted from leadership doesn’t equal destruction.”
The other man chuckled. “No, but the corruption of his empire will do the trick. We both know Eamon doesn’t care about money—he never has.” An evil gleam lit his eyes. “Imagine the sense of loss he’ll feel, the crushing defeat, when his noble cause becomes just another money-driven operation.”
Sean couldn’t deny that Flannery had a point. Killing the cause would be like twisting a knife in Rabbit’s chest.
“Anyway, this little chat has gone on long enough, so let’s get right to the point. You’re going to rejoin the Irish Dagger and turn Eamon’s soldiers against him. And you’re going to support my man and do whatever he asks of you.”
Sean looked the man square in the eye and said, “No.”
Flannery’s lips curled in a sneer.
“I already told you, I only care about getting my brother back. And at the moment, our friend Eamon,” he said sarcastically, “is playing games with my brother’s life. So, as much as I know it’ll displease you, I’m going to trade your little flash drive for my brother.” Sean leaned back and flashed a gracious smile. “But what the hell—I’ll do you a
solid. If you want, I’ll let you know when and where the drop will be, and you can arrange for your men to be on-site to recover your stolen goods. Beyond that, I’m not doing a damn thing.”
“Yes. You are.”
With a faint smile, Flannery nodded to his bodyguards, and before Sean could so much as blink, one of them yanked Bailey off the couch and raised his gun to her temple.
Sean lunged to his feet, but he shouldn’t have bothered. Sometimes he forgot that Bailey was a trained operative—until the woman did something to remind him of it. Her leg shot out in a blur of speed, kicking the thug’s legs from under him. The man landed on the hardwood with a loud thud, and suddenly Bailey was on top of him, straddling his thighs. Sean hadn’t even seen her disarm the guard, but she was now in possession of his rifle and pressing the barrel into the man’s temple.
With a bored look, she twisted her head toward Sean. “Should I put a bullet in his head?”
The other three bodyguards closed in on her, but Bailey seemed unfazed by the guns trained on her.
“That’s some wildcat you’ve got there, lad,” Flannery told Sean. “I completely approve.” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “But you know what will happen if she harms my man. And you know what will happen even if she doesn’t.”
Shit. He was screwed. Sean swallowed his anger as he ran over his options, but no matter which way he looked at it, he was royally screwed.
“I will kill her,” Flannery assured him. “I’m not the kind of man who bluffs.”
Sean’s brain continued to work overtime. If he didn’t agree to the terms, Flannery would kill Bailey. But the man didn’t know her. He had no idea how skilled she was, how dangerous she could be.
Sean just needed to buy some time. Eliminate the threat to Bailey tonight and whisk her away to safety the moment Flannery was gone. The bastard couldn’t hold Bailey over his and Oliver’s heads if she disappeared—and Bailey happened to be very, very good at disappearing.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Sean announced.
A broad smile stretched across Flannery’s face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
“Let him go, luv. Nobody needs to die tonight.” Sean barked the order at Bailey, who was still holding the bodyguard at gunpoint.
Anger radiated from her petite frame. Disgust, too, as if she couldn’t believe he was asking her to stand down. She gave Flannery a fleeting look before meeting Sean’s eyes again, and he could practically hear her unspoken plea. They could kill Flannery and his men right now. Between the two of them, they might even be able to get it done without losing much blood.
But he wasn’t willing to take the risk. Not with Bailey’s life on the line. And he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Flannery didn’t have a dozen men posted outside with orders to attack if he didn’t return.
As Bailey reluctantly released her captive, Flannery rose from his chair and signaled to another guard, who took a menacing step toward her.
Sean swiftly blocked his path. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re taking her with us,” Flannery said coldly.
A humorless laugh popped out of Sean’s mouth. “Sorry, mate, but that’s not happening.” At Flannery’s frown, he placed a protective hand on Bailey’s arm. “She stays with me. If you want me to take down Rabbit, I’m going to need her help.”
Flannery’s laughter was equally harsh. “So be it. But if you think you can steal her away and tuck her somewhere safe, think again, lad. I’ll find her. I’ll find you, too, if you try to run.”
“I don’t run,” Sean muttered.
“Your father didn’t either.” Flannery shrugged. “He probably should’ve. Might still be alive if he had.” He clapped his hands together. “Well, this has been lovely, but it’s way past my bedtime.”
Tailed by his guards, Flannery headed for the door, then paused to shoot Sean a pleased smile. “We’ll be in touch.”
The second he was gone, silence crashed over the loft. The air grew thick with tension, with frustration, with Bailey’s disapproval.
Sean turned away from her piercing gaze and grabbed the whiskey, taking another much-needed sip. “We’re going to wait a few hours, and then I want you gone,” he said gruffly. “You’ll have to lie low for a couple months. We can’t risk Flannery tracking you down.”
Disbelief flashed on her face. “No.”
He slammed the bottle on the table and advanced on her. “You have to go.”
“Flannery is going to tell his mole about you, about me. He’ll know you’re playing him if you don’t show up there with me by your side.”
Fuck. Fuck. She was right.
“Then you can stay only until we make the trade,” he said firmly. “Once Ollie is safe, the two of you are getting the hell out of Dublin.”
“And what about you?” she shot back. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to do what Flannery says!”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I need to clean up one mess at a time, okay? We get Ollie, and then I’ll deal with the rest of it.”
“We should have just killed Flannery,” she said angrily.
He shook his head, choking back his desperation. “I wasn’t about to do anything drastic, not with my brother’s life at stake.”
Bailey went quiet, her expression softening. “You’re right,” she finally said. “It wouldn’t have been smart.”
“Well, fuck me—are you actually admitting that I was right about something?”
“It’s like an eclipse,” she muttered. “Happens every so often.”
He had to laugh at that, but the humor died abruptly, and his voice thickened as a confession slipped out. “I didn’t mean it, by the way.”
“Mean what?”
“When I told Flannery I don’t care about you.” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean it.”
She stared at him, gray eyes veiled, indecipherable. “It’s late,” she murmured. “We should get some sleep.”
He nodded awkwardly, masking his disappointment. “Sure.”
As Bailey went back to the couch, Sean headed for the bed, then stopped and turned toward her. “By the way? If you insist on staying, it’s only gonna be you. I don’t want anyone else involved. Not your chum Rafe, or Noelle, or any of her girls. Understood?”
She shifted her feet and averted her gaze.
“Bailey?” he said suspiciously.
With a sigh, she slowly met his eyes again. “Then I guess this is a bad time to tell you that Morgan’s men will be arriving tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
Rain sprayed the windshield as Liam drove through the streets of Dublin, heading for the address Bailey had texted him. He was riding with the rookie, who was busy typing on his phone, the click of Ash’s fingers cutting into the rapid swipe of the windshield wipers.
Sullivan and D were in the second car, and Liam was slightly relieved that Sully wasn’t the one sitting next to him. Seeing his friend again was . . . awkward. Sure, they were laughing and joking the way they always had, but tension continued to simmer beneath the surface, that same stilted awkwardness that had plagued their friendship since the . . . incident.
Neither of them had brought up what happened in Paris. From what Liam could tell, Sullivan had completely pushed it out of his mind, which only made him all the more determined to do the same. He had to quit thinking about it. He and Sully were friends. Nothing more, nothing less. All those threesomes had simply messed with his head and triggered a case of good old-fashioned curiosity that it was now time to forget.
Curiosity.
Christ, his family would die of horror if they knew what he’d been curious about. His folks were traditional as fuck. So were all seven of his siblings. Everyone in his family was happily married, and he knew they wanted the same for him, the whole home-and-hearth thing that his brothers and sisters thrived on.
But he wasn’t like them. He’d always wanted more out of his life. Action, adventure, and t
he adrenaline high he received from both. The DEA hadn’t fully satisfied those urges, but working as a mercenary did. His family didn’t understand it, though.
Hell, they didn’t understand him.
A snort sounded from the passenger seat, and Liam rolled his eyes when he saw the rookie grinning at his phone. “Seriously? You’re sexting in the middle of an op?”
Ash blanched. “I’m not sexting. I’m messaging Cate back.”
“You guys are getting pretty close, huh?”
“She’s a sweet kid,” Ash said defensively. “We’re friends.”
“Yeah, well, make sure it stays that way. You know Morgan will castrate you if you touch his daughter.”
“I don’t think of her that way,” Ash insisted. “She’s a teenager, for fuck’s sake.”
Liam flicked the left-turn signal to change lanes, then glanced over. “So what’s Cate saying? Is Morgan still pissed that we left?”
“She says he’s been sulking, which translates to him swearing up a storm. And she says she’s worried about us.”
“Us? Yeah, right. She’s worried about you.”
“Well, she worries too damn much.” Ash let out a glum sigh. “Did you know she started calling me Rookie? You assholes have officially gotten a teenage girl to harass me.”
“Dude, Ethan had to deal with it for years,” Liam said with a snicker, referring to Ethan Hayes, who’d been the youngest member of the team before Ash had joined. “Just wait until Morgan recruits a new fresh-faced marine, and then you’ll be off the hook.”
“I’d better be,” Ash muttered.
Liam reached a roundabout, a road device that was probably his favorite thing about Ireland, and took the second exit, smoothly steering the sedan through traffic. Man, Americans and their bumper-to-bumper traffic could take a lesson from the Irish—those roundabouts saved a shitload of time.
Ash consulted the GPS. “Turn right. Sean’s place should be on the next street.”
Liam glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure D and Sully were still on his tail, then hit the signal and took a right. The other black sedan followed suit.
