1
OWEN
The thing that no one ever talked about when it came to running a crime organization was the amount of paperwork involved. Owen had been born into this life. His old man had run the Irish mafia in Misso City for decades.
Yet, when he took on the role of head of the organization upon his father’s death, he’d been shocked to learn just how much time he was forced to spend on the books. Both the illegal and legitimate sides of the business required meticulous tracking to make sure everything was in order.
He hated dealing with it.
Sitting back in his chair, Owen rubbed his eyes. Give him guns and fighting. Give him shady dealings all day long. He’d take it. But crunching numbers was never going to be his thing.
The door of his office opened, and his brother walked inside. Declan was his right-hand man in the organization and the only person allowed to just waltz into this room without an invitation.
Gathering the paperwork he’d been dealing with for the past hour, Owen tucked it away into a drawer of his desk. If Declan was here, the others would arrive soon. That meant that now was a good time to take a break from it.
Accepting one of the two glasses of amber liquid in Declan’s hands, Owen sipped the scotch, enjoying the way it burned all the way down.
“How are things downstairs?” he asked as Declan took a seat on the black leather couch against the wall.
He shrugged. “There are people eating dinner, just like any other restaurant in the city.”
Owen rolled his eyes. Something that Declan and many other members of the organization didn’t understand was that it was just as important to make sure they ran their legitimate businesses successfully as it was to have a successful hold on the criminal side of things.
If they didn’t have restaurants, bars, and a large waste management company, there would be no way to clean their money. History showed that getting sloppy with money could bring down a criminal empire faster than anything. The last thing Owen wanted was to end up behind bars for something as stupid as tax fraud.
So, he set up his office on the upper floor of the most successful restaurant that he owned. It also happened to be the only business that carried his family name: Walsh’s Irish Eatery. Doing his business from this location just made sense, and the stairs leading up here were right by the back entrance, so his associates could come and go without bothering the restaurant employees or patrons.
But he knew that Declan went into the restaurant to grab some drinks at the bar.
“How about the delivery?” Owen asked after taking another sip of his scotch. Declan had just finished distributing their product to the dealers in their territory. “Any trouble there?”
Declan shook his head, his expression grave. “No, but I’m not happy about the missing product.”
“That’s why we’re having a meeting.”
There was a knock on the door, and Declan got up to pull it open, letting two of Owen’s lieutenants into the room.
When Owen took charge of the mafia three years ago, the first thing he did was clean house and put men he trusted into the higher ranking positions within the organization. He knew he could never trust the men that had been the most loyal to his father. A ruthless asshole like him didn’t keep good company.
The men that joined them today were Brogan and Connor. Connor was Owen’s cousin from his mom’s side. That meant that he didn’t have a blood connection to his father, not that it would have necessarily mattered. Owen and Declan were his sons, and they couldn’t stand the abusive bastard.
Connor was only a year younger than Owen, and they had been close while growing up together. Connor was on a short list of people that Owen would trust with his own life.
Brogan had earned Owen’s respect in other ways. As an enforcer for the mafia under Owen’s father, he’d seen and done some ugly shit, but Owen was one of the few people that knew the man had lines he didn’t cross, even for the mafia. He didn’t hurt women, children, or animals.Ever.
Owen’s father would have put a bullet between Brogan’s eyes if he had any idea how many times the man had gone against orders, helping to hide family members of people that angered the former head of the organization. But Owen admired the fact that he took the risk because he wouldn’t live with a guilty conscience.
Owen was of the same mind, and that made Brogan a man that he wanted at his side. Some people wouldn’t understand that, but he was connected to Brogan because he had drawn the same line in the sand for himself when he took over this job.
Owen knew that he was a criminal. He did bad things. There was literal blood on his hands.
But he wasn’t the type of man to hurt the innocent. The wives and children of his enemies never had to fear that he’d put them in the ground to send a message. It was the kind of thing his father would do, but Owen wasn’t like him.
He’d hurt or kill a man if he had to, but never at random. Betrayal and deception were a part of this life, and sometimes that required reacting with violence. The unsavory part of this whole thing came down to keeping people in line.
There were a couple of chairs in front of Owen’s desk, and Connor took a seat in one while Brogan propped himself up against the wall opposite the entrance to the room. Owen was used to that. Brogan always positioned himself in a way that allowed for the best defense. The man’s back never faced the door, and he wasalwaysarmed.
“So, last night was a real shit show,” Connor said, brushing his dark hair back off his forehead.
