That had been five years ago. It sickened Steel, who couldn’t imagineeveroffering any of his children up as trade to make a business deal. Even when he was President, it had been inconceivable. He knew it was tradition, and many clubs did it. That didn’t make them bad clubs, nor did he judge them for how they ran their MCs, but that was not howhehad runhis.
Steel didn’t know if Roisin was going back to Montana with Elijah and Brooke or if they were going to set her up elsewhere. The Mountain Mutineers had a lot of resources available to them, and their connection to the VDMC was not well known. Even if someone connected the club to the Gavigans’ demise, they would not know to look for Roisin and her daughters with the Mountain Mutineers.
There was a sense of peace sitting on that bench with Roisin earlier. Something serene. And he knew he’d made the right decision in being the one to offer her an escape. Fuck him, because he didn’t want to leave that park. Memories of Melanie and her brothers playing in similar locations had bombarded him. He recalled scraped knees and endless laughter, the feeling of joy that could only be found in the arms of his wife and children.
And as painful as those memories had been, they’d also been cathartic. Like Melanie had been sitting on the other side of him on that bench, praising him for rescuing Roisin, Maebh, and Ciara from the lives they’d had no choice but to be born into.
Ghost stepped up beside him. “We’re ready when you are.”
Steel reached into his front pocket and pulled out his silver cigar cutter. Pulling the corona gorda from between his lips, he snipped off the cap. It landed unceremoniously on the floor at his feet. The torch lighter blazed blue as Steel expertly rolled the foot over the flame. He toasted the end until it was a bright red before placing the cut head back to his lips to give it a good puff.
Melanie’s murderer sat in the next room. He knew who had issued the order, but not who pulled the trigger. Without saying a word to his compatriots, Steel stepped forward into the tarped room.
It was time to get some answers.
CHAPTER 15
The muffled grunts of men trying to escape their binds halted as Steel entered the living area. The plastic crinkled under his boots with each step. The woodsy, sweet smoke of his cigar permeated the air around him, seeming to glow in the beams from the tall work lights.
Kelly Gavigan was a heavyset man of less than average height. He’d only recently inherited a good portion of his dealings from his uncle, whose new cement shoes had not been good for his health. Unlike their father who was short and round, Seamus, Eoin, and Declan had the frames of taller, athletic men. Fergal and Tadhg had their father’s wider build but matched their brothers in height.
One thing Steel had to give Kelly, though, was that the man was calm under pressure. Neither he nor Eoin were gagged, and while all five of his sons fought to break free, Kelly sat stoically and watched his surroundings, like he was sitting in a theater waiting for a movie to start. The moment Steel walked into the room, Kelly’s eyes fixated on him.
There was no confusion in the man’s cold gaze. Steel wasn’t surprised Kelly recognized him. He hadn’t told Roisin his name, yet she’d known it.
As Steel lifted an empty chair through the center of the circle, he came to a stop directly in front of Kelly. The man’s large mustache twitched. His sons and Eoin’s soldiers started to renew their futile efforts to break their bonds. If Shaw, a former Marine and CIA operative, couldn’t break free, what chance did these amateur thugs have?
Steel sat, crossing his ankle over his knee. After another couple of puffs, he pulled the cigar from between his lips and held it in the crook of his pointer finger as he rested his hand on his knee. For several minutes, the only sounds in the room came from the mobsters’ struggles as Kelly and Steel stared at each other.
Kelly broke first. “I’m honestly surprised you had the balls to come after me. Do you have any idea who I am?” Unlike his daughter-in-law, Kelly’s accent was heavily Americanized. He barely sounded Irish, and it made Steel wonder if the man faked an accent around the other syndicates.
Then again, Steel didn’t actually care one way or another.
He took a single puff of his cigar and then blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. “What makes you think I give a shit who you are?”
Kelly’s right eyelid twitched. “You’re a dead man. I make one phone call, and every man in the family will be gunning for your head.”
Steel reached into his coat’s front inside pocket and pulled out his phone. He tossed it onto Kelly’s lap. “Go right ahead. I’m sure they’ll love to hear about your little fuck up, which has now turned into amassivefuck up.” Steel glanced to Kelly’s right and then left, where his two oldest sons sat bound and gagged. “Do they even know? Have you told themwhythey’re about to die?”
Kelly’s red cheeks turned nearly purple. With his hands bound, he clearly couldn’t call anyone even if he wanted to—which they both knew he didn’t. He was posturing, and Steel had called his bluff.
“Would you like to tell them?” Steel offered. “Or shall I?” He leaned forward a little, his eyes never straying from Kelly’s. “Father to father, who do you think they’ll be more pissed at? I mean, webothput them in these chairs, didn’t we, Gavigan?”
Kelly clamped his mouth shut, metaphorically gagging himself. Likely, he thought Steel didn’t know everything that had transpired. And he’d be right, because Steel was still missing one key piece of information.
But he was about to get it.
“Fine,” Steel sat back in the chair. “I’ll tell them. Now, don’t be afraid to speak up if I get anything wrong.” Kelly’s mustache flared as the man let out a hard breath through his nose. “Now, one of you knows this story. Four of you don’t. Care to hazard a guess which one knows?” Steel asked rhetorically, as the answer was obvious. From his seat, he faced the six Gavigans with his back to the six soldiers, who were nothing more than peons in a never-ending power game. “Roughly ten weeks ago, one of your warehouses that holds your pharmaceutical supply was broken into. They didn’t take much, mostly Adderall, Ritalin, and some Atomoxetine. Now, four of you don’t really have your hands in the prescription drug trade, so you might be wondering what the hell those drugs are and why you are going to die for them.
“Simple answer is this: they’re sold like candies around college and high school campuses to help with concentration, memory, staying awake, and curbing impulse control. And Eoin here,” Steel pointed the tip of his burning cigar at the middle brother, “was making a pretty penny pushing them. He was even thinking of expanding his sales outside the city. Which brings us back to the theft that took place ten weeks ago.”
Eoin spoke up for the first time, his accent stronger than his father’s. “I’ma not dyin’ for some bitch wh?—”
Steel moved so fast Eoin didn’t have time to react before Steel’s lit cigar was shoved down his throat, cutting off his statement mid-word. The chair Steel had been sitting in flipped into the air and landed with a clatter. Eoin coughed, gasped, and spluttered as the burning roll of tobacco cut off his oxygen for several precious seconds as it made its way down his esophagus.
Walking back over to his chair, Steel picked it up and righted it. He sat down, once again crossing his ankle over his knee.
“A low-level dealer named Sebastian Castriota was the thief. You may recognize his name as his body was found floating in the Delaware about eight weeks back. The police report shows clear signs of torture, which is likely where Eoin here,” he gestured to the still-coughing man, “learned that Mr. Castriota wasn’t working alone. He had a local college student who was actuallysellingthe drugs. A student named Rodney Baldwin.”
