Maybe a silent leader wouldn’t inspire some men to join my organization, my cause, but most of the men seemed to understand without words.
I was going to rule Boston someday—with or without a loud voice.
Keenan adjusted his weight. “Brady refused our offer. Oran’s reach is wider than we thought. No one will sell us weapons. Or do business with us. Oran made them believe your name is cursed because of Conor. We’ll never win this war without enough weapons. We need to sell them and use them.”
My cousin’s name—Cash Kelly—appeared in my head. I’d thought about reachin’ out to him before. His Da, Ronan, had been in control of Hell’s Kitchen in New York and was well known, even in Ireland. Henry knew him because they were both known for explosives. But I was keepin’ Cash Kelly as a memory until I decided to bring him into my reality.
“Oran doesn’t have too many weaknesses,” Keenan continued, runnin’ a hand down his face. “He didn’t even when your Da dealt with him. It was almost impossible to get the gold out from underneath him even while the deal was still hot. After he got burned…he’s locked up even together now.”
Keenan continued to talk as if we were goin’ back and forth, comfortable with my silence. He did the same thing when he visited my parents on that hill in Ireland out of respect. He’d talk to them like they still existed in the world.
He talked to me the same way.
I stopped existin’ what felt like centuries ago.
A soft knock came at the door, and Fiona stepped into the room. She was soppin’ wet, like she’d been out in the snow and then stood before a fire. Water and blood dripped down her slick black apron. Her knives were secured around her waist in a scabbard. She held a clever in her hand.
“We have a situation. A car rammed the gate. The man is hurt.” She touched her head. “Needs stitches and medical attention. He’s askin’ for you, though.” She nodded at me. “You’ll know the name. Pauric Bell.”
It took Keenan a second to remember the name, but it came to me straight away. Pauric Bell worked for Oran Craig. He was a slight old man with eccentric tendencies. Everyone said he was a genius. Good with money. Not so much at tinkerin’ with things. Said he came from a long line of inventors.
Keenan repeated Pauric’s history when it came to him a few seconds later. His eyes met mine. “A traitor to Oran’s cause?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
I shook my head.No.I made no deals with any man lookin’ for refuge from Oran Craig. I refused his sloppy seconds, and I’d never know how loyal the turncoat was. Craig might try to plant someone amongst us as a way inside.
Fiona gave Keenan a look. I knew it meant there was more, but she didn’t continue.
“Let’s hear him out before we do anythin’ drastic,” Keenan said. “Bell’s different from the rest. He’s deep inside of Oran’s organization as a money man. He knows what he has in terms of cash. Who he deals with—on both sides of his businesses—but he doesn’t draw blood.”
Fiona turned and headed downstairs, Keenan on her heels. He was too fuckin’ eager to hear Bell out. Just because the man wore goggles and had a genius IQ didn’t mean he could be trusted.
And why had he rammed my gate? Seemed to me Bell was desperate. Desperate enough to ruin my property and gamble his life for whatever he needed.
He was sittin’ at the dining room table, blood drippin’ down his face from a gash on his head. His hands trembled as he lifted a cup to his mouth. Fiona had wrapped a shawl around his shoulders.
I growled at her some and she shrugged.
Bell’s wide eyes were fixed on me when I turned mine back on him.
“Speak your business,” Keenan said to him.
“I— I—” he stuttered, then he started to mumble, before words poured out of his mouth. “Oran Craig. Forcing my daughter into marriage. I refuse. Not going to happen. Dermot will only hurt her. I refuse!”
Keenan held up a hand, stoppin’ his ramblin’. “Let me get this straight. Oran’s forcin’ your daughter into marriage with his son? Dermot?”
Bell nodded, a defeated look on his face. “In a week.”
Keenan usually looked directly at me so he could gauge my reaction and respond accordingly. This time, he looked at Fiona, and her thick eyebrows went up. When Keenan finally looked at me, his face was almost glowin’.
Whatever was on his fuckin’ mind was not happenin’. I wasn’t in this to play games with Oran and his sons for women. I was in this to take Boston and every Craig, along with their men, to the grave.
End of story.
The Craigs could have Bell’s daughter.
If Bell had been thinkin’ clearly, he would have come to this conclusion before causin’ trouble. His daughter wouldn’t be with Dermot long anyway. Not after I destroyed them. And because the man showed up at my home, ruined my property, I was goin’ to kill him. He reeked of Craig, and the stench was startin’ to draw me closer.
Before I could move, Keenan glided in front of Bell’s wimpy form. He held his hands up. His eyes said everythin’ his mouth didn’t. He didn’t want to waste Bell’s life.
