I say nothing again.
Eamon spears a hand through his messy brown curls, but it immediately flops back in his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” He wants to say more but wouldn’t dare risk it in front of Gallagher. But it doesn’t matter. I know all the reasons it’s a terrible idea and all the reasons I may not have any choice in the matter.
“You’d really sell one of your daughters to pay your debt?” I ask, ignoring Eamon and the roll of nausea in my stomach. “I doubt Cian considers pussy enough payment for the five million you owe, Senator Gallagher. Even if it’s Gallagher pussy.”
I should be furious at his attempts to divert me. I should let Eamon take him to the warehouse to be dealt with, but I’m tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of wondering when the next hit will come. Tired of waiting for Cian to pull the last rug out from under me. If I have no choice, then why fight so hard to prevent the inevitable?
Eamon, who was forged alongside me in the crucible of terror that is Cian Lynch, wisely keeps his mouth shut at the blank expression on my face.
Gallagher continues, “My daughter will do what she’s told. And you don’t have to tell Cian everything, do you? As soon as you’re married, my daughter will have access to the trust fund provided by her mother’s family, the Doyles. Then you’ll havethe rest of the money I owe and get the chance to see your mother.”
Eamon’s cackles cut the tension at Rory’s words. “You really are a backstabbing bastard. You realize you’re talking about selling one of your children, right? Using them—and Aiden—to pay your debt. You’re pathetic.”
But Gallagher won’t be swayed, not even by Eamon’s righteous indignation. There’s a furor in his eyes, a desperation that has me examining his words with growing resignation. “Everyone gets what they want, no need to make this messy.” He holds his hands up as Eamon circles him like prey. “I’ve spent my life arguing my way out of impossible situations, I’ll admit, but you’d be a fool not to consider my offer.”
That he’s not wrong leaves an acrid taste in the back of my mouth. When I was a boy, all I wanted was to take my father’s place at the helm of Clan O’Connor in Ireland, before it had evolved into the monstrosity it is now. I’d known from a young age that our family wasn’t like others, but when he’d been at the helm of the Irish mob, it had been about honor, pride, and family. Now, the thought of going back there leaves a metallic taste in the back of my mouth.
If my mother knew I was even considering defying Cian to see her, she’d call me an eejit herself and then box my ears for the sheer stupidity.
I wouldn’t give Gallagher’s plan any weight if I weren’t so goddamn tired. All I want is to see her one more time, to know that she’s okay. To smell the familiar scent of roses clinging to her skin. To make sure she hasn’t given up. To tell her I’ll keep the promises I made to her. Every day I feel her slipping away. Pieces chipped away by Cian’s iron fist. Soon, there won’t be anything left of the mother I knew.
If Cian had considered this possibility, he never would have assigned me to deal with Gallagher. Or maybe he did, and he’stesting my loyalty. Either I can take the risk, or I can face never seeing my mother again.
“Aiden—” Eamon says.
“What makes you think this is something your daughter will agree to?” Once I’ve decided, I don’t second-guess myself. I’m almost weightless with relief. All these years I’d spent doing anything and everything Cian Lynch has ordered, and I’m willing to throw it all away at the chance to see my mother. Maybe this is what he’s been waiting for all along. For me to crack. To give up. To make a mistake.
If he learns what I’m planning before the deed is done, my blood will join Gallagher’s on Eamon’s knives.
“My daughter will do what she’s told. You understand that, don’t you, Aiden?” Gallagher says when he reads the resignation in my expression.
“I’m going to enjoy carving you up when I get the chance, Gallagher,” Eamon croons at the jab. “It may not be today, but I can guarantee this won’t be the last time we meet. If this is a trick and you get him killed, I’ll find you, wherever you try to hide, and what I’d planned for you will be child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you. Do you understand me?”
My mind travels back to the conversation I had with Cian the night of Emerald Isle’s grand opening. I hadn’t known it then, but ever since that fateful conversation, my life has been barreling toward this conclusion. Maybe even longer.
“Cian.I wasn’t aware you were coming,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. Controlled. Always controlled. “Would you like a room upstairs? The executive suite should be available to you.”
He turns, lifting a brow and leaving his damp tumbler on my glossy oak desktop without a coaster. My fingers twitch at my sides.
“Was I supposed to clear my schedule with you, Aiden?” Cian asks, a thin blade of a smile splitting his even thinner lips underneath his salt-and-pepper facial hair.
Of course not. My stomach knots, but I show nothing. I’d let myself believe that crossing an ocean might loosen his grip on me.
Eamon was right.
I am a fuckin’ eejit.
“Never mind that,” he continues with a wave through the blue mist of smoke. “I’m here because I need you to do something for the family.”
I’m numb, something I never thought I’d be in Cian’s malevolent presence. There’s always another job. Another body to bury. Another chain lashed around my neck, dragging me down. I’m covered in so many of them that there’ll be no clawing my way out. Something I have no doubt he knows as well as I do.
I’d fought it at first. But I soon learned that dealing with Cian is a lot like Newton’s third law of motion: For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Each attempt at freedom only ends up with people I care about hurt.
“I need you to find Gallagher.”
I blink, go completely still. “Senator Rory Gallagher?”
“The one and only. The remainder of his payment is due. The house was supposed to be a down payment on the ten million he owes me. You’ll find him and get the remainder. Five million and not a penny less.”
