“Teo,they’re going to—” Aidan began. He’d followed my eyes up to the guns.
“Hang on!” I snarled, and I gunned the engine as much as I could.
The Donovans opened fire, peppering the street with bullets. I drove on fast, my eyes on nothing but the road, but when I heard screeching tires and the smash of metal and glass behind me, I chanced a look in the rearview.
They’d gotten the Hummer, alright. And they didn’t stop, even as it tried to reverse, making Swiss cheese out of it. I braked hard, throwing an arm across Aidan, and watched in my side mirror as two guys—Carlucci and O’Hara—came running from each side of the road. O’Hara was looking down the road, checking there were no more incoming.
Carlucci went up to the driver’s side of the Hummer, his handgun raised and ready to fire. He yanked open the driver’s side door, leaned in, and then stood back, relaxed.
“Damn it,” I muttered. If the driver was dead, we couldn’t question him. But better him than us. I turned back to Aidan who was looking at me, pressed back against the seat, panting for air. He was shiny with sweat.
“I think I’m go—” he began, but then he shoved open the car door and vomited out onto the road.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Teo
The driver wasn’t Aidan’s Uncle Jim. Based on the paramilitary outfit he’d spilled his blood and brains all over, he was from the same crew that had been at Innisfree. I made sure Aidan was tucked away in the house while the Donovan men dealt with the police. The media wasn’t far behind, and the last thing I wanted was my face all over the late news, so I was relieved when O’Hara told me they’d handle it.
“Better if you Morellis aren’t involved,” he told me, after shouting directions at half his men to disappear as well. “BPD is tricky, but we have some insiders we can count on. Go on, check in with your Boss. We got this.”
Carlucci looked to me and I gave a nod. “But if you got anything to say about Innisfree first, O’Hara, now’s the time to say it.”
He paused, his face rueful. “That’s Ms. Donovan’s story to tell. You go on now and you can hear it before bedtime like a good little boy.”
I jerked my head at Carlucci, who followed me toward the house. “You lay low when we get in there,” I told him. “There’s shit needs to go down and you don’t wanna get splattered, you hear me?” He dropped the grin when I grabbed his arm. “Serious, Carlucci. I’m planning on making trouble in there.”
He glanced over my shoulder at the wreck in the street. “You know me; I like a peaceful life. Thanks for the heads up.”
Carlucci and I found Tara Donovan with the Boss, Mr. D and Hudson in the front room. She was pale and pinched in the face like she had a migraine, and the way she clutched at the arms of her chair showed how tense she was. I gave her a nod to be respectful, and then I turned to the Boss, put my hands behind my back, and waited. Carlucci melted away to the side of the room and put his arm around Hudson, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Hudson nodded and gave a quick smile.
There was also a guy kneeling down in front of Aidan where he sat on the couch, a first aid kit open on the floor next to him, and he was shining a light into Aidan’s eyes. “I’m fine,” Aidan said to me weakly, when he saw my face. “Really.”
“Yes, you are,” said the first aid guy, and started putting away his equipment. I recognized him from our tour of the guard posts around Hillview. “Not a scratch on him,” he added, looking across to Ms. Donovan, who looked relieved.
Mr. D was still fussing over Aidan, hustling close to him on the sofa now that the medic was out of the way. For a minute I wanted to shove him out of the way, get my own arms around Aidan, take care of him myself.
“We need to get arealdoctor,” Mr. D snapped at the Boss, but Don Morelli lifted a hand, a small gesture to tell his husband to be patient.
“Vitali, you did good,” he said to me. “But like I said, there are things we just found out tonight.” He looked to Tara Donovan, who met his gaze with a defiant stare. “Tara,” he said softly, almost warmly. “It’s time.”
“This information cannot leave the room,” she said stiffly.
“Of course not,” I told her.
She sat up even straighter, if that was possible. “Innisfree has been compromised.”
“Taken over,” Mr. D added, outraged.
“By a group called the Irish Freedom Fighters,” she continued, ignoring him. I could see it cost her to admit to it. “The IFF. I—we—the Donovan Family has been under pressure for some time from their group. Since well before my father’s time, actually. Our Family has had long ties to them back in Ireland, through its various iterations. My father, and Maggie after him, both tried to break away. Our Uncle Gus, Fearghus Donovan, was a member. He was sent as an envoy last year to get us back into the fold. The night Maggie died, she and Uncle Gus were planning to kill me, but Howie and Luca—” She broke off, sending the Boss a nervous look.
“I killed Gus Donovan,” he said plainly to me and then looked back to her. “You don’t have to cover for me, Tara,” he added gently. “I think most of the people in this room are aware of the rumors anyway.”
Tara gave a very slight shrug of one shoulder, as though letting his comment roll over and off her back. “Well. I’ve been receiving threats ever since. Threats of retaliation against me personally—they don’t just want the Donovans back under their thumb. They want me dead, and they want their own man put in as head of the Family.”
“Maybe we should get more Morelli crews out here,” Mr. D mused. “We can call a couple over, right, Luca? We could storm Innisfree and—”
“No,” I said. Everyone went quiet and stared at me. Finch D’Amato looked downright shocked that anyone except his husband would even interrupt him while talking, let alone have the balls to tell himno.
