Conall brushed his hand over his own mouth and tilted his head to stare at us, lips curved up into a half smirk and shiny with.... Well, I could easily guess what he was covered in. Winking, he slipped off Sloan’s lap and leaned over to tuck him back in and zip him up. I stared at the outline of Conall’s arse in those tight leather pants. He had what I liked to call bitable cheeks, fluffy and muscular all wrapped up in one.
Rowen shoved my shoulder and leaned down to whisper, “Ye’re mad if ye think staring at his pet’s arse is all right.”
I shrugged and rested back against the black leather. “It’s all right if it’s only a peek.”
“As long as you don’t touch. He’s mine,” Sloan drawled as Conall straightened and shifted to stand by his side. His hair was presentable, pulled tight in a bun at the back of his head. His mouth, on the other hand, looked freshly kissed and red from his prior activities that required him on his knees in front of the boss. He smirked at me and ran a hand down his clean white T-shirt, tight against his slim, muscular chest. His leather pants didn’t hide much, either, tighter than I’d ever seen them and cupping his semi like a palm. “Are you done checking out my pet, Mr. Shaughnessy?”
“Can’t blame him.” Conall laughed, his eyes lighting up. He made a production of popping his fingers into his mouth, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
Sloan snorted and slapped Conall on the ass, the sound echoing in the quiet office. “Pet, go shower and get into bed. I’ll be there soon.”
Conall nodded and straightened, giving me another wink before he sashayed his way out of the room, wriggling his arse more dramatically than he should’ve. As difficult as it was, I tore my gaze away from those cheeks and focused on the boss, who looked less than impressed by my attention on his pet. His mouth curled dangerously, and I rearranged myself so I was sitting at attention.
“Sorry, Boss,” I said honestly with a wince. “Ye have a beautiful pet there.”
“I do.” His agreement didn’t mean I was out of trouble, but he waved his hand impatiently. “The only thing saving you, Cillian, is your expertise. I have somebody troublesome I need dealt with, and quickly. I have enough issues without worrying about someeejit.”
Even though Sloan was born in America, I’d noticed almost immediately that he held on to some of the Irish slang from his grandfather. The one time I’d asked him about it, his response had been cold:“I’m as Irish as the rest of you. Just because I was born in America, doesn’t make me any less of an Irishman.”
He’d delivered that speech in the most condescending tone. I’d felt like he’d kicked me in the balls without physically doing a damned thing.
“What’s the problem, sir?” Rowen asked. Always the diplomat. He loved to be helpful, and I had a feeling the boss liked him better than he did me.
“My product was stolen.” Sloan leaned back and crossed a leg over his knee, stroking his chin. His dominance and control drifted from him like a scent, and he didn’t have to do anything for us tosmellit, which was why anyone would have to be stupid to try to fuck him over. But there was always some wanker who thought he was smarter than a man who’d been in the business all his life. “You are aware we’ve been sending drugs from Miami to New York City in train cars, until we can properly establish the port again after that fiasco with the dead customs agents.” It wasn’t a question. Of course we knew. With Jamie as our lieutenant, we helped to run the illegal-operations part of the Company. “Well, it seems Reed Olsson has decided to take some of our product for his personal use.”
Ah, I knew that arsehole. He had too much confidence for someone his age. I winced. Blimey, I wouldn’t want to be Reed right now. Straightening, I nodded. “And ye want us to teach him a wee lesson.”
Sloan waved his hand again. “I would myself, but I’m only one man and I have a lot of business to attend to right now. I’m working on deals with Elio Folliero. The Italians from Chicago want his spot in their little Five Families gang bang.” He rolled his eyes, clearly uninterested in the Italian way of doing business. It was always a fight for supremacy in New York City, and there were a lot of men with their hands in the cookie jar. Sloan was the fucker holding that jar, deciding who he wanted to have a cookie. “So yes, I want you to deal with him. Don’t let him get off easy. Remind himwhothis city belongs to and why he shouldn’t mess with me, and then spread the word. Skin him alive if you must, but make it hurt before you kill him. Drag it out for days.”
A thrill of excitement shot through me, landing in my balls. This shite is what I lived for. There was something extra special about hurting someone who betrayed us, and nothing turned me on faster than inflicting pain. I wondered if that was something Vail wanted to explore, and I made a mental note to ask him his limits. He seemed the type of guy who was willing to try anything forresearch.
“Where can we find him?” Rowen asked, his gaze glittering with a softer version of excitement. I could already see him attending that damned confession box after this.
“He hides out in Queens, in a small house on 87th Street in Jamaica.” Sloan stood and buttoned his suit jacket. He turned his head toward the door, the scar running from the left side of his forehead over his eye and down to his cheek more prominent in my line of sight. Despite the mark on his face, he was a handsome bastard, the kind who had a square jaw, strong cheekbones, and vibrant eyes. Blokes liked that as much as the birds. Hell, even the bleached blond hair with dark roots worked for him.
“We’ll get right on it, Boss,” Rowen said with a determined nod. He patted me on the shoulder, and I gave him a raised brow. It was more likely Aspen and I would be the ones on it while he watched from the wings, telling us when to pull back to ensure Reed would be alive long enough to suffer more torture.
Sloan smirked at him, his eyes glinting. “Good. Send him a message from me. Tell him I said hello.”
Jamie laughed, and Corbin shook his head, a small smile curving his mouth.
“You can report your progress to Jamie for the time being,” Sloan said.
“How long should we drag it out?” I stood and stretched before swiping my hand over my black suit. Expensive—just what the boss expected. “Is he the kind of man ye want around for a whole week?”
“Hold out as long as possible.” He tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. “Give him aminimumof a week. Visit him every day. I’m tired of these fools who think I’m someone they can betray.”
Aspen and I looked at each other and traded smug smiles. Long-haul torture was what we did best.
“After the week, or however long you keep him alive, I will give you a hundred thousand dollars each for your good work.” He pointed at Jamie. “Let him know when you’re done. You know the rules, if you’re caught, you don’t know me. If you rat me out, I will make your short life a living hell.” He gave his standard speech so simply, but he wasn’t lying. It was something he told everybody who went on a task for him, and we respected that. He had a business to run and was good at it.
“They’ll get it done, Boss,” Jamie said with a clap of his hands. He had that wicked smile on his face again, the one that won him many favors. People swooned every time he walked into a room. There seemed to be requirements to be part of the Killough Company—handsome, charming, looks good in a suit, violent, handy with a gun, and of course, most importantly, be Irish.
“I expect no less.” Sloan smirked. “Go find my man.”
* * *
It tooka few hours to find Reed, and by the time we did I was beyond frustrated. Rowen and I had a cute arse at home that we could plow, but instead we were stuck trying to search for this wanker. He wasn’t at his place on 87th Street, but after a special conversation with his older sister, we found him at his friend’s house a few streets over.
