Cillian slammed open my bedroom door, rage twisting up his face. Water droplets clung to his dark hair as though he’d taken a quick shower.
“Get yer arse up. We’re going to Vail’s house.”
I blinked at him from where I lay in my bed, dressed in pajama pants and a gray cotton T-shirt, with a book clasped in my hands I hadn’t actually been reading. “Why? Ye said ye didn’t do relationships. He was sex to ye.”
“Maybe I want to get laid again,” Cillian snapped, slamming his hand against the doorframe. He had on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt again, and his clothes from earlier were probably in the back firepit, burning away any evidence. I’d smelled the fire a half hour or so ago. Cillian was careful and took no chances, and while we were usually a lot cleaner when we tortured a traitor, sometimes burning clothes couldn’t be helped. The boss often made sure we were compensated for the lost suits. “Now get yer arse up or I’m leaving ye behind.”
I rolled my eyes and slid out of bed, ignoring him as I went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans. He stayed in the doorway, not fazed as I shoved down my pajamas and pulled on some briefs from a pile of underwear. Why should he be? We’d grown up with each other since we were kids, and we’d shared a man tonight. He’d seen me naked often enough that I wasn’t embarrassed by my nudity.
“Hurry yer skinny arse up.” He rolled his eyes when I glanced at him.
Tugging up my jeans, I ignored his grumbles until I had my pants zipped and buttoned. I considered grabbing my gun but decided against it. We were going to Vail’s place, and I didn’t expect any trouble. He was also the kind of person I suspected didn’t like guns much, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset him more than I already had tonight. It was clear he’d never had siblings, not if the arguing between me and Cillian had made him leave. My adopted brothers and I bickered at one another a lot, and even though I wouldn’t say it to his face, I loved Cillian—even if he was a dick.
Cillian stormed down the hallway, his boots thumping on the wooden floorboards, and I followed him down the stairs and out the door to the SUV. His anger hovered around him like thunderheads, his hands turning into fists before he released them again. I’d never quite seen him like this, especially about a man. There had been more than one circumstance when Fallon had Cillian’s leftovers, which made me think Cillian didn’t want to be done with Vail—not yet.
We drove in silence. Often it was best when things were left unsaid between us. His da had taught us that talking wasn’t a manly trait, and as religious as he’d been, he never saw the inside of a confessional, either. His ma was gentler, and when we left, she’d begged Da to apologize. I never quite understood what for, but the one time I’d asked Cillian about it I’d been shot down. That was in the past, though. Cillian had always been a tough nut to crack, and if Vail had somehow started opening that shell, I wasn’t going to complain. Cillian needed someone to soften him up, and to my surprise, I didn’t entirely hate the idea of sharing Vail with him.
“How did ye find out his address?” I finally asked when we reached the city. I hated driving too close to the center. The traffic was horrendous and the people in this place couldn’t drive to save their lives. Unfortunately, most of Sloan’s business was done here. Big cities meant rich people with too much money on their hands, who also needed a fun time with some coke and other party getups.
Cillian shot me a dirty look. “Ardan’s contact.”
I blinked at him in confusion. “Ye hired an assassin’s techie to find out an address for Vail? Ye didn’t think ye could check online?”
“Unlisted,” he grunted out with a scowl at the road in front of him. “And I seriously doubt they went to his office at MCU at this hour. That I coulda found meself.” His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. This late at night the traffic was slow. Or was it early in the morning? I checked my watch. Yep, it was after four in the morning.
I fell back against the seat and watched the brownstones fly by. If there was anything to be said about New York City, it was that space was limited and places were small. The boss had some prime real estate, but it cost him an arm and a leg, too. Mount Pleasure was a rundown building with three stories and barely any furniture, but I knew for a fact he’d paid in the millions for it. And for good reason. It was close to a lot of important places we visited, and when we needed to take someone to teach them a lesson, the old hideout was right there. The last thing we wanted was to drive a long distance, which made being detected by law enforcement more likely.
I didn’t know where we were by the time Cillian stopped the SUV in front of another endless row of apartment buildings, other than somewhere in west Manhattan, and he didn’t offer up the information. He exited the SUV and pointed at Fallon’s car in a spot down the street while his fury over the situation practically singed me. I sighed, following him out my side and to a tall ivy-covered building that was at least six floors high. He locked the SUV as we made it to a speaker box beside the entrance.
“Now what?” I asked, crossing my arms. The heat swelled around us, the summer air heavy and humid. Not like it got in Florida, where we’d been for Sloan a few times, but still hot enough to notice. I couldn’t wait for fall to come around. The one thing I truly missed about Ireland was the weather. The milder summers were so much nicer.
Cillian flicked me another annoyed look and I heaved a sigh. He turned back toward the door and jammed some numbers into a keypad. I glanced over his shoulder with a frown, and when the door buzzed, Cillian yanked it open.
“The contact?” I drawled with raised eyebrows.
This time he smirked, and I should’ve been satisfied it was something other than a scowl. When he got in these moods it took forever to get him out of them and he wasn’t the type of guy I wanted to be around. The only thing that usually got him out of his rut was a good hard fuck.
We walked up a well-kept wooden staircase. In terms of buildings, there wasn’t anything fancy about this one. The paint on the walls was clean and white, the light in the hallway flickered a bit but was still on, and there were no roaches or vermin scurrying about. For what had to be a low-rent building in this area, it was practically a palace.
We took four sets of stairs until we were in front of a door that had the number 16 painted on it and a twee multicolored heart hanging beneath it. Out of every door on this floor, Vail’s was the nicest. Fewer chips out of the paint and no scratches like one I’d seen closer to the steps.
“Are ye going to knock at arse-early in the morning?” I asked, arms crossed again.
He shrugged and reached for the knob, jiggling it slightly, as though he expected it to magically open. And fuck if he wasn’t right because the handle turned and the door swung inward.
I frowned in seriousness. This was a conversation Vail and I would need to have. There was no good reason to have his apartment unlocked, and if he’d forgotten, which was quite possible by the little I’d seen, then I needed to figure out a solution and fast. Maybe a self-locking door?
Cillian snorted. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” I glared at him and shoved him into the dark apartment. My foot hit something hard and I tripped a few steps forward.
“Stop thinking about how ye’re gonna save him. Fecking hero, aren’t ye? Ye’re in the wrong line of feckin’ work for that.”
Cillian closed the door and unlocked his phone, flicking on the flashlight app and guiding it around the room until he found a light switch and flipped it on. The apartment came to life, the sudden brightness illuminating a small sitting room. There wasn’t much to see. Like every apartment in the city, it was a tiny space crammed with as much furniture as was physically possible. He had two lively green two-seater couches and a small TV sitting on a wooden coffee table, though there were newspapers piled around it, and beside it was a two-shelf bookcase that was stacked with thick textbooks that made my head ache just staring at them. The rest of the room was also lined with bookcases. I hated studying, which in turn meant I hated books that weren’t fiction. I only started reading mystery novels three years or so ago when I got sick with a nasty cold. I had nothing else to do while I recovered, and Eamon’s girlfriend had brought me her favorite books.
A mini kitchenette was connected by a rounded archway, but it looked barely big enough in there to fit two people. It made me appreciate our home in Westhampton a lot more.
Cillian swept down the short hallway, and I frowned, following him. I didn’t know what plan was floating around in his head, but if he was going to start a fight with Fallon, I had to be there to stop it. The last thing we needed was the cops being called on us. Vail would never forgive any of us.
