“You don’t have to if you’re busy.”
He lifted a shoulder and twirled the key ring on his finger. “I’ve also been volunteered to go to work with you today, so I hope you have something you need me to do.”
I gaped. “No, you don’t have to—”
“Ye’re takin’ him,” Cillian barked from somewhere farther back in the house, even though there was no way he could have heard my whispered protest. “And be feckin’ careful with him, Fallon, or I’ll burn ye to ashes and send ye to yer da in a shoebox. And I don’t care who yer old man is, I swear I’ll feckin’ do it.”
Fallon grinned. “We’re charming around here, first thing in the morning.” He held out his palm to me, and I hesitated, but just like the other night, he was so friendly and uncomplicated, so I took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered, then sighed as Fallon smirked at the way I couldn’t talk louder.
“Fine, then save me from my boredom and let me follow your beautiful ass around all day.” He smirked.
“Why do you do that?” I asked, curious.
“What?”
“Flirt. I just noticed. Have you been doing that all along?” I shook my head and cursed as I glanced at the windows. The sun was much brighter than it had been before all the shouting started. “I’m going to be late.”
“Nah, not the way I drive,” Fallon said and tugged my hand as he shoved open the door to the garage. “Let’s go!”
13
ROWEN
There werefew men in this life I was afraid of, but Sloan Killough was one of them. He seemed like a peaceful man to stare at, with a stoic expression and his impeccable appearance, but he often reminded me of a cobra—placid until he strikes. And I’d put me and Cillian in this position to begin with. We should’ve told Sloan about the research we’d found in Vail’s apartment as soon as we’d seen it, even if it was through Jamie. Instead I’d let my dick get the better of me.
Sloan crossed one of his legs over his knee and leaned back in his chair, his light blue dress shirt pulling at his arm and shoulder muscles. The suspenders he wore today were navy, and the top half of his clothing complemented cold blue eyes that promised death to anyone who fucked with him. Which, in this circumstance, was us.
Jamie stood to the side of Sloan, a strange seriousness on his face. He usually saw everything as a joke, something to laugh about, but this was different. Our livelihood depended on it.
“Explain why I shouldn’t slice your throats for not telling me about this research until it was stolen,” Sloan said calmly—too fucking calmly.
Cillian sat in the chair at my side, his back straight and jaw twitching. I knew him by now, and he’d take the blame on himself. That was the kind of bloke he was. As annoyed as he got with me, he was still my big brother, even if it wasn’t by blood.
But I wasn’t going to let him. Not this time. I spoke first. “Cillian wanted to tell ye immediately, Boss, but I told him to wait.”
“Rowen,” Cillian hissed, glaring at me. He shook his head and turned back to the boss. “It was my responsibility, sir, and I didn’t tell ye. I’m in charge of this group ofeejits, and I made the choice, not Rowen.”
Sloan pinched the bridge of his nose. “As admirable as it is that you want to defend each other, I have little patience right now. I have the police sniffing so close to my arse they probably smell my shit, and a rat that has been hiding for far too long. The last thing I need is a college professor writing a book about us.” He waved his hand impatiently, and Jamie relaxed at Sloan’s side. “Luckily for you, I’m in a good mood because I got laid this morning.”
Cillian stayed tense, his shoulders so stiff I thought he’d shatter. A vein bulged from his temple, his jaw tightening. He’d never done well with being reprimanded from people he respected, and even if Sloan did forgive us, Cillian wouldn’t forget about the time he fucked up. No one worked harder than him.
“I will see to it that someone goes into the apartment and does some digging, see if we can pinpoint any clues. Until then, I’ll talk to some people. If there’s information on the Italian families as well, Elio Folliero may have heard something,” Sloan said.
Elio was the new mob boss of the Folliero family. He’d taken over from his father a few years back, and as far as I knew, he was pretty good at it, too. He and Sloan were allies to stop unnecessary bloodbaths. The Follieros and the Killoughs had been at war during Sloan’s father’s reign and it hadn’t been pretty, or so I’d heard, which brought about a peace bargain, something no one wanted to break. Too many good men had died, and New York City had been in chaos.
“Thank ye, Sloan,” Cillian murmured, bowing his head slightly. “I know ye have no reason to forgive us for this.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” Sloan stroked his chin, staring between us thoughtfully. “But you’re two of my best men, and you’ve never made a mistake before. So, this is the only blunder you’ll make. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Boss,” Cillian and I said at the same time, our heads bowed in apology.
Sloan dropped the foot he’d had crossed over his knee to the floor and leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “But you will handle this college professor, or I will, am I clear?”
“He’ll be handled, Boss, I swear. We’ll make sure he never writes that book and gives up the idea of researching about us.” Cillian raised his chin.
I wasn’t quite sure how that would go because from what I’d seen with Vail, he didn’t seem the type to give up something like that. He was oblivious to the world around him, caught in the fantasy of having fun with his research, and if we wanted him to stop, we had to be direct with him. Cillian would never go for that, either. I nodded anyway because I didn’t want Sloan taking Vail out. I happened to like him a lot already.
