“I’m here to rock your world, mate. Give you a taste of good ol’ Australia. I know you missed it from your one fucking visit, so I thought I’d bring it to ya.” Ransom roared with laughter while Cillian shook his head.
“Seriously, mate. How’d ye get here?” Cillian glanced at me as though I would give him answers. “Weren’t ye helping out yer brother with his business?”
Ransom was a good guy, an Irishman by blood and the brother of Legend Sweeney, a mafia boss living and operating in Queensland, Australia. Legend was one of the biggest players in the southern hemisphere and worked out of countries like the Philippines, Thailand, and Bali. He was also a big ally of the Company. Ransom was one of Legend’s little brothers—figuratively and literally because Legend was six foot seven if he was an inch—and even though he was the second youngest, he’d made his own name in the underworld for his ruthlessness.
“Yeah, nah. Legend’s got it all figured out, ya know? And I wanted to get out of my brothers’ shadows. Australia’s not big enough for four Sweeneys.” He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “So, I came here to Miami. It’s a lot like our climate in North Queensland. Thought it was the best choice.”
“Feck yeah.” Cillian thumped him on the shoulder. “I get that.”
“Can’t let you yanks have all the fun.” Ransom winked at me, and I snorted. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Feck off, mate.” Cillian shoved him gently and grunted out a chuckle. “Ye bloody well know I’m not an American. I’m Irish, through and through. With a name like Ransom, I’m sure ye’ll get all kinds of attention,” Cillian drawled, sending me a smirk over his shoulder.
Ransom shrugged. “Don’t get jealous, mate. All the girls are already jumping on my cock before hearing my name. They like my accent. It’s got power.” He returned Cillian’s smirk. “And you’ll have to thank my mum for the names. She knew the kids she was raisin’. We were meant to fucking rule.”
“Whatever, mate.” Cillian dropped his arms.
It was time to step in. “I’ve asked for this meeting for a reason,” I said, ignoring Cillian’s curious glance. I’d found out Ransom was in town a couple of months or so ago, when I’d been talking to Ardan about another assignment. I’d never thought we would need his help. Until now. “I know this club has been classified as a safe zone by the Society.”
The Society was an organization of assassins and hitmen, who had their own set of rules. Across the country, they had a few safe zones where no killing was allowed. If the rules were broken, then the one who did it would die.
“A safe zone? Since when?” Cillian frowned at me, then turned his attention back to Ransom. “Who’d ye feck to be that important?”
Ransom chuffed out a laugh and crossed his arms. “It helps when I know powerful people. And everyone deserves a place to get off without worrying about getting their head blown to pieces, don’t they? That’s one thing most men can universally agree on.” He turned his gaze to me. “So, what do you need, mate?”
“A powerful army.”
Ransom narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “The Killough Company should have your back. Are you going rogue?”
Cillian shook his head. “No. They do, but this is different.”
I nodded in agreement. “You might have heard about our scuffle with the Reyes Cartel.”
“Heard?” Ransom snorted. “Mate, you’ve turned this city upside down. I’ve got the cops sniffing so close to my arsehole they’ll see what I had for breakfast if they get any nearer.” He walked past us and headed to the sitting area, taking one of the armchairs. We followed him and sat on the couch. Cillian was at my side, his thigh rubbing against mine. I splayed my hand on his knee, and he stilled.
“Ye fucking cops now, Ransom?” Cillian teased.
Ransom laughed and tilted his head at the glass wall. He pointed at a man toward the corner of the sex room. Built like an offensive lineman, the guy had another man tied to a St. Andrew’s cross while he bent close to him, a belt strap clutched firmly in his hands—clearly a Dom.
“That’s Officer Amory Violet. He keeps me up to date with everything.” There was something in Ransom’s eyes, though, as he stared at the cop with an interest that had warning bells ringing in my head. One rule of being a criminal was not to get involved with men of the law, and I’d expected the brother of Legend Sweeney to follow the same guidelines, but he was obviously interested in the cop more than he should be.
“What do you give him in return?” I asked, unable to keep the question to myself. If he was getting in deep with a cop, we needed to be aware.
Ransom gave me a pointed stare. “Money. Cops love money.”
I held back a grunt and decided to change the topic. “Can you help us with an army or not?”
He hummed and stroked his chin. “I can. It’ll cost you a fortune. These men and women work for the Society. You know how it is. They kill for a living and they’re good at not getting caught.”
“We’ll pay,” Cillian growled out. “Ye know we’re good for it.”
“Just making sure,” Ransom said with a chuckle. He opened his arms. “Then an army you will get, mates. I’ll put together the best of the best that live around these parts and give you an estimate of what you’re going to pay.”
“We want them ready by tomorrow.” Cillian glanced at me, and I nodded in agreement. “I’m tired and I want to go home to me sweet bug. As much as I love a war, I’d much rather do it at home with me boys.”
Ransom tapped his chin. “And your aim’s to kill Joaquin Reyes?”
“Somethin’ like that, aye.”
