A useful eejit.
“Have a seat.” He pushes a thumb drive across the desk.
Grumbling, I take it and plug it into my phone. Grainy surveillance shots of crates from China and men in dark coats unloading them.
“That man we killed had a side hustle,” Ares says, voice smooth as silk.
“The manIkilled,” I say, like an idiot clinging to the credit, all while it’s put a noose around my neck.
I consider whether I should admit that my brother and I figured out who the guy is and call out Ares for fucking the wife.
But… I don’t.
“What am I looking at?” I ask about this data dump instead.
“A shipment is on its way to New York,” Ares says smugly, unable to contain himself and I want to go for his throat. “But that’s not the best part.”
I swipe for more photos. Dock coordinates. A manifest. Dates and times.
“What’s the best part, Ares?” I ask.
“From what we were able to tell from our dead guy’s phone, none of his security contacts were made aware of the shipment.” Ares twirls a pen. “We contacted the seller from his phone and changed the delivery location.”
“Let me guess.” I put down my phone. “Your dock. So you can pick it up.”
“Exactly,” Ares says. “The dead guy already sold it to someone else and paid the seller. We just have to accept the shipment.”
I glance at him. “A shipment of what?”
“Does it matter?” Ares asks, faintly amused.
“It could be humans. I’m not getting involved in that shite. We can get Griffin in a room right now to?—”
Ares gets to his feet. “You just better pray I don’t want to smell Irish blood in the streets again, Quinlan.”
Griffin and Ava stopped years of brutal conflict, and the families have lived in peace for more than two years now. That alliance dragged me to the Greeks’ doorstep. I was just unfortunate enough to get tangled with a ring ofcontract killers. Now, I’m being made to feel like Ares will re-light the war with the Irish if I don’t continue to be his bitch.
If I tell Griffin any of this, he’ll send Ava to kill Ares because deep inside, she hates her brother. It’s not worth the trouble or the suit I’ll need to get dry cleaned for the funeral.
I lean back in the chair, my heart ticking like a bomb. “Why do you want me to accept that shipment?”
“It’s the perfect job for an assassin hardly anyone has seen,” Ares says. “The one person who has is dead.”
As if that is some form of fucked-up comfort.
“You’re also someone I can trust to give the product to us,” he finishes buttering me up, sounding calmer.
“And what makes you think I’ll hand it over to you?” I fold my arms, negotiating for some stupid reason.
“Our alliance is with you. Not your girlfriend. That leaves her at risk.” Ares smiles. “Unless you make her your very own Mrs. Quinlan.”
They’ve got me by the balls. I was stupid enough to commit murder for them when I had a nosy neighbor who liked to break into my flat. Now, they can mess with Fallon.
Ares lifts his gaze, and it’s like staring into a glacier. “You’ll get a cut. When we sell it.”
I’d never been motivated by money. Quinlan Empire pays me well.
Maybe when I figure out who this Kosta is, I can buy him off to stay the hell away from Fallon.
