“Aye,” he grunts. “And got some news for you as well.”
I turn my head to meet his gaze. His mouth is pressed in a serious line within his thick, coppery beard and moustache. “All right. Let’s walk and talk.”
We’re on the main deck, where the guests will arrive and be greeted by a red carpet, gold and marble accents and a security check with armed guards. I walk Sully deeper into the belly of the yacht where the main stage and bar reside.
His hands are shoved in his black jeans pockets as he takes in the main stage where three poles have been evenly spaced, and a black leather circular seating area curls around it. His gaze travels upward to the mirrored panels on the ceiling, then over to the sleek, black and gold marble bar in the shape of a wave to the right.
“Got your bartenders yet?” He asks as he takes in the half-dozen, curtained booths tucked against the back wall that can be used for private dances.
“Aye, just need one more.”
His large paw comes down on my shoulder as he shoots me a grin. “Classy, brother. Can’t wait for opening night.” His grin fades as he steps in closer. “Right, look, I got a call from Rocco. His lads followed a lead on Da’s shootin’ to a local gang member they thought might know somethin’. After a long talk with the eejit, turns out the hit may not have been meant for Da.”
I narrow my eyes, and it takes me a moment to process what that means. “Then who?”
His shoulders lift. “They haven’t found anyone who knows yet. Word on the street is just a shooter in hidin’ because a botched hit nearly took out an Irish boss. Lad’s pissin’ his pants somewhere in a hole, but they haven’t found anyone who knows his name yet.”
“So he’s actually a terrible fuckin’ shot?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Amateur?”
Sully’s lip quirks up, but his expression is still tight with concern. “Seems so. But who would hire a feckin’ amateur to hit a mob wedding?”
“A bleedin’ dead man, that’s who. We need to find out who the target was.”
He nods once. “Rocco promised they’re on it.”
I run a rough hand over my scruff, feeling out of sorts now. “Well, since you’re here, let me show you the rest of it.” He follows me into the state-of-the-art kitchen, which is the only other space on this level. Then we move to the lower deck.
“This is where the real action will happen. Private VIP zone and operations.” I lead him down a lighted hall, and motion to each side. “Four VIP champagne rooms with private dance space.”
Sully steps into one of the rooms. I fold my arms and lean against the doorframe. He looks back at me with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Wired, yeah?”
I lift a shoulder. “As Da says,blackmail is the best mail.”
As I lead him to my private suite, he says, “Seems like everything is falling into place here beautifully. Why’ve you been in such a piss poor mood?”
I stop at the door and whirl to face him. “I haven’t.”
He quirks a brow. “Whatever you say. Maybe you’ll get whatever it is out during your boxin’ match in a few weeks.”
“Definitely looking forward to that.” I grin, then knock my raw knuckles against the door. “Bulletproof.”
“Expectin’ trouble?”
“Always.” We step inside and I let him explore my suite. He takes in the king bed with the leather headboard; soft, black leather sofa and private bar against the wall. To the right is a large bathroom with all the amenities.
“So you’ll be livin’ here then?”
“Aye.” I walk over to the large floor-to-ceiling painting on the left wall and press a hidden button on the edge. It slides open to reveal a safe and weapons cache, empty at the moment. I need to remedy that with our next shipment. “In case you need to know.”
We stroll back down to the other end of the hall, which houses the crew quarters and room for dancers to get ready. Behind the dancers' quarters is another hidden office, which I’ve dubbed the “laundry room”. No clothes washing will go on in there, though.
Then we make our way to the upper deck. “This is the crown jewel,” I say, as I lead him into the private dining and gambling room. Half of it is set up for dining with booths and tables, the other half is poker tables and slot machines that can be legally used once we’re twelve miles from shore. That will be Friday and Saturday nights, for members only. Otherwise, we’ll stay docked to rotate the patrons.
Also on this deck is my office, which I made sure had bulletproof windows and monitors feeding from security cameras all around the yacht. There’s also a separate security office which I’ll staff with guards keeping an eye on the deck feeds, and weapons lockers.
I lead him out onto the VIP terrace, which has a cozier atmosphere with soft sofas, a firepit and open-air bar. “Private dances will be available out here, too.”
He palms his beard thoughtfully as he takes it all in. “How many dancers you’ve got so far?”
