After I’m dressed in a custom-fit charcoal-gray suit and I’ve styled my hair back off my face, I exit the locker room and head toward the conference center on the top floor.
“Bro.” Caleb emerges from the elevator as I walk by, clamping his hand down hard on my shoulder. “What the fuck’s going on?” he asks, stifling a yawn.
Whiskey fumes drift over my face, and a muscle ticks in my jaw. “You reek,” I hiss. “Go clean up.”
“Fuck off. You’re not my father.”
More like babysitter. I think it but don’t say it. Keeping my brother in check is occupying more of my time these days. “You can’t show up hungover.” This is the one place my brother cannot get away with breaking rules or appearing disinterested.
“I’ve got it under control, and you need to get laid more often. You’ve been even more uptight these past few months.”
“I get laid plenty, and you know why I’ve been stressed.”
Caleb’s expression turns serious as he pumps minty spray into his mouth. “This is about the Irish threat.”
“It’s accelerating,” I confirm, watching as he pulls a bottle of cologne out of his pocket and douses himself in it. “War seems inevitable at this point.”
“Good.” He circles his arm around my shoulders and flashes me a devilish grin. “Things have been too quiet for years. I’m itching to gut a few fuckers.”
“Keep those kinds of comments to yourself in there.” We round the corner and reach the double doors to the main conference room. “This is a time for shrewd thinking not bloodthirsty proclamations.”
“Violence and death are the normal way of life, J. No matter how ‘peaceful’ things have been since The Commission was reformed, there is no getting away from the basics. We’re lucky we’ve enjoyed relative stability since we took control, but it could change in the blink of an eye. We saw enough of it growing up to know that’s our reality.”
He’s not wrong, but is it wrong to want peace instead of bloodshed? “I saw the reality with my own eyes this morning, and it wasn’t pretty. I sense something big brewing.” I stop outside the doors and turn to my brother, Fiero’s warning still ringing in my ears. “This fight might look external, but I have a feeling we’re waging a war on two fronts, and you especially need to watch your back.”
Chapter Three
Joshua
“Idon’t trust O’Hara,” Don Mazzone states sometime later after Fiero and I have brought the board up to speed. “He knows this threat has come from within his organization, and he still hasn’t found any proof or done anything to stop it.”
I wonder if it’s hard for Ben not being in charge. No one was surprised when Massimo replaced him as president because Ben had been grooming him for the position. All the old dons are either dead or retired now, and we have a younger, more dynamic commission.
When Massimo’s ten-year tenure expires in seven years, there will be competition for the presidency for the first time. I wouldn’t mind a shot at it myself, but if the plans to expand the board of The Commission go ahead, it will only add to the list of contenders.
“He failed to protect our informants too,” Cristian says, forcing me to focus.
“What is more concerning is the breach within our own ranks,” Caleb says. “We need to find out who and why and eliminate the threat before it grows.”
“All are valid concerns,” President Greco says, “but let’s deal with them one at a time.” His gaze swings to me. “Tell me everything you know of O’Hara and your thoughts on his loyalty.”
“O’Hara is the result of an affair, and his parents were never married. He lived with his mom in Ireland until he was thirteen, when his father came for him after being thrust into the leadership role. Sean McDermott’s true heir, Liam, was only five then. Heart problems run in the family, so Sean chose to groom his bastard for succession. A smart move considering he died of a massive coronary when Diarmuid was twenty-two.”
“How prophetic,” Caleb drawls, bouncing his leg.
Ignoring him, I continue. “Diarmuid faced a lot of opposition and dealt with constant threats to his rule the first few years. But things have settled especially after he made the deal with us six years ago. The Irish operation has been more profitable under O’Hara’s reign than at any other time in their history. That should be enough to keep everyone happy.”
“Except Liam is a greedy fuck with a chip on his shoulder,” Fiero adds.
I nod. “Diarmuid and Liam have been at loggerheads since Liam turned twenty-one and felt he had a God-given right to the throne. For the past ten years, he has tried to sow seeds of discontent, but he’s always been shot down.”
“Until now,” Cristian says.
“What’s changed?” Massimo asks, his brow puckering. “Why is he making a move now?”
“An alleged move.” I quirk a brow and look around the table. “We still have no proof Liam is behind the missing supplies, stolen goods, and trail of dead bodies. Neither of our undercover informants were able to find anything before they were killed.”
“Because neither of them could get close enough to McDermott.” Caleb swivels in his chair. “Liam is no dumbass.He’s every bit as intelligent and savvy as O’Hara. He knows Diarmuid is on to him. He knows we have a strong working partnership, which means he more than likely knows we’re infiltrating his ranks in the hopes he’ll out himself.”
