* * *
“Aphone call, Starbright? Is the school burning down? Have you castrated a young, enamored boy? Are you finally coming home?” Matteo’s voice settles into my skin like a throbbing wound. I feel like I need to scrub my skin the second I get off the phone, regardless of the fact that I only just showered. The banter didn’t feel fun anymore; it hasn’t felt fun in a long time. Now all I can hear is the possession in his dulcet tones. He’s speaking to someone he thinks he owns.
I won’t ever let him own me.
“I need to call in a favor,” I say sweetly. It sounds fake because it is. I’m not sweet.
I’m fucking tired.
“Tch, kid, this is getting out of hand. You know, you wouldn’t have to keep running to me for help if you did some recruiting of your own. There are dozens of suitable candidates, all clamoring to sign up under the infamous Wolf. I could move some of my crew around for you. As a member of the Twelve, you have to have people behind you. This is why you need to come to some meetings.”
I roll my eyes. He wants to give me some people to start a gang with. His people, so he can always have loyal eyes on my back. In his mind, it’ll make it easier for when he claims me and have the two gangs amalgamate to become one super criminal organization.
It’s much easier to lie to him on the phone. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and I’ve got a few leads. I’m looking for very specific skill sets, and if I’m going to do this, I’m doing it right. I gave you my word I’d be at the next meeting over the summer, didn’t I? Is my word not good enough anymore?” I finish with a teasing tone. Some might even call it flirty, but I just call it a necessity.
I hear him cover the mouthpiece and bark out orders. If you’re with the Jackal, you’re always at war or starting a new one. When I was just a kid and Matteo had first taken notice of me at the group home, he’d told me he looked up to Alexander the Great. All he wanted to do was build an empire. He enjoys the thrill of the chase, the outsmarting, and the kill.
I think I caught his interest because I was strong.
I think I’ve kept it because I won’t give in.
“We can talk about your leads at the meeting. I’m interested to know who you have your eye on.” The censure in his voice is clear to me. Great, something else I need to think about and plan for. “Let’s get back on topic, I have someone waiting for me. Someone…went on an unsanctioned holiday and needs to be reminded of their duties. What do you need?”
He has a defector in his office, tied to a chair, listening in on our every word. They can listen because they will be dead by morning. I have seen Matteo work so many times, I don’t even need to shut my eyes to see it. I know which knife he will reach for first, I know where he keeps his blowtorch, I know which hand he will wipe clean first.
“Joey Beaumont is deteriorating quickly. I need all the information you can give me about him, his family, their businesses, and their history. I need to know how I can safely neutralize him, because I’m going to have to. Soon.”
I hear the knife at Matteo’s waist slip out of its sheath. I do not want to have to try and sleep after listening to the defector scream.Hurry up, asshole.
“I’ll send Diarmuid up with a copy of my files. He’ll be happy to come visit; he has a nephew who goes to school with you.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
Dairmuid O’Cronin was the son of an old Irish mobster. Forty years ago, the O’Cronin family had held a large territory. They’d exclusively run the docks and controlled the importation of drugs and weapons into Cali. Then the institution of the Twelve started and the family had lost members, lost loyalties, lost three-quarters of their territory, and rumor had it the patriarch of the family, Liam O’Cronin, had started to lose a grip on reality. Dairmuid had defected and become a gun for hire ten years ago. He is an unparalleled assassin, a terrifying driver, and he has a shitty attitude. I like him. The Jackal is one of the very few who can afford his price, so I have spent some time with him over the years.
“Who is his nephew? I can’t imagine an Irish mobster going to Hannaford.”
I hear the swing of Matteo’s knife in the air and his grunt as he impales the poor idiot’s leg. He doesn’t scream, he just lets out a grunt of his own.Buddy, you want to scream. If you don’t, he’ll only get more creative.
“Kid goes by his mom’s name. Arbour. Blond and blue-eyed like her, too. Apparently he looks fuck-all like the O’Cronins.”
My heart stops.
Harley.
Harley is the mobster’s son.
‘Honor before Blood’
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
“Diarmuid will pop in and see him, and then drop off the file. Does that work for you, Starbright?” I hear fabric ripping, grunts of pain, and Matteo’s labored breathing. I hope to god he’s just carving the guy up and not…doing anything worse. I don’t want to think about it.
“Yeah, thanks. You’ll only owe me two favors now.”
