“But luckily, I was already inside when the door closed and while the skin trade still exists worldwide and I will continue to make money where I can, your sister cut off one of my primary income sources and I want to replace it.” After pouring his wine, he retakes his seat. “And this is where you come in.”
“Me?” I can’t think of anything else to say and right now, all that matters is buying time. Either for Hawk to get drunker or for one of us to come up with a plan that will get us out of this mess.
“Yes,” Hawk replies. “You.”
“You need him alive,” Faina pipes up. “That’s why you didn’t kill him on the bridge.”
Hawk’s lips pull into a slow, cold smirk. “You’re a smart bitch, huh?”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Hawk scoffs and turns back to me. “Decades ago when I was just a squirt, I had deals with all the old Mafia leaders. It wasn’t enough to gain me the foothold I craved in New York, but it was enough for me to rake in money and get a lay of the land. And then the new blood moved up, people died, people took over, and my net shrank. But you, Cian. I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out already.”
My heart begins to beat faster and faster. “Worked out what?”
“You and I? We’re practically family.”
My stomach drops and my lips part. “What?”
He stares at me for a good few seconds, then bursts out laughing. “Not by blood or anything like that, don’t you worry.” He guffaws. “Your face. Holy shit. Fucking gullible or what? But in all seriousness.” He sobers instantly. “Your father was a great man and we had a few good deals in the past. Deals that made a lot of money that he sank into those ranches of yours.”
“My… father?” I repeat.
Hawk nods. “Yup. Of course, back then…”
His words fade to the background as a roaring fills my ears and my mind races. There’s no way in hell my father had any dealings with this man. Not because he would be against it but anyone who knows Irish history, anyone who really had a deal with my family, knew that my mother was the real Captain. My father was merely a go-between with any misogynistic pricks back in the eighties who couldn’t handle talking shop with a woman. If Hawk had ever had dealings with the Giffords, he would know that.
So what shit is he trying to pull?
“I’m sure you can imagine how exhausting that was!” Hawk’s laughter draws me back to his rambling and I blink as the roaring dies down in my mind.
“Yes. You… you’ve lost me. You want to make a deal because you had dealings with my father in the past, is that it?”
Annoyance bleeds across Hawk’s face. “To an extent. I need a figurehead in the States, Cian, and given our connected history, I thought I would throw you a bone. After all, you survived that bombing. You’ve got more guts than any other Yankie I know.”
“That and no one in the States will ever do business with you again, will they?” Faina remarks from across the table. “Your anger screwed you over, didn’t it?”
Hawk slams his hand down on the table, making all the plates and glasses jump. “I’m notspeakingto you!” he yells.
“Think about it, Cian,” Faina continues on. “He slaughtered your family. He’s slaughtering mine. He’s ranting about morals this entire time because too many people were loyal to either one of us, even the Italians.”
“Shut up!” Hawk yells.
“He’s made himself the devil and no one in New York will want to deal with him.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“He’s locked himself out of the market he’s been so desperate to get into!”
“I said shut up!” Hawk screams and he snatches up his gun, brandishing it wildly at Faina. “One more sound out of you andI will gut you and trail you behind this yacht until the sharks are hungry!”
It clicks suddenly in my mind.
That’s why he needs a figurehead. He doesn’t need representation. He needs me on his side so that he can continue building his criminal empire. Nothing would gain him favor faster than having a Gifford by his side after that massacre.
Faina’s right. He didn’t kill me on the bridge because my survival suddenly presented him with an opportunity to fix his mistake. He laid out the breadcrumbs, and blinded by my own revenge, I followed.
“I’ll do it.”
