“This is on both of us,” Raider shot back, meaning every word. But he had to stay on track. What the heck was in that journal? What did Sean know? He followed the logic. “The elder Coonan died, what? Maybe three months ago?” Wasn’t that the first time Jonny and Josh had visited the small farming community? “What information do you have that his son lacks? And is it Eddie Coonan sending these guys to blow up your barn, or are they working their own angle?” If they were on their own, Brigid’s life just became more precarious.
Sean’s lids half lowered as the plane began to descend. “When we land, we’re going our separate ways. I’ll get my girl back.”
Oh, hell no. “Good luck with that,” Raider said.
The plane landed with a soft bump and rolled to a stop at a private airstrip outside the city. Sean was up and out of his seat to open the door, quickly bounding down the stairs.
Raider followed more sedately, not surprised to see Angus Force, Clarence Wolfe, and Malcolm West waiting patiently against a black Chevy Suburban, all three with weapons strapped to their thighs. Roscoe sat on his haunches next to Force, the German shepherd’s gaze alert and sharp. It was the first time Raider had seen the dog actually at attention.
Sean paused at the bottom of the steps, his gaze on the animal.
Raider drew abreast of him and made quick introductions before taking in the vehicle. The SUV was riddled with bullet holes and had several long scratches across the hood. The back window was covered with a black tarp, and the tires lacked hubcaps. Yep. It was exactly what he’d expect for their unit.
“That’s a piece of crap,” Sean muttered.
True. Very true. “Nice plane, though,” Raider said to Force. “Good connection.”
“Wasn’t mine,” Force returned easily. “Nari had a friend of a friend. Turns out the shrink is good for something.”
Those two should just get a room and get it over with. Raider refrained from making the comment and instead gestured Sean forward. “If you like our ride, just wait until you see our offices.” Just how hard was he going to have to go at the guy to get the journal?
* * *
As a mob house, the mansion in Marblehead had a surprising country-family feel, with a stunning view of the Atlantic Ocean. Brigid sat in a cozy home office with fireplace, view of a wide stone terrace that led down to the water, and comfortable furnishings. Everything was nice but not over-the-top.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” Eddie Coonan asked again from the leather chair that was across a sofa table from her own.
“I don’t think so. This is my first kidnapping,” she said, tugging down her now dry T-shirt picturing the cast ofThe Big Bang Theory. Her leggings were dry, but her bare feet still hadn’t warmed up.
Eddie grinned. He had to be in his early forties, with black hair, blunt features, and a flattened nose. He looked like one of those boxers from the early twentieth century, but intelligence shone in his deep blue eyes, and his diction sounded educated. There was something slightly off about the guy, but she couldn’t place what. “We’ll have to make it a good kidnapping, then.”
A chill slithered down her spine, and she hid it. “Did our fathers really work together?” Maybe if she could find common ground with him, he wouldn’t want to torture or kill her. Her mind kept making logical plans while her body heated and chilled, sending anxiety through her limbs. The disconnect was probably due to shock, but even knowing that fact didn’t help her grab onto reality. So she went with what she had. “Were they friends?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Your dad was a hell of an enforcer, believe me. I was just getting into the business then, after college, when he met your mom and decided he wanted out.” Eddie leaned forward. “Truth be told, I think it hurt my dad’s feelings. They were tight.”
She didn’t want to know what her father had done as an enforcer. As a dad, he’d been distant but loving. He’d done his best. “Something tells me people don’t just walk away from your, ah, organization.”
“Good insight,” Eddie said, reaching for a crystal glass of what smelled like whiskey, even across the table. He took a taste, swirled it around, and then set it down to pour a second glass. He nudged it across the table and gestured with his head for her to take it. Her hand shook, but she did so. He lifted his glass. “To our fathers.”
She clinked her glass with his and took a small sip. Warmth slid down her throat. She took another drink, just to warm up. “This is so strange.”
Eddie finished his glass. “It’s the new age of the mob. Our businesses are virtual, and we rarely get our hands dirty. Even a simple kidnapping can be civil, and death can be rendered quickly.” His eyes gleamed. “I’m a good friend to have, Brigid.”
She had enough friends. But she forced a smile, anyway. She knew more about the guy than he realized, and his hands were incredibly dirty. The ticking clock over her head nearly drove her crazy, but she fought to stay in character. “Your men just blew up my dad’s barn. Then one guy shot my dad.” Although he was still moving, so it obviously hadn’t been fatal. “But, my fiancé wants to work with you, so maybe this all will turn out okay.” If Eddie thought she wanted something from him, or that she was okay dating a criminal, then maybe he wouldn’t be worried she’d go to the police.
“I’ve looked into your fiancé.” Eddie sat back and crossed his legs in perfectly pressed black slacks. A crisp white button-down shirt covered his wide chest. “The guy has a past but seems to make money. A lot of blood on his hands.”
Had they overdone the cover identity? “He’s civilized now,” Brigid said. “Uses computers somehow.”
“And how do you fit in?” Eddie asked, looking her over.
She barely shoved away a shiver. “I don’t understand a lot of it, but I can make a good website. With pretty colors and a nice design.” Lying about her abilities burned her throat almost as much as her fear of the mob. “But he doesn’t usually need that, so I just freelance when I get the chance.”
A phone buzzed, saving her from trying to sound like an airhead any longer.
Eddie drew it out from his pocket and set it on the table between them before swiping across the face. “Eddie Coonan.”
“This is Raider Times. Where’s my woman?” Raider’s voice came through low and hoarse with that New York accent he’d used before.
