“Same thing, isn’t it?” he asks. He takes a swig of his drink, eyes crinkling with amusement. “So, how’s it feel being Clan Chief while the boss is off honeymooning with his missus?”
I grunt, reaching for my whiskey. “It’s my worst fucking nightmare.”
“Come on. You’re telling me there’s no part of you that enjoys being in charge? Calling the shots? Having lads like me at your beck and call?”
“I’m telling you I’d rather be in the ring getting my face rearranged than deal with the politics of this shit. The underworld is more formal than the fucking city council—which makes it funnier that those snobby fucks look down on us.”
Sean laughs, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Gotta say, Iwassurprised when Ronan tapped you for it.”
“He wanted Lochlan. But you know the deal there.”
A brief beat of awkward silence follows.
Sean’s face turns as red as his hair as he clears his throat and downs the rest of his whiskey in a single gulp. Then he reaches for his Guinness and polishes that off too.
There’s no need to ponder about his sudden discomfort—heisfucking Loch’s ex-wife after all.
Has been sincebeforethey were ever divorced, if the rumors are true.
Turns out, Cara could hardly wait ’til her husband was locked up and she had freedom for the first real time in adulthood. She filed for divorce and started up an affair with one of his buttonmen as if that wasn’t going to be awkward as hell the moment it inevitably got out.
“Yeah… err… well…” Sean stammers finally. “I get why he wouldn’t be interested. Lucky you.”
“Lucky fucking me.”
I drain the rest of my whiskey and set the glass down almost as hard as the new server girl had. Across the pub, I catch her glancing over at our table again. Third time in the last ten minutes.
What’s her deal? Why is she looking over here if she’s so keen to escape as soon as she’s flagged over?
As if shocked by electricity, she flinches and looks away the second she catches me catching her. The instant she realizes I see her staring and I’m glaring back.
She returns to serving a slumped idiot at the bar counter as if she wasn’t just watching me.
I’m a paranoid fuck; I won’t pretend otherwise. But I didn’t survive this long by ignoring my instincts. The girl pings my bullshit meter, and I’ll be making a point to find out why.
Who the fuck is she, and why does she feel like trouble orbiting my space?
“At least things’re stable enough for now,” Sean continues, oblivious to my distraction. “The crews are in line. Shipments are moving. We’re raking in dough. No major fires to put out.”
“Except the Bratva.”
Sean’s expression dims. “Right, which I guessisa major fire, isn’t it?”
It’s the unfortunate truth we’ve grappled with for weeks.
The Russians have been a thorn in our side ever since things went south with a couple deals that had been brokered.
Lochlan was behind the situation—as well as some excommunicated, former Italian capo who got his face blown off—but as far as the Raguzins are concerned, the entire clan is responsible.
One Irish fucks with them, all Irish are responsible.
Since then, we’ve been dealing with escalating tensions and small skirmishes that are sure to grow if the temperature’s not turned down.
“I’ve arranged a meeting with Rurik,” I say. “At Gossier’s. Neutral ground.”
Sean’s brows shoot up. “You? A diplomatic meeting? Thought I’d see pigs fly before the boneman played negotiator.”
“Keep running your mouth and you’ll see my fist fly into your fucking teeth.”
