Page 60 of Dirty Legacy

I slam a fist into the bookshelf. An old volume of poetry tumbles out and hits the floor. “Two of my men are dead and they’re only the first. All because I couldn’t do as I was told.”

Marcus lets out a breath and drinks. “How is she doing anyway?”

“Angie’s fine. Bored, but fine.”

“That’s good. I know you’re carrying a lot of weight right now. I don’t want to be up your ass either, but we have to talk.”

I take a moment. It has been a long, stressful day. Getting Angie’s mother settled was only one tiny fraction of the shit I’ve been shoveling. A brawl in one of my restaurant properties, a drive-by shooting that mercifully didn’t come to blood, dozens of calls and angry texts from various important people across the city.

“The Gallaghers are going scorched earth,” I say, getting myself together. I think about Angie’s body pressed against mine in the shower. The warmth of her, the gentle way her hands moved over my skin, cleaning me, going lower⁠—

“No kidding. They’re livid. Can you blame them?”

“Sinead never needed me. She could marry anyone else in the Whelan family and be just as happy.”

“Probably, but you left her at the altar. Maybe if it had happened a few days earlier, you could’ve saved face. But now?”

“Now it’s blood.” I breathe in through my nose and blow it back out. “Tell me who to call. I’ll handle them.”

Marcus taps out a message and sends it to me. “Check your phone later. You know most of those names. I don’t think it’ll take much more than some promises that things will go back to normal soon.” He hesitates, drinks, and looks at me. “It will go back to normal soon, right?”

I sink back into my chair behind my desk. “How do you think this ends?”

He considers, turning toward the window. I’ve known him for a very long time, and I’m positive he’s worried, even if he’s trying to bury it under bravado. He probably thinks I’ve lost my fucking mind.

Marcus is slick. He’s all about deals, investments, and properties. Thanks to his advice, I’ve grown the legitimate side of our family in equal measure to the illegal half.

But he knows what really drives the Maguires. It’s not his dealmaking.

It’s always been fire and death.

“The Gallaghers won’t let it go easily. They’ll want tribute. Probably more than you can afford.”

“If I pay them off, I lose face. I look weak.”

“Definitely can’t do that. But what’s the alternative?”

“I kill them.” I look at my glass, at the light cutting through the amber bourbon. “Burn them to the ground.”

“Maybe,” Marcus says but he doesn’t sound convinced. “They’re too important though.”

“The Gallaghers are old and entrenched, but they aren’t strong. They haven’t been for years. There’s a reason they agreed to marry Sinead off to me.”

He angles his glass toward me. “Fair point. Why sell her so cheap otherwise?”

“Don’t be a prick. The Gallaghers have some sway still, but they aren’t the powerhouses they once were. In a straight fight, I can win.”

“Where will that leave us? We have a good reputation right now. The other families think they can safely do business with us, but if you start murdering the Gallagher brothers in the street⁠—“

I grunt in frustration. He’s right. If Deck were here, he’d be saying we could cut all their throats and nobody would even care, but Marcus is more strategic.

“I am not giving up Angelina, and I am not letting the Gallaghers break me. There has to be a way.”

“We’ll find it.” He takes a long drink. “Probably, eventually.”

There are no answers anywhere as I ascend the stairs of my overly large mansion and pause at the top. I look right, toward where Rowan, Dad, and Danielle are staying. I should visit them, check in, make sure everyone’s alright.

But I know the questions Dad will ask, the complaints Danielle will casually toss my way, and how hard Rowan will try to act like she’s perfectly fine even if this is all a fucked-up mess, and I can’t face it.