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On my way to the ballroom, I ran into Kieran, who was exiting the library. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, much like mine. I hadn’t shed a tear since boyhood, but my body displayed all the physical evidence of grief. It was nothing in comparison to the knives raking against my chest, to the agony weighing down my heart.
Kieran gripped my dress shirt, his face screwed up in pain. His teeth were gritted, panic and rage seeping from his pores. “What do we do now?”
I placed my hand over his fist, squeezing once. “We kill them all.”
Chapter Eight
Emma
I rounded the corner of Canal Street, breathing a sigh of relief. I was officially out of Little Italy. There was something to be said for being off Nicoletti territory.
It had been a horrible mistake to visit Don Luca, just as much as the last time. I might’ve gotten the information I wanted, but I was starting to dig my own grave. I thought Nicoletti would know something about the murders, but I should’ve considered the very high possibility that he was involved. I was foolish for not thinking that one through. I had made my decision to see him out of desperation, and he knew it.
What had Amara said about Luca Nicoletti having a soft spot for me? Sure, Don Luca had wanted to meet with me last winter because of my relationship with Nate, but the don didn’t have a soft spot for anyone. He had a reptilian brain. I still hadn’t discovered a weakness, even though he was tallying mine against me.
Lost in my own head, I hadn’t walked five feet toward the subway before someone grabbed my arm and threw me into the backseat of an idling car. A scream clawed its way up my throat, but settled once I recognized Eoghan’s baseball cap.
“Want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing?” he roared, pinning me against the inside of the door, gripping my arms.
The look on his face was pure fire, the lines around his mouth set in stone as the SUV lurched into traffic. I struggled against him, glancing toward the front seat for help, but the driver was hired security. He would only answer to the O’Connells, which I was not.
“You’ve been following me?” I gasped, looking down at Eoghan’s hands digging into my biceps. The pain was sharpening. Any more pressure, and he would leave bruises.
“I’ve been tracking your phone,” he snapped, his hazel eyes boring into mine.
With his usual boyish smile and charming demeanor gone, I could see why Jack had assigned him as my guardian. He could flip the switch to ‘fatal’ as easy as his boss. Everyone in the O’Connell mob was capable of snapping a neck at the drop of a hat.
Eoghan knew where I’d been. Not all of it, of course. The Mafia had me leave my belongings in the hotel before sneaking me out through the back entrance. Still, Eoghan knew I’d visited a hotel owned by Luca Nicoletti and, from his point of view, I’d stayed there for hours.
My heart raced, throat constricting. If Jack knew who I was with… “Did you tell Jack?”
“Not yet,” Eoghan threatened. “He’s burying his brother tonight. How could you do this to him?”
I shook my head, arguing. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“You’ve been feeding information to the Mafia!”
Eoghan leaned forward, the door handle carving into my spine. The driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror, then went back to minding his own business. Out of the corner of my eye, the city spiraled past. People sped down the sidewalk in business attire, out for a quick lunch.
“No!” I flinched, tears welling in my eyes at the suggestion. “I can explain.”
“Go,” Eoghan ordered, his jaw twitching.
I shook my head again, looking toward the driver.
Eoghan understood my hesitation. “Take us to Roisin’s,” he ordered.
The driver nodded once, putting his blinker on.
Eoghan let me sit properly in the seat, but kept his hand wrapped around my biceps. He wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.
* * * *
When Shay set the custom vegetarian stew in front of me, I practically inhaled it. It was two o’clock, and I hadn’t eaten since the wake. Even then, it had just been a nibble when Jack had been watching. I’d thrown the rest of my plate out, my appetite diminished. It had felt disrespectful to eat in a room full of mourners.
“You’re telling me that you threatened the don of the New York fucking Mafia,” Eoghan repeated, eyeing me like he’d never seen me in the right lighting before. He tilted his seat back, arms crossed over his chest.
We were dining in the private room at Roisin’s. Both doors, the one to the dining area and the one to the kitchen, were shut. Shay had just dropped off our meals and exited via the kitchen. She’d given me a strange look. I hadn’t been in to work since we had left for Santorini, but no one asked questions. They knew there had been a death in the O’Connell family, and that the feds were poking around.
