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Mick shook his head. “They’re tasked with catching their serial killer. Jack’s MO won’t match. NYPD will be handling this. Organized crime unit, no doubt.”
“And?” McKenzie asked, impatient. “Will they find anything?”
“Jack is very thorough,” Mick replied, clearly perturbed that his boss’s work was being called into question.
Mick and I had been scouring the streets all night. Everywhere but Italian neighborhoods, which we were careful to avoid. I wanted to go in, but Mick wouldn’t let me. Now I wished he would’ve. We’d found out we had been just a few blocks from Jack’s latest attack. If I could’ve been there…
I didn’t care if it was before or after he had killed the five mafiosos. He wouldn’t want to see me, but I just needed to be sure he was uninjured. I’d let him go after that.
Everyone was scrambling, trying to formulate a defensive strategy. It was a matter of time before Nicoletti responded to twelve of his men being taken out. Mick was positive he wouldn’t know it was Jack, but I didn’t have as much faith. I didn’t see how it was possible to kill twelve people on your own and not leave a trace. Jack had been missing four days now. He wasn’t thinking straight. He was bound to mess up, especially if he kept going at it.
“Then why the fuck are we lookin’ fer the rogue bastard?” McKenzie asked, speaking to the rest of the group. “Let him do his worst. If he catches the Babau, great. If he gets himself killed, good riddance.”
There was an uproar from the O’Connells, but my voice rang loudest.
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
Peter McKenzie had been grilling everyone in turn for the past hour. It was seven in the morning and I hadn’t slept again. I was growing impatient, pouring myself into the search for Jack. Whenever I wasn’t thinking of Jack’s well-being or location, my mind was devoted to surviving Luca Nicoletti. I was forever stuck inside my head, meticulously planning for my meeting with him.
One and a half days, Emma. Tick-tock.
McKenzie moved nearer, his glare vitriolic. Beside me, Eoghan and Mick tensed. I lifted my hand, signaling for them to back off. They were my words, and I alone would pay the price for them. I was slowly but surely learning to own up to my actions, to face the consequences with my head held high. Ella had helped me realize I was more than capable of surviving whatever these men threw my way. Irish or Italian, it didn’t matter. They all wore the same cloak of arrogance. False bravado would always be their downfall.
“You think…” McKenzie started, stopping with his nose a foot from mine. Everyone’s eyes were on us, but I didn’t falter. “Just because Jack’s been dipping his dick in your little cunt…you can speak to me like that?”
Punching a man was nothing like hitting the bag at the gym. Lightning exploded across my knuckles and into my arm, but I didn’t let the pain show. I hit McKenzie right in the mouth and his head snapped back. A few others had been about to do the same, but I beat them to it. This was my fight. Not to mention, good practice for what was to come. If I couldn’t take on the likes of Peter fucking McKenzie, I had no hope of surviving Don Luca.
McKenzie probed his bottom lip. When he pulled his fingers away, I was proud to see blood staining them.
“Go n-ithe an cat thú,” I hissed in Irish. “Is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat.”
It was a phrase Jack had taught me during our vacation in Santorini. May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat. Reserved for enemies, it meant the utmost disrespect.
For a moment, I thought McKenzie would strike me. Instead, his mouth broke into a wide grin. He tilted his head back, laughing riotously, both hands on his gut. A few others began to chuckle, but Jack’s three lieutenants stayed silent and still, at the ready.
“Ye really are the Emerald Angel, aren’t ye?” Peter McKenzie wheezed, his eyes shining with amusement. “Ye remind me o’ me wife!”
I forced a polite smile. McKenzie returned to his spot in the circle. Kieran winked in my direction. Mick cleared his throat from behind me, patting my shoulder once.
“Well.” Kieran clapped, drawing the attention back to himself. “Anyone else have any misgivings about finding Jack?”
Everyone shook their heads, eyes on Kieran.
“All right.” Kieran rubbed his palms together. “Let’s get to work, fuckwads.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emma
Eoghan and Cathal led the Murrays on the first combined shift to find and subdue Jack. When he was found, I would be the first call. Although I was adamant that we were broken up, Mick believed I was the only one who stood a chance at talking Jack down from his homicidal ledge.
Kieran, Mick and I spent most of the day at the pier. A shipment of arms due for Shanghai needed to be prepared. The Triads were an account the O’Connells couldn’t lose. Mick let me tag along, saying he wanted to keep an eye on me anyway.
I walked around with a tablet, making sure the numbers on the military-grade crates matched the ones on the screen. It was Willie work, but I was grateful at having something to do. No one would let me join the other crew until it was absolutely necessary.
When the sun began to set, Mick forced me into the back of an SUV, ordering me to go straight to Jack’s, eat something and rest. He warned that the front desk would call him if I chose to leave. I couldn’t help but visualize the clock ticking down. I knew I would be more beneficial if I got some sleep, but even blinking seemed wasteful at a time like this.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stumbled into Jack’s apartment. I rummaged through the pantry for a Pop-Tart—Jack kept junk food on hand for me—and shoved it in my mouth. Fia roamed around my legs, seeking affection, but I was scared if I bent down to give him a scratch, I would pass out on the floor.
