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“Thanks but no fucking thanks. I wouldn’t last two days in the bullpen without putting one of those bastards on their asses—IA would have me outta there quicker than a greased pig at a southern barbecue.”
“Your loss.” She sighed before adding, “Let me see what I can do… I’ll give one of my contacts a call and get back to you.”
“Thanks, Lane.” It was better than nothing. Though not by much.
“Stay outta trouble, Dani. And away from that club. Those guys have your face plastered across every back room and you don’t want that kinda attention in your line of work.”
“Yeah, I saw that. Speaking of…” I knew I shouldn’t. But the words were tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Can you look someone up for me? Wanna see if the fucker is worth the effort it’ll take to bring him in?”
“Sure… Got a name?” I could hear her rummaging through her desk, likely looking for a pen and a pad of paper.
“Yeah, MacCullagh. First name Connor.”
She hummed to herself and I wasn’t sure if it was a sound of familiarity or a lack of. “Never heard of 'em. Part of Mulligan’s crew?”
“Possibly. But I wanna know what I’m getting into before pissing off the Irish.” I was lying. And something told me she could sense it too. It wasn’t like me to give a fuck about the repercussions, not when there was a paycheck waving at me from the other side of the same line I was more than willing to cross for the right price.
She didn’t call me out on it though. Which meant one of two things. She was being polite; the Gallaghers were known for it. Tried to fuck her brother once and the bastard turned me down. Offered to take me on a proper date first or some shit—lost my lady boner real quick with that one. Or Little Miss Detective was playing hardball and wanted to figure out my angle before presenting her case.
At the moment, I didn’t care what her reasoning was as long as it got me results.
Who the fuck are you, Connor MacCullagh? And why the fuck do I even want to know?
8
“Who the fuck let Danica Rossi into my goddamn club?”
You could practically see the steam coming out of bossman’s ears as he tapped on the CCTV footage from a few nights back, his fingertip aimed at my mystery woman while his nostrils flared in a way that told me my ass was about to get chewed out. I couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. Because I finally had a name.
Danica.I liked the way it tasted on my tongue. It suited her somehow. Pretty but not delicate. And an ironic testament to her driving skills when she was weaving in and out of those back alleys in that van of hers.
Benny rewound the film a few hours before turning his glare back on Zeke and me, seeing as we were the ones in charge of checking IDs on the nights in question. “Not once. But fucking twice!” he hissed.
My mouth always got me in trouble and right now was no different. I didn’t understand what the point was of getting so worked up over something you couldn’t change. Judging fromthe vein pulsing in his forehead, I could only assume this guy’s blood pressure was through the roof.
“She someone important?” I could feel Zeke’s eyes boring a hole through the side of my face. But it wasn’t like that was ever enough to stop me. “'Cause I ain’t ever heard of her, Benny.” I shrugged.
“What that girl is, is fucking trouble. The Rossi family is blacklisted—something you two fuckwits should know by now.”
“Right, 'cept baby girl used a fake ID, then landed a cheap shot when I called her out on it.” The grumpy fucker in a suit two sizes too small raised a single eyebrow at my use of a pet name. I ignored him and shoved my foot further into my mouth. “Not much we coulda done about that. Once we caught on to her game, we followed protocol to the letter. The cops told us to drop it before we could get anything outta those tight lips of hers.”
“Fuck the cops. Why didn’t anyone call me?” There was that vein again. Fucker was on the verge of an aneurism at this rate.
“And say what?” Rocco chimed in. He was standing by the door, watching while doing fuck all to help us. “The chick never mentioned she was a Rossi, and my guys know better than to bother you with low-level bullshit like fake IDs.”
“Who was the cop?” Benny asked, his eyes narrowed in on me. God only knew why.
But at least the heat was off Zeke. He was the one who let my girl through in that cheap wig—even a blind man coulda seen through that disguise. Fucker probably got distracted by a nice set of tits. And, honestly, I couldn’t blame 'em. The memory was enough to have me swipe my tongue across my lips and check for drool.
“Gallagher,” Rocco answered for me.
“Fucking hell. Her uncle was on the books, but Delaney’s been a tougher one to break.” Benny was rambling now, saying more than he should in front of Zeke and me. Which meantmy girl must really have him on edge. “Bet that bitch pig knew exactly what she was doing when she told you to let Danica go. I’m gonna…” His eyes flicked in our direction, almost as if he forgot we were in the room, before the rest of his words died on his tongue. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll call in my nephew to clean up your mess.”
Great. Baby Mulligan was the opposite of what we needed right now. The kid was a halfwit with tiny prick syndrome—I’d never seen it myself but that shit was obvious the moment he opened his mouth and tried to throw his toddler-size balls around. His last name was his only saving grace. People feared it, nothim.
I pushed to my feet, tempted to ask a little more history on the Rossis—or at least one in particular—when Zeke tugged me through the door, down the hall, and out the back entrance.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he grunted the moment the fresh air smacked us across the face.
