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Róisín nods enthusiastically. “I’d do you.” The words spill from her lips without thought, but they give me pause, and her clothing choices start to make sense.
Emylyah flutters her eyebrows and poses with one beautifully manicured hand splayed on her jutting hip. “I might have to borrow this and wear it for Niko.”
Jeez! Maybe Róisín really is trying to set me up to seduce her brother.
I don’t have long to dwell on the fact, since she’s already hopping up off the bed and heading for the door.
“Right, let’s get out of here…”
Chapter Eighteen
CIARAN
My brother is still wound full of tension as we head for the meet with the Radaeva brothers and Maximilian Smith who uses the idiotic moniker Million. Bloody eejit makes himself look like a tool, if you ask me, flaunting his wealth in his name like he has to advertise it for everyone to see.
But he’s in tight with the Eastern European Bratva, and he’s got powerful connections he’s recently brought with him from the West Coast. Plus, he’s looking for allies, so we can’t afford to piss him off right now. Anyone new entering the game, we need on our side, not colluding with the Viper.
You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
There’s no such thing as true friends between the conflicting organizations, but there is a certain, almost parasitic, symbiosis.
Since we Irish control Hell’s Kitchen, we also have control of all the docks south of the Lincoln Tunnel. Sure, there are some on the other side, but their owners are way pickier than us about what they allow in and out of their containers.
The ports are how we make the majority of our income now. Where our Da used to use them to transport his own illegals, we just offer the service to others. Conveniently turning a blind eye when we need to and facilitating some of the paperwork.
The one thing we won’t allow is human trafficking, which is yet another reason the Viper’s on the warpath, since it happens to be one of that snake’s favorite pastimes. When Callum and I took over from Da, we cut the head off his trading routes with great effect.
It hasn't stopped him, of course. But we’ve made things more difficult.
We roll up at what looks like a deserted diner. No lights are visible from the outside, but looks can be deceiving, and inside is a whole different matter.
This is a special place. Neutral territory.
It was designated as such years ago, during a decade of peace between each of the crime families, and it’s remained so to this day. The land and building are owned by a shell corporation we each have a share in - probably the closest the opposing outfits have ever come to a merger - and each of us pays into maintaining its facade.
Leaving our weapons at the door and stepping through the detection arch, we make our way through an elegant dining room to a single table where Nikolai, Darian, and Million already wait.
A waiter bustles around us, taking our drinks order as soon as we’re seated.
“Gentlemen,” Darian inclines his head, his eyes lingering on Callum for a fraction longer than necessary. Not something anyone would notice unless they were looking for it.
And I’ve been looking for it since I had my first suspicions.
Callum holds his gaze, then swiftly greets the others with an incline of his head. “Radaeva. Smith.”
Pleasantries over, we get down to business over the duration of a delicious three-course meal. Once we stop talking in circles - a suspicious trait indigenous to our lifestyle - we start to actually learn something.
“So, you’ve had outsiders stepping into your territory, too,” Nikolai sums up with a curt nod. “It has been the same for us. Men with no seeming links back to anyone.”
His pale stare bores into the two of us, and at our back, I sense, rather than see, Liam shuffle from one foot to the other with the tension that’s spiked within the room.
“Except they do,” I throw in, effectively dousing the agitation swirling between us all.
Niko’s eyes snap to mine. “What is that you know? Tell us.”
I cock a brow and take my time, staring him down as I take a leisurely sip of my whisky. He doesn’t get to think he can make me jump to his demands.
His eyes narrow, but he gets the message and leans back in his seat, easing the strain.
