“Really?” Fionn smiled wickedly, and fuck if it didn’t remind Conall of Killough. “According to the soldier guarding your door, you sure were moaning loudly last night in the shower while Sloan was in there with you.”
Conall gnashed his teeth together but forced a smile of his own on his face. “Are you sure it wasn’t your uncle moaning like a bitch?”
“Sloan doesn’t make noises. None of his pets could get him to moan, and I highly doubt you’re the one who’ll do it.”
The maid returned, a pitcher of orange juice with ice clutched in her hands. “Here we are, sirs.” She grabbed one of the glass flutes sitting on the table in front of Fionn, filling it, before doing the same to the other in front of Conall. She also filled a third glass. If she noticed the tension in the room, she didn’t act like it. A grin still spread across her face, her joyous disposition was odd in a mansion full of serious mobsters.
“I’ve received word that the boss is on his way down.” She took a moment to glance at Fionn. A warning, perhaps? “He’ll be here shortly.”
“Thank you, Aideen.” Fionn sent her a dazzling smile.
With a bow, she left again.
Conall grabbed his drink, taking a sip. The freshly squeezed juice teased his taste buds. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted something so fresh. Maybe he never had, because he couldn’t remember ever having juice like this before.
“Was Harold Irish?” Conall asked before he could stop himself. The image of Harold’s terrified face flashed in front of his eyes. He realized he wasn’t upset about it, even though he’d never seen a man die before, but the smell of his blood still lingered in his nose.
“Do you honestly think a man like him would be Irish?” Fionn crossed his legs at his knees and took a sip of his own drink.
“I thought the mob only allows Irish bloodline in it.”
Fionn laughed, but unlike his grin, his laugh sounded different from Killough’s. It was lighter, not as sinister or as deep. “Harold was an associate. He was a runner.”
So Conall was right. “What did he do?”
“That’s something you’ll find out later today.” Killough’s rough voice sent a shiver down Conall’s spine. He didn’t look at him until a hand grasped his shoulder, squeezing it. “We’re visiting the docks.”
“Why?” Conall frowned up at him. Killough looked good this morning. He didn’t have his suit on, instead wearing soft slacks and a short-sleeved black T-shirt. His feet were bare, which was probably why Conall hadn’t heard him come in.
“We have old friends to visit, pet.” Killough grinned and took a seat next to Conall. He picked up the third glass of juice Aideen had poured and took a sip. “Mm. Delicious.”
Fionn cleared his throat. “Are you sure taking him is a good idea? He could be a rat.”
Conall rolled his eyes. “I am right here, you know?”
“Yes, unfortunately you are.” He gave Conall’s upper body a once-over, a flicker of disgust crossing his face.
Killough’s gaze shot to Fionn, and Fionn swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He tilted his head forward slightly, and it appeared to be an apology, because Killough smiled again.
“Harold betrayed us by giving the Italians the location of where our drugs enter the city. He also gave them the names of the customs agents who worked for us, resulting in their deaths. The DEA is now hanging around the port because they believe it’s mob and drug related.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to tell him that, Sloan?” Fionn asked. He switched a glare to Conall. “He may be your pet, but we don’t know if he’ll betray us.”
Conall dropped his glass on the table and leaned forward. “I’m not an idiot. I helped my brother run one of your whorehouses. If I wanted to rat on you, I would have done it a long time ago.”
Fionn’s brows rose. “Are you one of the brothers that run the Exotic Virtue?”
“Yeah, I am.”
He shook his head. “That explains a lot. Did you know your earnings are considerably a lot less than our other whorehouses? You could be keeping the money.”
Anger swept through him like a river, cold and hot at the same time. “I’m not a fucking idiot, and neither is my brother. Only idiots steal off Killough.”
Killough held up his hand when Fionn opened his mouth again, and Fionn’s jaw clicked closed. He pursed his lips, glared at Conall, and went back to staring at the drink in his hand.
Aideen returned, her black dress fluttering around her knees. She grinned at them, two plates in her hands. She put one in front of Fionn, then Sloan the other, before she left again. Pancakes covered with a drizzle of maple syrup, as well as strawberries and raspberries, filled their plates, with a side of fried egg. The sight of it made Conall’s belly rumble, and he looked at the door that Aideen had disappeared through. Would she bring another for him?
Killough slid his chair away from the table and patted his lap. “Come, pet, we’ll share.”
