“Forrest—”
Forrest dragged his chair closer. “My regular, Adrian, mentioned her. Apparently she showed up to his dad’s house. Probably should say mansion, because it’s definitely not a house.”
Rourke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Forrest, stay on track.”
“Right. She visited with an offer any politician can’t refuse. He needs good publicity, and she wants to take Killough down.”
Rourke had told Forrest before not to call their boss by his surname, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up again. “How?”
“Adrian didn’t hear much, but he did hear her tell his father that to bring Killough down, she’d need to start with his businesses. Specifically mentioned the Virtue.”
“What else did he have to say?” Rourke asked.
Forrest shrugged. “That’s it, because that’s all he heard. We fucked after that.”
Rourke winced. Of course he knew they fucked, he didn’t need to hear it, but now that he had, his skin prickled with a certain hate and jealousy that a good kid like Adrian didn’t deserve. He was just another guy caught in family dramas, and Rourke knew that feeling well. Rourke was the only reason his mom and sister hadn’t been slaughtered by Ardan, the hitman and assassin of the mob.
Rourke fell back into his chair and nodded. “Thank you, Forrest. That’ll be all.”
Forrest chewed on his bottom lip and swiped his blond bangs off his forehead. His smile curved gently at his lips, hesitant. “Did you want to have a drink? I know where Terrance stashes the good stuff.”
Rourke’s mouth twitched and he forced down the urge to grin. Forrest acted so innocent, and while he had a lot of admirable traits, innocence wasn’t one. “He’s going to catch you stealing his expensive bourbon someday soon.”
Forrest’s grin turned wicked. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m sneaky like that.”
“Forrest, don’t push your luck. I have alcohol here that we can drink.” He gestured to the bar.
“You’ve got good taste, Rourke, but none of them are like Terrance’s bourbon. He got it from Ireland the last time he visited his cousins over there. Have you tasted Irish whiskey? It’s fucking amazing.”
Rourke knew better than to argue with him about this. While Forrest listened to his orders most of the time, Rourke knew he wouldn’t win on this occasion.
Forrest grinned impishly, stood, and spun on his heel, walking back out the door. Rourke sighed, inwardly cursing Forrest’s mischievousness. He would get into serious trouble one day and there wouldn’t be a thing Rourke could do to help him.
With Forest out sneaking around Terrance’s office, Rourke headed to Conall’s room. They were all located on the third floor, with most of the whores’ rooms situated on the second. The only other people with rooms on the third were the highest earners, like Forrest.
With Conall being their new boss, Rourke wanted to give him the information first. He knew how the mafia worked, and he imagined Conall would find himself faced with men who didn’t respect him. To some of them, he’d never be anything more than the boss’s personal slut.
Three massive men guarded Conall’s door and they straightened when Rourke walked closer.
“What do you want, Tormey?” one of them asked. Rourke thought his name might have been Kieran or Kyle, but he wasn’t sure. He’d seen this guard around when Rourke did the dirty jobs for Sloan, the kinds of things that most of the other guys didn’t want to do. At that time, if it earned him Sloan’s trust, then Rourke would have done anything.
There was nothing special about this guard. His plainness made him blend into a crowd, with a simple face and low eyebrows. He didn’t stand taller than Rourke, and while he had bulk in case a situation got out of hand, he had a smaller stature compared to the other men standing beside him. He certainly didn’t have anything to be a smart ass about.
“I’m here to see Mr. Morrissey.”
The asshole snorted. “And what makes you think we’re gonna let you in? This is the boss’s pet’s private rooms. Who knows what you’ll try while you’re in there?”
Rourke kept his face impassive. The easiest way to deal with men like this was not to react. “I’m not interested in the boss’s pet.”
“You figure he’s ugly then?”
Rourke raised his eyebrows. “I’m not going to fall into your trap, Kyle.”
“Kieran.” His eyes narrowed. “My name is fucking Kieran.”
“Well,FuckingKieran, I’d like to talk to Mr. Morrissey about the Virtue’s business. If you could please tell him I’m here—”
“Fuck off, you fucking fag.”
