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At first, the tranquility inside this Irish castle was calming—a much-needed break from the whirlwind of the past two weeks—but now restlessness has caught up with me, along with all the frustration that I was ignoring in the name of rest.
Why did I leave? I should have fought to the death for what’s mine. What am I, a coward?
“You did the right thing, coming here,” Cyrus assures me, taking a small sip from his glass of bourbon. “Whatever’s going on in Cali isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before. You can’t deal with something like that alone.”
“I should be able to do anything I want on my own,” I growl. My old school mate can feel the agitation in my body language. I imagine that’s why he brought me down to his cozy office. A grey drizzling rain taps lightly against a large window and a fire crackles in front of us. My untouched glass of Irish whiskey sits on the dark mahogany desk beside me. I’m not touching any alcohol until I figure this all out. “I’ve always been alone before, what’s the difference now?”
“You mean, besides the girl?” Cyrus teases.
Anyone else making that comment might have caused me to fly off the handles, but I know Cyrus doesn’t mean anything bad by it. He was always the Casanova back in school; he knows what it’s like to fall for someone, even if he doesn’t know the whole story behind me and Catalina.
“If it wasn’t for the girl, I’d already be dead,” I grumble.
“How so?”
I huff out the anger building inside of me. “After I was told that my buildings had been captured, that they were being burned to the ground, a part of me just wanted to say fuck it; rush back into the city with my guns and go out in a blaze of glory. The curiosity of finding out who’s been behind this all disappeared, completely overtaken by my rage... but I couldn’t leave Catalina like that. She’s involved in this, too, and she may be tough, but she’s not like me. She can’t take care of herself in the dark world I’ve dragged her into.” I instinctively reach for my glass, but think better of it. I’m still no closer to uncovering the truth.
“That’s what a good girl will do for you,” Cyrus nods. “She’ll keep you alive.”
I lean back in my chair and pinch the bridge of my nose. The Irishman means well, but he should know better than anybody that, in our profession, it’s often better to feel like you’re already dead. The dead are cold and remorseless, but Catalina’s warmth has seeped its way deep inside of me, and it’s melting more and more of my defences every day.
It’s why I’ve been trying to keep her at arm’s length for the past few days. I need to stop thawing, it’s too painful, too distracting. The ice needs to freeze back over my heart before I can let her in again, otherwise, I might never have the guts to do what needs to be done.
Cyrus’s phone buzzes on the table between us and he casually picks it up. I let him read his messages in silence. He’s been dealing with his own problems lately. There’s a small insurgency among his ranks, too, but it’s not nearly as bad as mine. I should be happy for him, but it only serves to make me feel all the more pitiful.
He can deal with his homestead, but mine has been burned to ashes? We’ve always been on equal footing before, so what’s changed? Is it me, or have I really come up against someone that’s my equal... or worse, my superior?
I dig my nails into my palms, furious at the thought that I’ve let anyone get the better of me.
“Hmm,” Cyrus brushes his lip and places his phone back down on the table. “Have you ever heard of a man named Enzo Barella?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “Why?”
“It seems that a man who goes by that name might be behind the troubles I’ve been having...” Cyrus strokes his chin. “But what would an American want in Ireland?”
A sudden revelation flashes across my chest like a bolt of lightning. “An American!?”
Cyrus nods.
“The man I killed just outside of Catalina’s home town was American... Alligator boots... You don’t think our problems could be connected, do you?”
Cyrus furrows his brow and grabs at his phone again. “Maybe,” he grumbles. “Let me get some more info. From what I’ve just been told, Enzo has been funding my competitors. Apparently, he was also the one who arranged their alliance in the first place. For some reason, he seems to want to get me out of the picture. Luckily, he doesn’t appear to know enough about the local tribes around here to be too effective. Their alliances quickly fell apart due to in-fighting. No American was going to bypass a bunch of century-old beef between Irishmen. Not for long, anyway. You know how stubborn we can be.”
I’m up on my feet in an instant. My frustration melts in the heat of a newfound concentration. This is the first time I’ve had anything even resembling a clue.
“Could the same guy have influenced the gangs in and around Cali to rise up against you?” Cyrus asks, putting his phone back down again. He rises to his feet to join me as I pace back and forth in his castle office.
“No,” I shake my head. “Even together, they’re not strong or clever enough to have done what they did. Plus, that doesn’t explain all of my men disappearing without a trace. I got those texts, remember? The ones that warned me to leave the country—for some reason, I don’t think all of my missing men are dead. It’s just a gut feeling, but who else could have sent those texts? It had to be one of my guys, and if he cared enough to tip me off, he must not have turned on me, he must have been forced away.”
“Threatened?” Cyrus chimes in.
“You said Enzo bartered a truce between your rivals, do you know how?” I ask.
Cyrus shakes his head. “But I’ve already told my men to make finding out their top priority.”
“Why would an American be trying to gain footholds in Colombia and Ireland? Isn’t there enough land in, you know, fucking America?”
“You know those Americans,” Cyrus shakes his head with a smirk, “always so obsessed with power. They all want to be #1. Could their criminals be much different?
