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Belle Tate.
I shake my head as I pull my car into the parking garage of O’Leary Shipping. It’s stupid to let one girl affect me as much as I’m letting her but fuck if that’s not what I’m doing. Maybe I have some of that stupidity Ryan O’Leary has when it comes to women.
I walk to my private elevator, nodding to the security officers and head upstairs. If Donovan Tate knows what’s good for him, he won’t screw this up. I’m not doing this for him anyway, and he will never get a second chance if he pisses me off.
Not even a little curvy red head who is too pure for the world she’s growing up in can save him if he fails me.
CHAPTER 6
KILLIAN
I slap my phone down on my desk when I hear a knock at the door. This better be Donovan. I wasn't impressed when he failed to keep his appointment, and then going to his home to find he wasn’t there made it worse. When you have a meeting, you don't get to be late. Not with me.
"Come in," I order. I lean back in my chair watching Donovan as he hovers in the doorway for a second. My muscles are tight with anticipation. Something about all this feels off, and it has me on edge, but I don't show weakness. That's why I am where I am. I make sure that I just look bored, irritated with my wasted time and this meeting.
Donovan walks in, and his appearance just confirms my suspicions. His cheeks are more hollow than usual, the bags under his eyes scream out that he hasn't been sleeping, and his clothes are disheveled. For what he gets paid as a driver, there’s no way he should be no walking around looking like we just picked him up off the street. If you work for this family appearance matters. I’m not sure who this guy was when he won Ryan O’Leary’s trust, but it’s clear that he’s not the same person these days. There's no room for mistakes in this business. Falling into a bottle or doing something worse, results in fucking sloppy work. What I’m looking at right now screams that’s what this man is. I've heard talk that he turns around and puts all his money back into his bookie's hand, leaving him scraping by and leaving his daughter twisting in the wind. That pisses me off more than anything else.
"Mr. O’Leary, sir, thank you for seeing me," he says, looking way too confident for my taste. What I notice, however, is that though his hand is hidden under his hat, he’s tightening it into a fist, releasing, and doing it again. He’s also refusing to look me in the eye. In fact, he’s looking anywhere but at me directly, "I apologize for missing our previous meeting. I had an errand to run for Orla O’Leary that took precedence."
That news is surprising, but I refuse to let it show. His failure to appear is a sign of disrespect, and as such, I give him a dismissive wave. His apology means nothing to me.
"Sit down and tell me about Bones," I demand, leaning forward on the desk. "Why should I hire him to work this job when it's already been planned out?"
"We're related, sir, distantly related, but we work well together to get shit done," Donovan says. "We worked several jobs together back in the day that went well for Mr. O'Leary."
"Which job did you work?" I ask. If it's before me and this guy is smart, he won't share details. If he shares details with me, he might not mind sharing details about this job with someone he shouldn't.
"It was before you were…uh…here, sir," he says. He leaves it at that, but I like it. He knows not to discuss family work. That, at least, shows a little professionalism.
"What does Bones do?" I lean an elbow on the desk, watching him closely, waiting for the warning bells to go off. I don't want to hire them regardless of their past experience with the family. I should just say no, but I want to help Belle leave that rat-hole she’s living in.
"Bones has his own crew, the Phoenix Warriors, a one percent MC club out west." He's back to wringing his hands together—although trying to hide it from me by keeping his hands low and trying to shield it with my desk. He clearly wasn't expecting me to ask questions.
"How many is he pulling in?" I ask. I watch his jaw tick as his nerves start to kick into high gear. He thinks he's hiding it, but when he talks, I can see the missing teeth, the damage done to his other ones. His daughter deserves better. He needs rehab not a job providing him money to worsen his habit. We don't do that, though. If you're dumb enough to get mixed up into the product, that's on you. It just helps weed out the men that can't handle this work.
