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“That fucker isn’t worth protecting,” the taller one said. “He’ll shoot you as soon as look at you.”
“Your father had it coming,” Ralphie spat. “That arrogant bastard thought he could get one over on old Ralphie, but who’s the one who laughed all the way to the bank?”
Aidan shoved Ralphie away from him and leveled his gun at his back. “See, Ralphie, I hate double-crossers. They always come back to bite you in the ass.”
“Aidan, no. Wait!”
Ralphie spun around, but his protestations wouldn’t have made much difference. Before he even choked out the words, he had bullets flooding his body from the two men at the door, and he dropped to the floor like lead, eyes wide and glassy.
“And you two.” James brought his aim back to one man’s chest as Aidan did the same. “You’ll join him if you don’t explain. Fast.”
“We don’t have any beef with you,” the tall one said. “We’ve been tracking Ralphie since he shot our father and stole our stash a few months ago.”
Aidan cocked his head, considering. “If I ever see your faces in Philly again, you’ll leave in body bags. And Callahan eyes are everywhere.”
The men exchanged a wide-eyed look before shoving through the door and peeling out of the parking lot. James tucked his gun back into its holster, and Aidan heaved a dramatic sigh.
“I hate when I’m taking care of bodies when I expected cash.”
James shook his head and dug out his phone. “I’ll call McGee to come clean up. What about the employees?”
Aidan shook his head. “It’s Mafia owned. They won’t talk. But I’ll call Leo to make sure he knows what went down.”
By the time McGee pulled into the parking lot with his white panel van and descended on the scene to scrub it clean of evidence, the day was creeping toward twilight. Satisfied that everything was handled and the Falcones knew what had gone down on their turf, James followed Aidan out of the gravel lot and turned left where Aidan went right.
Brogan would do a little more digging on the two men once McGee got him some fingerprints from the front door, make sure no one would come looking for them and make a bad deal worse by starting a skirmish they’d have to finish. No one wanted to waste time and resources settling out-of-town scores with strangers who couldn’t bother to keep their petty squabbles in their own cities.
James pulled into the lot of the pub and cut the engine. When he reached for his keys, he noticed a faint smattering of blood over the back of his hand. He rummaged in the glove box for a napkin to wipe it off before he went inside.
A normal person might have felt guilt or shame at seeing a man killed and being prepared to kill two more. But defending his family and their interests had never caused James to lose a moment’s sleep. It wouldn’t tonight either.
He looked up through the windshield when the kitchen door opened and watched Delaney carry a bag of trash to the dumpster. Her smile was bright when Addy opened the door to let her back in, mouth moving fast as they chatted about something.
The lack of guilt, the knowledge that he’d kill a hundred times over, sell guns to more killers, do whatever it took to maintain the Callahan reign over Philadelphia was exactly why he could never let himself get as close to Delaney as he wanted to.
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t sleep for dreaming about her. He was as dangerous to her as whatever she was running from.
ChapterTwelve
Delaney was dead on her feet as she dragged herself out of her car, hauling the heavy bag on her shoulder to the side door of the motel. Their swing shift help had called in sick with the flu, so Clara stayed late while Delaney came in a little early. She was looking forward to a couple days off her feet, even if she was stuck spending it in this dump.
She glanced at the faded keypad that was supposed to keep out anyone who wasn’t a paying guest, but it had stopped working long before she’d checked in, and the door was used freely by pretty much anyone who wanted to. She consoled herself with the fact that her room was at least around the corner and felt bad for the people whose rooms sat right next to the door.
She dug her key out of her back pocket as she turned down the hall for her room, slipping it into the slot and waiting for the light to go green. When it stayed stubbornly red, she rolled her eyes. Come on. She wanted a shower and a bed and the leftover steak she’d brought back from the Orchid.
Tugging the key out, she wiped it on her jeans and jammed it back in hard, a trick that worked at least half the time. The light finally went green, and she turned the handle. She knew something was wrong as soon as the door cracked a scant inch.
She always left the light on by the door. In fact, she left most of the lights on along with the old TV nearly 24/7 so it always sounded like someone was there. The TV flashed blue into the room, but the lights were off.
She’d started to back out of the doorway when suddenly someone yanked it open from the other side. His grin was wide and revealed several missing teeth, the rest rotting right out of his head. Throwing the box of food at him, she leapt away, but he was faster, and he grabbed for her wrist.
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
The single sentence sent an icy chill down her spine, and she kicked at him, struggling against his impossibly strong grip when he tried to haul her into the room. She didn’t know what the fuck he wanted, money or something she was even less willing to give him, or who the mysterious ‘we’ were, but she was not going to let them get her behind a closed door.
“Stop struggling, you bitch. You know you want what we’re gonna give you.”
His hand found her breast and squeezed, and she gasped, flailing out with her arms until her elbow connected with his nose. His head snapped back, giving her a jolt of satisfaction, but it was short-lived when she saw the violence in his eyes.
