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“You’re a real fucking gob-shite,” I told him, feeling the Irish lilt enter my voice.
“Good to see you cuss like the family.” He said, chuckling some more. I hated that this amused him so much. “Tell me what she’s worth to you. Is she your woman? Have you decided to claim her?”
I thought about it. It wasn’t as big of a commitment as the words implied. Fidelity and everlasting promises weren’t expected of us. There were far bigger consequences for the women who got branded as belonging to someone. It meant that if she did find herself in the company of another man, it’d be open season on him to curry favor with a Green. I wasn’t sure how that would apply to any women though…
That made me smile. It satisfied something in my gut, so I said, “Yes. She’s mine.”
Eoghan’s grin was cold and cruel. Evil. All teeth, but not in the eyes.
“That’s fascinating, cousin,” he said, nodding to himself. “She must be quite magical.”
We were still negotiating.
“Tell me what you know.” I laid out my opening gambit. “And I’ll pay you. Cash.”
Eoghan outright laughed. “I have more cash than I can burn. Try again, dear cousin.”
“Tell me what you want.” I clenched my hand into a fist.
“You, back in the fold,” he said, leaning forward in his seat. His eyes were menacing like he was a cat about to pounce on a mouse.
“No,” I said, quickly. “But you help me find her, and I’ll owe you a favor. A marker.”
“A marker?” Eoghan said it as though he was tasting it on his tongue. “So if there’s a war, I can call you back to fight beside me?”
I nodded.
That was the real reason he wanted me back in the fold. Sure, there was a small allure to bringing a family member back in, but for Eoghan, the appeal was that I be by his side with my years of experience in the British SAS, and the even more extensive experience and contacts that I had as a private contractor for Caledonia Security.
He pondered for a moment. He was waiting me out, to see if the silence would make me crack. I didn’t let him win. I sat perfectly still, waiting. A grandfather clock chimed near the stone fireplace.Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock…
“A’right, Dairo.” He said with a nod, putting his hand out to me. We shook. The bargain was made. I expected to feel ambivalence. Maybe even dread. But I felt none of those things. Nothing that would overshadow my need to have my iron Rose in my hands.
I hoped that she was worth it. I knew the marker would come sooner rather than later. Eoghan had been gearing for a war with the bratva, training his men, running drills, paying more spies… He was ready to take down Anton Vasiliev, and his control over the New York City ports and underground smuggling. He just needed a spark.
He leaned forward and in a hushed tone, he whispered, “I have the coach.”
My eyes widened. “How in the fuck did you get him?”
“I had some men at the fight to spy on Vasiliev and Morosov.” He grinned, very pleased with himself. “When LeBlanc was shot, they pulled him out and brought him here. He’s in the back 40, unfortunately, in a medical coma until his wounds heal.”
“Why did you do that?” I asked, curious.
“Do you know Ajax LeBlanc?”
I shrugged. “He’s an MMA coach.”
Eoghan almost rolled his eyes at my ignorance. “He was a US Navy SEAL. He’s one of the most highly reputed fighters and trainers in the world. Do you know what he could do to the disposition of our men?” He always insisted on talking about our soldiers as though I had a stake in them, too. To him, I suppose I did. Especially now that I had agreed to fight with them. “And he’s now the enemy of my enemy. We’re practically best friends.”
He opened his desk and pulled out a redwood cigar box. He pulled out an Arturo Fuente Anniverxario and snipped the tip and handed it to me. He tossed a zippo through the air, which I caught in my hand. I smoked as he prepared his own.
“Your lass is in trouble, though,” Eoghan finally said, “She’ll be worth more and more the longer she evades them. It’s twenty thousand now, but it’ll get to fifty, then a hundred the longer she stays away.”
That was true. My Rose had fists made of iron. But that didn’t make her bulletproof.
“You’d be standing by a fugitive over the Russian bratva.” Eoghan grinned, satisfied. “Which I’m quite tickled by, if I’m honest.”
I remembered the Irish and the Russians territory wars that resulted in uncle Alastair’s legendary sadism and eventual descent into madness. Those legends now extended to us. Eoghan did everything he could to make sure of it, including putting the large red painting warning in the Foyer.
