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IarrivedinNewYork by private jet. Traveling this way allowed me to bring some of my toys courtesy of Caledonia Security. Rifles. Guns. A grenade or two. Eoghan sent a car to get me at the airport, and I went by motorcade to the Green mansion.
Everything had been set. Eoghan had procured a small item that would be imperative for this upcoming meeting. It was going to be the most important meeting of my life.
A sit-down with Jericho had miraculously been arranged in neutral territory. A sky scraper bar, with a private room and lots of bullet-proof glass.
Now, I found myself tapping on a huge dinner table set for six, waiting for the man himself to arrive.
Eoghan sat in the high back chair at the head of the table. He sat like a king, fists on the table, an ankle crossed over his knee, completely relaxed. I tried to exude that same confidence, but I knew I had failed. I wanted to bounce my knee, fidget my fingers, or look around, waiting for the man of the hour.
“Will you look at the wee lad.” Eoghan chuckled, nodding at me. “He’s nervous.”
The third man to complete our trio was Rohan, the same man I had seen him with in Four Green Fields, and was often Eoghan’s closest advisor. When he was angry, his scar was like an additional accessory, warning people from getting too close.
However, at this moment, the two of them were feeling a little jovial, laughing at my expense. They weren’t wrong. I was nervous.
“I’m not sure I approve of your choice,” Eoghan said, his eyes genuinely pleased by this thought. “Even if she is the one who brings you back to your family.”
I smiled at him, turning myself fully in his direction so that my back was to the door. Staring at it wouldn’t make Jericho Vasiliev, now a potential Pakhan of the brava, walk through any sooner.
“You’ll like her.” I allowed the thought of my woman to ease the tension in my body. “My Rose is made of iron. There’s no one like her.”
My Rose…that was starting to sound like a fact, instead of a wish. It felt right. Not just to have her during the moments of intimacy, but to have her all the time. To have her when I put on my tie, or to have her beside me when I brushed my teeth. I wanted to go to bed, and watch her reading a book under the light of her bedside lamp. I wanted to watch her do her fucking hair, and to have those little things seep into my daily ritual, as natural as breathing.
I was immersed in that thought when I heard the door to the private room open, and leather shoes stomped in. I counted three separate gaits. That would be Jericho, his second, and one guard. I could almost pick out Jericho’s light, rhythmic steps.
Seats scraped as they were pulled back, and the leather and wood groaned when they settled their weight into the chairs.
“What do you want, Irish?” My stomach twisted into a knot at the sound of Jericho’s voice. He was using a thick Russian accent, and it amused me. But we both were playing a game here. We both changed ourselves for credibility in our organizations.
“I took the liberty of ordering you the drink of your people.” Eoghan smirked. “Nothing but the finest distilled potatoes.”
“You Irish know a little something about potatoes.” Jericho remarked. “So why have I stopped my rampage to join you?” There was derision in his voice. “I’d retaliate against your insult, but the Irish mob are small fishes in a big ocean, trying to play with sharks.”
“And here I was, offering a hand of friendship.” Eoghan’s expression didn’t change, he just smiled. Why would he? The Irish mob had beaten Anton Vasiliev into a truce. But I didn’t point out that Jericho was a very different man.
“I can’t imagine that the cost of your friendship would be worth it, but go ahead.” I could hear the smile in Jericho’s voice. “Why should I consider anything from you, when your right-hand man won’t even look me in the eye?”
I took a deep breath. I knew that this had to happen sooner rather than later.
Eoghan caught my eye and nodded in encouragement. I was more nervous than I expected to be, and I hated it. I did not want to be in a position to feel like this in front of Brett fucking Bradley.
I turned in my seat and leaned forward on my elbows to look right at Jericho.
His face was smug at first, then surprised. Then stunned, silent and immobile before his coloring turned blood red and I could feel the rage radiating off of him.
He stood, the chair falling behind him with a clatter as he lunged toward me, grabbing me by the collar and pinning me against the wall.
“You son of a bitch, you had one fucking task.” He shouted, his spit flying at my face.
Eoghan moved to stand, but with a lifted hand, stopping him and Rohan from coming to my aid.
My airway tightened around my throat as he twisted the collar in his hand. I tried to push his hands down, to give myself some space to draw in air, but the man was vibrating in his anger.
“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.” He screamed, and he pulled a fist back ready to bury it in my face. “You were never good enough for her.”
Eoghan had had enough. He stood, grabbed his elbow and pulled him away from me. I sputtered and choked, unsteady on my feet.
“I’ll fucking kill you.” Jericho vowed. “If it’s the last thing I do. I will kill you!”
