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Icould tell by the whimpering that the woman on the other side of the door was in pain.
It turned my stomach.
I’d dealt with violence most of my life and I wouldn’t have survived in this world as long as I had without developing a thick skin. Going after women, however, was where I drew the line.
Moreover, it was pointless. The woman hadn’t said a word that Eddie didn’t already know. She’d heard something about the upcoming deal with the cartel and may or may not have told anyone else. She’d sworn she hadn’t uttered a word to anyone, but that hadn’t mattered. She’d spent three damn days in that little room with nothing more than a bottle of water a day and a few bites of food here and there.
“Pulling off-hours guard duty, my boy?”
I turned away from the door, toward the set of stairs that led up to the offices on the upper floors. A pair of polished, black dress shoes appeared, then dark blue slacks, followed by a matching suit jacket. Last to appear was the smiling face of Eddie Coonan, my boss and head of the family.
Eddie was tall and heavy, a far cry from his younger days. With his thick frame and fleshy face, it was hard to imagine that his nickname had been “skinny Eddie” when he was younger, during his coming-up days. His green eyes, situated in an unmistakably Irish face of fair skin and ruddy features, still glimmered with the sort of scheming intelligence one would need to make it to the top of an organization like ours.
There was no denying that he looked older than his sixty-four years. The way he wheezed as he eased himself down the stairs didn’t inspire much confidence in his health, either. Even so, he carried himself with the bearing of a man in charge, a man not to be trifled with.
Behind Eddie was Frank Horrigan, Eddie’s personal bodyguard. The man was vicious—a lion dressed up in an expensive suit, his eyes dark and lifeless. He was still and silent as he always was, his hands clasped before him as he came to a stop behind Eddie, his long, fire-red hair tied into its usual ponytail. Frank appeared calm but I knew the sort of violence he was capable of—I’d seen it in person.
“Just checking in on our guest. It sounds like she’s not having a good time in there.” I replied.
“That’s sort of the idea, Connor.” Eddie spoke in the same Dublin accent that I did. Though, after years of living in the states, mine had mellowed a bit. Not Eddie’s, the man sounded fresh off the boat. “That’s not a spa room on the other side of that door.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Flannigan. Running his mouth again, trying to look big to the girls at the club, hoping one of them might get starry-eyed and give him a little pussy for being such a big, well-connected man.”
“Flannigan,” I said. “Where is he?”
“Don’t worry about him.” Frank spoke as if his words were frozen, icicles hanging off of them. He’d said enough to give me a damn good idea about the fate of our friend Flannigan.
Eddie stepped over to the door, craning his neck to listen. More whimpers came from the other side.
“Maybe we ought to just kill her,” Eddie said. “Sure as hell would be easier than letting her go with what she knows.”
Frank’s placid face animated with eagerness as if a button had been pressed.
“Give me two minutes, I’ll get it done. Two hours, and her body will never be found.”
Eddie chuckled, as if the idea of disposing of the girl were nothing more than a joke to him.
“Easy, Frankie,” he said, patting his guard on the shoulder. “When I decide, you’ll be the first to know.”
I had to say something. “We’re not in the business of killing women, Eddie.”
“We are when we need to be,” Eddie replied. “And why are you sticking up for her? You sweet on the lass? If so, you should’ve said something. I would’ve let you have a little fun with her before Frank roughed her up.”
My gut clenched once more at his words. Sure, Pussycats was a strip club, but the way Eddie talked about the women who worked there never failed to make me sick. One of the many reasons the old man had been losing his shine in my eyes over the years.
“Just saying,” I said. “You let her go, give her a little money to keep her quiet, and that’ll be the end of it. No sense in taking a life over what she did. Poor girl didn’t ask to be pulled into any of this.”
“Aye, you’re right about that. But shedidget pulled into this. Fate has a way of taking you places you never expected. And for this young woman, fate brought her right here.” He tapped on the door with a thick finger that looked like a sausage with a gold ring wrapped around it. He shrugged. “Besides, she’s a stripper, Connor—barely more than a common whore on the street. Funny how these girls will dress themselves up in diamonds and expensive clothes thinking it makes them better than a streetwalker who’ll suck off any John with a twenty in his pocket.”
Once more, I fought back the disgust I felt in the moment.
“Just saying, boss, if there’s more information you want to get out of her, then it might be a good idea to show her a little good will.”
Eddie nodded slowly, giving the matter some thought.
“I swear, boy, your heart’s getting too soft these days. Look at you, sweating bullets over the idea of some lass losing her life.” He sighed. “But you have a point. Here’s the deal—you want to keep the bitch alive so badly,youcan take care of her. Anyway, I’ve got shite to do. Come on, Frank.”
Eddie gave me one more look before he left that suggested his opinion of me had changed a bit, that he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of me in that moment. Seconds later he was gone, relief washing over me at how I’d managed to buy the girl on the other side of the door a little more time. Hopefully, that would be enough to give me a chance to figure out how to get her out of there alive.
Before I could think another thought, a hard clap hit my shoulder.
