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“Do you have the stomach for selling humans?”
I fold my hands, letting him see the scars. “I’m eager to get my hands dirty.”
“Good. I want the money.”
I stare at him. I can’t wait to bury the fucker. Even if it turns out he wasn’t the person who caused the death of my family, he’s made of the same slimy sickness. One I’m close enough to for total destruction.
After a moment of him smoking and me staring at him, calculating his ruination, he glances at his watch.
With a loud grumble, he stabs out his cigar, “Now I’ve got to attend some bullshit dinner that Niall arranged.”
The man starts to hack. After he heaves up a lung, he clears his throat. “Which is why you’re going to kill Niall next time you see him. Sooner rather than later.”
I laugh. It sounds dark enough. I’m really laughing because he has no idea that plans are already in motion to snatch Niall within the next few days and hand him over to the feds. But not before he invites all his connections to the wedding.
“Do I get a bonus for this?”
Patrick stops by the door. “Want another of my daughters? I’ve got to find Shauna first, but she got wind that Sean was divorcing her and took off like a scared fucking rabbit. Maybe you can keep her under lock and key until I figure out how to leverage her again.”
“She’s on the run?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
He smiles a feral, disgusting smile. “She won’t get far. My reach is too massive and she’s too valuable.”
He walks out, and I stare at the floor, forcing the bile back down to the pit of my gut. It takes five minutes before my urge to run him down in the driveway subsides.
Then I get to work locating the hard drive and file that Max needs to seal the bastard’s fate.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Declan is waiting for me in the driveway. He’s leaning against my car, spinning his sunglasses between his fingers. Devoid of expression, his face is an unreadable mask. But his body is a different story.
Cool eyes study me as I approach. When I’m close enough that no one else can hear, he asks, “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
“As much as a man can.”
Declan looks away, focusing on something in the distance, and says, “I’d hate to see you get killed.” Then he laughs darkly before he turns his face back to mine. “But you seem to have survived so far.”
I fold my arms, stare up at the mansion looming above us. Studying the cold shadow it casts across the driveway. Like the thing has evil, dark tentacles that reach beyond those brick walls.
As if the evil that lurks inside is not enough to worry about. Now I have a swarm of angry questions about Carra stinging my insides. Turning my mind into a raging sea of disquiet.
Tightly, I reply to his question. “I thought I’d be dead by now, anyway.”
With a side eye, he shoves a hand into his pocket as he studies me. “But you’ve got someone counting on you now. Maybe give that some thought.”
“That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
The corners of his jaw flex as he clenches his teeth, his eyes grow hard. Declan’s an observant bastard. Hard to tell what he’s pieced together. His muscular body tightens as he pushes off of the car. “Whatareyou doing?”
“Ye know better than to ask something like that.”
When he turns to face me, he levels his sharp gaze on me. The tightness in his jaw is all resolve. “I want in on it.”
I grunt. My initial reaction is to protect him. But Declan’s his own man in this game. Tension hovers between us, crackling and heavy. I’ve known Declan for nearly a decade. He’s a good man. Smart. Focused. But is he too loyal to Coghlan or the syndicate?
Finally, I say non-committedly, “I’ll think about it.”
As if his mouth is suddenly foul, he spits on the gravel. “I’m sick of the bastard. He roughed Ariel up. I hate everything these fuckers stand for. All of it. The whole business.”
