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He picks up his phone and sends a text, then leans back. “Not at all. Waves are good and not my business. And trouble? I’m Irish, I fucking love trouble. I just bought a bar, see. And quite the little hotbed of information it is too. Heard all about your pretty little troublemaker.”
“Who,” Nadia says, “has a name.”
“I know. Nadia? I’m O’Grady.”
I’m trying to work out his angle, but I can’t make it fit. I suspect that’s just the way he likes it.
“So, Diego, is it? Down to fucking business. I’m here checking out my new acquisition before flying to Ireland and what do you know? Another De Luca enforcer is on my territory.”
“It’s a bar. This isn’t Lowlanders.”
He straightens up and the sharp teeth snap as a veneer of his charm disappears. “No, but it’s mine, and this place is what I fucking say it is. Talk.”
I need truth, but not that we’re digging. “Nadia’s nephew got in with a gang. We got him out and now some of the other gangs I had to have . . . words with over them using a sixteen-year-old kid have an issue with Nadia, so I’m here until that’s sorted.” I pause. “Though she did tell me something interesting.”
He raises a brow.
“I think Nicolo told you about the missing girls?”
“It happens.”
Even giving nothing away, not one iota of emotion.
“Seems the same thing happened recently around here. Exact same thing. Like there’s someone trafficking.” I take a step forward, aware I was allowed to enter with my gun, which means this is unofficial.
Or he wants me to think that.
There are four men packing in here. None of them have a hand near their piece, and none of them seem overly on alert. Fucking seems. That is such a killer word. Sometimes literally.
O’Grady’s gun is on the bar, but it’s not that close, and he hasn’t made a move for it or made a point of it being there. It just is. He picks up his whiskey and knocks it back.
“Fucking hate long flights. Tedious things.”
“Heard anything about the girls?”
“You asking if I’m into trafficking, or are you trying to see what I know?” He taps the empty glass, and the bartender comes up and refills it. “No and no.”
Of course, he could be lying.
“So, you summoned me because?” I ask actually curious.
“To see what you’re doing in town. But maybe it’s good you’re here to protect your girl. Be careful, this town isn’t all it seems.”
His phone pings, and he goes back to texting.
The discussion is clearly over. We’re led outside, and there are people there, no doubt wanting to set up for the night because I recognize one of the bartenders from back in the day.
Nadia doesn’t say anything until we get to her place.
The moment we step inside, she rounds on me. “Who the hell was that?”
“O’Grady.”
“I got that,” she snaps.
I sigh. “He heads a very loose crime family? Group? I don’t know the term for what he is. The Lowlanders. They keep to themselves and are very territorial.”
She nods. “Diego, what did he mean? About the town?”
