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“We’re from home,” smiled Liffey. “And the boys of Shannon aren’t happy with you.” That seemed to get his attention. His head popped up, and he stared at the men, then slowly took a seat at the table next to them.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“Friends,” smiled Liffey.
“I don’t have friends.”
“Aw, that’s just sad,” said Irish. “Everyone needs friends. Maybe if you had more friends, you wouldn’t be screwing up your business so much. See, we heard that your little side venture caused quite a stir in Miami.”
Quinn stiffened, straightening his back.
“We’re looking for her. She won’t get far.” Irish nodded, smirking at O’Hara.
“Oh, but she did get far. She got far, far away and told someone very influential about your little game. She was very convincing, and those men are not men you want to fuck with. They will destroy you.”
“She’s lying.”
“Not sure she’s lying when her entire family can back her up,” said O’Hara.
“Not the entire family,” smiled Quinn. “Her brother and his family are no longer an issue.”
Score one confession, but I need a bit more.
“They are an issue as long as they’re able to identify you or your men,” said Titus. “The mother and father, the sister. It’s not just heard.”
“They can’t identify anyone if they’re dead, and the parents are taken care of as well. They won’t be identifying anyone.”
There was a hint of an Irish accent in that last sentence for Quinn. They all heard it and wondered if, in fact, he wasn’t just an immigrant who’d come to America to make a living and went in the wrong direction.
“Dead is good,” smirked Liffey. “But you were supposed to be making money in the stock market, investments, that sort of shit. Now you’re off pimping women to your buddies.”
“They’re more than willing,” he scoffed. “They enjoy every moment of it, and they get to keep their cars and furs and diamonds. I don’t want to hear any of them bitch.”
Confession number two.
“Boss, we have to get to that meeting on the other side of town,” said one of the bodyguards, still grasping his arm.
“Right. Business. Gentlemen, you’ve intrigued me. Whether you’re here from Shannon or not, I’m happy to let you see what I really do. I’m giving a party tomorrow night. Sort of a Christmas Eve Eve party. This is my address,” he said, handing Titus the business card. “Please come dressed appropriately. I’m sure the ladies will appreciate it. I’m going to bet you are fine specimens beneath those dreadful clothes.”
He turned and left with his men, one of them looking back at them as if he were pleading for help.
“I hate that little fucker,” said Irish. Dom nodded.
“I think that’s the idea,” said Dom. “Whatever we thought our original plan was, telling him we were from Shannon was a good move. He seemed to look a little worried when we mentioned that.”
“Funny, he didn’t question no Irish accents on any of us,” said Irish.
“Maybe these guys aren’t necessarily from Ireland,” said Titus. “Maybe they live here, work here, and do business here. Sort of the mafia homegrown. Comms? I need you to check and see who the new head of the Irish mafia is. Ask Katarina if she can reach out to the Laughlin family. I’m not sure who’s in control any longer, but they may know something about this bullshit.”
“On it.”
“What about this fucking party?” asked Liffey.
“I think we plan on going,” said Titus. “Let’s head back to the hotel and meet up with the others. Hopefully, they’ve found something that will help us end this shit tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gail was surprised at how great she was feeling. She thought the effects of the pond would be short-lived, but each day proved to be better and better. It was fortunate that she didn’t remember any of the details of the actual attack. They’d drugged her, knocking her out for the duration, and it was the only good thing they’d done for her.
