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I throw my hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me; I’d quote him at least $750,000.”
Connor doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke, but he halts his approach all the same. “You really are an arsehole, aren’t you?”
“Hey, this is new for me, too,” I point out. “My targets aren’t usually this chatty.”
“So that’s it.” Connor stares at me in disbelief. “You’re just not going to go through with it?”
“Padraic can take his pocket change back.” I shrug, trying to pretend this isn’t as big a deal as it is. My track record and stats are flawless—this might be my first-ever failure.
“You usually make that much money from a job?”
“Ebbs and flows. Helps that I’m the sole inheritor of a family fortune,” I say, then glance around the room. “Surprised you haven’t cashed in yours yet.”
Connor grimaces. “There’s nothing left.”
Ah. Right. The dead father with the drug problem. The old decrepit mansion that probably costs more to maintain than it is worth. The hundred-year feud with the Duffys has left them cut off from most means of income.
It’s almost as if we’re two sides of the same coin. Connor has the old family name, the reputation, and the loyalty of at least a dozen smaller mobs, yet no money. Whereas I, with more money than I could ever spend in three lifetimes, can barely go grocery shopping without being on the receiving end of a twisted look.
A really fucking stupididea suddenly crosses my mind.
“I… have a proposition,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
“Yeah?”
I look toward the Maguire Don and straighten myself into a more formal pose. “Connor Maguire, I would like to discuss the offer of a partnership.”
Connor blinks at me once. Twice. “You’re joking.”
“Wish I was,” I say, scratching my neck. “You have the reputation; I have the money. It makes sense.”
“And if I decline?” Connor says slowly.
I nod toward his shoulder. “Then I’ll just have to finish the job.”
Connor considers this for a moment. I know his answer before he says it out loud, a light appearing in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
I hold out a hand to him.
He shakes it.
Chapter One
Arnie
Present…
The now-familiar groan of the warehouse doors fills my ears, opening for me without slowing me down with security.
My sleek black Lamborghini has become somewhat of a staple at the Maguire base of operations—and the men here know me well enough to know I’d rather die than let anyone else drive it. It also doesn’t hurt that I’m paying their wages. And the property bills, and the utility bills. That’s what I bring to this partnership. What Connor pays me… well, that’s a little more complicated.
I pull into my usual spot, ignoring the ogling of some of the newbies. Though I suppose everyone is fairly new in this place. The men who were here from the beginning feel like veterans despite only being with us for six months.
As I pass Toby and Jon—two of the first defectors from the O’Neils—they give me a nervous nod of respect before returning to what I assume is a stocktake of our firearm inventory.
“Anything missing?” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets as I peer over their shoulders.
Jon glances at Toby before replying. “Sorry, sir. Down two assault rifles. They’ve not been checked out.”
