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I nod and follow Alister to the bar where Gallagher waits for us with three bourbons.
“I thought it would be fitting since you are the King of New Orleans,” he says as we join him.
“How very original,” Alister remarks. His body is still riddled with tension, though his words are a little less strained. Still, I keep my palm gripped tight around my knife and my trigger finger on high alert as Alister sits on the barstool closest to Gallagher and I on the stool behind Alister.
Gallagher sips his drink, though Alister doesn’t touch his. Smart. He could’ve poisoned them when we weren’t looking. After a moment of contemplation, Gallagher turns to us. His green eyes land heavy on Alister, as if he’s ashamed of what he’s about to say. I lean forward, waiting intently for Gallagher to reveal the truth.
“It’s no secret the feud between the Italians and the Irish goes back generations. But that all changed, or so I thought, with the peace treaty your father brokered with the North American heads of organized crime. The Rules of Civility, a final gift to his son before he passed, one I’m sure he’d hoped would protect you and your rule.”
At the mention of Alister’s father, Alister sits up straight, as if it will help his body absorb his anger, or, perhaps, sadness.
“Unfortunately, my former boss, Joseph Cullen, had plans for your family’s demise that predated the signing of the treaty.” At that, Gallagher looks away from us and downs the rest of his drink. “When Cullen revealed he was sending four of our men to New Orleans, men I’m sure you’ve snuffed out or you wouldn’t be here, I advised against it. It was only a few months after the treaty was signed—”
“You mean, a few months after my father’s death,” Alister bites out. Gallagher nods.
“I told him he should give you a chance to become the great leader that your father was.” Gallagher shakes his head. “That’s when he revealed that he’d been plotting his takeover of the Amatos for nearly two decades. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted.”
“And what did he want?” Alister asks, though the tone of his voice says he already knows.
“Power. More money. More influence,” Gallagher admits. “From what I understood, it wasn’t personal. It was just…business.”
“Yeah? Well, your men made it personal when they abducted my little sister a year ago and even more so with their recent abduction attempt against my sister Sophia.”
Gallagher’s eyes widen in surprise, or perhaps fear. If he’d known how truly personal this is for Alister he may not have agreed to such a gentlemanly discussion.
“I thought the brotherhood abducted your sister.”
“Yeah, so did I, until Edgar Walsh admitted it was him and his men who took her to the brotherhood. They abducted an eighteen-year-old girl from her dorm room in the middle of the night and turned her over to a group of sex trafficking predators who raped and sold her, only for her to be raped repeatedly until her owner had enough of her. Do you know it took me months to find the man who had her only to realize I was too late? I was too late, Avery. I spent weeks searching every abandoned warehouse and junkyard off the coast of Greece to find the barrel containing her body. Or should I say, the brown sludge that was once her body?My sister, Avery!”
Alister slams his fist against the bar as all the emotions of his past crash inside him like waves. I relinquish my knife to place my hand on his shoulder, emotion straining my own features. I want him to remember I’m here and I’ve got him.
Alister lowers his head, taking a moment to regain control of himself. Out of respect or perhaps shame for what his men have done, Gallagher looks away.
“I am truly sorry for what Walsh and his men have done to your family. I need you to know I had nothing to do with it nor did Josephine. I assume you know her father, the man who ordered the hit against your family, was killed shortly after he sent Walsh and his men to your city. Well, of course you know,” Gallagher remarks.
“Because if I thought for a moment that you had something to do with my sister’s death, I would’ve ripped your insides out and fed them to you the moment I walked through that door,” Alister says, lifting his eyes to meet Gallagher’s once more. The man across from him only nods. In his eyes I finally find the fear that only Alister can cast upon a man of his rank and stature.
Alister shakes his head and downs his bourbon in one hefty gulp. As he places the empty glass back on the bar top, his fingers shake, as if it’s taking everything inside him not to crush the glass in his palm or worse, smash it against Gallagher’s head. “Continue,” Alister finally says. His words slip through his gritted teeth. Gallagher nods and does as he’s told.
“As I said, Cullen died within days of sending Walsh and company to New Orleans. It was a car accident, no foul play suspected, at least by the police. I wasn’t so convinced.” Gallagher gives Alister a knowing look. “I thought you’d figured out what Cullen was up to and ordered the hit after taking out his men planted in your city. You were the only one at the time who had motive to kill him.”
“If you thought I had your boss murdered, why wouldn’t you come after me?”
“Because…Josephine had just taken over in the wake of her father’s death. She knew nothing of the operation, nor did anyone else. I was the only one who suspected foul play and I didn’t want to throw her into a war she wasn’t ready for. Besides, I never agreed with Cullen’s plans to take New Orleans. We don’t need Italian territory to be strong and powerful. We’re already your superior.” At that, Gallagher smiles, teasing Alister as if it will lighten the mood. Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible. Alister doesn’t even entertain his comment.
“With Cullen dead and presumably Walsh and his men, I tossed the burner phone I was meant to use to communicate with them and never thought twice about the mission. But you know that, don’t you? You knew of Cullen’s death before you got here. And, if what you say is true, that Walsh and his men are the ones who abducted Cara and attempted to abduct Sophia, then you know those orders didn’t come from him.” Realization dawns on Gallagher as Alister nods.
“I’m here for a name, Avery. You and I both know Cullen was working with someone in New Orleans to orchestrate these attacks. And after his untimely death, they are the one who ordered Walsh and his men to go after Cara, to go after Sophia. And, given what you’ve said about your former boss’s twenty-year vendetta against my family, I’m starting to consider their attacks are just as old.”
Gallagher’s brows crinkle, as do mine. What is Alister getting at?
“My mother was killed in a hit meant to take out my entire family sixteen years ago. It was almost successful. Had I not heard the windows burst in their bedroom just down the hall from mine, they would’ve killed both of my parents and then snuffed me and my siblings out in our sleep. Still, I couldn’t save her. They shot my mother. I can still remember the sound of her body hitting the wood floor, the vacant look in her eyes as blood gushed from her chest. So, tell me, Avery, who was your former boss working with? Who is to blame for destroying my family?”
As Alister reveals the truth of how his mother was killed, I close my eyes. He understands my pain even more than I thought. I knew his mother’s death was connected to the Mafia. But I had no idea Alister witnessed it. Like me, he was a child when his mother was taken from him by evil men. The small part of me that feels vindicated, happy that his father suffered, is quickly snuffed out by my empathy for Alister. No child deserves to lose their parent so young and so horrifically.
At that, Gallagher stops. The light leaves him as his lips press into a flat line. It’s as if he knows his next words won’t sit well with the Blood King. I relinquish my final weapon, setting my gun on the stool behind me as I ready myself to restrain Alister, or at least attempt to if Gallagher delivers anything less than what Alister needs to hear. He turns back to Alister then as I scoot to the edge of my seat.
“It’s true that Cullen was working with someone in your inner circle, someone eager for power though smart enough to know they’d have to sacrifice some of it just to survive the coup. Whoever worked with Cullen knew he couldn’t take on your father, or you, by himself. Either that or he just wanted to use our soldiers instead of his own out of sheer self-preservation. But I never knew a name, Alister. I never even saw the guy. In the nearly twenty years that I worked for Cullen, I never even knew about his plots against your family until last year when I was told to help Walsh and the rest of them fake their own deaths.”
