Declan: The Callaghan Mafia #1

by Rylan, Savannah

  The money came from my father?

  I needed answers, and I needed them quickly. I rushed out of the brownstone, grabbing my purse as I headed out. I locked the front door behind me and rushed down the steps as a black car pulled up. A driver, meant only for Declan and myself, who was paid to watch out just in case we stepped out and needed a ride.

  “Where to, Miss Ciara?”

  I slammed myself into the backseat before my eyes closed. My heart slammed against my chest. This didn’t make sense. My father was the one that sold me off to do nothing but clear his debts. Why the hell would he give me eighty grand? Even if it didn’t come with the promise of running away that Fiona asked me?

  Could I ever run away from Declan, though?

  “My father’s distillery. And as quickly as you can get me there, please.”

  12

  Declan

  “Come on, pick up,” I murmured.

  The phone kept ringing as I slipped my way into the car. Work had been hard on me today, and the only thing I kept thinking about was Ciara’s body when I got home. Her voice. Her lips. Her soft touch against my skin. More than ever, I wanted to get back home to her. Bury myself in her. Hold her and kiss her and cook for her until we fell back into bed and fucked until the sun came up again.

  She was quickly becoming a staple in my life.

  “Hello, brother,” Flynn said.

  I heard him softly panting as the phone rustled around.

  “Work going that well?” I asked.

  “I need a wet towel. No, a warm one. Yes. Come—right—that one, please. Yes.”

  I grinned as I listened to his muffled words over the phone.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “You talking to me now?” I asked.

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. Have to wipe my hands. Sorry.”

  “Make sure you wipe down the body, too.”

  He sighed. “Such nasty work. Never been a fan of it.”

  “Don’t worry. We should be home soon enough. Hopefully.”

  “How are things that way?”

  I snickered. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “That good, huh? How’s Mom doing?”

  I paused. “I’m not really sure.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s been sending some pretty interesting signals as of late. I’m not quite sure where we stand at the moment.”

  “The hell does that mean?”

  “I think she’s simply tired of not knowing what happened to Richard. And it’s causing her emotions to toggle her mental state.”

  “Did you really expect anything less, though?”

  “I suppose I shouldn't have,” I murmured.

  “Well, anyway. I wanted to ask you while I have the chance; has anyone talked to Abby?”

  I paused. “I don’t believe so.”

  “You think someone should? She is technically part of the family. Richard is her father.”

  “I’ll get Brody to place a call. Because I’m not sure Mother’s up to the task. Truth be told, I was hoping we’d have recovered him by now. I suppose we should inform her of what’s happened.”

  “Where is she now, anyway?”

  “Switzerland, I believe. At least, that’s what we were last told.”

  “Yeah. Five years ago.”

  I shrugged. “It’s all we have to pull from.”

  He sighed. “Do you have any information on where he might be?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The investigations have gotten us nowhere, and my own interrogations have come up empty. I suspect James Daly has played a part in this. But I’m not convinced he’s the mastermind.”

  “You think he’s paired off with the Maguires?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe they’d be that stupid. We’re at odds, Flynn. Not wishing death upon one another.”

  “It’s possible, though. As many times as we’ve tried to make amends with the Maguires, they’ve never been up for it. They’ve never agreed.”

  “That’s business. What happened with Richard was personal. Which narrows this down a bit, but not by much.”

  “Since business is personal to him.”

  I sighed. “Exactly.”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “You really don’t want me to do that.”

  “You think he’s dead, don’t you?”

  I cleared my throat. “I had dinner with the head of the Fitzpatrick family the day before last. And after sitting down with him, I don’t think it was anyone in his family. At least, no one that he’s aware of. Him and father still have positive joint business ventures that are becoming very lucrative for both families. And Fitzpatrick doesn’t strike me as the kind of man—”

  “You do think he’s dead.”

  I closed my eyes. “Flynn, another topic.”

  “You don’t have to shoulder this alone, you know. If you have suspicions—”

  “You know I don’t talk of such matters until I have proof.”

  He sighed. “Declan, I know you’re only—”

  I saw Mom’s brownstone come into view. “Have to go. I need to speak with Mother. We’ll talk soon, okay? Keep holding things down until you hear from me.”

  Then, I hung up the phone.

  I groaned as I saw Martin barge out of the front doors. I stepped out of the car and leaned against the door, watching as he strode for me. Mom appeared at the door, more frazzled than ever. And as her eyes met mine, Martin cut me off at the hilt. Standing in between me and my mother.

  A dangerous place to be for any man.

  “You need to let this go. All of it,” he hissed.

  I furrowed my brow. “Let go of what, Uncle?”

  “This search for Richard. It’s killing your mother.”

  I nodded slowly. “And you suppose I’m simply going to drop the fact that the only man I’ve ever known to be a father has disappeared.”

  “You should, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Funny. You’re beginning to sound like a man who has something to hide.”

  Martin fisted my shirt and I heard Mom call out.

  “Martin! Stop!”

  “Stay out of this, Fiona!” he roared.

  “You really shouldn't have touched me,” I growled.

  I wrapped my hand around his wrist and twisted it. He cried out in pain as Mom rushed down the steps. I kneed him in his stomach, watching as the weak man dropped to his knees. Then, I bent down, folding my hands together as Mom came to stand beside me.

  “Stop this. Everyone can see you,” she whispered harshly.

  “I will not stop searching for Richard until I know exactly what happened to him, or until he’s home. Do you understand?” I asked.

  Martin coughed. “Someone needs to tell the families. They need to know who’s in charge now.”

  I nodded. “And they do. It’s been well established over the past few days that I’m the one in charge until my father returns.”

  “He’s not your father.”

  “Martin,” Mom hissed.

  Then, the man slowly stood up. Forcing me to move with him.

  “For years, I’ve worked with my brother. Under the table. Off the books. Pretending I don’t exist and pretending I turned my back on the family just so I could run the covert operation Richard wanted me to. But no more. I’m challenging you for your position. As much as you want to be family, you’re not. My brother gave you our name, but he won’t give you this empire. I’m the second in command. I’m the one Richard constantly consulted while you and your brothers were fucking around in Ireland. Turning your back on this family and establishing a business of your own!”

  “Martin, that’s enough!” Mom exclaimed.

  “You stay out of this, Fiona. You’re just as much to blame here as anyone else,” Martin growled.

  I glared at Martin. “What are you talking about?”

  Mom sighed. “It’s true, Declan.”

 
I slowly turned to face her. “You and Richard told us Martin turned his back on this family.”

  She sighed. “It was the only way to ensure he could work in the dark as much as possible. The more people that knew, the more it risked him coming back to the light. He’s done a great deal for this family. More than we could ever thank him for.”

  “And it’s time I take my rightful place,” Martin said hotly.

  I blinked. “No.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “No. I will not let you challenge me for my seat.”

  “Then, I’ll just have to pry it from your dead hands,” he growled.

  “Martin!” Mom exclaimed.

  Brody and Gael rushed out the front doors as Martin swung at me. His massive hands tried to connect with my face, but I was too limber. Too quick for his movements. They came over and pulled Mom away before I wrapped myself around Martin. Kneeing him in the back before grabbing his wrists and pinning him against the fucking car.

  “Declan? Need any help?” Brody asked.

  “Just an opinion. Out of the two of us, Martin and myself, who do you think should be sitting at the head of the family until we find Richard?” I asked.

  “You,” they said in unison.

  “Even if Martin’s apparently been some underground no-good spy for Richard for a while now?” I asked.

  “Oh, I knew that,” Gael said.

  “No, you didn’t,” Martin growled.

  “Yeah, no. We all knew. I mean, except for Declan,” Brody said.

  “Yet another reason why he has no business being at the head of this family!” Martin roared.

  “Oh, put a sock in it, Uncle. The only reason he didn’t know was because he’s been the driving force with expanding the business in Ireland. He had no time to meddle in murky family affairs,” Brody said.

  “You—you boys knew?” Mom asked.

  “You’ll never be family. None of you!” Martin exclaimed.

  I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pressed heavily against his carotid.

  “Why don’t you sleep for us for a little while, hmm?” I asked.

  As Martin slowly passed out against the car, I couldn't wait to get home. I couldn't wait to be with Ciara so I could block out all the bullshit of the day. I wanted to be with her all night. I wanted to cook dinner with her in the kitchen. I wanted to settle in for a movie we didn’t watch and eat dessert directly off her tits.

  You know, normal couple stuff.

  “Let him go. He’s Richard’s brother,” Mom said breathlessly.

  I dropped his unconscious body to the ground before turning around.

  “If Richard is dead, we can settle this then. But until we figure out what’s happened, is everyone in agreement that I sit at the head of the family?” I asked.

  “No one better suited. He was grooming you after all,” Brody said.

  “He promised it to you. End of story,” Gael said.

  And when my eyes fell on Mom, she sighed.

  “For the love of everything, be careful,” she said.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” I said.

  I slipped back into the car, figuring I could work in the office later when Uncle Martin wasn’t around to harass me about things. The driver took me back to my new place, and I smiled as the comfort of the air conditioning greeted me. I slipped my coat off and hung it up on the rack by the door. I made my way up the flight of stairs that poured into the kitchen.

  “Ciara? I’m home!”

  But when I looked around the kitchen, I froze.

  There were spices on the counter that weren’t open. A pan on the stove that wasn’t heated. There were spaghetti noodles soaking in a pot of water that hadn’t been turned on. My body tensed. I silently turned around to survey the room. The stacks of money on the table caught my eye, and I felt all of me beginning to vibrate.

  Until I laid eyes on Ciara’s phone on the floor.

  “Ciara!” I roared.

  “She’s not here, Declan.”

  I whipped around at the sound of Mom’s voice. My eyes widened as she presented herself from the shadows. She looked haggard. Worn. Like she hadn’t slept in days.

  “I can’t talk, Mom. I have to find Ciara,” I said.

  “It’s going to be no use, son.”

  “Why are you here again? Don’t you have some sleeping to do?”

  “You know sleep won’t fix anything.”

  “Yes, and you walking around like a zombie won’t fix anything, either.”

  I strode past her, only for her to reach her arm out. It moved at lightning speed, despite the tiredness of her eyes. The pallor of her skin. I looked down at her and snarled silently. The way she gripped me; she knew something.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Your bride is gone. Off to another life safe from all this insanity.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You want to run that by me again?”

  “I gave Ciara the money and the means to go find herself a new life. And it seems as if she took me up on at least part of the offer. I’ll protect her, too, Declan. From all of this. She deserves better. We all do.”

  I wrenched my arm away from her. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “Don’t go looking for her. Just leave her be. Let her live her life.”

  “Ciara is mine!”

  “Ciara is an innocent girl caught in a man’s game of pawns! She is not property!”

  I lunged at my mother as her eyes widened. I backed her up against a wall, trying my hardest not to disrespect the woman who gave birth to me. My fists clenched. My entire body vibrated with anger. My eyes danced between hers as she stood strong, rolling her shoulders back. Just like Ciara did.

  Holy shit, my mother understood how Ciara felt.

  “I’m sorry if you were ever forced into this. If you ever felt manipulated. Or disrespected. Or as if your voice didn’t matter. You’re the matriarch to one of the most powerful families in the nation. But you’ve overstepped your lines, Mother. And I want you out. Now.”

  “Just promise me you won’t—”

  “Out!” I bellowed.

  Mom slipped away, clicking down the stairs. The front door opened and shut as my forehead leaned against the wall. I growled in anger. I drew back my fist. I slammed it into the wall. Over and over until my mind finally settled. I looked at the dent I left behind and cursed. I rushed into the storage room behind the kitchen I rifled through boxes. And when I found the gun and magazines I needed, I headed for the front door.

  Time for me to go find Ciara.

  13

  Ciara

  The car dropped me off at the distillery, but it took a lot of convincing before the driver left me alone. The last thing I needed was some blacked out car following me around this place. I crept along, sticking to the shadows to try and find my father. Because I knew that if I approached him at the house, there was a massive chance he’d throw me out before I had the chance to speak.

  Forgive me, Declan.

  I walked around the massive metal drums and slipped in through the back door. I peeked through windows and smelled the rotten stench of something rough hanging in the air. I mean, I didn’t know what in the world a whiskey distillery was supposed to smell like. So maybe that was normal. But something told me it wasn’t.

  “Hello?”

  I darted into a room and crouched down. I didn’t know why. Maybe because fear kicked in. Maybe because I wanted to find my father on my own. I’d stepped back onto his turf after he’d given me away. I guess part of me wanted to approach him like a woman instead of like his scared daughter. But I was still scared. And I hated myself for that. I wanted a day to come when I could knock on my father’s door, smile as I walked in, and show him that I’d grown into so much more than he could’ve ever expected from me.

  Guess that would have to wait.

  Footsteps came and went. I hid myself in the shadows of the darkened distillery and held my breath.
When the footsteps receded, I let it out slowly, feeling the world tilt around me. The darkness ebbed and flowed. My lungs felt as if they were collapsing and expanding at the same time. It took me a second to reorient myself. To find the courage to put one foot in front of the other.

  But I found it.

  I stood up and continued my journey through the distillery. I’d never seen the inside of it before. And it sure was massive. I found myself gawking before ripping from my own trance. I leaned against walls and gazed upon the massive vats, thermometers, and whiskey barrels around me. It felt like I was looking for a needle in a haystack, and the further I ventured into the building, the more confused I became.

  Where in the world would my father be in all this?

  “Gotcha.”

  “No!”

  I shrieked as a pair of large hands came down against my shoulders. They fisted my clothes, dragging me along as I kicked and wailed. I tried pulling away so I could run. So I could get away. Because that was what my fear told me to do. To scramble. To run. To never look back and live my life lurking in the shadows like I’d always done. But the more I struggled, the tighter the grasp became.

  “Fuck this,” the voice murmured.

  Effortlessly, the man picked me up. With his husky voice and his broad muscles, he threw my body over his shoulder. I kicked as he chuckled. And the more I flailed, the more worried I became. I knew what happened to people who were caught snooping around my father’s distillery. I knew what my father did to them. Not exactly, of course. But after years of listening to his tirades from his office underneath my room? I had an idea.

  Would he do those things to me?

  “What is it, Brick?” my father asked.

  “Found her snooping,” he said gruffly.

  He tossed me to the floor, and I landed with a thud. My arm crunched underneath me, and I cried out. My father’s chair squeaked as he turned around. But he didn’t make a sound.

  Not until I looked up at him.

  “Ciara.”

  My father’s voice couldn't have been more unbothered.

  “Father,” I said softly.