by Maura Rose
BRIAN
An Irish Mob Romance Novella
By
Maura Rose
TNA Publishing
Brian © 2020 by Maura Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design © Ran Designs
First Edition August 2020
Chapter One
Brian paused for a moment in the back alley, cracking his back. Behind him he could hear the rowdy pub goers shouting and chatting and making a nuisance of themselves.
None of his brothers and cousins understood why he worked at the pub, why he took double shifts. But how the hell else was he supposed to get out of this shithole?
Okay, so maybe Dublin wasn’t a total shithole. But it was for him, or for anyone else who had no goddamn options. Especially when you had the kind of family Brian did. The Troubles might have officially ended but that didn’t mean things were all fine and dandy between everyone, and it would be a cold day in Hell before the Protestants and the Catholics got along—and Brian’s family had always been in the thick of it.
He finished emptying the trash into the dumpster and then went back inside, the wall of heat and noise hitting him as he replaced the trash cans.
It was possible to just buy a plane ticket to somewhere, anywhere, and just go. Even somewhere crazy like Bangladesh. But he didn’t want to go from being poor in Ireland to poor somewhere else. And what about paperwork? I.D., that kind of thing?
He wasn’t too keen on climbing the ladder here. It wasn’t crime he objected to, it was more like the fact that he knew there was only so far that society would let him go. The old world held old grudges.
And, if he was being perfectly honest—he just kind of wanted to get the hell away from his crazy family.
“Brian!” his brother, Denis, called him over. “Someone’s taken the right mickey out of you again.”
“That’s just his face,” one of his cousins commented.
Brian flipped them all off. “You guys want another round, or what?”
“Seriously, mate,” Denis said, leaning in. “Why so down, huh?”
“Maybe living around here in this bloody place has me down, you ever think of that, Den?” Brian snapped.
Denis put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “All right, all right. Y’know if you hate it so much you could always see if Bridget needs a hand.”
Bridget, cousin Bridget. She’d disappeared into thin air a year ago. “Bridget’s probably dead, Den, got shanked or something.”
She’d had some shifty people around her lately, after her mum had died. Brian hadn’t known too much about it—Bridget kept to herself—but you bet once she’d vanished he’d wished he’d checked up on her or something. They weren’t close, or hadn’t been since they were kids, anyway, but family was family.
Denis shook his head. “No, Bridget’s fine! I just couldn’t tell anyone for a while, to make sure the guys got off her back.”
“Which guys?”
“The ones who were bothering her, her dad’s old mates. Kept pressuring her to join with their crew or something. Anyway, she needed to get out, y’know? So I heard from a friend that this rich guy in America’s looking for a wife to piss off his dad. No strings attached, just marry him for a few months then annul the marriage.”
“Right, and that’s not suspicious at all. How d’you know this bloke didn’t murder her?”
“First off, I think if he wanted to kill a bird there’s easier ways to do it. Second, she fell in love with the bloke and they’re married. She’s pregnant and everything. I got photos.”
Brian just about lost all feeling in his legs. The cousin he’d thought was dead for a year was alive? In the United States? Married with a kid on the way? “And she’s all right?”
“Yeah.” Denis paused, then shrugged. “Well, the guy’s a part of the mafia. Head of a family or something.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Irish mob.”
“And Bridget’s okay with that?” Their cousin had always been straight edged.
“Yeah, far as I know. I guess it’s not as psycho as everyone says it is in the movies.” Denis downed his beer. “So. You want me to put you in touch with her? See if she needs anyone, if her man’s got a place for you?”
Brian considered that. He’d never really thought about the United States much. But if Bridget arranged for him to go over, he’d have a guaranteed job and the paperwork taken care of, and he’d know at least one person, and he’d have a better chance at starting a new life there than here.
Besides, wasn’t the mob all about making a name for yourself and working your way to the top and all that?
Like he’d said, the crime part of it didn’t bother him too much. The ability to get off this damn low rung of the societal ladder was what compelled him.
“Sure,” he said. “Ring her up. But maybe don’t go around telling everyone where she is. Those guys might still go after her.”
“They wouldn’t bother to cross the whole bloody ocean,” Denis replied. “And besides, they’re all dead or disappeared.”
“What?”
“Yeah. No confirmation, but I think it was her bloke did it. Didn’t want his girl to be threatened or anything if she wanted to come home and visit the family is my guess. Bridget kind of downplayed it, you know how she is, doesn’t like a lot of attention on her.”
Bridget had never been one for theatrics or drama or hogging the spotlight. With all the attention-stealing shenanigans his brothers and cousins always got into, Brian could appreciate that about her.
He drummed his fingers on the bar top. It was a bit of a risk, going and working for the mob, but Bridget was a responsible girl. She wouldn’t have gotten involved with just any criminal. And he’d like to see any man make Bridget stay married to him if she didn’t want to be. Even when they were kids she’d had a mean right hook and she was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. If she was sticking around the guy then he had to be a somewhat decent type.
And what did he have to lose?
“If you can contact her,” he said, “then I’m in. I don’t care what job it is, so long as I’ve got room for upward mobility.”
“I hear they’ve got dental and everything,” Denis said with a smirk.
Brian rolled his eyes. “Just contact her, all right?”
They weren’t in the early 20th century waiting for a letter to cross the damn ocean on the Titanic or something, but it still took a few days before Brian got a call from Denis.
“Bridget talked to her guy, he’s got a place for you as a runner.”
“A runner?”
“Someone who delivers goods for the families. Sometimes it’s just across the city, sometimes it’s driving across borders.”
Brian had a feeling that whatever goods he’d be delivering were far from legal, but that was fine by him. He wasn’t going to have to shoot anyone and he could certainly get in and out of a place without being detected by the cops. Just ask Denis about their misspent youth.
“All right. When do I leave?”
“They’re taking care of the paperwork and she gave me an estimate of two weeks.”
Damn. That was fast. Faster than he could’ve pulled it
all together, anyway, if he’d decided to leave all on his own.
“Do me a favor,” Denis asked. “Just if you find any good birds and one of them’s got a sister, give her my picture.”
“I’m not going to meet anyone, Den.”
“You’re Irish. They love Irish accents over there. You’re definitely going to find someone.”
Brian just rolled his eyes at that. Yeah, sure. He hadn’t had much luck with women here in Dublin and he doubted that was going to change. And how would he explain his lifestyle to any woman he dated? It was a little difficult to drop hey, I work for the mob into casual conversation. Besides, he’d find someone when he actually was somebody worth getting to know, when he’d made a name for himself.
Until then? Yeah. Hilarious.
Before he knew it, his plane ticket was booked and he had a small apartment waiting for him. He said goodbye to Denis and everyone else, promised to stay in touch, and then he was outside of the airport, looking for Bridget.
He craned his head around, trying to spot her, only for someone to grab his arm. “Brian!”
He turned around, grinning. “Bridge!”
Bridget looked great, her red hair piled up on top of her head, visibly and happily pregnant, her eyes shining. Pretty much everyone in their family had red hair, including Brian, although he had brown eyes while Bridget had blue-green.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he told her honestly. “We all thought you’d been dumped somewhere, scared us half to death, you did.”
“I’m sorry,” Bridget replied, hugging him. He hugged her back, careful of her belly. She pulled back. “I just had to be careful when I left. I didn’t know how persistent Da’s old mates were. Then after Sean took care of them I thought better safe than sorry anyway, so I only told Denis a month ago that he could let everyone in on where I was.”
“He’s a good lad, Denis. Annoying bugger, but loyal.”
“He really came through for me. Are these all your bags?” Bridget gestured at the two pieces of luggage he’d brought with him.
“Yeah, I didn’t have much. I was still living with Mum, y’know. Oh!” He pulled a bag of his mother’s scones out of his backpack. “She made me bring these for you.”
“Oh, I’ve missed these! Nobody bakes like your mum.” Bridget took the scones gratefully. “All right, then, we’ve got a car waiting outside. I’ll take you to Sean, he’ll explain how your job works and all, and then I’ll show you to your apartment. It’s not much to start out with, but your salary will increase the more successful runs you do and you get bonuses for delivering early and things like that. And we’ve always got spots opening higher up.”
She led him out of the airport and onto the street, where there was a sleek black car waiting. The driver got out and helped Brian with putting his bags in the trunk, and held the back door open for Bridget as Brian helped her in.
“One of our lieutenants recently retired,” Bridget explained as the car pulled out into traffic. “He’s getting on in years and his oldest daughter’s getting married soon and he’d like to focus on his family and grandchildren as they come. That’s just one example of the opportunities that’ll be opening up.”
“Den told you all about my aspirations, then, yeah?”
“He said you’re ambitious but loyal. That’s the combination Sean’s looking for in his men. If you’re lazy, then you don’t work hard, and we can’t depend on you. But if you’re not loyal, then you might try and overthrow him, and that’s just a huge mess to clean up.”
Brian eyed his cousin. “Putting those university classes to work, I see.”
“Sean depends on me, yes. I might as well be a lieutenant even if I don’t get a proper title. It’s the new thing, nowadays, actually admitting that the wife helps run the show, giving her the credit she’s due.”
“Being in charge looks good on you. You seem happy.”
Bridget smiled. “I am happy.”
He filled her in on all the family drama back home, the gossip, who’d cheated on who, who had gotten arrested, who’d had a fight, who’d gotten married. Bridget had been without information on the family this whole year while she’d let them all think she was dead and she was desperate to get caught up.
They pulled up in front of a large brownstone in a hell of a nice neighborhood, and Brian paused, looking around. “You live here?”
“Yup.” They got out of the car, leaving the bags inside. “Sean and I had our own apartment but now that his father’s retired we live here, since it’s the base of operations. His younger brother lives in the apartment now, it’s nice and rent controlled and we weren’t about to give that up.”
Bridget waved to a man jogging by as he went past them, and then walked up to the door, which was opened immediately for her by another man in a suit. “The security team take turns being the jogger, helps keep them in shape, but poor John hates it. I always wave to encourage him.”
She nodded her thanks at the security guard who’d opened the door, and Brian saw him disappear into a side room where a second man was sitting, monitoring the house and neighborhood with cameras.
Bloody hell.
“Are you not safe?” he asked. “Is that the reason for all the security?”
“Oh, no, we’re perfectly safe.” Bridget led him up the stairs, taking them easily despite her condition. “It’s general protocol. Better safe than sorry and all that. You quickly get used to it.”
Upstairs, she led him into a nice, sun-filled office, where a handsome dark-haired man was sitting at a desk. He looked up as Bridget entered, a small, fond smile curling up the corner of his mouth as he saw her.
“Sean, this is my cousin, Brian. Brian, this is Sean, my husband.”
Sean softly kissed Bridget hello, and the unbelievably fond look his cousin gave him reassured Brian that she was, in fact, in love and happy here. Not that he’d thought he was coming in to do a rescue mission or anything, but it was nice to have confirmation.
The two men shook hands. “I’ve heard good things about you from Bridget,” he said. “If you’ll take a seat we’ll go over how it all works.”
“I’m going to say hello to your father,” Bridget said, kissing Sean on the cheek and then walking out.
The way that everything was outlined to him by Sean sounded very straightforward. They wanted him working in the city, since they tended to save the border-crossing runners for people who were American citizens. “You’ll be delivering to the Sokolov family. We struck an alliance with them last year but we’ve opened a proper trading route with them recently and we’d like you to handle it. They’re Russian, but don’t let that intimidate you—they’re easygoing. You’ll be working with the men under Pavel, and he’s one of the calmest men I’ve ever met.”
Brian nodded along, asking some questions when he needed clarification, but overall it seemed rather simple. Just follow the rules and don’t get too cocky, and bam. Easy-peasy.
Bridget came back in as they were wrapping up. “Looks like it went well,” she said.
Sean stood up again, as if ready to help her in whatever she needed. Brian was glad that his cousin had found someone who looked after her, took care of her. It was what Bridget deserved after losing her parents and being all alone to fend for herself. “Brian’s smart, asked good questions, seems to understand how this all works. I think it’ll be a good partnership.”
“Great. I’ll take him to his apartment then.”
“Look at you, all American, calling it an apartment instead of a flat.”
Bridget rolled her eyes at him.
The flat, as Bridget had warned him, wasn’t too fancy. One bedroom, with a small living area, but it was clean and neat, nice kitchen, appliances, everything worked. A hell of a lot better than the flats he’d seen in Dublin. Not at all run down with possible mold or cockroaches or who knew what the fuck else lurking in the corners.
“You think you’ll settle in okay?” Bridget asked him. She looked a
little nervous. That was Bridget, always worrying about other people.
“Yeah,” Brian assured her, grinning. “I definitely think I will.”
Chapter Two
Kathleen McCourt rolled her eyes as she grabbed her jacket off the hook. Her mother’s yells still echoed down the stairs. God, and everyone had always said Dad had been the one with the temper? Clearly, they hadn’t been paying attention.
She double checked herself in the mirror hanging in the foyer as she went, an old habit from when Dad had been alive. He’d been drunk half the time—no wonder Mom had taken over the McCourt operations—and when he’d been drunk, he’d started swinging. Usually at Mom, but you never knew. Once or twice she’d forgotten to check herself on the way out the door and had struggled to lie to friends when they’d asked her where the bruise on her jaw or her black eye had come from.
Now, of course, there were no bruises to cover up with makeup. Only her mom’s yelling and backhanded compliments. Kathleen sometimes wondered what those would look like, if words could mark the skin the way physical blows could. She suspected she’d be more bruised than Dad had ever made her.
But the mirror only showed a perfectly normal looking face, no bruises. Just strawberry blonde hair with hazel eyes. Mom had always been annoyed that Kathleen hadn’t inherited her red hair. But whatever.
“Kathleen McCourt!” her mother was still bellowing. “You are not going to—”
“Last time I checked, I was still a legal adult!” she shot back. Had been for some time, in fact. God, she had to get out of this house, move somewhere else. If only.
If she’d been part of a normal family, maybe, but being a part of a mob family made everything that much more difficult.
“I’m going out and that’s all there is to it!” she concluded, pulling her jacket on and marching out the door.
Ugh. Thank god for Kate Sokolov, honestly. She and Kate had been childhood friends since, both being Irish, their families had done business together. Now the Sokolov territory was partially bordering the McCourt territory, and Kathleen had reached out again, asking if she could just go into Sokolov territory when she wanted to.