In reality, it happened far more often than it should, in Finn's mind. He was the family fixer, the man who made sure that the necessary outcomes of MacFarlane business didn't come back to bite them in the ass—or land them in prison. And, as a fixer, Finn found it incredibly sloppy to dump a body in Lake Michigan. There were so many more creative and effective ways to handle your waste.
Detective Watson gave him a cold smile. "This particular body was a MacFarlane man."
He just continued to stare at her. Finn was widely considered the nicest of the MacFarlanes but he was still Robbie's son. He'd learned his poker face before puberty, no newbie detective was going to crack him, no matter how hot he found her.
"Danny O’Reilly," she said with a furrowed brow. "He washed up just a mile below the Pier."
Finn's heart grew tight. Danny was Cian's protection. If someone had taken him out, that could very well mean they had Cian.
Keira began to pace slowly, hands behind her back, expression curious. "Sadly, it appears he had quite the altercation before his untimely death." She reached into the inside pocket of her trench coat and produced some photographs, which she tossed on the coffee table in front of him.
Finn leaned forward slowly and picked up the photos. He looked at the bruising and damage done to Danny's chest, then at the blackened skin around his eyes and nose. His finger traced the outline of the shamrock pin with its distinctive devil horns.
"And you're showing these to me, why?" he asked, tossing them back on the table casually, even as his mind churned with all the possible things that could have happened to Cian.
The detective knelt facing him, one long leg up as the other rested on the floor. She looked at him earnestly. "Your brothers are all three missing, and O’Reilly was Cian's muscle. Aren't you worried about them? I know the FBI and CPD are."
Finn snorted in derision. "You think I'm going to rat out my brothers because you're concerned for their safety? Come on, Detective, stop treating me like some penny-ante dope fiend you've grabbed at Lincoln Park."
Hurt flashed in her eyes for just a moment and Finn fought the urge to take the words back. She was the enemy, he couldn't afford to feel empathy for her, even if she was beautiful.
She stood then. "Where's Cian, Finn? Things really will go better for everyone if we can find him before the Russians do, or any of the other dozens of people looking for him. And if you provide the information that brings him in, there are deals that could make your life bearable."
He shook his head before he stood, too, and stepped into her space, suddenly less nice guy and more MacFarlane man.
"I will die in prison before I ever give you one whisper of information that endangers one of my brothers, do you hear me?" His voice was like the hiss of a snake. "But even if I were a rat, you'd be out of luck here, Detective, because I have absolutely no idea where he is."
Then he walked out of the room, slamming the bedroom door as he went, because it was all true. He didn't know where Cian was, nor Liam, and maybe not even Connor. And he didn't know if any of them were safe. It was the truth, and it was much more frightening than facing the possibility of spending the rest of his life behind bars.
Chapter 3
Cian didn't want to do it. It was a risk he'd vowed to himself he wouldn't take. But the hours and days were ticking by and he wasn't getting any closer to finding Lila. He was truly desperate, and he knew that if anyone could help him, it would be his other half—the man who'd been guarding him and covering his back since they were mere boys.
So, he'd sent the burner phone to Liam's island, and he knew it had arrived several hours ago. Now he had to decide if he was going to use it or not. If someone had seen him ship it, they could have discovered where it was going. He’d already put Liam in harm’s way. But now he'd be endangering him and Katya further, because if Liam found out what was happening in Chicago, he'd be tempted to come back.
If Cian made this call, he might be ensuring Liam's self-destruction.
"Fuck," he snarled as he looked at the burner phone in his hand. It had only one number programmed into it. The one that Liam probably held in his own hand at this very moment.
Cian flipped open the primitive phone and hit send.
"Yeah?" Liam's husky voice washed over Cian like cool water after a hike through the desert.
"It's me," Cian said, trying not to let the emotion bleed through the simple words.
He was met with silence for a moment and when Liam finally answered, Cian was shocked to hear how sharp and angry his brother sounded. "You scared the hell out of me," Liam snapped. "Connor hadn't heard from you, the newspapers will only say that Finn's locked up, what the fuck is going on?"
Cian struggled to get the next words out. Even after several days, it still scorched his chest to say them. "He took Lila."
"Who?" Liam's voice snapped with protective rage.
"Pop," Cian answered with disgust.
Liam knew as well as Cian that their father would stop at nothing to get his way. He was determined to bring his oldest son to heel, and if that meant killing the woman Cian loved, then he'd do it in a heartbeat.
"Or he had someone take her, and now..." Cian paused to take a breath. "Now I can't find her."
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Liam cursed. "What about the men? Who's running the business? Did Pop stage a coup?"
"No," Cian answered sharply. "I'm in charge and it's going to stay that way. But I need your help because time is running out."
"How?" Liam asked. He was a bulldog, Cian wouldn’t be able to move on until he’d answered Liam’s questions. "Where is Pop?"
"In the hospital, on life support," Cian answered quietly. "And I’m the one who put him there."
"Well, fuck," Liam said, breath leaving his lungs at the same time as the words.
They were both quiet for a moment, then Cian refocused. "I need your help, " he repeated.
"Anything," Liam said quickly. "I'll come back. Katya is safe here, I trust these men on the island, I can be back in twenty-four hours."
"No!" Cian snapped before he softened his tone. "I mean, thanks, but no. You're out. You need to stay out. There are far too many people here looking for you."
Cian wondered if Liam could tell there were things he wasn't telling him. If he could, it wouldn't matter. Liam could beg and threaten until he was blue in the face, Cian wasn't going to tell him anything he didn't want to.
"Okay, then what?" Liam asked.
"I need your memory of the organization and the family. When the old man was still in charge, you worked with different people than I did. The security guys, the street soldiers. I didn't know all of them. You worked with them every day those first few years."
And Liam had. While Cian was trained to be the boss, Liam was trained to be the enforcer. While Cian was sitting in meetings with business associates to discuss percentages and territory, Liam was learning the best ways to beat a man to get answers. Cian had always been white collar, Liam blue.
"I need to know if there were any guys Pop was especially close to. Maybe someone he'd known a long time and trusted? Someone from the old country, or someone he'd come up the ranks with?"
Liam paused, and Cian's heart raced. As guilty as he felt about looping Liam back in after finally securing his most loyal brother some amount of freedom, the possibility that he could help find Lila was something Cian could nearly taste.
"There were the two brothers from Belfast," Liam began.
"Already checked. They both died in a car bomb after they went back home."
"And there was the guy who'd grown up with Pop, Jared O'Roark. Last I heard, he went to the London Devils."
"Yep, still there, I've had him checked. Doesn't seem like he's left London in years. No phone calls to the States, no contact with any of our men."
"There was this one guy who wasn't around all that often. I always assumed he was from Dublin. Maybe still part of the old organization, but allowed to do the occasion
al job for Pop?"
"Who was this?" Cian's question was sharp and hungry.
"Roark?" Liam paused. "No, Riley. Michael Riley."
"I remember him," Cian said softly. "Definitely one of the Dublin guys."
"Yeah. He came two or three times when Pop was still in charge. Always for a specific job. A hit or a cleanup. He was the one who took out Arturo DeSantis when the Italians were trying to squeeze Pop on the downtown territory."
Cian remembered a wiry red-haired Irishman. Then his gut roiled as more pieces solidified in the mists of his memory. "He was a sadist," Cian said succinctly. "He kept DeSantis alive for five days before he finally executed him. I heard stories afterwards. Pop wouldn't discuss it, but the men did."
Liam agreed. "He tortured him. I saw it one night when Pop sent me with a message to give to Riley--" He stopped mid-sentence and Cian knew it was because Liam didn't want him to know the cold truth.
"Tell me," Cian demanded. "I need to know what he's capable of."
"He'd kept DeSantis chained up. Did psychological shit, like not letting him sleep, making him sit in his own piss and crap. By the time I got there, DeSantis was a mess. When he heard my voice, he begged me to kill him just so he wouldn't have to go through any more of it."
"Fuck!" Cian's harsh exclamation rattled through the small kitchen of the safe house he was staying in for the night.
"I didn't look at DeSantis up close and personal, but I heard Riley had waterboarded him, torn out his fingernails one by one, played Russian roulette."
"He gets off on it," Cian murmured. It made him nauseous to think about the possibility of a monster like Riley having Lila. She was smarter and stronger than any person he'd ever known, but she was a woman, and a small one at that.
"Where did he keep DeSantis?" Cian asked. "Do you remember?"
"One of the industrial properties. I don't remember which one, but I'm sure we don't own it anymore." Then Cian heard Liam take a deep breath. "We need to hang up," he said softly, reminding Cian that this was all they'd ever be able to have now—a few stolen minutes that put Liam in danger every time.
"It's him," Cian answered, his voice rough. "Pop trusted him with the worst jobs, the things he didn't want there to be a record of. That's who he'd call to take her so I couldn't find out. I know it."
"Do you think you can find him?"
"Now that I know who he is? Yes. I'll find him." Cian's words were coated in ice and laced with poison.
"Dammit," Liam replied. "I should be there. I should be the one to handle this for you..." His voice trailed off in despair.
"You're right where you're supposed to be," Cian corrected. "And soon Lila will be, as well. You just gave me the best lead I've had since it happened. I'll find her."
He didn't say more, because he didn't have to. His brother knew a part of him no one else had ever seen. Cian would kill Michael Riley. He wasn't a killer, but he'd done it before—to protect someone he loved. And he loved Lila Rodriguez.
"One last thing," Cian said in a rough voice. "Take a page from Connor's book. Don't wait. I wish I'd said things to Lila. No matter what, I won't have the chance now. Marry Katya, Liam. Live the life I'll never be able to."
Then he disconnected the call and prayed his brother would stay put where he was safe.
* * *
Michael Riley. Cian repeated the name in his head as he waited for the next of his men to be brought into the cheap motel room. He’d been conducting business here all day. His office moved from location to location each day, only a handful of men aware of where they could find him at any given moment. It was making it difficult to get shit done, but not impossible. And he’d spent the last ten years gaining the trust and loyalty of his men. That was serving him well at the moment.
Everyone knew Cian was wanted by both CPD and the Feds. They also knew Finn was in custody. It made them nervous, but also a lot less likely to revolt. No one wanted Cian in the hands of the law. He knew far too much, and he’d be bargaining with their lives. So, they kept quiet, and he kept as tight a rein on things as possible when he was on the move every few hours.
"Marty’s here, Mr. Mac," his bodyguard, Jimmy, said as he opened the door to the motel room.
"Thanks," Cian replied.
The family accountant, George Martin, known simply as Marty, came in, a bulging briefcase in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
"Here you go," he said, as he sat at the small round table Cian’s men had moved to the center of the room. He slid the newspaper across the table and Cian took it, putting it on top of a stack of papers at his elbow. "They said you like to see the news each day."
Cian nodded. "Thanks."
Marty wasn’t a nervous mouse of an accountant. He was supremely confident in his ability to cook books. He’d kept the MacFarlanes out of prison—for the most part—for twenty some odd years, and this latest turn of events hadn’t knocked him off his game. He had procedures in place that went into effect anytime the law might be too close for comfort. He’d put those in motion when Finn was arrested, and all the records that shouldn’t be seen by the Feds were long gone by now.
Luckily, Cian had his own copies ready to hand over to buy Finn’s freedom. Lila had made sure Cian could hide anything he wanted in places buried so deep in the dark web only a handful of hackers in the world could possibly find them.
"What can I do for you today?" Marty asked.
Cian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I’m looking for information on a man my father hired several times over the years—he’s from Dublin. He usually comes to do the most sensitive jobs—the things we don’t want tied to anyone local. You might have seen his name in payroll files. Might even have paid him directly if my father didn’t want any records."
Marty nodded. "There have been a handful of men that fit that description over the years. Do you have a name?"
"Michael Riley."
Marty didn’t flinch, but Cian saw the shadow fall over his face. "Oh, yes. Mr. Riley."
Cian’s heart raced. "You know him?"
Marty gave him a wary look. "We’ve met a few times. As you guessed, I paid Mr. Riley directly. All cash."
It was the first break Cian had gotten since Liam had given him Riley’s name yesterday. And he was ready. Ready to hunt this man down, ready to make him pay for ever touching a hair on Lila’s head.
"And is he in town right now?" Cian asked.
Marty looked uncharacteristically nervous.
Cian leaned forward, dropping his voice in confidence. "My father isn’t going to wake up."
Marty gulped awkwardly.
"Anything that may have been going on when he had the most recent heart attack needs to be handled. I have to know about it, or we could have something blow up we weren’t prepared for."
Marty took a shaky breath. "I never asked for details. Your dad….your dad didn’t explain things, and I figured these were family matters. Things you needed to speak to one another about. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle.”
"I understand," Cian said with a sympathetic smile. "And that’s fine. But now? Now you need to tell me whatever you know about my father’s recent activities." He paused, then let the smile drop from his face. "It’s not negotiable."
Marty nodded vigorously. "Of course. Of course. And yes, I believe Mr. Riley is still in town because he hasn’t come to me asking for his payment."
Something roared to life inside Cian, and he had to tamp down the urge to pump a fist in the air.
"And what was he brought here to do?"
"That I don’t know." Marty looked him in the eye. Smart choice. But then, Marty was a smart guy. "All I was told was that he was here, and he’d need some seed money—which I gave him. And then he’d need his usual payment when he was done."
"Were you given a way to get ahold of him?"
"Yes."
A breath rushed out of Cian, and he felt a surge of adrenaline so intense he couldn’t keep still. H
e had to move to his feet, where he began to pace the small room.
"How? How are you able to reach him?"
"Cell phone," Marty answered as he pulled out his own phone. "Here, I have it." He held the phone up for Cian to see the contact labeled as anonymous.
Cian took out his own phone—the one he had for today, anyway—and snapped a picture of the contact info from Marty.
Marty looked concerned. "I’m never told what these jobs are about. I hope you believe that. I mean, your dad said something about handling a complication—" His voice faded.
Cian knew there was no point in pursuing that angle. Robbie MacFarlane wasn’t going to tell the family accountant that he’d hired a psychopath to torture and murder Cian’s girlfriend.
"I understand. But were you given any location information? Maybe a safe house or motel where Riley would be staying?"
"No, just the number. Your dad said it was in case Riley had to be told to pull out of the job. Mr. MacFarlane said he might contact me and give the order, then ask me to relay it to Riley."
Of course he did, Cian thought. Because the accountant was the last person anyone would think was giving orders to a rogue killer from Dublin.
"Did my father give you all this information in person?" Cian asked.
"Yes. He called me to the house."
"Who else was there when he talked to you about it?"
Marty hesitated.
"His guards? Maybe one of the guys who was assigned to the house regularly?"
"The usual men were there when I arrived, but no one was in the room when your father spoke to me."
So. Robbie hadn’t trusted anyone to know what he was planning. Cian’s mind raced back to Danny’s pleas as he took the blows Cian delivered.
"I didn’t know he was going after her. I wouldn’t have brought her there if I’d known."
An ache that had lodged itself in the center of his chest and refused to let go, throbbed. Danny probably hadn’t known. Robbie had told only one person, and that man was sitting here in this hotel room with Cian. But either way, Danny had betrayed Cian over and over again. The result had been Lila’s abduction. Did it matter if Danny knew about the end of the plan? Or only that he’d been the one to provide the ammunition to set it in motion? Cian shook off the question. He didn’t have time for a conscience. He only had time to find Lila and insure her safety.
Touch of Dark: Dublin Devils 3 Page 2