“You sound unsure.”
“I’m unsure of a lot of things, but I can handle a Christmas tree.” I forced a smile and faced him. “It was a nice gesture. I appreciate it.”
Instead of advancing closer, like a small part of me wanted him to, he said, “Will you come shopping with me tomorrow? The office is closed, and I haven’t bought anything for my family yet.”
“Shopping,” I repeated as if I’d never heard the word. “I guess since I’m spending Christmas with your family, I should buy some gifts as well. I take it Adam might frown upon me gifting Braden with a bow and arrow, though. Perhaps a Robin Hood jumper instead.”
That comment produced one of his more charming smiles. “Good to hear your experience at my folks’ house tonight isn’t keeping you from coming back.”
The fact he was still wearing his overcoat suggested he’d be leaving soon and that he’d truly only meant to walk me to my door like he stubbornly insisted on doing. “Pick me up at ten? I’d like to get a workout in first.” I needed to run off my stress. Get rid of the nagging feeling clawing at me about asking Cole to lie to Sean.
“Want me to join you for that?”
Thoughts of sparring with him transformed into images of rough, wild, and incredible sex on those blue mats at the gym. It’d help with stress, but . . . “Just going to run a few kilometers. I think it’s best if I go alone.”
He nodded, his lips drawing together. “Okay.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I guess I ought to let you get some rest. Lots of stuff planned this week.”
True. I was going to have more Christmas in one week than I’d had in a decade.
We also needed to monitor Bridgette and Atlas’s listening devices and stay apprised of their activity, if any. So far, it appeared Atlas’s bag was parked somewhere in France and too far away to pick up any noise. As for Bridgette, nothing of use had transpired.
My friend Roman was checking out Sara’s story. Hopefully, he’d have news soon. It was hard to believe she’d managed to date two McGregors by mere chance. And without being able to question the unconscious German, we were relying on only her side of the story. “Sara was a bit too relaxed tonight, don’t you think?”
He nodded. “I was thinking the same. I also wasn’t a fan of her attitude toward you.”
Comes with the territory when dating you. Women now hate me.
Wait.
Dating?
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said softly. His playful, endearing smile lifted my spirits and managed to save me from falling into the dark abyss in which my mind often trapped me.
“Do you think Atlas is redeemable?” Where did that come from, Ems? No, I didn’t need my inner Chanel talking to me right now. Atlas is nothing like her from the little I knew about him. And what I did know was all bad.
Sean folded his arms as he worked through my question.
“There was a charm attached to his travel bag—a miniature bottle of Chanel perfume. I wouldn’t have expected a man in his position as leader of a dangerous organization to have a sentimental bone in his body,” I went on to explain.
“I suppose even monsters are capable of love. But as for if he’s redeemable? I don’t know.” His attention moved swiftly to the Christmas tree and remained there for a beat. “We’re not murderers,” he said, reminding me of our earlier conversation in his bedroom. “Unless he gives us no other choice, he won’t die by our hands.”
My gaze fell to the floor. “Atlas was only seventeen when Chanel died. She told me he was more interested in girls at school than learning the workings of The Alliance. I had hoped he’d remain free of his father’s influence, but I can’t help but wonder if her death changed him like it changed me. Made him cynical, callous. Turned him into a killer.” When I looked up, Sean was standing before me, and without a word, he wrapped me in his arms and held me tight. As though he was afraid that the wind would carry me away.
“No blaming yourself. His choices are on him.”
“But were they? Look at my life.” Why was there a tremble in my voice? “Look what being denied choices and control over my life has done to me. To the possibility of us.”
His brows quirked together. “Possibility?”
I blinked. “Impossibility,” I whispered, suddenly feeling frazzled. I worked my hand up between our bodies to catch a tear that’d broken free, quickly dismissing it from existence, as I’d done at his parents’ home earlier.
Where were these emotional tears coming from? These signs of weakness.
“Emilia, I—” Sean let go of his words at the sound of the distinct ring from my burner mobile in my jacket pocket.
“That’s my burner. I’ve been waiting for that call.” I eased out of his grasp, happy for the save. “Sorry.”
He cupped his mouth before turning and walking to the window by the Christmas tree.
“Hey,” I answered after retrieving the iPhone. Only one person had the number, so I knew it was Roman, my American SEAL friend.
“Am I catching you at a bad time?” Roman asked.
Yes and no. I swallowed, trying to pull myself back into work-mode, not needing to guess why Roman was calling. “No, the time is good. Sean is with me.” I felt Sean turn at my words, felt his disappointment. It made my skin sting with regret and my chest ache with sadness. “What’d you find out?”
“Sara did receive a large cash infusion into her bank account three months ago. But she never applied for a bank loan. That part is a lie,” Roman said.
I’d placed the mobile on speakerphone so Sean could listen.
“Honestly, she probably could have survived without the cash. Not as comfortably, but she didn’t need that extra money to stay afloat,” Roman went on. “Also, that deposit was made three weeks after she met your brother.”
“So, she was already dating Ethan.” Sean’s shoulders slumped. I wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
“It doesn’t rule out whether or not they targeted her because she was dating Ethan. Getting close to your family could have been a stipulation for the loan . . . she gives them info along with her loan payment,” I pointed out.
“Our facial recognition software also scoured the available CCTV footage the week before her deposit in hopes we’d find her hanging out with anyone of interest,” Roman explained. “Sara met with two men at her store in New York City after hours three nights before the money was deposited into her account. It may be nothing, but I’m texting you the photos now. One man was German, Hans Frederick. Most likely an alias from what we can tell. Possibly hired by Krause off-the-books. No ID for the other man.”
I tapped my mobile screen to switch to the app, waiting for his message to come through.
“Either of them look familiar?” Roman asked.
As Sean and I stared at the pictures, my stomach dropped because the nameless guy sure as hell was familiar. The black wig and fake nose were classic Luca Moreau.
“Luca?” Sean asked in surprise, and I nodded.
“His name is Luca Moreau,” I told Roman. “And if he was in New York, that means he somehow temporarily removed the tracker we planted in his body.”
Sean cursed and grabbed his mobile, probably calling Sebastian or Cole as he walked toward the window.
We exchanged a few more words, and Roman promised another update after I sent him some additional information on Luca to help his search. “Sounds good. Talk soon.” Roman ended the call.
“Luca would’ve informed us about that trip if he was undercover per our agreement with him. He wouldn’t have removed the tracker we planted in him,” I said after Sean explained the little we knew to Sebastian from the sounds of it and hung up. “Luca is doing what he does best. Manipulating everyone. And we need to figure out what his game plan is before it’s too late.”
“Emilia.” Sean blinked a few times as if an idea had just come to him. “It was Luca’s intel that sent you to London. What if he wanted you there that day for a re
ason? To discover Atlas’s affair with Bridgette and bring that to The League. I think we can now confidently say that Luca’s working with Krause since it appears he met with Sara in New York. I think he wants us on this road, whatever road it is, and his reasons sure as hell can’t be good.”
My stomach knotted at his words. At the realization of what this all meant. We were being played again by the son of a bitch. Luca was supposed to help us take down The Alliance in exchange for not killing him, but now it looked like he was masterminding a plan to take us down instead.
I hastily put on my jacket and started for the door, but Sean quickly closed the space between us.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking him into custody now. I’ll get him to talk before I kill him.”
He grabbed my wrist on top of my jacket sleeve. “You know Luca better than me. If he’s planned all this out already, then he absolutely has a contingency plan in place if you do that. An ace up his sleeve like he’s had every feckin’ time. Pieces will already be set in motion, ones we won’t be able to stop without his help. He’ll have the upper hand again.”
“What are you suggesting?” I asked bitterly, sensing he was about to take away the revenge I was more than ready for.
“We figure out his endgame, let him believe he’s winning. Then we take down The Alliance as planned and kill that fecker, too.”
I cursed in Italian and took a deep breath. Maybe I’d been thinking with my heart instead of my head, which wasn’t like me. “I can put in a call to some of our League members to confirm his location and inform them to keep him in their sights. We can’t rely on the tracker anymore.”
“Sebastian is already on it.”
I wasn’t used to being behind the eight ball. But it was nice to have an assist. Not be the only steady hand. In this case, I wasn’t even all that steady.
“We need to keep a close eye on Sara this week as well. She’ll already be with us for almost every holiday activity because of Ethan, and this might be our best chance to find out if she’s in on whatever game Luca is playing or if he’s simply pulling her strings without her knowledge.” He walked behind me and wordlessly removed my jacket, letting me know I wasn’t going anywhere. “And hopefully, Cole gets that German to talk. Maybe he knows more than what Sara told us.”
“Yeah,” I mused. “Okay. So, we stick to our plan this week.”
“Aye.” He paused and circled me. “But if I discover Luca is behind dragging Ethan into our mess,” Sean began, his tone rough and fierce, “I’ll kill him myself. It’ll be a bloody fecking Christmas this year.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sean
Not only was it too early for this conversation, but the morning light streaming through the windows felt like laser beams focused on my retinas. Worrying about Ethan possibly mixed up in League business had kept me up last night, and I’d drunk too much bourbon to try and turn off my racing thoughts. Now I was suffering the painful aftereffects.
But here I was, after maybe an hour of sleep, at Adam’s gym. Adam, Cole, Sebastian, and I were in the midst of a conversation about Luca, our nemesis. The bane of my existence, as well as everyone else’s. So, yeah, the dull, achy throb that had taken residence in my head coupled with the why-the-feck-was-it-so-sunny-in-Ireland-today-of-all-days had me on edge.
“That son of a bitch.” Cole paced the length of the blue gym mat, his hands tearing through his hair and pulling at the ends. “I want first dibs when it’s time. Luca locked Alessia in prison for years. Forced her into killing a friend. If anyone takes his life, it needs to be me.”
“I already fecked up and broke my promise to Holly,” Sebastian remarked, hands set to the wall near one of the empty fighting cages off to our left. He was shirtless, the cross tattoo on his back drawing my eye. The whole Thou shalt not kill idea of our Catholic religion seemed more like a suggestion than a rule given our work with The League. “Strangling the life from the bastard who made me believe my sister was dead should be my honor.”
Adam moved to the center of the room and stretched his arms out like a ref trying to separate two fighters. “Are we really arguing about who gets to kill this guy?”
“Yes,” Cole, Sebastian, and I all hissed at the same time, then simultaneously broke out into laughter, which managed to diffuse some of the tension hanging in the air.
We’d come to Adam’s gym early that morning to train as well as discuss the wrench in our plans that was Luca. Fecking Luca Moreau. The bastard was like dog shite on the bottom of your shoe—no matter how hard you scrubbed, the stink never went away. But despite our intentions, we hadn’t thrown one punch, lifted one weight, or done anything aside from plot how we’d drain every last drop of blood from the man.
“But really.” Adam slipped his hands into a pair of thin black gloves. “I don’t think you ought to be pissing off my sister again and so close to Christmas. Your dumb-arse slip last night at the dinner table revived her anger.”
Sebastian faced him, but his eyes were on the ceiling as if working through a problem. Or maybe trying to restrain himself from punching my brother.
“And what of a divorce?” I pressed when Sebastian had yet to answer Adam. “You want that?” It was an exaggerated stretch, but I didn’t like seeing my little sister unhappy, and I was prepared to knock the shite out of anyone who made her that way. Even if that someone was her husband.
In my mind, Sebastian was the true League leader of Ireland, and as such, decided the fate of scum like Luca. It was within Sebastian’s right to end the man’s life any way he chose.
But there were plenty of us itching to finish Luca when the time came. No sense in breaking my sister’s heart over that piece of garbage.
Sebastian froze and swung his gaze my way, an angry glint in his eyes at the mention of the word “divorce.”
My parents had once separated, and it’d killed us to learn Da had seen another woman during that time, but Ma and Da were now back together. Their problems were much different than what we were dealing with, though. I had a feeling Sebastian would burn down the world if he ever lost my sister.
Sebastian stalked closer and set a palm on my chest as though he meant to shove me away. I’d once watched this man throw my cousin through a glass wall at his club. Times had changed. We were all on the same side now, but it wasn’t wise to poke a bear.
“Easy, man.” Adam stepped alongside us, his gloved hand wrapping over Sebastian’s shoulder.
Sebastian kept his gaze fixed on me, his jaw muscles clenched. Maybe my sister was holding out on him, and he was on the verge of hulking out from lack of sex.
I could relate. The more I wanted Emilia, the harder I trained. But the fact was I couldn’t have her. I had to find a better way to channel my frustrations.
“We all want the fecker dead, but Holly’s more important.” I let go of a deep breath.
“You think I don’t know your sister is more important than that arse?” Sebastian’s low timbre was eerily calm, like the quiet before the storm.
Damn, we needed another laugh to cut through the thick air. “Of course, but my sister is stubborn, and you know that.” I stepped back and held my hands in the air in surrender. “And selfishly, I want to kill the guy myself. He’d be my first, and who better to pop my cherry?” My lame attempt at a joke had Cole eyeing me with a strange expression. All the fight seemed to have gone out of him, and in its place was sadness. What the hell was that all about?
Before I could ask him if my crude humor bothered him, Cole surprised me by saying, “How about none of us do it? Emilia can kill Luca.”
Sebastian expelled a deep breath as if this solution relaxed him, and Adam released his hold of him.
Emilia already thought of herself as a killer. No need for that useless piece of shite to add to her negative thinking. “Emilia is as tough as any of us in this room,” I began, “but I refuse to give Luca the chance to hurt her.”
“Maybe we table
this topic for another day,” Adam spoke up, the voice of reason today. “We’re taking our kids to see Santa later,” he began while pointing at Sebastian, “so I suggest you get rid of your aggressions inside the ring before then. Put on a nice smile, maybe surprise my sister with something pretty while you’re at it, and we’ll have a merry good time later, okay?”
A gruff, bullish sound left Sebastian. The only McGregor that Sebastian tolerated putting him in his place was Holly. I had a feeling his “aggression,” as my brother put it, was going to damn well hurt a few of us inside that ring, too.
“I think Adam should go in the ring with Sebastian first,” Cole said as if reading my thoughts. “Ya know, since it’s your idea to let the beast out before he goes to see jolly old St. Nick with his kid.” Cole was working hard to fight back a laugh, and when he couldn’t hide it any longer, I cracked a smile as well.
“I’d rather face you, brother,” Adam said, turning his attention on me a minute later after Sebastian appeared to calm down. “See how your training has been progressing.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” I teased him back and grabbed a pair of gloves. “It’s on.” I ducked under the rope of the closest ring and slid on the thin black gloves.
Cole and Sebastian circled the ring, resting their forearms on the rope to watch as Adam and I squared off.
My twin knew he was a better fighter inside the ring. He’d also spent nearly half his life fighting outside of it, and I didn’t even have two years yet. But hell, I’d throw down with him to the best of my ability.
Adam rotated his left shoulder, loosening up.
“Hey now, don’t forget family photos,” Cole reminded us. “Your parents will kill you if the both of ya show up for Mass on Christmas Eve with bruises.”
Adam smiled. “Oh, no worries. It’ll only be one of us.” He flicked his wrists, and I went toward him, ducked to his left, and swung, catching him with a right to the cheek. He stepped back, touching his face in surprise. “So, it’s gonna be like that, I see,” he said with a laugh, then came back at me swinging.
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 18