When he reached the door to the women’s room, Connor muttered, “Excuse me,” to a couple of girls blocking the door.
One of them smirked as she eyed him up and down. “Um, that’s the ladies’, hottie.”
“Yeah, I left something inside,” he replied before he swung open the door.
A couple of girls yelped when he and Ricky strode into the lounge that preceded the actual bathroom stalls. One of the girls had a small mirror on her lap as she snorted lines. “Oh shit!” she screeched. “Cops!”
“Get out,” Connor said, giving her a harsh look. She and her two friends jumped and ran, leaving the coke and paraphernalia behind. Another couple of girls scurried past him and out the door. Connor marched into the adjacent bathroom, where he was confronted with a curvy brunette applying lipstick at the mirror.
“Got her,” he said to Ricky over his shoulder.
Ricky nodded. “I’ll be outside,” he answered before turning and exiting the restroom.
Connor leaned a shoulder against the doorframe between the lounge and bathroom. “You knew I was coming.”
Jess looked at him, her beautiful lips shiny and dark red. She turned back to the mirror, rubbed her lips together a couple of times, then put the lipstick back in her purse, moving as if she had all the time in the world.
“Once Finn told me who Vasquez was, I figured you’d be here soon.” She turned back and rested her butt against the granite countertop, glaring at him with her vivid blue eyes.
Connor’s arms were crossed, and his lungs were tight with fury. He knew this wasn’t her fault, knew if he were only normal, she’d never have to go through this, but her defiance was enough to make him crazy.
“And so you figured until I got here, it’d be a good time to go to the one place Finn couldn’t keep you safe?”
Her mask of defiance slipped for a split second, but then it was back in place, her eyes blazing, jaw stubborn and set.
“It’s a public place. No one’s going to gun me down in the middle of a night club.”
“No,” he answered, his own expression rigid and determined. “They’ll just corner you in the bathroom here, shoot you full of sedatives, and drag you out the front door looking like any other club girl who OD’d on a Friday night.”
Her skin paled in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom.
“You’re an asshole,” she hissed, pushing off the counter, her arms wrapped even tighter around her middle.
He took a step toward her, making it clear she’d have to get around him to leave. “No, I’m truthful.” His voice softened a touch. “Vasquez came clear down into MacFarlane territory to go to a club that’s not special in any way on the very night the woman I love is here for her best friend’s birthday party. That’s too much coincidence for me, Jess.”
Her breath shuddered as she released it, her eyes still hard and angry.
He stepped closer again. “These guys…” He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could soft-pedal it to her, but knowing he couldn’t. “They won’t hesitate. They won’t go easy on you. They don’t care who you are or what you are. It doesn’t matter to them that your old man depends on you, or you have friends who need you. To get back at me, they will follow you, they will take you, they will torture you, and they will kill you.”
They stood there, eyes locked, the faucet on one of the nearby sinks dripping as the bass from the club music boomed softly in the distance. He saw when it happened—when she broke—and it tore his heart apart. But there wasn’t an option. He’d rather her hate him forever than end up in pieces in Lake Michigan.
“Damn you,” she whispered.
“I know,” he answered, because he was starting to realize it himself. Beginning to understand how messed up his world had made her world.
“I’m not even your girlfriend,” she muttered, holding a hand to her forehead.
“They don’t care.”
She cleared her throat, hopelessness written in the way her shoulders slumped and her gaze dropped to the floor. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“I will fix this,” he said, finally stepping close enough to pull her into his arms. He softly kissed the top of her head. “But I need to talk to Cian and figure out how. In the meantime, you’re going to have to let me assign one of the guys to you. I can’t have stuff like this going on. It’ll kill me, Jess.”
She nodded into his chest.
“You know Ricky,” he said, setting her away from him so he could look her in the eye. “Let him shadow you for the next few days, and Cian and I will come up with a plan. I don’t want to go to war with Vasquez, but it’s pretty clear he’s not over what happened with his sister.”
A wry smile twisted Jess’s beautiful mouth. “That makes two of us,” she said softly.
Connor just pulled her into his arms again and held her in silence. He’d made a mess, and now he was going to have to fix it. But more importantly, he felt like something was going to have to change, because he was only twenty-four years old, and already, he felt like an old man.
“What do you mean you have a bodyguard?” Carmen shouted into the phone as Jess pulled groceries out of the bag and put things away in the cabinets at her dad’s house. The phone lay on the counter on speaker, and Jess was relieved she didn’t have it pressed to her ear when Carmen went to decibels best heard by dogs.
“That was Alejandro Vasquez and his guys at the club last night. And he wasn’t there to find a hookup.”
Carmen made a disgusted sound. “As if cheating on you wasn’t bad enough, he had to pick Vasquez’s sister. I swear, Jess, I don’t know how you can stand to be in the same room with him much less accept one of his men as a bodyguard.”
Jess sighed as she put a can of soup away. “Look, I know what he did was horrible. Trust me. And it still hurts, but in a way, I think it was what needed to happen. You know I was unhappy, and I don’t think I’d have been able to break it off with him otherwise.” She paused, looking out the window at the kids playing soccer in the street outside her dad’s row house. “I think deep down, he knew what I needed and that I couldn’t do it myself. He made himself the bad guy so I wouldn’t feel guilty. He made it easy for me. He sort of did me a favor.”
“God, Jess, that’s the most convoluted way of explaining a guy being a cheating dick I’ve ever heard.”
Jess smiled to herself. She knew it sounded nuts to anyone else, but in her heart, she knew even if Connor wasn’t conscious of what he was doing, in his own twisted, bizarre way, he’d been trying to give her what she needed—freedom.
“Well, I admit, he could have chosen his floozy better. But the fact is, until he and Cian bring Vasquez to heel, I’m not going to turn down the security detail.”
Carmen snorted. “As if he gave you a choice.”
“And there’s that.” Jess laughed.
The front door slammed, and Jess heard her father’s heavy footsteps as he made his way toward the kitchen in the back of the house.
“Hey, I gotta go,” she told Carmen. “I’ll text you later and maybe we can grab some breakfast before work tomorrow.”
As she disconnected the call, Sean walked into the room. He was dressed in his usual track pants and hooded sweatshirt, his frame still wide and imposing even though his bald head and sagging cheeks showed his age to be on the far end of his middle years. Jess had been a late event in Sean’s life, and one her mother hadn’t stuck around for after the first couple of years.
“What the hell’s one of Robbie’s guys doing hanging out on my steps?” Sean demanded as he scowled, hands on his hips.
Jessica folded up the empty grocery bag and bussed the old man on the cheek as she walked by him to slide the bag in the gap between the fridge and wall with others.
“He’s hanging out with me for a few days,” she said.
Sean stood in the middle of the worn vinyl kitchen floor and rotated to follow her as she busied herself cleaning up dishes from the drying rack and pull
ed out the ingredients for biscuits from the pantry.
“You dating him?” Sean asked.
“No! Of course not. You think Connor would let one of his guys date me?”
Sean threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know much, do I? I don’t know why there’s one of Robbie’s men on my front stoop. I don’t know why you and Connor MacFarlane broke up. I don’t know where you got the money to pay the utilities at the gym the other day. I feel like a fucking visitor in my own life.”
Jess sighed and rubbed her forehead where a headache threatened.
“Dad, don’t you trust me?”
He stepped closer, his big hand closing around her upper arm. His fingers were knobby from the many times he’d jammed and broken the knuckles, and the pinky on his left hand wouldn’t bend at all.
“Little girl, you know I trust you with my life, but you need to trust me too. I may be old, but I’m not dead. You don’t need to do everything yourself. Haven’t I taken good care of you for twenty-four years? Do you think I can’t anymore?”
She stepped close and put her arms around his waist. “Of course you can take care of me, Dad. I just thought maybe it would be good if I took care of you for a while.”
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Oh, Jessie girl,” he said softly. “I worry about you so much. I thought maybe the MacFarlane boy would be the one to marry you and take care of you after I’m gone. Why’d you break up with him? Hmm? Can’t you at least tell me that much?”
She pulled back and looked in his faded blue eyes. “He cheated on me. But you had to have known that. Everyone in the whole neighborhood knows it.”
He stroked a hand down her hair. “I don’t listen to gossip. You know that.” His eyes were sad, and she watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. “He still loves you, though, don’t he?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t live that life.”
“So, why’s Ricky O’Malley on my stoop?”
Jess pulled away, walking back to the mixing bowl and measuring out flour and baking powder from memory as she talked. “Alejandro Vasquez is pissed at Connor, and he was in the club where we had Carmen’s birthday last night. Connor freaked out and told me I’m stuck with Ricky for a few days.”
Sean’s hands flexed into fists as he began to pace the small kitchen. “That fecker approach you?” he asked as his normally mild Irish accent grew heavier.
“No,” Jess answered as she turned to face him. “But he and his guys were hitting on Carmen and some of the other girls.”
“Maybe I need to take some of the guys from the gym and pay the motherfecker a visit.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Dad. It’s not that big a deal. Honest. Just let Connor and his brothers deal with it. Ricky will watch my back, and it’ll all be fine.”
He looked at her from under his heavy brows, then pointed a finger at her emphatically. “You tell me if you see Vasquez or any of his men again, you hear me?”
“Yes, Dad.” She refrained from more eye rolling. God help her, how she dealt with all these Irish men and their testosterone, she’d never know. “But he won’t. It’s not a problem.”
“Maybe I need to talk to Robbie about this. The boys may not have told him.” Sean had started his life in the US working for Robbie long before Jess was born, but when his fists had been more useful in an amateur ring than as an enforcer, Robbie had been good enough to release him from his duties, and Sean had gone on to open the gym.
“Shit, no, Dad. Don’t get in the middle of their family crap.” As if Robbie gave a damn what happened to her anyway. Jess knew Sean thought of Robbie as an old friend, but the Robbie she’d come to know while she was Connor’s girlfriend wouldn’t lift a finger to help her unless there was something in it for him. Robbie could barely manage to care about his own sons, much less someone else’s daughter.
“Fine, I won’t say nothing right now, but I better not hear about Vasquez hanging out in this neighborhood.”
“Okay, okay,” Jess answered impatiently, desperate to change the subject. “Do you want gravy with your biscuits? I thought I’d make you some for dinner since I’m here. And maybe we can invite Ricky in to have a bite with us?”
Sean muttered something under his breath but then started toward the front door. “Fine. We’ll invite him to eat. I guess it’s the least I can do since he’s looking after you.”
Jessica pulled the flour back out to double the recipe. Some days, she thought no matter what she did, she’d be spending the rest of her life cooking for one Irish man or another. If she was being honest, she understood why her mom had left. She just wished her mom had cared enough to take her along.
Cian paced alongside the loading dock of the empty warehouse, his expensive shoes making a slight thumping noise as they hit the concrete. He’d come from mass with his parents, and that always meant button-up shirts and dress shoes, just like when they were little boys. He checked the time on his watch and saw his meeting was now six minutes late. One more minute, he told himself, then he would go. But of course, at that very moment, headlights came weaving through the empty parking lot, a late-model American sedan bouncing over the myriad potholes and cracks in the surface of the pavement.
When the car finally pulled to a stop, headlights pinning Cian to the wall he’d leaned against, he’d pulled his gun from the discreet shoulder holster he kept it in and let it dangle casually at his side, behind the edge of his pants.
The car doors opened, and dark figures emerged from the driver’s and passenger’s sides.
“You want to turn off the lights, or did you intend to send out engraved invitations to this?” Cian asked.
The driver swore but opened the car door and doused the headlights, allowing Cian’s eyes to adjust to the new darkness as the men once again walked toward him.
He deftly tucked the gun into the back waistband of his pants, slid his hands into his front pockets, and waited quietly.
“Make this quick, MacFarlane. We have better things to do with our time,” the passenger of the car said.
“Just relax, Bruce,” Cian answered, not moving from where he lounged against the bricks. No matter what he might feel on the inside, he looked like he had ice water in his veins. The only time Cian had come close to losing it was long ago and far away, in another warehouse with his father in his face and a trusted employee bound to a chair.
The federal agent flipped him off.
Cian shook his head slightly to clear the memory. “You guys have a big date planned or something? Don going to take you out dining and dancing in your new pink cocktail dress?”
Bruce did what Bruce always did and lunged at Cian. Don did what he always did and stopped him.
“Will you quit taunting him, MacFarlane? Surely you have worthier prey to play with.”
Cian nodded his agreement. “True. He’s not worth the trouble.”
“You called this shindig,” Bruce spat as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of his jacket. “What do you have for us?”
Cian strode a few steps away from the men. “I want to know why you’ve got guys sitting outside my place of business twenty-four seven. The whole point of what I’m doing here—risking my life, I might add—is so my family doesn’t have you assholes breathing down our necks all the time.”
He heard Bruce snort, and Don chuckled in response.
“No, MacFarlane, the reason you do this is so your old man and Liam don’t spend the rest of their lives in federal lockup getting it up the ass twice a day.”
Cian’s pulse flared and his stomach turned as he spun on the men. He had Don’s tie in his fist so fast, all Bruce could do was stumble back before Cian’s elbow landed in his eye.
“Listen to me,” Cian growled in the shorter man’s face. “I could make you disappear into thin air. They’d never find a trace of you, and your wife would have nothing to bury. That sweet daughter of yours would never know what it was like to have Dadd
y walk her down the aisle, and your fucking golden doodle wouldn’t have anyone to go to the park down the block with anymore. You think because I cooperate with you that means you own me? Think again.”
He shoved Don away, ignoring the coughing and wheezing that followed. Bruce stood a few feet away, gun drawn, ready to shoot if Cian took things too far, but in spite of what the agents might think, Cian would never take it too far. He was always in control. Did it make him sick when they talked about his brother in prison? Yes. Did it make him lose control? No. But he had to flex his muscle, make some threats, play the game the way they expected if he wanted to survive this and keep his brothers safe.
He turned to face Bruce, holding his hands out from his sides. “You going to do anything with that or just pretend you’re an actual cop?”
Bruce slowly uncocked the weapon, lowering it when Don muttered he was fine.
“Is someone going to answer me about the surveillance on my place?” Cian asked. “I need to get back to work so my men don’t wonder where I am.”
He saw the two agents glance at each other and knew then he wasn’t going to like what came next.
Bruce leaned down and picked up his unlit cigarette from the asphalt where he’d dropped it during the scuffle. He put it between his lips and pulled out a lighter. After he’d taken a long drag and blown the smoke to one side, he spoke, eyes glittery in the dim light from an adjacent light pole.
“We made a deal you’d gather information for us, and we’d let your old man and Liam off the hook. We never said we wouldn’t continue to investigate MacFarlane activities.”
Cian took a deep breath, because now he did feel like losing it.
“You understand if you’re on me all the time, you’ll make it so I can’t get you information on anyone? No one will be doing business with me if I have a tail twenty-four seven. You wanted me to inform on associates and the Vasquez family. I’ve been doing that, but I can’t do it with feds glued to my ass.”
Don cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough. “What you’ve been giving us isn’t enough.”
Breath of Deceit (Dublin Devils Book 1) Page 5