Dad's Irish Mafia Friend (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 110)

by Flora Ferrari

  He'd been trying to embarrass me into giving up. Well too bad, mister!

  Pushing to my feet, I grabbed the remote and jabbed at the volume button, ignoring the protest of my head at the tinny speakers, desperate to find out what he was saying. If I'd known the man was practically famous I'd have asked about him directly, instead of trying to find some link to him through my dad! Jesus, Nora could have told me exactly where to find him, but I didn't even ask her! He was her uncle.

  I couldn't believe I'd been in the same room as him. I couldn't believe he'd been pretending not to know anything the whole time!

  He must have been splitting his sides trying to keep a straight face. I'd spent the entire evening fantasising about him taking me like my life depended on getting rid of my virginity. What was it about that man? Even before I'd met him he got under my skin and it was so much worse now.

  "God, he's such a dick!"

  The news anchor was huddled with him under a large golfing umbrella, and she obviously thought he was as attractive as I'd found him last night. She kept batting her eyes and tucking her blonde hair back behind her ear. Maybe he'd screw her over too.

  I scowled at the screen.

  The weather hadn't kept her from making sure he had a view right down her blouse if he wanted it.

  And I wanted to throttle the pair of them.

  I gripped the remote harder, wishing it was her pretty little neck.

  After all I'd done to try and find him, the man I'd come to this city to find turned out to be the only guy I'd ever been so physically attracted to that I swear to God I ovulated at sight of him. I couldn't believe my main concern was the news anchor rather than how to find him again.

  At least Garrett didn't look impressed with his interviewer. He kept his eyes fixed on the camera and I found myself smiling when he firmly kept a marked distance between them, despite her creeping closer.

  He hadn't minded how close I got. As if that counted for anything.

  I mentally shook myself, focusing on what he was saying on screen.

  "Ahead of the controversial boxing match planned this weekend, we talk to the fight promoter, Dublin businessman Garrett Brannigan."

  "I want to assure everyone coming to the match that despite the Gardai's best attempts to disrupt it, the fight will be going ahead as planned."

  "What about the allegations of your involvement with the Kilpatricks' criminal dealings?"

  "Everything about this fight is legal. Mr Kilpatrick has always been a boxing fan. I run a legitimate business and his fighter happens to train out of my gym. The Gardai need to be careful about villainizing successful businessmen like myself, right at a time when Dublin would benefit from greater prosperity. Boxing is a huge draw and the anticipation around this fight has been building for a long time."

  "What do you say to people who think this fight is an unnecessary risk? That it's pouring fuel on the gang-war fire, and costing the public more money to prevent a repeat of the weigh-in bloodbath a decade ago."

  "I have strict security in place at the venue. It's a closed fight. Believe me, I'd have loved to let the cameras in, but we're keeping it small. I have no reason to believe that there will be any trouble. This is just a boxing match. Mr Tiernan's fighter was more than willing to accept the challenge from Kilpatrick's boy. I believe this is all in good faith."

  "Is it true you're set to make a million euros off the back of this fight? You've been called unscrupulous."

  "All the licenses are in place. This is a legal fight and it would be a huge mistake if old fashioned sportsmanship and Irish boxing heritage were derailed by an overcautious Gardai looking for trouble where there isn't any. Why should we be penalized for doing our jobs?"

  After last night I didn't believe a word he was saying, but the easy tone of his voice made me want to trust him all the same. Of course he wasn't antagonising any gangs. Whoever the Kilpatricks and the Tiernans were, they had the right to hold a boxing match the same as anybody else.

  And anyway, this was it. This was how I was going to meet him - again. Only this time, I wasn't going to sit there and let him lie to me. I wasn't going to get distracted by his smooth way of talking or what he'd look like out of his clothes, or the way he magicked his hands down my pants, or his lips against mine.

  Tonight I was going to find him. And I was going to get him to do exactly what I wanted so I could get the hell out of this city and never have to think about him again.

  CHAPTER 8

  Garrett

  "Who's your one over there?" Conor Kilpatrick nodded to the crowd below us. Up on the balcony overlooking the floor of the boxing gym, we had an unrestricted view of the boxing ring.

  It was why I’d had the office put up here. Far enough away to avoid distractions, but still close enough to keep an eye out.

  I knew instantly who he meant. Every man in the room was staring at the redhead making her way through the crowd. She was a stranger, and in this tight knit group, strangers weren't welcomed. But I knew exactly who she was.

  "The feck is she doing here?"

  Kaitlin was like a bad penny, but I didn't want her to stop turning up. As much as I knew her being here spelled trouble, I was impressed she'd figured out enough to turn up here.

  Kilpatrick's brow raised. "I thought you had it all under control, Brannigan. Isn't she the one at your sister's last night too? What's she after?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing from you. She's here for the fight." And maybe she was. Either way, I wasn't about to let Kilpatrick deal with her. No need to use a sledgehammer.

  "She better not bring any trouble."

  "She won't."

  All the same, I stalked down the metal staircase to the ground level.

  Through the cheering crowds I watched her pushing her way up to the ring. She was talking to my fighter, and the boy was looking around. I had no doubt she was trying to track me down again, but what I didn't know was whether she was here for the man who'd kissed her, or for the business she had with me as Garrett Brannigan.

  Either way, I didn't have the time for it right now, no matter how much I wanted to pick right up where we'd been interrupted. And I didn't like the way she was attracting attention, soaking it all up and gleaming brighter because of it.

  My boy Hennessy said something and she threw her head back, supporting herself on his bicep, just above his boxing glove as she laughed. My entire body tensed. The only one making her laugh should be me.

  Last night hadn't done her any damage. She looked like a goddamn Botticelli painting. Maybe she wasn't nude, but the dress she had on was indecent - clingy and short. The straps of her high heels barely covered her feet, though the thick cuffs at the top of them, circling her ankles, looked like shackles. Her legs went all the way up, and I wanted to spread them wide and pound into her. I wanted to claim her for myself in front of everyone here so they knew they couldn't touch her, and that she was off limits to everyone but me.

  But she was working the fighters, all smiles and laughs and lingering touches. And she hadn't even looked at me.

  Why she was such a dirty little tease?

  She had a picture she was showing everybody. No one was giving her anything. They wouldn't - they knew better.

  Eventually, she got fed up. I saw her throw her hands up, and then in a second she'd climbed into the ring.

  The microphone hanging over the canvas shrieked and squealed as she pulled it towards her.

  "Hi. Sorry to interrupt. Hello...I'm looking for Garrett Brannigan. Has anyone seen Mr Brannigan?"

  The entire room fell silent and stared at her.

  I growled low in my throat. "For fecksake, Kaitlin."

  This whole fight had been a gamble, and she'd just trashed the odds of the match going down the way I'd planned. The stupid girl didn't know what a powder keg she'd walked into.

  Kilpatrick was not going to be pleased about this little show. Tiernan might go off at any minute.

  The girl swallowed visi
bly as though she'd finally taken the temperature of the room.

  "No? Right, well I really need to speak to him. So I'm just going to stay right here until he comes out. Maybe I should call him Rhett? Is it Rhett that I'm after?"

  My security guys were coming closer to the ring. The tension in the room had rocketed. Kilpatrick looked twitchy. Tiernan was tight-lipped, whispering to one of his thugs.

  Pushing out from the crowd, I cleared my throat loudly to centre the attention back on me. I stepped up to the ring, ducking through the ropes on the other side, behind her. Her back straightened, almost imperceptibly raising her taller as she heard my footsteps on the canvas. But I noticed. I noticed everything about her.

  She turned on the spot, and her breath drew in as she looked at me.

  "You need to go home now sweetheart."

  Kaitlin shook her head and anger flashed in her eyes. "I will not. What the hell is your problem Brannigan? You can't handle me, is that it? The big Garrett Brannigan can't pick up the phone for an itty bitty girl like me!"

  I didn't need to look around to know that the silence of the crowd was not a good thing. She'd walked into the middle of a situation she didn't comprehend, and it was not wise to start shouting around people who shot first and asked questions later.

  "I don't know what you're talking about, love. Step down a minute. Come with me."

  I reached for her, and she pushed me back, eyes wild.

  "No! You're going to tell me why the hell you lied to me. You're ruining my life, mister! You don't get to tell me what to do."

  She was still holding the microphone and she turned away from me, talking into it again. "Do any of you know why he's such as ass? I've been trying to get hold of this man for months because my father - Donovan Kearney-"

  Surprise slackened my face and I started towards her, bristling with the need to shut her up.

  "Oh - oh. You have heard of him then."

  I should have joined the dots before now, but I thought she was out to get me. Thought O'Rourke was trying to bait me. I didn't think the coincidence of her name was real.

  Something terrible must have happened for Kearney's kid to be here at all. He never would have sent her here willingly.

  Hell, she wasn't a kid. She was all woman and she wasn't going to look like anything much longer if she kept on talking.

  She danced back as I made a grab for the microphone.

  "I was beginning to think I was going crazy, because no one in this damn city talks about anything to anyone! My father - God rest his soul -"

  This was a double barrelled surprise and she caught me right in the chest with it as I yanked the microphone away from her with a screech of feedback.

  "-decided to leave you in charge of-"

  "Kearney's dead." My tone flattened the question, but before I could push for an answer the sound of a half dozen shotguns locking into action finally caught her attention. Her jaw hinged open and she fixed me with a panicked, wide-eyed stare, her whole body shivering.

  I didn't need to break eye contact to know they were trained right on the pair of us. She'd just linked me to a traitor in the presence of the top brass from the two gangs he'd screwed over. I'd be lucky if they missed that.

  No one had expected Kearney's daughter to walk in and introduce herself. Least of all me.

  I grabbed for her face, stilling her words, my fingers pinching into the softness of her cheeks, forcing her mouth open and she squirmed like a fish caught on a hook. On my hook.

  "Don't say another word."

  All around us were men on both sides who would have gladly killed the man themselves. And that was assuming one of them hadn't actually done the deed. They weren't going to balk at killing his daughter to send a message, once and for all. If anyone believed I still had dealings with Kearney, I'd be joining her.

  I pulled her in hard against me, only releasing her face once my lips were firmly sealed over her mouth. Kissing her was the only thing I could think to do. I must have taken leave of my senses.

  I closed my eyes, praying for a quick ending. But none of those guns fired.

  For a moment her mouth softened in willing compliance and she sagged into me with a dirty-hot moan like I'd been what she'd been waiting for her entire life, all the anger bleeding out of her and melting away until she was clawing me close instead of pushing me away.

  Then she scrabbled back, outrage flaring, like a cornered, feral cat. This time I caught her wrist midway in the air between us, before she could hit me and her hand tensed into a tight little fist.

  I growled and her eyes widened, but she squared up to me instead of backing down.

  "Let me go."

  "Not on your life."

  Roughly I shoved her around, shifting my grip on her arm, bending it back behind her. This time I wasn't going to let her squirm free.

  I pulled my handgun out, holding it high above the crowd, for both sides to see as I clicked the safety off.

  "The lot of you, listen up. This is Kailtin Kearney, daughter of Donnovan Kearney who screwed the both of you over before she was born. No one touches her apart from me. She's mine."

  I shoved her towards the edge of the ring and she stumbled, glaring up at me. Once she was through the ropes, I slung her up over my shoulder, ignoring her indignant shriek. She drummed against my back, but I barely felt it as I pushed through the crowd towards the back door. She wasn't really trying to get away. At least she had sense enough to know what was good for her.

  Kilpatrick stood by the door, arms folded grimly across his chest, mouth set in a serious line.

  "You better keep a tight hold on your one, Brannigan. Dublin's a real dangerous place when you don't have any friends."

  "I'll consider that a warning."

  CHAPTER 9

  Kaitlin

  In the alleyway behind the boxing gym, Garrett finally set me back on my feet.

  When he let go, it was like he was throwing me away.

  Blood pulsed thickly in my ears and my head pounded too vibrantly for me to get my bearings immediately. The dizzy notion that he'd just hauled me out of there like some kind of caveman was only a distant concern. I could still hear that bone-chilling sound of the safety being clicked off so many guns pointed in my direction. Right now, I was too focused on the sight of him reholstering the handgun he'd held to the back of my neck to worry so much about anything else.

  I felt queasy and pale watching him handle the weapon with an ease that could only come from years of practice. He smirked when he caught me watching him.

  "I thought you Yanks were used to guns."

  What the hell had I got myself into?

  Embarrassed, I hooded my eyes, wishing he wouldn't talk to me like I was just some clueless kid. He was right though. I might have been taking care of myself for years, but I didn't know the ground rules here, or who I was supposed to avoid. And I never thought any of it would be as criminal and messed up as this.

  "Funnily enough I've never had so many pointed at me before."

  I held my head high, ignoring my wobble as I stepped forward, walking next to him down the street. Garrett grabbed my arm, shoring up my attempt to regain my dignity. His arm was there, right when I needed it, as though he could tell I was on the point of stumbling. My panicked brain gave up the idea of trying to flee. There was no doubt he'd catch me, or worse, someone else would.

  I clung to him, and he yanked open the door of a waiting car I hadn't properly noticed. "Where are you staying? He'll take you home."

  His lips formed a thin, impatient line and I forced my brain to crunch into gear enough to answer him, fighting to ignore the tremble in my hands that had started up.

  "Oh, no. I'm not letting you pull another vanishing act. I still need to talk to you. Didn't you hear anything I said in there?" He couldn't push me away again, not after I'd found him for the third time. Whatever else had happened, I still needed to sort out how to get ahold of my inheritance. My fingers tightened on the sl
eeve of his jacket as though I could stop him from leaving.

  Though I didn't want to admit it, the idea of going back to the hostel after what just happened filled me with dread. But I wasn't about to admit that was the biggest reason for my stubbornness.

  By now I had no doubt Garrett would laugh at me for standing here quaking after I'd brought it all down on my own head by marching in there and mouthing off the way I had done.

  Turned out my Dad must have had a very good reason for never coming back to Dublin. The city was populated by gun-toting psychopaths.