by KB Winters
“Aye, and why is that, sweetheart?” I asked, intrigued.
“You just seem to have a distinctive edge about you that I can’t quite figure out. What line of business are you in?”
“Eh, small family import business. Not much to gloat about, really.” It wasn’t a lie, just omission of the full truth. “I simply manage the day to day business dealings, paperwork and such.”
She took a drink of her water, eyeing me suspiciously. “You make your job seem so mundane and boring.”
“It is really, and I’d rather leave that part of me life at the office rather than carrying it along with me. Besides, I asked you to lunch to get to know ya better, sweetheart.”
The waiter came over and refilled our water glasses, apologizing for the delay. Seriously, for such an empty place this time of day, there was no excuse for such poor, slow service. I wasn’t about to berate the man in front of Ava, that would’ve been bad form. Instead, I waved it off.
“So, Ava,” I said, trying to think of anything to change the subject, “have you ever been to Ireland? You have a slight accent, so I was wondering–”
“Only when I was a baby,” she replied. “Before my dad passed away. But I grew up in a strong Irish family.”
“You did?” I asked. “What’s the family name again? I usually know all the Irish around here–”
“I’m not from around here actually,” she said quickly. “I’m from Washington D.C., originally.”
“Aye, so what brought you to Chicago?”
“Work,” she said.
There was that dreaded word again. Work. That needed to be off-limits. So again, I tried changing the subject.
I cleared my throat. “So, have you ever written anything?” I asked. “I mean, have you ever had anything published? Anything I might know?”
“I’ve started a few books but never finished any,” she said with a shrug. “Not like they’d be very good.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not a writer, silly.”
“You write, thus you’re a writer,” I said. “Or is it somehow more complicated than all that?”
Our food came quickly as if the waiter was trying to make up for his delay earlier. Normally I wouldn’t mind sitting there for hours engaged in a lively conversation with a beautiful woman. But for whatever reason, our conversation wasn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped it would. I knew it was because of all the secrets I had to keep from her. Perhaps dating someone outside the lifestyle wouldn’t be as easy as I’d thought it was going to be.
“I have no training, no classes, nothing like that,” she said. “I just write whatever I feel like writing and whatever comes out, comes out. There’s no real method to the madness.”
“I personally think that sounds intriguing. Maybe one day I can read some of it.”
“Maybe so,” she said, taking a bite of her salad as she smiled at me.
Her emerald eyes lit up, and I pushed any and all thoughts about this not working out of my head. As I stared into those gorgeous eyes, I knew I wanted this to work. I wanted to date someone who didn’t just want to fuck me for my money, hoping to get knocked up so she could tie me down forever. No, I wanted a real woman with her own life, her own thoughts, and no hidden agendas. I wanted somebody like Ava. I had to find a way to balance my two lives. The trouble was, I wasn’t sure how to go about doing it.
My phone went off and I sighed.
“Sorry, work stuff,” I said, motioning toward the phone as I looked down at the text message from Colin.
We need you back here now, man. This is serious.
Shit.
“I’m sorry, my sweet Ava, I have to cut our lunch a bit short. I’m needed at the office,” I said, putting the phone into my pocket.
“Oh, of course,” she said. “I should probably get back to the office as well.”
We’d finished eating, so at least we’d managed to get through the meal. I hated rushing away as soon as our plates were cleared. Reaching over, I took Ava’s hand in mine, stroking it before lifting it to my lips and kissing it gently. Her skin was so soft and smelled like orange blossoms–I could revel in that scent all day. But I had to go.
As we stood to say our goodbyes, with no real forethought or planning, I decided to go for it. When I leaned in, I softly pressed a kiss on her lips. A chaste kiss, nothing more, but when I pulled away, her cheeks were flushed and she was smiling. I let out a small sigh of relief at not being shot down—or slapped—and getting what I interpreted as a positive reaction to my gesture.
“I want to see you again, sweetheart. And soon,” I whispered, before leaving her completely stunned and breathless.
Eight
Ava
Back at the station, I found it hard to focus with thoughts of my lunch date swirling around in my mind. He’d kissed me. And I liked it. I couldn’t remember the last time a man kissed me and I actually enjoyed it.
“We brought you a sandwich, Ava,” Officer Rollins said, pulling me from my fantasy and back into the real world. “Hope you like turkey and swiss?”
I turned to face him and quickly tried to wipe any lingering googly-eyed expression off my face. “Oh, thank you, Rollins,” I said. “Appreciate that.”
I didn’t want to be rude and tell him I’d already had lunch, so I took the sandwich and placed it on my desk like I was going to tear into it any moment. He stuck around.
“So, any news on the cop killing? Any leads?”
I cringed. “We don’t know they’re dead yet, Rollins.”
“Please, call me Joel,” he said with a sheepish grin.
I didn’t take to calling officers by their first name. I didn’t think it sent the right message and was a bit unprofessional. But the fact that he already called me by mine, well, I didn’t want to seem like I had a stick up my ass or was being purposely aloof.
“Okay then, Joel, we don’t know that they’re dead yet,” I said. “And no, we don’t have any new information.”
“What a shame about those two,” he said. He leaned against the wall and took a drink from his Starbucks coffee cup. “Good guys. I hope we find out who did this. Think it could be the Russians?”
“Not really, no,” I said. “The Russians aren’t usually so messy. And right in front of their warehouse? They know better than that.”
“The Irish then?” he pressed.
As soon as he said it, my heart sank. I’d had an idea that yes, it could be the Irish. I knew there were some dealings between the Irish and the Russians, but the Irish were just as meticulous as the Russians were. That was why I was stumped. The mess at the crime scene didn’t fit the profile of either group, casting some shred of doubt about both in my mind.
“Honestly, Officer–err, I mean Joel–I can’t say anything definitively until we get the lab results back or get a lead of some sort. But I’m sure the fine men and women in homicide are handling it okay.”
“Don’t you ever wish you could be out there with them?”
“Not really,” I said. “I’ve been to my fair share of murder scenes. Definitely enough to know that I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Joel took this as an invitation to take up the seat across from me.
“So tell me, Ava, why did you choose Organized Crime?” he asked. “And why specialize in the Irish of all the different mobs out there? I mean, they’re really not that active anymore.”
In my own mind, I sighed and rolled my eyes. I really had no desire to get into it with someone I hardly knew. Joel Rollins seemed like a nice enough guy and a good cop. But my story and my reasons for following the career path I was on were far too personal to be sharing with him.
“It’s a long story, Joel, and not one I care to talk about honestly,” I said. “It’s too personal and too painful for me.”
He was quiet for a few moments, and I thought that might be the end of it. At least, I hoped it would be. He watched me, carefully, as if he expected me to fill the silence by te
lling him everything I’d just said I had no desire to talk about if he only stayed quiet long enough.
“It has to do with your dad, doesn’t it?” he finally asked.
I literally jumped back as if I’d been smacked across the face. “Excuse me?”
“I know about your father, Ava,” he said. “The entire precinct does. The story about him has been going around, but I wasn’t sure if I believed it.”
When he said that, I felt exposed and completely raw. Not to mention, more than a little upset and resentful at the intrusion on my personal life. I just wanted to be left alone, but Joel Rollins stayed put, drinking from his cup and watching me like I was a suspect. It was obvious that my glare and the firm set of my jaw wasn’t conveying my irritation clearly enough to Joel. Stupid schmuck.
“What do you know about my father?” I asked, my voice low and harsh.
“Not much,” Rollins admitted. “Just that he was an Irish merchant and police informant. I can put two-and-two together pretty easily.”
The anger surged up within me like a wave. “Please leave me alone, Joel.”
His face contorted as he jerked back, stunned. He looked like I’d hurt his feelings by bringing up his personal history and baring it all for the world to see when it was, in fact, the other way around. And I wasn’t the type of woman to apologize when someone else walked all over me or violated my privacy. So, if he was waiting for an apology from me, he was going to have to wait an awfully long time.
“I didn’t mean–”
“Doesn’t matter what you meant, Officer Rollins,” I snapped. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it, and you insisted on pressing me anyway. So, I would really appreciate it if you left me alone now. I don’t want to be having this conversation anymore.”
He started to say something else, but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he stood up and walked toward the door quietly, the expression on his face saying I’d wronged him. I had no doubt that when he got back to his boys, I would be the bitch from hell in all of this.
“I’m sorry, Ava,” he tried to explain. “I know I put my foot in my mouth sometimes. It’s one of my bad habits, I know. I just really want to get to know you better.”
I gritted my teeth and held onto my desk for dear life in order to not punch something–or someone.
“This is not the way you do that, Joel,” I said. “You don’t do it by forcing someone to talk about something so personal and painful–especially after they’ve told you they don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry, Ava,” he repeated again before leaving.
Never once did I tell him it was okay and he was forgiven. Instead, I waited until the door closed behind him and broke down in sobs. Talking about my father was never easy, but being forced to open up about it to someone I hardly knew was worse. It felt like he’d violated me, and knowing that the entire police force knew about my father–that they had gossiped about it behind my back–hurt in a way I’d never experienced before.
Breathe, Ava. Counting to ten, I managed to relax. There was no way I was going to let this get to me. I’d been through far worse and survived. I’d get through this, as well. This was nothing. They were nothing.
Nine
Flynn
Isaak Sokolov, the head of the Russian Mafia, was waiting for me at the warehouse. And he wasn’t alone.
“I see you brought some friends,” I said as I took my seat.
Isaak didn’t seem amused. His friends, Alexei and Nicolei, were brothers who had earned Ol’ Ike’s trust over the years. They’d done well for themselves in working their way up the ladder, eventually earning the rank of second in command—unless of course, Isaak ever had children. Which I could never imagine.
Isaak was a brute of a man–tall, imposing, and big in a way that wasn’t fat. He was pure muscle. He didn’t need bodyguards, but he brought them along just in case. To intimidate or impress, I assumed. And it worked on most people—but I wasn’t most people. I wasn’t intimidated by brute strength because I knew Ike might be big, but he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed either. Now Alexei, that boy was bright. He was somebody I was going to have to watch out for.
“You have a snitch, Mr. O’Brien,” Isaak said without preamble—getting right to the point. I liked that in a businessman.
“Do ya have any proof, my friend?”
“I’m not your friend, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Of course you’re not. It’s just a saying, Mr. Sokolov,” I said. “But the first part of the question still remains—where’s your proof?”
Isaak looked at me, narrowing eyes that burned with anger, before Nicolei answered for him. “First, the two cops outside our warehouse during our run–”
“Could’ve just been following a suspicious-looking vehicle,” I said. “We don’t know for sure it was intentional or that they had any idea–”
Nicolei tossed down some photos in front of me. The pictures depicted a police barricade outside of the same warehouse where the murders had taken place.
“Probably looking for the two cops, which we’ve taken care of.”
Nicolei placed more photos of police officers raiding their other warehouses around the city.
“And those, Mr. O’Brien? Do you believe those to be connected to the police killings, too?”
“Could be? If they linked the warehouse to you, why not?”
Isaak spoke up again, finally breaking his silence. “You brought this trouble on us, Mr. O’Brien. It’s your men and their carelessness who caused this to happen,” he growled. “Now, tell me–what am I supposed to do?”
He was right that we were the ones who’d brought this trouble raining down. Not that I could admit that. I glared at Colin who was sitting beside me. This shit was still on him.
“We’ve taken care of the problem, Mr. Sokolov,” I said. “I trust you have other locations around the city–safe places the police don’t know about yet? Let’s keep it that way.”
“Too late, shithead,” Isaak said. “They’ve already started arresting my men.”
“On what charges?” I asked.
“You tell me.”
“This is the first I’m hearing about all this,” I said. “Let me meet with my men and see what I can find out, but if I were you, I’d be looking at your men as well.”
As I spoke, I stared at Alexei and Nicolei. They had every reason to try and take their leader out in an effort to gain control of the organization. They both were smarter than Isaak, and I had no doubt they could run the Russian brotherhood better than him. But then again, I didn’t think I could do business with the likes of them. Ol’ Ike was a scary fuck, but Nicolei and Alexei were pure evil. They were the type of men you just couldn’t trust.
“My men are trustworthy, it’s you dirty Irishmen we have to–”
“Hey now, Ike, listen up, man,” I said with some heat in my voice so he knew I was serious. “We’ve been nothing but good to you and your guys–have we not? I’ve kept my word, and you can bet I’ll keep it this time, too. If there’s a snitch—and that’s a very big if—we’ll catch the bastard, and he will die a very painful death. Are we clear?”
“Good.” Isaak stood up and motioned for his minions to follow him. “I expect a report back from you tomorrow after you talk to your men.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, giving Colin a smile as I said it.
Once Isaak was gone, Colin broke out in laughter. An odd sound, considering how serious the circumstances were. But Colin often handled stress in strange and mysterious ways.
“Someone is gonna have to die to appease the overlord, you know that, Flynn?” Colin said, his face still red from laughing.
“Not if I can help it,” I said.
“You think you can fix this without killing someone?”
“I’m not killing anyone unless there’s proof he’s a snitch, Colin,” I said. “Otherwise, what the fuck are we about, eh? A brotherhood doesn’t turn on each other, not to appea
se anyone, and no matter how bloody dangerous they may be. We stick together. Only if there’s proof and with my approval will we do what needs to be done. But only then—and only if he’s really a snitch.”
Colin stood up and patted me on the back. “You’re a better man than me, Flynn.”
And that’s why I was the leader of our organization, and he was not. Even our parents knew that something wasn’t right with Colin. I might be bloody crazy myself, but he was certifiably insane in the most dangerous way possible.
Ten
Flynn
“You might be wondering why I called all of you in here tonight.”
I stared around the table at the four men gathered there—the four men I trusted the most. They all looked back at me with mild curiosity. Red and Emmett—who’d been by my father’s side from the beginning, were men who were always more than welcome at the table. I valued their experience and wisdom. And as senior members of the syndicate, they often gave me insight into areas I had less experience in and might not know otherwise.
Colin—my right-hand man—was also seated at the table. As crazy as that bastard was, I valued him more than most people and he’d always be like a brother to me. His family had helped raise me, and I knew that when the chips were down, Colin would always have my back. So no matter what—he’d always be welcome at my table.
And the last man seated at the table was my brother, Aidan. Truth be told, I was surprised he actually bothered to show up. He’d done his best to distance himself from the syndicate, wanting to run a clean, legit life. At least for a while, anyway.
Something always drew him back into our shadowy world, though—and admittedly—it was me. Even though he was my baby brother, Aidan had always been there for me—just as I had been there for him. That was just what brothers did. So when he got the call from me, he’d left his Chicago penthouse and had come down to the wrong part of the city once more. Just because I’d called. You couldn’t pay for that sort of loyalty and I was grateful for it.
Looking at him, you could tell we were brothers. His dark hair and eyes matched mine, even if his hair was longer and slicked back into a tight ponytail. He wore a suit that had been tailor-made for his body. It was expensive, and I admired the cut. My baby bro had style, I had to give him that.