by KB Winters
I stared at the envelope as if it were a bomb ready to blow up in my face. I was hopeful, yet scared of it at the same time. It was what I wanted. What I needed. However, it was also going to force me to confront that question I’d been kicking down the road—what was I going to do if my brother refused to come back?
Jason laughed, “You look like you’re staring down the barrel of a gun. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Oh, I am,” I sighed. “I’m just a little surprised I got the answer so quickly. I thought it would’ve taken a while longer.”
Jason cocked his head and looked at me. “You didn’t think Flynn was innocent, did you?”
It was something I’d asked myself a number of times before and then immediately felt guilty for asking the question of myself. I wanted to believe in Flynn’s innocence so bad that I’d talked myself into not even questioning it. However, when Jason presented me with proof that he was, in fact, innocent, the enormous wave of relief that washed over me told me that there was some small piece of me that hadn’t been convinced.
“So, who’s the snitch?” I asked. “And how did you find out?”
“Colin,” he said. “Finding out for sure wasn’t easy. But I squeezed some contacts I have in the PD and sure enough, he was on their payroll. That envelope has logs, recordings, transcripts—everything you need to clear Flynn.”
“Aye,” I stared at the envelope in stunned disbelief. “Jason, thank you.”
He laughed. “You won’t be thanking me when you get my bill, brother. I had to call in all the markers I had to get the information.”
“I’ll pay it happily,” I replied. “You have no idea.”
He nodded and his smile grew smaller. “I think I have an idea.”
I put my hand on the envelope, not knowing why I needed to touch it, just knowing that I did. Maybe it was to make sure it was real. That it wasn’t some hallucination or fever dream I was having. The paper of the envelope was cool beneath my hand and most importantly, it was solid. Tangible evidence.
As much as I was thrilled to have the proof in hand, I had to snap my mind back to the here and now. I had another problem I needed Jason’s help with. A bigger, more serious, and far more pressing problem.
“I was glad that you called. It was fortuitous, really,” I said. “I have another job for you.”
“Always happy to cash your checks, bro.”
“I need you to find somebody for me.”
“That’s my specialty.”
I took a sip of my coffee and set the cup back down on the table. “Amon Flannigan. He’s here in Chicago, and he’s gunning for me.”
Jason took a bite of his pastry and nodded. “And you want to get to him before he gets to you.”
“Precisely,” I said, “but listen, I have to be up-front here. This job may not be easy. In fact, this job may be very dangerous. Flannigan’s a bad guy—deadly, and he’ll be heavily armed.”
Jason shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure.”
I smirked at him. “This isn’t some drunk wife beater, Bell,” I said. “I really want you to watch your back here. The last thing I want is for you to end up face down in the lake.”
“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want,” he said. “I’ve had my eye on this new Aston Martin, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to die before I bring that baby home.”
“Well, like I said, just watch your back.”
“Will do.”
We finished our coffee and pastries amid some small talk. I’d worked with Jason on a number of my cases and had developed a real rapport with him. I liked him quite a lot and found him to be a terrific conversationalist. He was intelligent, well-read, and knowledgeable about a lot of different things.
“Why did you end up becoming a PI?” I asked.
He shrugged. “After I got out of the Marines, I really didn’t know what to do with myself,” he said. “I wasn’t cut out for the corporate world, and I’m not the type who wants to punch a clock for a living. I prefer to keep my own hours, my own counsel, and answer to nobody.”
“I can relate to that.”
“Plus, I’ve got some skills that are useful in this field, but wouldn’t really be applicable in a corporate boardroom, you know?”
I laughed. “That makes sense.”
“Tell me something,” he said. “Given your family’s—history—why did you opt for a life on the straight and narrow? Seems to go against —tradition.”
I chuckled. “Probably because it does go against tradition,” I said. “I’ve always been fascinated by and had a profound respect for the law. A life of crime never appealed to me. I saw the things my dad and my brother were into and it just didn’t seem like the life I wanted to live. I wanted to make a difference, law was my path to do that.”
“And yet, they pulled you in anyway.”
“Temporarily.”
Jason chuckled. “Temporarily?” he arched an eyebrow at me. “What if Flynn doesn’t come back? Even now that you’ve got the evidence to clear him?”
“He’ll come back. My father isn’t going to be around much longer, so he’ll be back.”
Jason shrugged. “From what I gathered, he’s living a pretty sweet life out in LA,” he said. “Under an alias, of course. But he’s happy and may not be interested in a return engagement.”
“LA?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I figured he’d gone international,” he said, “but my contacts sent me photos and everything. It’s him. All of that is in the dossier in that envelope.”
Los Angeles. I’d always assumed he’d go back to Ireland. But it made sense, given the reach of the brothers—they’d no doubt have been able to find him there. Barring Ireland, I’d also expected him to go international. I never expected that he’d wind up in Southern California—especially given how often he’d said he hated the mere thought of Los Angeles.
But then, maybe that was the point—nobody would have expected him to turn up there.
I sighed. “Right now, I need to focus on staying alive and getting to Flannigan.”
Jason nodded. “I’m on the case, boss. I’ll get you some intel ASAP. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let him get to you first, Aidan. If I did, how am I ever gonna get that Aston Martin?”
He laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in. It was a very welcome break in the tension and stress that had been building up like a coming storm.
“I appreciate you having my back,” I said. “I know I’m in good hands.”
“That you are, brother. That you are.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Aidan
I drove home from my meeting with Jason and strangely enough, was feeling rather optimistic about things. I had proof of Flynn’s innocence and with it, hopefully a path back to my normal life. A life I could spend dedicated to my law practice —and building something special with Maggie.
All I needed to do was get to Amon Flannigan and put him down before he got to me. Easier said than done.
There was the whole problem of finding him—which then led to the problem of putting him down. I wasn’t a fighter by nature, though I could take care of myself. But scrapping in a bar fight was a lot different than a gangland-style gunfight.
Which meant, enlisting the help of my men.
After my little dog and pony show, it shouldn’t be too difficult. They understood I meant business and I could be as hard and ruthless as any of them. The truth of the matter was, I needed them there just in case. I needed somebody to pull the trigger because I didn’t think, when push came to shove, I could actually do it.
Ordering somebody else to do it just sort of felt like the thing a crime boss would do. The most experience I had in running a crime syndicate was based on one question I asked myself often—what the fuck would Flynn do? He’d pass the order of execution off to one of his fuckin’ lackeys—he wouldn’t want Amon’s putrid blood staining his hands.
I weaved my way through traffic, a mill
ion different thoughts vying for my attention. There was so much on my plate, I didn’t know where to start. It was a little overwhelming.
“Okay, take a deep breath,” I said to myself. “Prioritize.”
It was an old trick I used when things were getting to be too much to handle. I forced myself to slow down and compose a list of everything flashing through my mind—and then assign a priority number to it. It was an old trick but had gotten me through law school and plenty of cases throughout my career.
Flynn wasn’t my priority, although he was eating up plenty of brain space. Talking to him about coming back wasn’t going to prevent our so-called half-brother from putting a bullet in me. That was what sat at the top of the list.
Not knowing where Amon was hiding meant I was going to have to be patient and wait for Jason to get back to me. I knew it was only a matter of time before he found him, Jason really was good at what he did. So, that was something else that was out of my control. Another thing I could push down the priority list.
That left rallying the brothers together and coming up with a plan as my biggest priority. Second biggest, actually. My biggest priority was to get Maggie somewhere safe. I had a feeling things were about to get nasty, and I wanted her as far away from the blast zone as possible. I’d feel better knowing that she was safe and out of harm’s way.
Of course, Maggie being Maggie, I knew she wasn’t going to like it—not that she had a choice. She wasn’t one to hide from trouble, instead, she seemed to embrace it. Too eagerly for her own good most of the time.
But, suffice to say, Maggie had never dealt with killer gangsters before. Not until she walked in on a dead body. Shite could happen to her that I had no control over. She needed to go away at least until the deed was done. I had a feeling it was going to be an all-out war, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be caught in the crossfire. I’d be able to do my job a hell of a lot better and bring this to an end if I knew she was safe and sound, tucked away in a secure location.
Like it or not, she was just going to have to understand.
With that decision made, I was beginning to feel more settled about things. Not that I felt good about any of this—after all, my life was on the line. I turned the corner toward my office and the phone rang. I punched the Bluetooth button on the display to put the call through to my car speakers.
“Aidan O’Brien.”
“Aidan, it’s Maggie.”
My heart seized up in my chest and a knot in my belly constricted painfully. I could hear the terror in her voice in just those three words.
“Mags, what’s wrong?”
“Aidan, I—”
“Aidan O’Brien,” Amon’s voice filled the interior of my car. “How’re ya doing, mate?”
Just the sound of his voice sent a rush of ice through my veins as a deep, abiding rage filled my heart. Fucking Amon. He had Mags. I was trembling with anger and was having a hard time staying focused on the road. A black truck honked at me, snapping my attention back to the road and making me swerve back into my lane.
“Careful now, mate,” Amon laughed. “We don’t want you wrecking out. Or at least, Maggie here doesn’t want you to.”
I pulled over to the side of the road and slammed my car into park, letting it car idle as I tried to get myself under control. I was terrified for Mags and enraged at the fuckin’ piece of shite.
“What the fuck are you doing? What do you want with her?” I spit out through gritted teeth.
“Speeding things up a bit, mate.”
“Let Maggie go. Where are you?”
“Aye mate, if I told ya, I’d have to kill her.”
“You feckin’ son of a bitch, I swear on my mother’s grave if you touch her—”
“Aye. She means more to ya than she thinks she does. Beautiful lass ya got here.”
I took a deep breath, I had to think this out clearly. I didn’t want them touching her, but I had no idea where they were. If I pushed too hard they’d kill her. I had to keep my cool. “Okay.” I breathed out. “What do you want?
“You’re taking a wee bit too long to step down for my liking. Plus, if I know you, and I think I do, you’re looking for a way to get the drop on me instead of actually stepping down and giving me full control.”
“What makes you think I’m doing that?”
“Oh, I dunno, lad. I guess if I were in your shoes, I’d probably be mad as hell that I showed up at your house and threatened you. Maybe I’d channel that rage into riling up the brotherhood and setting them after me like a pack of hounds. Sounds like something I’d do.”
Though I was nearly blind with rage, coherent thought continued to fire through my brain. I realized he was taunting me —and also telling me exactly how he knew what I was up to. We had a mole inside feeding him information. Emmett was right.
Because he knew I was mobilizing against him, he’d snatched up Maggie to force my hand.
“What do you want?”
“Same thing as I wanted before—you’re going to step down from the brotherhood,” he said. “Except now that I know you’ve been plotting against me, you’ve hurt my feelings. Which means that a simple abdication isn’t going to do.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Your head,” he said. “You’re going to trade your life for Maggie’s.”
“Aidan, don’t—” Maggie screamed.
I heard the sound of a sharp slap followed by Maggie crying and I pounded my fist against the steering wheel. I’d never felt so useless or powerless in my life.
“Put your hands on her again and I am going to tear your fecking heart out.”
His smug laughter filled my car, and I wanted to punch something more in that moment than I ever had before in my life.
“Aww. That’s sweet, Aidan,” he said. “Really, it is. But your impotent little threats don’t scare me.”
“This is between you and me, Amon,” I said. “Leave her out of this.”
“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” he said. “She’s into this far too deep already, mate. And because she’s under your protection, it makes sense for her to make some sacrifices. Just like we all do.”
“Amon, if you—”
“Now, what did I tell you before about your silly little threats,” he chided me. “No need for that.”
“Let her go.”
“I’ll be happy to let her go,” he said. “Just as soon as I fuck every sweet tight hole of your beautiful little lass and have you face down in a puddle of your own blood. Seems like a fair trade to me, wouldn’t you say? Or would you like to watch? I don’t mind.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening, and I didn’t know what to do. I took a deep breath and let it out, giving myself a moment to focus. Everything was spinning out of control and I needed to stop it, take hold of it, and figure this shite out. If I didn’t, either Maggie or I was going to end up dead.
“You still there, mate?” I could hear the amusement in his voice. The lunatic was getting off on this shite.
“Fine,” I answered. “My life for hers. When and where?”
“I’ll text you the details,” he said. “Just be sure you come alone.”
“No, that won’t be happening,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m bringing somebody with me to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain.”
Amon laughed. “Not the trusting sort, are ya, lad?”
“Trust you? Not a fucking chance.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “You bring a bloke, and I’ll bring a bloke just to be sure everybody’s on the up and up. Happy?”
“Fine.”
“Wait for my text.”
He disconnected the call and I sat there on the side of the road trembling. Fear? Rage? I didn’t know. I just knew I had to get to Maggie before they did horrible things to her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Aidan
“Where’s he keeping her?”
“Fuck if I know,” Bryan sneered.
After my conversation with Amon, I called Emmett to give him the heads up—and to order him to snatch Bryan and tuck him away somewhere discretely. It was time we had a talk. Emmett grabbed him and tied him to a chair in the basement below the Shamrock. It was quiet, private, and we’d be able to do whatever we needed to extract the information from him without fear of being discovered or overheard.
“So, you’re telling me you don’t know where that feckin’ piece of shite’s keeping her?” I asked.
“I’ve told you already, I don’t.”
“But ya aren’t denying you know him?” Emmett asked.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re goin’ on about,” he said. “Untie me right now, and I won’t feel compelled to bring all this shite up with the brothers.”
Bryan looked from Emmett to me and then at the floor. It was clear he was lying. It was also clear I wasn’t going to get answers out of him just by asking. Emmett looked at me, unsure what to do—what I wanted him to do. But this was something I was going to have to do on my own.
I pulled the gun out of my pocket and put it against Bryan’s forehead. His eyes widened, and he began to tremble as he looked into my eyes.
“Aidan, wait,” he said. “Don’t do something stupid, brother. I didn’t do nothin’. You don’t need to do this.”
“Then tell me what I want to know,” I said. “How long have you been working for Amon? How much have you told him?”
He shook his head, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I swear it.”
I lowered the gun and watched as a wave of relief immediately washed over his face. With a small, grim grin tugging at one corner of my mouth, I lowered the barrel of the pistol, put it against this thigh, and pulled the trigger. He screamed like a banshee, but thanks to the soundproofing on the walls—not to mention, a busy and naturally loud pub upstairs—nobody could hear him.
With his hands bound to the arms of the chair, he couldn’t clutch his wounded leg, and the blood spilled into a small pool on the floor beneath him. I’d never shot anybody before, and though I knew I should feel something like guilt or remorse—all I felt was rage.