Page 64 of Mob Star

“Are you angry I didn’t tell you about Uncle Corey when you saw my window?”

“I’m not thrilled, but you didn’t know half of what you know now, and that’s not even a thimbleful of what you will learn. I don’t blame you for being hesitant to tell me something like that. But I’m glad you called me. I will take care of it. Corey will understand you and your family are off limits.”

I fucking hope so. There’s more I should tell him, and I never planned to hide it. But it’s not something I want to discuss over the phone. It’s too complicated for that, and I couldn’t have imagined he’d know Corey or be anywhere near him right now. Just knowing I’m related to the piece of shit is bad enough. I don’t know what Finn’ll do when he finds out the woman I used to be.

Chapter Fifteen

Finn

We were back at the house when Simon’s text came in.

Simon

Call Dr G urgent father hurt

What the fuck was I supposed to make of that, that wouldn’t send me into a panic? I barely got the words out to tell my guys not to disturb me as I ran to the bedroom I used. I tried to sound calm, and I think I pulled it off. But I was seething the entire time until we changed the subject. I didn’t mean to let it slip I’m not in NYC. I never make mistakes like that. Ever. But it shows just how much I let my guard down around Thea. I don’t regret it, but I must be more careful going forward.

I’ll deal with Corey, but we have to deal with Rowan and the warehouse right now. We’re back outside the building this morning. We know the rugs are ready to ship from the warehouse because we followed the truck from their parking lot half an hour ago. We weren’t convinced Rowan could arrange for Corey to hold onto to them last night, so Nick kept watch overnight at the lot where they keep their fleet of trucks and vans. He called when he heard the driver tell another guy where he was headed in an hour. It gave us time to get in place.

The port’s not even open yet, but the O’Malleys run the docks in Boston just like we do in NYC. They plan to get the rugs and whatever medical supplies they had stashed at their warehouse into the ship’s hold before any customs agents can inspect the crates.

The heat signature shows four people inside. We need those four guys to help load the truck. I have no clue who they are, but we’ll know in a flash whether they recognize me. I don’t know if they’ll know me as Finn or just an O’Rourke thanks to my hair.

I speak into my earpiece. “Peter, go.”

He’s driving a box truck that he’ll pull around to the loading bay. The rest of us jog forward, our rifles at the ready. It’s three in the morning, so it’s dark with shite lighting around the building. In our black fatigues, we’re practically unnoticeable. By the time we’re there, one of the O’Malley men is gesturing at Peter to get out of the truck. He’s yelling at him, but Peter won’t move until I signal him. The fuck nut is making so much noise that I sneak up behind him and put the barrel to his head.

“Shut up.” I pull his gun from his hip holster and thrust it behind me, so one of my guys grabs it.

I push a little against his head and nudge him forward, walking behind him to the building. I nod, and the rest of my men jump onto the loading dock while Peter gets out of the truck. He goes around the back of the vehicle and opens the door. It’s only a moment later that I hear a single gunshot.

“We’re good.” I hear Nate in my earpiece.

I keep nudging the idiot in front of me until we get to the steps. Just as we get to the top, the warehouse bay door opens. The three men who were still inside now stand in the same position as the guy in front of me.

“Move your arses. Load it.”

As I issue the command, I can see their empty shoulder, hip, and back holsters. A different one for each guard. They’re in shape, but they’re no match for the physical strength my men possess. O’Rourke men learn to be light on their feet, considering how heavy most of them are. And it’s definitely not chub. They’re lean muscle that’s as intimidating as it is functional. I pull my rifle away from my captive and put it between his shoulder blades before giving him a hard shove.

I sure as shite don’t trust any of them to operate a forklift, so Tom climbs on and gets it running. Geniuses left the keys in the damn thing. It takes an hour, with my guys rotating who’s working and who’s making sure the O’Malley men don’t sprout a backbone, but we get everything in the warehouse loaded. We manhandle the men into the back since we’ll need them to help unload the shite, too. We make sure they’ll have their wrists and ankles zip-tied every time we load them in. I debate whether to shut the bay door, so it surprises Rowan and Riley when they get here later. I decide to leave it open. It’ll be a surprise either way, but I want them to see they’ve been fucked the moment they arrive.

Since there’s no security in the entire place— Nate confirmed that while we worked —we’re not in the rush we normally would be. There are three offices downstairs we couldn’t see while John and Luke investigated. We do a controlled burn. We light them on fire and watch as the shite burns. We stand out of the fallout range when the windows explode, but before the flames can leap and spread, we put them out. Luke’s an ace at cracking safes, so we ransacked theirs before the office turned into smokey rubble. It tempts me to leaving a calling card, but they’ll either guess immediately— they should —or they’ll chase their tails trying to figure it out.

Peter and Nate ride together in the truck while Tom, Luke, John, and I head back to our SUV. It’s always a debate whether I should follow my men or lead them when there’s only one escort vehicle. Do I protect them from the front or the back? This truck’s large enough to be a battering ram or survive being rear-ended by pretty much anything but a semi. We’re sticking to surface streets, so I’m not worried about a semi. The SUV leads.

We head to Brookline and find the house with the animals. We disable the outside motion detectors and doorbell camera. Tom, Nate, and Luke head inside with Luke making a beeline to cut off the alarm system. His day job is to work for a security company. He’s in product development, so he has plenty of knowledge. Our men have a variety of day jobs. Not all of them are bodyguards, enforcers, or street hustlers. Actually, most appear like completely average men with average jobs.

Luke comes through my earpiece. “Yes.” You can enter now.

We keep our talking to a minimum. These guys aren’t fluent Gaelic speakers like my brothers, cousins, and I, but they can get by with enough that we only use it if we absolutely have no choice but to speak.

We know there are six people in the house, and the goal is not to disturb a single one. We want to be in and out before anyone’s the wiser. The heat seeking binoculars are a godsend. Not only could we tell where everyone is, we also figured out where the animals are. They’re cold-blooded, so it was their heat lamps we detected.

Fuck.

There are at least fifty of them down here. Some have more than one in a terrarium, so they’re definitely two man carries. Good thing we have the extra help. We didn’t injure any of the O’Malleys. They weren’t shot. They were shot at. Very convincing when the bullet enters the wall behind you at ear level. We’re in and out in thirty minutes— twenty-five minutes later than I wanted to be.

When we got back to the safe house before raiding the warehouse, I hacked Rowan’s email again and discovered the birds are in the same neighborhood. This place has a security gate, but that’s simple for us to open. That’s one of the earliest skills you learn before your first mission. The security system is off again, and we’re in.

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