Page 82 of Mob Star

I have a list of suspects, but no evidence. Sean’s still working on it and will keep going until he cracks it. He’s the quietest of us, the slowest to anger, and the most patient. It means he’s a fucking dog with a bone when he commits to something. Speak of the devil.

I turn from the entrance to my kitchen when I hear someone unlock my door. It’s biometric, so not just anyone can come in.

“Hey. Cormac’s at the hospital and in place. I don’t know how Ally does it. From the moment I got there until the moment I left, she had maybe an hour off cumulatively. I’d be running on fumes.”

“I knew she was amazing the moment I saw her. Did you find anything?”

“They originated from a burner in Trenton.” What Sean says surprises me.

That’s two hours south of Manhattan in New Jersey. “Do we know anyone down there other than the O’Briens?”

If we were a medieval feudal system, they would be our vassals. They run Trenton because we allow it. We can’t be all the places all the time, so we have lesser mob families oversee certain cities. Trenton is one of them. We had some trouble with them a few months ago. Besides fucking the Mancinellis over, we wanted the ATF and FBI off our case after the head of the O’Brien family disappeared. By that, I mean we held him hostage at our place in Staten Island, in the dark with the very least amount of food and water to sustain him, until we took him to the station in the Bronx two weeks later. He’s sediment in the Long Island Sound.

People still make jokes about cement shoes and swimming with the fishes in the Hudson or the East River. We know the bratva uses the Flushing River. We prefer the Sound since it’s wider and goes out to the ocean. Bodies might decompose faster in freshwater than saltwater, but they never go into the Sound as anything but ash or acid disintegrated sludge.

Sean shakes his head. “The O’Briens are the only ones who’ve mattered. But it’s possible someone’s getting froggy and thinks they can make a move on us. Maybe make us think it’s the O’Briens.”

“How connected are they to Boston?”

“We’re all Irish. What do you think?”

Boston’s like Mecca for Irish Americans. The O’Briens arrived in Boston around the same time as the O’Rourkes arrived in New York. They stretched themselves too thin when they tried to seize control from us here. They wound up with the O’Malleys taking Boston from them, and us kicking them all the way down to Trenton. They were lucky to survive because the O’Malleys weren’t going to let them.

“Yeah, but they’re watered down Irish. Their idea of showing Irish pride is ordering Irish car bombs for everyone on Paddy’s Day.”

St. Patty’s to most Americans or even St. Paddy’s to a few. Many Irish stick with just Paddy’s Day. It’s what we grew up saying. And as for Irish car bombs— yes, please remind all of us of the Troubles. Some fucker gave Mair a hard time at McGinty’s one night after she’d had a few to drink, and her accent came out. The douche kept offering to buy her car bombs, not knowing she’s married to Dillan. She lost a family member in an IRA bombing.

She finally lost her shite when he tried to touch her arse and called her a bitch for not taking the drink. She kneed him and was ready to break a bottle across his face if Shane hadn’t intervened. Dillan heard the ruckus in the back, came out to see what was happening, and went completely ballistic. He grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt and practically lifted him off his feet while he shook him. The guy was still holding his crotch from Mair kneeing him. Dillan made him apologize to Mair, who laughed in his face and dumped the car bomb over his head.

He’s banned from everywhere a syndicate family owns. We hate each other, and we’ve done some fucked-up shite to the women in one another’s families at this point— even the saintly Kutsenkos. But an outsider comes near our women? We make sure everyone knows, and they get banned from bars, restaurants, and most jobs. That’s how far our reach is.

Sean snorts at my last comment. “Watered down they may be, they still like to claim they’re more Irish than the rest of us. Having a common last name doesn’t make them more Irish. It makes them a dime a dozen.”

“Find out what Gareth is up to now that his dad’s dead.” Gareth is a fucking Welsh name.

“And if it isn’t him?” I knew he’d say that.

“It most likely isn’t, but he could do with a healthy scare to keep him in his place. Are you still hacking the others?” The others— the other three families.

“Yeah. Still nothing coming from their usual channels. I’m certain they still don’t know I found them. Not even Sergei and Anton.” He rolls his eyes.

If Sean weren’t basically a spook for his mob family, the CIA and NSA would beg him to spy for them.

“I need to deal with Corey. Rowan and Riley aren’t an issue anymore now that Joey and his brothers are back. I want to fuck with Corey a bit and make him think I’ll get him more pull with Ewan now that he’s taken over from Rowan. Let’s see how far the apple rolled from that tree. I’ll make Corey think it’s the price I’m willing to pay to get him to leave Thea alone.”

“He has no idea he’s about to die, and his club is ours, does he?”

“Nope.”

Here in NYC, there’s the Iron Order Motorcycle Club. Clean and dirty cops belong to it. Well, if they belong to it, they’re not so clean. Tarnished and dirty cops belong, and they love a good rivalry. They’d eat this shite up about a gang from Boston being down here. All I would have to do is wind them up and let them go. That’d take care of the men who rode down with Corey.

I’d cause a fucking riot. I lost my shite over what Tony said about Thea. I’m not going down that road with a bunch of NYC cops going after club members from up north. That’s not what this is about. This is about Corey going after Thea. I’ll make sure he lives long enough for him to remain useful until I terminate our arrangement.

“You’re sure Dillan’s going to be cool with all of this?”

It’s a reasonable question. Usually everything goes to hell in a handbasket when any of us get a bug up our arse and strike out on their own.

“Dillan’s already given me the go ahead to do what I feel is necessary to protect Thea. He knows I’d stop if he ordered me to, but he knows better than to give that order.”

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