Page 5 of The Chief
“I’ll explain in the meeting,” I replied, doing my best to shake off the dread that sat heavy on my shoulders. Together, we walked down the long hall toward Finnan’s office. I took a seat in front of his desk, keeping my hands busy by rolling another cigarette.
“You aren’t smoking that shit in here,” Finnan said in a brisk tone, sliding into his chair behind the desk.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, flashing him my good boy smile. It was the one I used ninety-nine percent of the time; the mask to hide the real me.
“Where the fuck is everyone else?” my boss muttered, his fingers tapping an agitated rhythm on the desktop.
“Caolan was behind me. I don’t know about everyone else.” I finished rolling the cancer stick and placed it on the desk in front of me.
Voices in the hallway filtered in from outside the office, as Quillin, Shay, and Caolan filed through the door, propping themselves against the walls. Orin entered the room next, followed closely by Grayson. The relationship between Finnan and his former Warlord was still tense. Everyone felt it like an electric wire snaking across the floor.
I wondered briefly where Fallon was, then I remembered I had no right to think about her. She wasn’t my woman—no matter how much I wanted her to be.
“Right, now we’re all here, I can get this motherfucking meeting started.” Finnan slammed the bullet on the desk and glared at me. “Tell me everything that went down.”
Blowing out a breath, I told them about fucking Molly, and that after she had left, I noticed the bullet in the cup holder.
“How was the pussy?” Quillin asked with a shit-eating grin.
“Shut the fuck up,” Finnan snapped, beating me to it. “This shit is serious. This is a direct threat. A declaration of war against me and the clan. We need to go on the offensive and find out who the hell delivered it.”
“We know who delivered it,” Quillin said. “It was Keir’s piece of arse. Should we be concerned you’re sleeping with the enemy, Chief?”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, my fingers itching for the cigarette. Finnan, knowing me too well, eyed me in warning, wordlessly reminding me not to disrespect his office like that. “The mostlogical enemy is the fucking Bèar Clan. Mannix is still irritated that Orin’s woman killed one of his clan members.”
“Those fuckers deserved that and more,” Orin growled in response.
“The only way we’ll know for sure is when they come for us,” Finnan said. “And I have no interest in sitting here holding my dick until then.”
“What are you thinking?” I asked, glad for the distraction.
“We’re still without a Warlord. We need to fill that position.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Caolan straighten. He was the most logical choice. His loyalty to the clan was unmatched. “Who?” he asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Finnan replied, his gaze darting away.
I sat a little straighter in my seat. I knew that tell, as I’d been running with Finnan and Torin since I was twelve, and I knew when the fucker was lying. It was something I’d have to bring up at another time, as the real issue was the one that sat shining on his desk.
Finnan continued, “Caolan, make sure we’re ready for another attack on the compound. Everyone needs to have a rifle or pistol within arm’s reach anywhere inside these walls. Am I understood?”
“Understood,” the Master replied.
“Good. Now, get the fuck out of here. Make sure everything is buttoned up tight. That includes Velvet, I don’t want any of our girls being collateral damage. Their pussies are worth too much to the clan.”
Everyone shuffled out of the room, discussions about the firepower they were going to set up going on in hushed tones.
I had risen from my seat when Finnan snapped, “Keir, sit your arse down.”
Leaning back in his chair, Finnan finally let his hard exterior slip just a little. I could see the tightness around his eyes andhow tired he was in the slant of his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out an exhausted breath.
“Is everything okay?”
“Shit’s never okay,” he replied, reaching into his office drawer and bringing out a bottle of whiskey. He placed two crystal tumblers beside it and unscrewed the cap. “It’s the anniversary of my Da’s death soon.”
I did the mental math. “In another four months, right?”
Finnan knocked back both glasses of whiskey, refilling them before nudging one toward me. “Right.”
