Page 113 of Brutal Heir
Closing my eyes, I attempt to recall any facts about the crime family in Belfast. The Butcher is a well-known figure in the Irishmob world, but O’Shea? There are probably hundreds of them in Northern Ireland alone.
Who’s your father, little leprechaun?
And why would he force you to marry that monster?
My fingers sweep a strand of auburn hair behind her ear before I can stop them. Then they linger on her cheek, my thumb brushing her porcelain skin. I count her freckles again, a way to ground myself.
There would be no more sleep for me tonight.
I need answers.
Hunched over my desk, I pore through articles about the crime families of Belfast. Of course, the notorious Conall Quinlan stars on the front pages. Human trafficking, blackmail and extortion rings, assassins for hire, massacres, terrorism…
The man is a realpezzo di merda.
A chill surges up my spine as I consider what would have happened if Rory hadn’t fled. What if she’d married that depraved mobster?
Dio… how had she managed to escape a man with a reach like that? He must have men everywhere.
Another swell of fear, thick and potent, floods my chest. The shooting in Central Park on Christmas Day. What if I wasn’t the target?Cazzo, what if I was wrong, and this wasn’t La Spada Nera at all?
I reach for my phone despite the ungodly hour and type out a quick message to Matteo. The Geminis have a ton of hackers on staff, but none are as talented as my cousin.
Matteo: Why are you waking me up at five a.m.?
Me: Because it’s an emergency, asshole
My phone rings a split-second later.
“What’s going on?” Despite the rough edge to his voice, Matteo is alert and ready. A side effect of growing up in this family is being ready for anything at any hour.
“I need you to find everything you can about Conall Quinlan. Then Brigid O’Shea. They were engaged.”
“The Butcher of Belfast?” he blurts.
“The one and only.”
“Why? Are the Irish causing problems at the Vault?”
“I don’t have time to get into it right now, but I will tomorrow. Just get me everything as fast as you can.”
“Will do, cuz.” He pauses, a yawn seeping through the line. “Does that desperation in your tone have something to do with your naughty little nurse?”
“Yes. Which is why it’s urgent.”
“Got it. Give me an hour.”
“Thanks, Matty.”
“I live to serve.”
A chuckle sneaks out as I hang up despite the fear strangling my lungs. ThankDiofor my cousin. I’m not sure what I would do without him.
“If you keep abandoning me in your bed, I’ll start to get a complex.” Rory leans against the doorway in her nightgown, her expression one I’ve never seen before. The snarky, sharp-tongued spitfire is nowhere to be found. For once, she actually appears nervous, shy even, like she’s holding her breath awaiting my reaction.
I can’t blame her after last night.
“Come here,” I whisper, and even though my voice is low, the command is clear.
