Page 43 of The Apprentice
So, I’d played the role like I’d expected Sloan wanted me to by snubbing everyone I could for a reasonable amount of time, and the small smirk Sloan had given me had said I’d done a good job of acting.
Like the bratty nephew.
The kid who’d needed to be disciplined. Despite being relieved Sloan wasn’t actually going to hurt me, the shame of it hadn’t been any better.
Daire sighed. “I’m not going to spell it out for you. Come on. We don’t have time for this.” He spun on his heel and stalked toward the elevator. I sped after him so I could get through the doors before he closed them. We stayed silent on the way down and as we walked through the lobby. A few people stopped to stare, and they seemed to recognize Daire because a sharply dressed man with short dark hair, round tortoiseshell glasses, and a light gray tweed jacket nodded at him as he strode past. This guy was the only one Daire acknowledged.
I didn’t ask who he was, but if I threw the handsome man a glare, who could blame me? All I got in return was a quirky smile. Snorting, I followed Daire out through the glass doors of the building.
“Are we going to take your bike?” I asked hopefully. I’d wanted a ride on that thing for too long, but I’d been denied every time I’d asked. The excuse was that Sloan hated motorcycles, and it wasn’t a lie. Sloan never understood why Daire rode one, but I thought it was sexy as hell.
Daire sent me a pointed look over his shoulder. “Company business means?—”
“Company car. Yeah, I know.” I smiled, and I didn’t miss the small, amused grin that he gave me in return.
We paused on the busy sidewalk, and a few moments later a sleek black BMW parked in front of us. I hated that most of the cars looked the same, but it made sense that they were identical. Sloan didn’t want them to stand out. We were nobodies, like everyone else in this big city, and we were especiallynotdoing anything illegal.
The driver stepped out of the car and opened the back door for us, and Daire nodded in thanks before he slipped inside. I went around to the other side and got in, not bothering to wait for the driver because I didn’t have the patience.
As soon as the driver returned to his seat, raised the partition, and set off, I gave my attention to Daire. “So, what are we doing today? Before Conall came along, I was handling the port and some of the drugs. I was doing important things.”
He gave me serious side-eye. “Stop being a brat.”
“I’m not,” I argued, but it came out in a whine. I snapped my mouth closed and huffed. I refused to cross my arms like I really wanted to do. “I was ready for more. When Conall was taken, I had an automatic rifle in my hands.” I raised my palms at him, as if it was there for him to see. “I was prepared to kill for Sloan.” I hadn’t, but I didn’t mention that. There was so much gunfire in the warehouse after Conall had been kidnapped that all I could do was freeze and watch the scene unfold. “I’ve always been the perfect apprentice, and then suddenly, I was nothing. Invisible to Sloan.”
Daire leaned back in his leather seat and closed his eyes. “The boss gave you the job of finding the rat. That’s a big assignment, boy. Appreciate what you’ve been given.”
I noticed how much more often Daire was calling me “boy” outside the bedroom. The pet name was becoming more regular and it was music to my ears.Boy. I wanted so badly to be his full-time boy.
I turned my head to hide a smile and stared out the window as we passed by the New York high-rises. The sky was cloudy and gray, the beginnings of snow drifting through the cool winter air. Somewhere outside was shouting. We passed a recent car accident. Two men threw their arms up and pointed at each other, clearly furious, and I snorted. Just another day in the city.
“Where exactly are we going first?” I asked. “Where do we find our dealers who sell the product?”
“Everywhere.” The amusement in Daire’s tone made me roll my eyes.
“You’resofunny.”
He chuckled, and I shot a surprised look at him. The sight of him being carefree and genuinely entertained made my stomach twist into knots. I smiled, ignoring the lightness in my chest at the notion thatI, Fionn Eoin Killough, made Daire Reardonlaugh.
“We’re suits, so we don’t get too involved with the nitty-gritty stuff. We handle the high-profile areas, but there’s a chain of command for a reason. It’s best to keep our hands as clean as possible.” His lips quirked into a half smirk that I thought was unusual for him. “If we lose a couple of runners or higher-ups, it won’t matter. They’ll get compensated and protected in prison. When they’re out, if they keep their mouth shut, they get rewarded for doing their time and staying loyal.”
The logic made sense. “So, why are we visiting them? You said last night that you wanted to run numbers, right? See which areas are profitable and which aren’t.”
“Yes, but we can do that from one location. The Amatory.” He rolled his shoulders, and I watched him carefully, reminded again of the ink on the skin hidden beneath his suit. I’d never thought of myself as someone who liked tattoos on a man, but they were perfect on him—like intricately designed icing on a very delicious cake.
“That’s a brothel.” I frowned. “The Amatory Lane, right?”
He hummed in agreement. “It’s on the Upper East Side and is now run by Bohdan, that Ukrainian Sloan likes. Sloan transferred him from the Genie to the Amatory a few months back.”
“Why are we going there?”
“Because it’s the best location we have to run our operation.” Daire tapped the window with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “Out there, Fionn, the DEA and FBI are always hunting for ways to bring down the Company. The Amatory is the best place we’ve got. You’ve never been there, have you?”
I shook my head. “The only brothel I’ve been to is the Virtue.” My nose scrunched. “They’re disgusting.”
“Why?” He squinted at me with a serious stare. “Sex workers are no different than any other career. They work hard. Sure, they give their bodies, but don’t a lot of jobs expect that? Construction workers use their bodies, so do football players and ballerinas and nurses who are always on their feet. What’s the difference?”
I straightened. “I didn’t know you were a supporter of our whores.”
