The night is dark and cold. So much for the warmer weather.
I tighten my leather gloves, pulling my cuffs down to hide any expanse of skin. Tony on my right shifts, blowing into his bare hands to try to relieve the sting of cold on them. Killian lights a cigarette next to me.
My fingers itch to do the same. I hate having him near me, unease and dread twisting into a nasty concoction in my gut.
That morning was an absolute disaster. It didn’t help I was on edge, but the minute Ace decided to treat Sloane like she was nothing, I lost all semblance of control. My wife has a way of making that happen, even if she’s not the cause.
“They’re late,” I mutter to Killian, eying him with disdain. Tony knows what happened and is keeping track of the hitman too.
“They’ll be here.” He inhales the smoke, letting it simmer in his lung. It curls around his nose like a dragon. “Have patience.”
“Patience,” I echo, crossing my arms. “Something I don’t think you know much about.”
Black eyes look at me. “I know more about it than you would think.” He inhales again. “Ballsy to challenge Ace in her own home. Stupid, but ballsy.”
Glaring, I palm my gun at my hip. Just one shot, I’d feel so much better after one shot. “I’m supposed to let her treat my wife like some kind of burden?”
The reaper smiles, looking to the sky. “God, you’re clueless about everything, aren’t you?” He chuckles like I’ve told some joke.
I hate the implication that I’m in the dark about something. Before I can ask, Killian flicks away ash, taking out his phone. “The crew member is clean, by the way.”
“Is there anything left of him for me to interrogate?”
His silence is enough confirmation that no, there isn’t.
Now I can’t help the curl of my lips. He’s a fucking sick bastard. “Does Ace let you do that to all her suspects?”
He slips the phone back into his pocket. “She hasn’t employed me. But she knows. We were taught the same.”
A low horn blows in the harbor, pulling us back to the task at hand. The ship sails through the calm waters, smoother than my own shipments. The chipping paint of the hull catches the spotlight, and a few dockhands make quick work at securing the ropes.
We climb the steps to the ship’s deck, Tony ready with his clipboard and numbers. Killian throws the butt of his cigarette into the sea without a backwards glance.
I stop dead once my feet hit the steel floor.
No crates. No boxes. Nothing.
Three blank faces stare at me in confusion.
“Where is it?” I growl, prowling to the closest man. Another seaman, he’s shorter than me with a wet hat and rubber boots. “Where’s the shipment?”
He backs up, stuttering as all three of us turn toward him. “It’s already been picked up. At the new location. Like ordered.”
I reel back, mind numb. Then blazing, furious anger washes over me. “What new orders?”
The old man’s face pales, looking from me to Killian. I don’t look at the killer. I can feel his wrath hit me like a wedge of ice against my skin. “The orders you radioed us. Said this spot wasn’t safe. We met your guys further up the mouth.” He points into the darkness. “They took care of the crates there, then we came here to appear normal.”
Took the crates to a different spot.
Someone called in and changed the orders. Someone close.
I don’t think as I do it. I take out my gun and fire two quick rounds.
The seaman falls to the deck but no one moves. I’m already stalking off the bow, Killian at my side.
He looks as angry as I feel. “You’ve got a mole.”
“I fucking know.” Because no one knew about this. I had the papers. I gave them to Tony. To Nico. To Killian.
As much as I hate the hitman, Killian is too loyal to the O’Briens. He’s fucking whipped by Maeve. He’s not the one I have to worry about.
Tony has been in the family longer than me. A cousin through Nico’s father’s side, he was raised in this world. He knows what happens to moles. He’s tasked with usually ending them.
Then Nico. No fucking way would he tell. What would be the point?
We get to the car, and I wretch it open, hinges screaming under the assault. Anger, white hot, pounds in my gut, thoughts spinning. Too many to properly think through.
A mole. Ace’s products gone. My wife’s safety in peril. The potential for a war between our families.
I roar, punching the car window. Glass scatters to the wooden dock, blowing away into the cold breeze.
The men stand behind me, silent, watching, waiting for me to make a move.
Taking deep breaths, I tug on my gloves.
I have to calm down and think. Nico instilled in me the same attributes. Think things through. Come up with a plan. Never let them see your weakness.
Like my uncle said, someone wants the alliance to fail. Going after Ace’s product was a dick move, but it was smart. It will show her that I’m unfit to be an ally. Unfit to be in her clan. Unfit to marry her sister.
This is all about making me look bad.
To our rivals. To our allies. To my wife.
“Someone is coming after me.” I fish out a cigarette, promise to Maria gone. I need something to take the edge off or I’ll kill another man.
“Smart move,” Killian agrees. I glance back as he plays on his phone. “If they can undermine you, then everything falls. The family, the contract. Hell, even your marriage.”
Lighting the end, I inhale the thick, acidic smoke into my lungs. Thoughts settling, I rub my bottom lip, watching Killian play.
A few beats pass, my mind made up. “Someone wants to be in my position. They want what I have.”
Tony winces. “That’s a long list, boss.”
“It is. But our new friend will whittle it down for me.” I give Killian a pointed look.
He sighs as if he’s annoyed. “I will?”
I step closer. “You will. Because as long this mole lives, not only is my organization in danger, but so is Ace’s clan. And I have a feeling you give a shit about keeping the clan safe.”
Killian raises one eyebrow smugly. “I don’t give a shit about the clan, heir. I’m not in it, why would I care about what happens to it?”
“Maybe it’s not the clan you care about.” I toss my cigarette. “Maybe it’s someone else. And finding a name will keep them safe.”
The reaper glares hard, before he smiles at me like I said something amusing. If I need Sloane to be safe, then he needs to keep Ace safe. “I’ll have the name in a few days. Hold off shipments until then.”
“Be sure that you do.” It’ll be tight in the meantime. Product will be limited. Profits will decrease. But it’s better than missing entire shipments and taking a loss.
Killian gestures to the ship. “You know, Ace won’t be happy about this.”
“I figured.” I turn toward my car, swiping the glass out of the seat.
“I’ll have to tell her.”
I glare hotly. “You really are Ace’s bitch, aren’t you? What, she says roll over and you just lay there, legs spread wide?”
Killian smiles coldly. “And sometimes, I wag my tail.” He winks and walks in the opposite direction, into the shadows.
I don’t call out to him. Killian will get me a name. If not for me, then for his master.
I just hope my organization and marriage can withstand the storm in the meantime.
