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“She doesn’t fuckin’ want me,” I snarled. “Whose number is it?” I asked, changing the subject back to work.

Cian wisely let it go and explained what he had found. “The phone turned on and it pinged in Boston.

“Where?” I asked, rubbing my hands over my face. He didn’t need to tell me it was one of ours. I’d already figured that shit out. We just needed to know who.

“The pub.”

My eyes snapped to his. “Thefuckin’ pub?” I stood from my chair and snatched the tablet back. My eyes roamed over the words, willing my brain to make sense of what I was looking at. “Does Sal know?”

“Not yet. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to tell him before or after we found him.”

“FUCK!”

I walked to the windows. Looking down over the city we ran usually had a calming effect for all of us. But faced with someone in our own organization that was helping the enemy, had me looking at Boston with contempt.

There was no way of knowing how deep this went. How long Tyran had been working with Kelley to betray Sal? How many men he had convinced to turn on the family?

“Sal will kill him.”

“That’s why I came to you first,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“Fuck if I know.” I looked at Cian. The truth was there in his eyes before I asked the question. “Are we sure it’s him? Is there any way it could be someone else? A customer maybe?”

“I pinged the phone at ten in the morning. No customers there at that time of day.”

“Get Mac in here. We need to decide how to handle this.”

Cian left, and I leaned my head against the cold glass. I had called off the search for my sister. We were wasting too much time chasing leads. We needed to focus our efforts on Tyran and Kelley.

Maybe if we found Ty, he could give me the information I needed. I would enjoy beating it out of him. That was if Sal didn’t kill him first.

Mac and Cian returned, and Cian closed the door after they entered. The three of us had a mostly open-door policy. Issues that arose were brought to us first. But this discussion required discretion.

“Cian filled me in. How do you wanna handle it?”

“I want to shoot the fucker in the head. That’s how.”

“Not a wise solution before we get answers,” Cian added.

Sean O’Malley ran Mulligan’s. The pub owned by the O’Malley Family. He was Eamon’s cousin, and Sal saw him as an uncle. Hell, we all did. He was the last person we would have expected to betray us.

“We have to tell him,” Mac said. “He can’t go in there blind.”

A knock on the door made the decision for us. Sal pushed his way in and looked at each of us.

“Something I need to know about?”

“Yea, boss. Have a seat.”

Cian went to the bar and poured Sal a whiskey, handing it to him. “Drink it.”

Sal took the glass but turned his hard eyes to me. “Just fuckin’ tell me.”

With a deep breath, I began, “Cian traced one of the burner numbers we got from Garritt’s call logs. It turned on this morning and pinged here in Boston.”

Sal looked at Cian. “Who?”

“Sean.”