Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

FINN

N iall strode in, his face serious. He sat in the chair Roman had vacated, stopping to pour himself a cup of coffee. I swore he lived off caffeine.

I gave him a moment to enjoy his dark brew, thinking of our shared past.

Niall was my cousin. We were the same age, born a month apart thirty-eight years ago. Our mothers were sisters, and when mine died, his mother stepped up, trying desperately to fill in and offer me a little love and compassion that was lacking in my homelife.

My father was a low-level crime lord. His way of showing affection was using his fists and criticism. I was his favorite punching bag until I turned fifteen and, thanks to a sudden growth spurt, outweighed him by three stone and towered over his frame by a good six inches. The last time he hit me, I hit back—sending him to the floor in a mass of pain.

He never touched me again. I moved in to Niall’s place, and Roisin made sure I was fed and cared for. When I turned seventeen, I left Ireland and came to Canada. I stayed with a distant relation who was part of the syndicate, and he got me into the ranks. I rose up the ladder quickly, my size and leadership taking me far. Two years later, when Roisin was ill, I returned to Ireland, made sure she had the best care and, when she recovered, brought Niall back with me. She had asked me to do so, wanting him out of Ireland and away from the dangerous criminal life there. She knew I was involved in the syndicate here but felt at least I could protect him. I agreed with her and knew he would be an asset with his street smarts and business intellect.

Together, we forged a path of power and wealth, and I became one of the heads of the syndicate.

When my father died, I sent word back to Ireland to cremate him and do what they wanted with the ashes. I had no desire to return and pretend to mourn. From what I heard, he was buried in a grave somewhere in the small town where I grew up.

I didn’t care.

Niall’s throat clearing made me look up. I met his brown eyes that regarded me steadily. He was darkness, his hair and eyes matching, his skin constantly tanned. Thick and muscled, hard and unyielding. My hair was ginger, and I was taller by an inch—a fact I never allowed him to forget—and my eyes were blue. I was broad and muscled, our builds much the same. I tended toward ruddy, disliking the sun that he loved to sit in. It only made me redder. He kept his hair short, while I preferred mine longer, usually pulled back away from my face. We both liked scruff, mine often growing into a beard until I got tired of it and shaved. Side by side, I was told we looked like we were related, although neither of us could see it. The only physical traits I thought we shared were our height and build.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Thinking.”

“What’s going on? And who is the cause?”

“Brian Murphy.”

“Feck. What now?” he asked, his brogue coming out strong as it always did when he was upset.

I told him what Roman had divulged. He slammed his hand on the desk. “Dammit. He is always the troublemaker.”

I scrubbed my face. “I know.”

“So, twenty-five thousand? What the hell is he thinking? The interest alone I’m sure that sleaze is charging him will ensure the debt is never paid off.” Again, he slammed his hand on the desk. “Stupid fecker.”

“I have no idea.”

“We can’t allow this to stand.”

“No.”

“What are you going to do? Cut him loose and let Lopez have him?”

“I can’t do that,” I said quietly. “You know it.”

He sat back, regarding me. “Because of Jim?” He paused. “Or Una?”

I met his gaze. “Both.”

“You can’t let this go.”

“I’m going to pay the debt, and Brian will work it off with me. He’s going to be taught a lesson, and if he doesn’t learn it, I’ll cut him loose.”

“Once he pays the debt.”

“Before, if need be.” I took a sip of coffee. “Twenty-five K isn’t a big deal to me. To him, yes. It’s the principle.”

“And the fact that he is playing with Lopez. He knows better. All the men do.”

I nodded. “We have to visit him. He needs a warning as well. Brian isn’t allowed at his track.”

Niall pulled on his sleeves. “What is his punishment? Brian, I mean, for putting you in this position?”

“Depends on his attitude. Get me the cash plus whatever you think the interest is to Pedro Lopez. Transfer five to Roman. He refuses to take anything more. We’ll pay the debt, and then later you can bring Brian to the warehouse.” I never conducted business like this on-site. I kept the two as separate as possible.

Niall frowned. “Finn?—”

I held up my hand, interrupting him. “I know.”

“You need to stop basing your decisions on your feelings for her. No choice here is going to win you any favors.”

“I’m aware.”

“If you?—”

I stood, cutting him off. “Enough, Niall.”

He sighed, swiping a hand over his hair. “Fine. But I’m coming with you. So are two guards. Fully armed.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

The racetrack was busy on a Friday afternoon. The crowds were loud, raucous. Cheering and drinking. Lots of money being spent. I looked around, curious. Horse races had never appealed to me. The dust and smell. The yelling. Even the bells and noises of my own casino didn’t interest me. I preferred the muted sounds of a card game. The strategy behind the plays.

I climbed from the car, Niall flanking me, my guards on high alert. It didn’t take long before a man appeared in front of me, another younger man behind him. “Mr. O’Reilly.”

“I’m looking for Lopez.”

“I am Luis. I’ll take you to him. Juan, make sure Mr. O’Reilly’s car is looked after. Offer his driver coffee.” He paused as Juan spoke with Rory and directed him, walking behind the car as it moved away. “No firearms are allowed. And your guards are not needed. I assume you haven’t come to cause trouble?” He let the question hang in the air.

I indicated for the guards to stay put. Niall was beside me, and I knew he had a weapon or two hidden on his person. I could take care of myself. Thanks to my father, I knew how to fight—and make it hurt. I had been well trained in that from an early age.

I followed Luis to an elevator. I looked around as we waited. It was over the top—the fake distressed wood, the large furniture, and the extensive use of color. The gaudy carpet reminded me of a circus. Despite the somewhat tacky atmosphere, a lot of money had been soaked in here. Bad money, bad taste, crossed my mind.

The elevator door opened, and Luis indicated for me to enter, allowing Niall to follow. Then he stepped in, using a pass to take us up.

The doors opened to an office that overlooked the racetrack. The same over-the-top décor was here as well. Pictures, bright colors, and the scent of incense made my eyes water. The man I assumed was Lopez stood from behind an ornate desk, making no move to come forward. We measured each other from across the room, and I felt Niall bristling with tension beside me.

Lopez was an average-sized man, thin, his dark eyes beady. He was dressed in an expensive suit that needed a good tailoring, the shoulders too wide and the sleeves the wrong length. His tie was a wild pattern, no doubt meant to be fashionable, but it only looked out of place. His thin lips were drawn in a cruel smile, his scraggly mustache unattractive.

“Mr. O’Reilly. What an unexpected pleasure,” he said, his accent thick.

“Yet, you were prepared,” I stated, strolling forward. I towered over him, and I knew I outweighed him by at least sixty or more pounds. “And you know me by sight.”

He smirked. “One must always be ready.”

I cut to the chase. “An employee of mine owes you money.”

“And who might that be?” he asked, playing dumb.

“Brian Murphy.”

“Ah. Mr. Murphy. He has paid some of his debt, but not all.” He made a tutting noise as if in disappointment. “He has asked you to take care of his balance?”

I didn’t want to get into it with him. I didn’t want to be in this office any longer than I had to be. I was going to need a shower when I got back to the hotel to wipe away the stench of the encounter.

“I will clear his debt today. He is not allowed back at your racetrack, Lopez. You understand? You deny him.”

His eyes narrowed at the way I addressed him. “Mister” would never cross my lips, nor would his first name. He didn’t deserve the respect.

He tutted again. “He has been a good customer. He simply had some bad luck.”

I had no doubt he had. Lopez had made sure of it. I assumed that he let Brian win some races, building up his ego. Probably had a friendly face in the crowd, offering sure tips that worked at first as they fixed a few races. Brian, being Brian and liking the easy route, would fall for it. Build up his winnings, greedy and sloppy. Then Lopez pulled it away, knowing Brian would try to recapture his earlier “luck.”

“I settle his debt, and it is over.” I heaved out a long breath of air, hating to do this. “I’d consider it a personal courtesy.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he stroked his mustache. It reminded me of a villain in a cartoon. “Finn O’Reilly asking me for a favor.”

“ Not a favor. A personal courtesy. Perhaps you have a client you would like to offer a night or two in Toronto as my guests. To return the courtesy.”

“Perhaps.”

“He is not allowed to gamble here again. I will make it clear to him as well.”

He shrugged. “As you wish.” He threw out a number, and I kept my expression neutral, glancing at Niall with a nod. The interest rate was exorbitant. Higher than I’d anticipated, but I knew Niall had it covered. Brian was going to pay heavily for this. He never would have gotten out of this debt. And God only knew what terms of payment Lopez would demand.

A moment later, Niall spoke. “Done.”

Lopez smiled, his eyes cold and dead. “Perhaps we could do some business, Finn. Some cross-promotion, as it were.”

I shook my head. “It’s Mr. O’Reilly. And I want nothing to do with you or your brand of business, Lopez. I have no idea what illegal activities you run behind the scenes, but if I find out, you’ll be sorry. Stay away from my people and get out of my world. It’s the only warning I’ll give you.”

His already-cold gaze turned to ice. “Not good enough for the likes of you?”

I barked a laugh. “I’m no better than any man. But I have a feeling what goes on here isn’t just racing. And I want no part of it. Or you.” I turned to go. “You’ve been warned.”

We exited, the elevator already waiting. We didn’t speak as we headed toward the car. Once inside, Rory drove away quickly, and when we were clear of the track, I heaved a sigh.

“Something is going on there. Far too much money for a small track.”

“Yep.”

“I want to know what it is. I agree with Roman. It’s gotta be bad.” I snorted. “As if I would get into business with Lopez.”

“You want me to get some men in?”

“Let’s see what happens.”

“He’s not happy with you.”

“I hardly expected him to be.”

“He might try something.”

“Then let’s be prepared.”

He pursed his lips. “I hope it’s worth it, Finn.”

I glanced out of the window, not wanting to discuss it. He let it go, knowing my feelings on the matter.

“Brian will be at the warehouse now.”

“Then let’s take care of that piece of business.”

* * *

Brian had no idea until I stepped out of the car. His expression went from bored to worried in a matter of seconds. When he saw Niall and the guards, his face paled.

Like his sister, he had red hair, although his was darker. His skin was ruddy like mine, although his was due more to the freckles that covered his face. His entire body, actually. I had never seen a man with as many freckles as him. It gave him a boyish look that belied the lazy, temperamental man he really was. If it hadn’t been for his family, I never would have put up with him this long.

His usual flippant attitude evaporated as I approached. We stood face-to-face, me silent and angry, him becoming more nervous with each passing quiet moment. I liked using silence as a weapon. People tended to start blathering and saying more than they intended. It worked with him when Niall handed him the transfer papers and he knew why we were here.

“It was one time, Mr. O’Reilly.”

I lifted an eyebrow at his blatant lie.

“Okay, a few times. I was up! Rolling in cash. Then it fell apart.”

“You know my rules about gambling.”

“It wasn’t at your place.”

“Anywhere,” I thundered. “And you go to Lopez? To a place we have no people, no jurisdiction? You’re fucking lucky I’m not picking you up in a body bag and having to tell your sister how fucking stupid you were!” I roared. “You gamble up a debt with a man charging fifty-six percent interest? How the fuck did you think you were going to pay this off?”

“I thought my luck would come back.”

“There is no luck, you idiot. He was playing you. And you fell for it. Then instead of admitting you had a problem, you show up at the Maple and lose money there too.” I shook my head. “I should kill you just so your idiocy would stop hurting my head.”

“You can’t. My father?—”

I cut him off. “My debt to your father is paid. In full. It has been for years. The only thing keeping you alive right now is your sister.”

At the mention of Una, his face changed. The fear drained away, and he became cocky. “Well then, I guess we’re good? At least the bitch can come in handy to look after your frustrations.” He winked as if it were a joke. As if I planned on revenge-fucking his sister for his debt. My vision turned red, and I heard Niall’s low groan of disbelief.

“Well, now you’ve fucking done it,” he muttered.

I lost it, my fist crashing into Brian’s jaw so hard, his head snapped back. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell, unconscious, to the floor.

Niall whistled under his breath. “Nice one.”

“Pick him up. Get him in a chair and tie his hands. Wake him up.” I shook off my jacket. “We’re not done.”

* * *

Brian groaned as his hands were released. I stood in front of him, my knuckles bruised and bleeding. My chest heaved from exertion, my anger still bright but my message received. His face was bleeding, his nose smashed, but it was his ribs that had taken the brunt of my fury. Not broken, but he was going to have trouble taking a deep breath.

I hunched in front of him, gripping his hair and lifting his head, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You understand me now, Brian? No gambling. You will pay your debt to me. Your cushy job just got ten times harder and will keep being such until your debt is paid. And the next time you disrespect your sister, I will end you. There is nothing between us, and for you to infer that also disrespects me. She is worth your weight in gold. Your father would be disgusted.” I paused, going in for the kill shot. “And so disappointed in you. He had hopes for you. High ones. None of which you have lived up to.”

His eyes widened, and I knew my words had hit their mark. Jim had been a good man. Tried to instill his beliefs into his kids, of hard work and loyalty. Una had learned her lessons well. Brian had been too eager to take the easy path. As the eldest, he should have been protecting Una, but it was the other way around. She would defend him to the death. I feared if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t offer the same sacrifice.

And I knew I was going to be the subject of her wrath once she found out what I had done to him today.

But he deserved it and more. If it had been anyone else, chances were they wouldn’t be breathing.

“You go home and clean up. Be at the hotel on Monday, ready to start your new duties.”

He had the audacity to speak. “Doing what?” he asked, a dribble of blood running down his chin.

“Running. Driving. Delivering. Working the warehouses. Whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“That’s grunt work!”

I bent down again. “Would you prefer the alternative?” I hissed, still angry.

His already-pale skin whitened. “No.”

“Then be grateful for my leniency.”

I could tell he wanted to mouth off. Tell me where to go. But for once, he kept his mouth shut, glaring instead at the floor. I could almost hear his curses inside his head.

“Clean him up and take him to the safe house. Watch him this weekend,” I instructed, picking up my jacket and slinging it over my shoulder.

Brian had to push it. He always did. “Watch him,” he mimicked under his breath.

He didn’t see it coming. I delivered another blow to his stomach, one so hard, even I grunted.

He gasped, vomited, and passed out.

I looked at him in revulsion. “I need to head to my suite.”

In the car, Niall was quiet for a moment. “You showed great restraint,” he muttered. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

I glanced his way. “I’m sure that’s not how he’ll tell his story.”

“What are you going to say?”

I shook my aching hand. “The truth. Una is smart, and she knows the drill. I had no choice. I was going to let him walk with a threat and the new duties, but he had to mouth off. Twice.” I shrugged. “He brought it on himself.”

“Will Una see it that way?”

I shook my head, then stared out the window, knowing the answer.

She would not.

* * *

Niall didn’t speak the rest of the way back to the hotel. I used my private elevator and headed to my suite, standing under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water run off my back to help relax me. I flexed my hand, trying to ignore the ache. I was pretty certain that Brian was suffering far more.

And he deserved it.

Simply thinking of his words made me angry all over again. I finished my shower and got dressed, glancing at the clock. It was just after five, and the one thing I knew would relax me fully wasn’t available to me for three hours. I returned to my office, starting on the mound of paperwork. It would keep me busy until then.

At eight, I took the elevator to the main floor, striding through the lobby to the music room. I slipped in the back, the lights already low, and made my way to the alcove that was for my use only. I sat down, a tumbler of whiskey waiting for me, the bottle ready for another when I was. I sat back, sipping the golden liquid, the Irish liquor coating my throat. Hearing the piano music starting, I opened my eyes, resting my elbows on the table.

Una walked onstage, a vision. Gone were the simple hairstyle and uniform. In their place, a figure-hugging dress that touched at her waist and hip, the low neckline showcasing her incredible breasts. The emerald green of the dress highlighted the red of her hair that was swept up in a sophisticated knot, wisps of curls and long tendrils floating around her face and neck. Her creamy skin glowed under the lights, and I waited, barely breathing, until she opened her red-stained lips and began to sing.

Instantly, I was transported to another time and place as she sang a traditional Celtic song. Her voice was pure, soaring in the high notes, haunting in its richness. I listened, enraptured. It didn’t matter how often I heard her sing. How many times I heard the same sets. Each one was magnificent. Old songs, new ones. Celtic folklore. Reworked popular songs. She made each one her own. Every single one reached me on a level I couldn’t explain to anyone. She didn’t know I was there. I came in just before she started, and I would leave as she took her bow. I sent flowers every week without a card.

Respecting her wishes, even as it killed me.

I loved her with a passion I didn’t know I was capable of. Desired her. Wanted her time and attention.

I was totally and utterly obsessed with her.

And she wanted nothing to do with me.

So I stole these moments. Created a place where she could showcase her talent, letting her think it was part of the plans for the hotel all along, when, in fact, I’d made it for her alone. Others graced the small stage during the week and when she was away as well. Just as popular and loved as she was.

But not by me.

And they never would be.