Page 14

CONAN

“ F or the love of God, Conan. Let one of us text her!” Rowan lunges for my phone, fingers just missing as I yank it back.

Reggie doesn’t move. Just sits there with his arms crossed, unimpressed. Typical. He’s the quieter twin, but his expressions cut deeper than most people’s words.

“I said, ‘Have a good night, darlin’,” I grunt, lifting my beer to my lips.

Even Reggie’s slit eyebrow goes up at that.

“What?” I ask him, jaw tight.

I trust his judgment. The twins might be a couple years younger, but they’ve seen shit. Lived through worse. That’s why we dragged them with us from Ireland when everything went sideways.

“That was one way to kill the conversation,” he mutters, grabbing his beer and sipping like he’s already bored of this.

“Well, all she said was maybe. What the hell was I meant to say?”

The twins glance at each other. A shared look. One that says you’re a dumbass without needing the words.

Declan slides into the booth beside me like he owns the place. Of course he found us here. Inferno is our second home.

Decadence is our chocolate factory, the means to hide our other business activities. But, actually, it does pretty well across the globe. The perfect front. Behind the gates, though, that’s where the darker shit happens. Mainly in Inferno.

The sex club of the elite mafia. A gateway to Enzo and all the top mafia families across the world.

The Quinn brothers? We own it and maintain order through our various Decadence Games.

Mine is The Chase, which is up next. Declan’s shit show game already happened, and it ended with him landing a wife.

“What’d I miss? And how did I know I’d find you three here?” Declan flags down the waitress with a lift of his chin.

“I’m here for the booze,” I say, jerking my thumb at Rowan and Reggie. “And these two are here for the pussy.”

Declan narrows his eyes at me.

“And you’re not? You sick or something?”

That earns a round of deep, belly-shaking laughs from the whole table.

“No. Conan’s got a crush and doesn’t know how to text like a normal human,” Rowan says between gulps of beer.

Declan stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“A crush? Christ. Are we teenagers again? You haven’t had a crush since ninth grade, Con. Should I be calling Finn?”

I grip the neck of my bottle until it creaks under the pressure.

“It’s not a crush. It’s nothing.”

Rowan leans back, smug.

“Whatever you say, big man.”

Declan waves for a round of whiskeys and stretches out, comfortable as hell.

“Where’s Charlotte?” I ask, changing the subject. “She’s nicer to me than you.”

“Writing. Probably napping. I kept her busy last week.”

“Yeah, yeah. Spare me.”

Declan leans in closer, voice low.

“I got that information you asked for. But it’s not clean. Ben doesn’t really exist—not on paper, anyway. But I’ve got an address for a strip club he’s linked to. All of it’s in your email.”

My stomach twists. I knew something was off about that fucker. Works in finance for his cousins, yeah right. Clearly that was a lie he spun to Hallie.

“I’ll check him out.”

I need to check on Hallie, too.

Declan’s gaze sharpens.

“This about her?”

“Yeah.” I nod once. “She’s just a friend. You know I don’t do more than that.”

He lifts a brow but lets it go and checks the time on his Rolex.

“Then go check on her,” he says, smirking. “Like a good friend would.”

He slides out of the booth, and I follow, grabbing my jacket.

“I’m off, shitheads. Things to do. Gym tomorrow? I need some victims.” I glance at the twins.

I need to hit the cabin. Grab some stuff. Make sure she’s okay.

That’s all it is.

Just me being a friend.