Page 43 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

MICK

The mats in the training room reek of sweat and industrial cleaner. Brice’s crew just finished their morning training session.

Rory's guys are filtering in because their time on the mats starts soon.

It will have to wait.

I need to burn off some anger before I start killing people. Dierdre is at the top of my list, but we need her for intel on Darakov.

Besnik and his people are getting on my nerves too.

Because they're still breathing.

Bleedin' politics.

"Wraith!" Training my new recruit is the perfect way to channel some of that aggression.

Kieran stops and turns toward me. He's sweaty, but he doesn't look tired.

Good.

"You up for some one-on-one?" It's a question, but we both know there's only one right answer.

He nods, giving it.

Brice stops and turns to watch, the rest of his crew following suit. Our soldiers take up positions along the wall to watch.

Brice tosses a roll of athletic tape to me and Rory gets one for Wraith. We wrap our wrists and hands in silence.

"Gloves?" Brice asks.

I nod.

We don't use boxing gloves in training, but open-fingered ones like MMA fighters. They protect our hands enough that we don't usually break bones, but allow us to grapple and strike like we would in a fight with a real enemy.

Sometimes, I forego the gloves, but the fury that burns deep inside me is too close to the surface. I want to expend some of it, not kill my new recruit.

Brice hands me a pair of black MMA gloves. "Don't kill the new guy boss. I like him."

"He barely talks."

My lieutenant secures and tightens the glove on my right hand. "That's why I like him."

Rory helps Wraith and we're both gloved and ready to go.

I shake out my shoulders. "We go full contact, but no injuries that’ll keep you out of commission."

Wraith circles me the moment I raise my fists.

He’s smart and doesn’t lunge. He watches, gauging my moves and speed as I warm up.

"You ever train in Krav Maga?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Some."

"Show me."

He moves first and fast, an efficient strike aimed at my ribs. I block, counter with an elbow feint and step into his guard.

He doesn’t flinch.

Good. He knows that pain’s part of the process and isn't trying to avoid it.

This might be the fight I need.

We trade blows, measured at first, then harder. He lands a hit to my jaw that snaps my head back.

Adrenaline surges and I grin at him through the sting. "That the best you got, fecker?"

Wraith doesn't waste his breath taunting me back. We circle again. The silence stretches, punctuated only by breath and movement.

Strike. Block. Feint. Hit. Repeat.

It's a lethal dance we both know the moves to. He's good enough that I start to release some of the frustration riding me like a pissed off jockey.

The more Kara pulls away, the harder it is to hide the monster inside. The need to stake a claim she cannot deny gets stronger with every beat of my heart.

She's upset about the St. Michael’s medallion I gave Dierdre. What she doesn’t know and I’m not about to tell her because it’s mob business, is that I’m the one who lost the necklace.

I stole it and replaced it with one with a tracker in it. We need to know where Dierdre is going when she and her bodyguards leave the mansion.

I could have put the tracker on her necklace before finding it, but I knew if I gave Dierdre something new, she’d wear it every day to irritate my wife.

What I didn’t expect was for Kara to be upset by it. We belong to each other on such an elemental level, Dierdre isn't even a buzzing fly in our life.

How does my sweet addiction not realize that?

I get the right angle and kick the back of Wraith's thigh.

He goes down to his knees, but he's up again a second later.

Punch. Kick. Feint. Block. Hit.

We're pretty feckin' evenly matched until I let the rage out.

Kara should know I have zero bleedin' interest in my ex. Even if she struggles to believe me, and that just pisses me off. I don't lie to Kara.

I withhold, but I never lie to her. Like she doesn't lie to me.

But even if for some feckin' reason I don't understand, she's decided she can't trust my word –

Wraith gets a solid punch into my solar plexus.

Pain explodes along my nerve endings and I welcome it.

This is what I need.

Not nearly as strong as the intensity of my need for Kara, but necessary to keep the facade in place.

The underboss who is only brutal some of the time.

How can my wife not realize there is no room for another woman's breath, much less her body in my life?

A sharp whistle pierces the air, bringing me back to the moment.

I've got my arm around Wraith's throat and he's choking out. He's not giving the signal for surrender though.

I let him go anyway and he falls to his knees.

There's respect in the other soldier's eyes. Not for me. That's always there along with a good dose of fear for some of them.

But for Wraith.

Kieran Lleshi is the only man in this room, besides my lieutenants, that has lasted longer than five minutes against me.

"And that, gentlemen, is how you fight." I walk out of the gym to the sound of my soldiers congratulating Wraith.

It's time to feed my addiction.

Kara's not expecting me. Brogan is. But his office isn't where I'm headed.

I need to see my wife. Confirm she's still there.

I pull up the camera feed from inside our place and find her in the bedroom working on the computer.

Classes started the day after her birthday. Odds are good she's studying this time.

I'm about to interrupt her concentration. Fitz is in school until 2:45. That means we have the apartment all to ourselves.

No interruptions.

I don't bother taking a shower before getting into my car and heading back to the mansion. Maybe I can convince my wife to take one with me.

Kara is more than willing to be distracted, but there's something different about our sex now. She's holding part of herself back from me.

That place I need to live inside of her is closed to me and no amount of pleasure and wild passion will open it

We're both getting dressed and I'm about to suggest another swimming lesson in the bay with Fitz, when my phone buzzes.

It's Brice.

Feckin' hell.

I have to take it.

"Yeah?" I shove an earbud in my ear and slide the phone into the pocket of my suite jacket.

Kara looks up from putting on her sandals. She doesn't ask who it is.

That's not how it works in the mob.

But she watches me.

"Dierdre's on the move."

"Give me a second." I mute myself. Not something I usually do.

Before the debacle of leaving Kara to go to dinner with Dierdre after making love, I would have just walked out of the room.

Leaning down, I kiss my wife. "I have to go. I'll see you at dinner."

She nods, her eyes going wide, but doesn't say anything.

"We good?" I ask.

Now those pretty hazel eyes narrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I'm smart enough not to hazard an answer to that question. Instead, I kiss her again. This time I let it last and plunder her mouth with my tongue until she relaxes into me.

"We're good." It's a statement this time.

She nods like it was a question again.

And I smile.

She smiles back.

I have to force myself to walk out of our bedroom, going back to my phone call. "Where is she headed?"

"Could be Queens. Could be Manhattan. Both are east."

"Do we have someone on her?" I exit the apartment and give the guards on the door a death glare. "Keep my wife safe."

The men say, "Yes, sir," in unison.

"You worried about something happening to Kara?" Brice asks.

"We've got a feckin' viper in our bleedin' nest and a Russian with a hardon for our new gun in communication with her. What do you think?"

"Kara has a detail on her at all times," Brice reminds me. "Even within the mansion."

"I know. I assigned them." But shite happens.

"She'll be fine, boss."

"I wouldn't be walking away if I didn't believe that." Doesn't mean I like leaving her though.

"Dierdre is on the Long Island Expressway."

"Do we have someone tailing her?"

"Kieran and Sean."

"Part of Wraith's training?" I ask.

"Not that he needs much of it. Once he learns how to work within our power structure rather than the military, or as an independent contractor he'll be ready to take the oath."

"You're that sure of him?"

"When have you ever been wrong about a recruit?" He sounds resigned to losing a very good bottle of whiskey.

"You'd think you'd know better than to bet against me."

"Got to keep you on your toes, boss. You need to be challenged now and again."

He's not wrong. Part of being a good leader is having smart people at your back. Brice, Rory and Conor are intelligent and all three of them have the balls to question me when I need it.

I'm betting Wraith will fall in that category too. He's not afraid of punishment or pain. That soldier will give his loyalty because he chooses to, not because he's been intimidated into making a vow.

The strongest syndicates are made up of men like him.

I monitor the Dierdre situation from my office as I go over the contract Brogan negotiated in London and put the terms into the client dossier for the other company.

My phone buzzes.

I tap the side of my earbud to answer. "It's a decent deal."

"Of course it is. I negotiated it." Brogan's arrogance doesn't faze me.

"You didn't need me there after all." Am I rubbing it in to press the point home?

Yes.

He grunts. "Travel is part of your job as my underboss."

"Some can't be avoided, but from now on, I want to minimize my trips away from my family."

"You could have seen your family if you'd gone to London."

My wife and son are the only family that matters to me. "Did you meet with the Northies then?"

"Yes. Brian and Oisín seem genuinely worried about Dierdre's safety. They offered a favor in return for keeping her safe."

"She's in contact with Darakov."

"That's not a surprise if they're trying to negotiate a marriage alliance. Her mam is already making wedding plans."

"She'll have to cancel them. An alliance between the Northies and Darakov isn't good for us." Which means it will not happen, one way, or another.

"He could be a distributer for us."

"Nah."

"You're not the boss yet, Mick. Don't presume to tell me what to do."

"He can't be trusted." Which should be feckin' obvious after Darakov sent mercs to steal the original prototype.

"Who in this world can be?"

"There's watching out for a double cross and there's putting your hand around the wasp's nest and expecting not to get stung."

Brogan laughs like I'm joking.

I'm not.

"There are other options for distribution," he muses in the silence that falls between us.

"Starting with allies we already have strong bonds with makes more sense." Though I want to connect with the Greek mafia out of Portland.

They have some impressive weapons connections and a reputation for brutal but honest dealings. I can work with that.

My phone lights up with a text.

"I've got to go." I don't wait for Brogan's answer before disconnecting the call and putting one through to my lieutenant. "Where is she?"

"The Waldorf. Wraith followed her to a room on the concierge level."

I don't ask how he got the keycard to gain access to that floor. I expect my men to take initiative. "Who's staying in that room?"

"The blackgloves are hacking into the registration system now, but chances are it'll be booked under an alias."

And if Wraith had gotten a look at the occupant, Brice would have already told me.

"Her phone?"

"Whoever is staying there is using a jammer. We can't use the listening app we installed and there's nothing but muffled sound through those thick walls. Even our best targeted listening device isn't picking up distinguishable words."

Whoever is in that room excels at countersurveillance measures.

My money is on my least favorite Russian. Darakov.

Plans for Dierdre are going to have to escalate.

And that favor my father and Oisín promised Brogan for keeping her safe is going to have to go unfulfilled.