Page 57 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

MICK

I don’t look away from the screen.

Not even for a second.

Because if I do, I’ll end up fantasizing about walking into that room and peeling the skin off Dierdre Kelly with my bare hands.

And I need to pay attention to what's being said, no matter how satisfying those fantasies might be.

She sits slumped in the steel interrogation chair, lashes fluttering like she’s on the edge of sleep. The drug makes her docile, not unconscious. Her eyes are open, her pulse steady.

Her mouth, at last for the moment, incapable of lies.

Good.

Brice stands off to the side, arms crossed, quiet and imposing.

Wraith leans in, voice low and calm. His hands stay open and relaxed, not threatening. He doesn’t need to be.

Not when Dierdre’s will is compromised, chemically.

I couldn’t be in that room. I know that. I’d crush her windpipe the second she spoke my wife’s name. And that would defeat the purpose of the drug. We need answers.

Without starting a war.

Kara's helping Fitz with his schoolwork. I've got a live feed of them too. It's playing on my phone and when I need to lower my blood pressure so I don't give the order to kill Dierdre, I look at it.

My fingers flex beside the laptop. I should’ve asked the right questions when I interrogated Dierdre myself. My sins of arrogance nearly cost me my wife.

Never again.

"You've been in contact with Ilya Darakov since coming to New York," Wraith says.

Dierdre's mouth twists in distaste. "My da wants me to marry him."

"Why?"

"Darakov has connections the Northies want. Access to weapons the Shaughnessy Mob doesn't trade in."

Wraith's muscles bunch under his snug fitting tactical t-shirt, a subtle indication of tension. "What kind of weapons?"

"Biological. Brian Shaughnessy doesn't like the idea of using them, but da says staying on top means using what's necessary."

"What do you think?" Wraith asks, using an effective drug induced interrogation technique.

Ask the subject their opinion and other pieces of information will be revealed.

"I think Brian Shaughnessy is soft. He refuses to do business with syndicates that are involved with human trafficking. We're losing millions in revenue from deals we could have made."

She recites the words like a well learned lesson, no doubt learned at her father's knee.

Oisín Kelly isn't the loyal friend my father thinks he is.

"When my da and Nevan are in charge, the Northies will prosper like never before."

Her father and brother? What about my brother, Adam? Do they expect him to go along with their plans? To step aside?

No chance on either.

"How's that going to happen then?" Wraith invites Dierdre to share her knowledge.

To feel smart and superior.

"Once Brian Shaughnessy is gone…" Dierdre taps the side of her nose. "Well, no one lives forever."

Fuck.

I send a message to Brice.

Mick : Ask if there's a plan to assassinate my father .

But even before my text reaches Brice, Wraith asks, "Does your da have plans to help Brian on his way?"

Sounding more like Kieran than his moniker Wraith, my new recruit slides into a creditable Irish lilt, giving Dierdre a false sense of being among friends.

"No. He's loyal. But once Brian is dead, da will take Nevan's advice."

So loyal he talks shite about the code of honor the Northies have lived by for generations. Limits my father still adheres to.

Though maybe not if he's willing to be talked into using biological weapons.

"If not your da, then who?"

"My brother knows if we don't move with the times, we'll be left behind. He's the one that talked my da into the marriage alliance with Darakov." For a second her clear admiration of her brother wavers. "That was a mistake. There are other ways to form the alliance."

"Your brother has plans to kill Brian Shaughnessy?" Wraith asks, still talking low and gentle, his Irish lilt perfect.

Dierdre blinks and Wraith has to ask the question again.

Then she nods. "Uncle Brian has a heart condition. No one will question when he has a heart attack after eating all the rich foods at Christmas dinner."

The diabolical siblings even have a timeline for the assassination attempt that is never going to happen.

"Your brother confides in you a lot," Wraith says with false admiration.

"We see things the same way."

Like psychopaths with no honor.

"What about Mick's brother. Isn't he supposed to take over for his da?"

Dierdre frowns. "He's in the way."

Which is not an answer. I want Wraith to shake the disloyal cow, but that wouldn't help in an interrogation like this one.

Unless we were using the drug to induce fear and paranoia…the thought is a tempting one, but answers given out of fear aren't always reliable.

"Does your brother have a plan for how to deal with that?"

"No. Nevan thinks he can convince Adam to go along because he's more ruthless about business than Uncle Brian."

I always knew Nevan was a gobshite . Adam is ruthless, but like all of us Fitzgerald's he adheres to his own code of honor and that includes the one established for the Northies.

Dierdre leans forward. "He's wrong, but I have a plan."

"I bet it's a good one," Wraith encourages her.

"It is. Once Micky's brothers are out of the way, he can take over. He won't hesitate to do what's best for the mob."

My wife is right. Dierdre is delusional.

"You plan to get rid of all of Mick's brothers?" Wraith asks, flicking a glance at the camera recording the interrogation.

"Over time. I can't do it all at once, but by the time they're all dead, he'll be in charge of the Shaughnessy Mob too and we will rule Dublin and New York."

We . Like I would ever allow that woman to stand beside me. She's not even worthy of licking the dirt off the bottom of Kara's shoe.

Wraith draws the conversation out, getting as much detail as possible about Dierdre's demented plans.

"Ilya and I have a deal," she says at one point.

"A good deal?" Wraith asks, managing to sound admiring while his body is rigid with disgust.

Dierdre’s eyes lose what little focus they had. Her voice is flat, like she’s reading from a script. "He said if I helped him get some gun prototype, he’d back out of the marriage alliance."

She's already revealed she can't back out because her da threatened to cut her off financially if she didn't marry Darakov.

Brice makes a sound and I shift my focus to my lieutenant leaning against the wall. He's not leaning now though, he's standing away from it, his hands fisted at his sides.

Wraith glances at his crew leader and shakes his head infinitesimally. "How were you supposed to do that?"

"I told him about the Bunker."

"How do you know about the Bunker?" Wraith asks.

Motherfucker.

My jaw clenches so tight I think something cracks.

She licks her lips. "I overheard Uncle Brian and my da talking."

Dierdre is even better at earwigging than I gave her credit for. No way did my da and Oisín discuss mob business like that in her hearing on purpose.

"Everyone thinks the Bunker is a myth, but Uncle Brian told my da that it's real. An underground safe house in Queens the Shaughnessy Mob has been using since they emigrated to New York. Uncle Brian has met with Brogan there."

It's time my father-in-law retired to the legit side of the business. He's gotten too arrogant for proper caution to run a criminal syndicate.

First, he tells my da about Kara's jealousy back in the day and now I learn he's shown the Bunker to da. At least it was before we started working on the Whisper Gun project.

Da hasn't been to New York since the month before renovations on the Bunker began.

"What did you and Darakov talk about in the Waldorf suite?" Wraith’s voice drops even lower. Lethal and intimate.

"Since his men failed to get the gun prototype, he wanted more information."

"What kind of information?"

She sighs like it’s obvious. "A different way into the Bunker. He wants me to search Micky and Brogan's offices for information on the gun."

No wonder she came to my office so often. Only problem for her is, there's no information about the Vanta in there.

Only on my phone and laptop and the NSA isn't going to break that encryption, much less Dierdre feckin' Kelly.

"Did you find anything?" Wraith asks.

Dierdre pouts. "No."

"Was Ilya happy about that?" Wraith's voice is pitched low with commiseration.

"No. He threatened to back out of the deal if I didn't tell him something."

Wraith's eyes narrow. "What did you tell him?"

"I lied." Dierdre taps her nose again. "I told him I thought the information was in the boathouse because no one is allowed to go in there."

"What else?" Wraith prompts, clearly as aware as I am that Ilya Darakov wasn't going to be satisfied with supposition.

Sighing again, Dierdre's head lists to the side. "I had to tell him the number of soldiers guarding the mansion and their security rotations."

No way does she know that stuff. Even her bodyguards don't know it. We don't stick to a set schedule for rotations. Routines make you vulnerable.

"Did your bodyguards give you that information?" Wraith asks.

Dierdre winks at him. "Nope. If they knew I was spying for Ilya, they'd tell my da I turned rat." She shudders. "So, I lied again."

"Did it work?" Wraith asks, an underlying buzz of excitement in his tone.

Dierdre's lies can work in our favor. If Darakov is planning an attack on the mansion, we can take him out then and Dierdre can be a casualty in the crossfire.

It's more elegant than my plan, but not as fun. I planned to drug them both with a paralytic and then put them on his private jet after sabotaging it. They would have had two other guests on the plane with them.

Siberian pit vipers.

Darakov is known for using their venom on his enemies. He is reputed to have several living in terrariums in his home and rumors say he travels with one on his plane in case he needs it.

But this new development would allow me to torture and then kill Darakov without retribution. Problem is, any signs of physical torture on Dierdre could lead to war.

Psychological torture it is then.

Dierdre's lips twitch upward, smug. "Ilya said he'd get my father to back off. No marriage. No threat of being cut off."

"Is that all you talked about?" Wraith asks, showing an ingrained thoroughness that will benefit our mob in the years to come.

Dierdre shakes her head. "I told him Kara was in the way. That I needed her gone."

Even though I know Dierdre threatened Kara's life, hearing that she asked for help from that scum, Darakov to make it happen snaps something inside me.

My chest hurts. It feels like I'm going to have a heart attack. I cannot lose Kara.

Not ever.

Feckin' hell. I love her.

It's not how I love Fitz, but there is no other word for this feeling. It's too big for addiction, too encompassing for lust, too much to be anything other than the miracle of a sociopath loving his woman.

"What did he say to that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, after the blowjob, he said he’d take care of it."

"You ordered a hit on Mick’s wife?" Brice asks, speaking for the first time.

"No," she says, sounding indignant. "I didn’t order anything. I just said it would be better for everyone if she disappeared. He said he'd take care of it."

This feckin' cow is bunny-boiler crazy.

She thinks she can take my heart from me? Never going to happen. I'd rip Dierdre's from her chest first.

Brice is the one who asks, "Why do you want Kara dead?"

A rapturous smile covers Dierdre's face. "Because Micky is mine. He always has been. And once Kara is dead, he and I will rule New York and Dublin together."

I close the laptop with a bang.

If I watch one second more, I’ll find a way to teleport myself through the screen and make her scream.

I am going to bury her.

But I’m going to do it in a way that protects my wife and son. The two people I love.