Page 25

TWENTY-FIVE

HARKIN

Game of Survival - Ruelle

A fter that old woman’s warning, I knew we had to get out of there. We’d made a show of ourselves by going door-to-door, flashing that photo to every resident. Someone knew precisely whose building they lived in and where Keira’s mother was. We’d been spotted and sold out before reaching the third floor. I’d wanted to get out of there before we ended up in this spot. But my plan to wait and watch who arrived didn’t pan out.

I mindlessly trace my fingers against Keira’s leg to keep from cutting this trip short. The clanking of loose tools on the shelves around us keeps my eyes scanning, worried we’ll be taken out by a metal wrench before we get to wherever we’re going. It also distracts me from keeping track of each turn we make. Something unnecessary with the trackers, but my brain refuses to leave everything up to technology, no matter how good I know it is.

Baldie in the front seat taps on the metal door, and the bozo in front of me reaches into his pocket, pulling out two handkerchiefs. He unceremoniously throws them both in my lap before barking out a command to put them on.

“Fuck you. I’m not putting shit on,” Keira sasses from behind me.

The guy looks like he wants to jolt from his seat to strangle her. Trust me, buddy, I know the feeling well.

“Handle it. We’re here,” the driver calls out as the van starts to slow.

Our buddy in the back shifts, trying to balance in the moving vehicle. Their mistake was not taking the time to restrain us. Now, he’s got zero chance of getting me to put on the blindfold, let alone getting near enough to Keira to even touch her.

“Never gonna happen, buddy,” I try to reason with him. But I assume his head tells him I’m less of a threat than the man who keeps ordering him around.

His hand snaps out to grab the fabric he discarded in my lap, but I’m faster. The second one is already in my hands, and his neck is perfectly exposed. Shooting up in one quick motion, I wrap the handkerchief around his throat and twist it behind him. He’s so worried about the noose tightening around his neck that he doesn’t realize I’m up and behind him in a blink, pushing him down to the disgusting carpet of the van, my boot shoved into the middle of his back. He grapples with the fabric, trying to pull it away, but I have all the leverage.

That is, until the back and side doors fly open, letting in the midday sun. “Let him go.” His command breaks my concentration, and I look up from the struggling man under my foot.

Guns are raised in my direction; I don’t stop. I’d been a little too busy to notice Keira in the scuffle, but she’s now the center of everyone’s attention. My girl braces in front of me, both hands clasped around deadly steel, as she points right back at each man waiting outside.

Everyone’s attention shifts to the man desperately clawing at anything he can get his hands on. The wheezing through his nose is the only sound in the cabin.

“He doesn’t look like he’s going to make it, guys,” Keira says with mock concern. “Drop your guns and let us out without the blindfolds, and Harkin here will let him pass out instead of killing him. How does that sound?”

I shift my weight, readjusting. The things coming out of her mouth with every ounce of complete control over our situation have my cock growing hard.

“You’re your fucking mother’s daughter,” Baldie bites out, and Keira’s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t drop her arms. On the other hand, he shoves his pistol back in its holster.

“Nighty, night,” I whisper next to the guy’s ear as he passes out, and I finally let go of the fabric around his neck.

They escort us from the van across a desolate parking lot. The only thing in sight is a row of rundown metal buildings that look like they once housed aircraft. The men march us through a door with more security than my apartment. It’s code and fingerprint protected. But that’s only the first half. We’re locked in a small room, blocked by a second door when we step inside. A camera in the corner blinks red. Baldie looks up into the camera for a vetting process I’m sure is happening elsewhere. The slide bolt lock disengages, and he shoves the door open.

The exterior we walk up on has no standing on the interior when we step through the second door. It’s pristine, broken up into multiple sections, some open to where we are now, while others are closed off. I check above, and there, too, is a catwalk that spans the entire space. Two men on opposite ends stand guard with rifles strapped to their backs and pistols at their thighs.

This place is locked down tight. My guess is it's a storage house, and it’s a bold choice for a meeting. It's very different from the posturing we’re used to with Dom. The open space is undecorated, with just a few plastic folding tables and chairs, a small TV and radio, and a mini fridge.

Baldie leads us across the floor to a hallway. The light dims as the walls close in, and I tuck Keira closer to my side. He stops and pounds on a door that looks like it might give way under the pressure.

“Boss, they’re here,” he calls.

“Come in.”

He pushes the door open for us to enter, but doesn’t follow, pulling the door closed behind us. The small office isn’t much to look at, a desk with a mess of papers and a few filing cabinets. It’s dark and closed in without the offer of natural light.

Not moving to stand or greet us, he points to the two metal folding seats in front of his relic of a work surface. Keira sits unceremoniously, and her attention never wavers from the new addition to her list of long-lost family members. Without breaking their moment, I stand sentry behind her, arms crossed over my chest, ready to watch how this will unfold.

After a tense minute, he finally breaks the silence. A thick Irish brogue laces his tone. “Well, aren’t you a vision from the past?”

Keira ignores the inference, refusing to beat around the bush like the force of nature she is. “Where is she? Why are you hiding her?”

The older man looks puzzled. When she doesn’t immediately get an answer, she pushes forward, bombarding him with more questions.

“Why are you keeping her there? Why did she leave me? Answer me!” she screams, but he doesn’t look phased by her emotional outburst.

Her hand disappears into her coat pocket. That same photo we’d been using to search the apartment building slams to the desk between them. “Her.” She shoves her finger into the photo. “I want to see her right now.” Slumping back into her chair, her shoulders heave in quick succession.

“Ahh, this is why you were bothering my tenants. You made a few very nervous, poking around.”

“Don’t worry, they didn’t narc on you,” she bites out, the annoyance in her tone thick.

“No, I don’t imagine they would. However, you bothered them for nothing. The woman you’re looking for isn’t who I’m assuming you think she is.” He pauses, reaching across the mess of papers to turn an old metal picture frame around in our direction. “That might help you understand the situation a bit better.”

Keira hesitates, but the photo of two women eventually pulls her forward. She snatches the frame off the desk and brings it closer to inspect.

“No, you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie to you? The woman you are looking for, the one you think is your mother, is your aunt, your mother’s younger sister. They are not quite twins, like you and your sister, but they were born within the same year. Their resemblance has always been uncanny; everyone mistook them for twins when they were little. I’m sure she looks much like your mother would today if she were still with us.”

My eyes shoot down to Keira, worried that this revelation will send her spinning. The information should have come up in my digging, but my one-track mind wasn’t open to the possibility. Plus, when these families don’t want records discovered, they simply don’t exist, no matter your connections and ability to hack into databases.

“I… I have an aunt?” Keira stumbles.

I drop a hand to her shoulder and squeeze, letting her know I’m still here, anchoring her. “You seem to know a lot for someone who supposedly just learned he had granddaughters?”

He takes me in for the first time since we entered his office. The gentle gaze he uses with Keira hardens. It’s my first glimpse of the man behind the grandfather title. He’s Patrick Donahue, and his reputation precedes him. He’s the ruthless head who waged war against the mafia and won. He pushed out the Bratva and stopped the Yakuza from gaining a foothold in the city. He’s been king of the boroughs for years, laying claim to anything useful and throwing scraps when needed. It’s no wonder Dom’s desperate to hold something over his head. It's too bad for him; the very pawn he intends to manipulate hates everything about him.

“Harkin, I presume? My men tell me you’re the reason both of my granddaughters aren’t brainwashed by their father.”

Keira snorts before she says, “There’s not a chance in hell I would have given in to his demands to join his fucked up little family. And just so we’re clear, and on the same page, I have zero intention of letting you use me to get back at him either.”

“You’re so much like your mother,” Patrick says, a rough, raspy laughter pulling from his chest.

“You know, I’m getting fucking tired of hearing that from people. How could I be like either of my parents, considering neither was around to raise me.”

“Nature versus nurture. You have her fierceness and stubborn attitude. I can already tell.”

“So, are you just like him? Did you know about the two of us? Did you know your daughter had twins and placed one with a pretentious family in California while the other struggled to make it to eighteen? Did you hate that half our blood came from him, enough to leave me on the streets to starve?”

He lets her hurtful words hang in the air, filling the room with an emotional charge ready to erupt and cause devastation to all of us trapped in the small space

For someone in his later years, he moves stealthily from his seat around the desk in seconds. He drops in the chair to Keira’s left, giving her his entire focus, before he reaches out and grabs her hands to hold in his.

“You may have been wrong about your mother still being alive. But there is more to her story and yours that you should know.”