Page 61 of Taken By the Mobster

“God, I hope you’re right.” Conor shifted uneasily and stared at a spot above his friend’s head. “If it means no more running, then I’m all for it. Especially if it means Ruthie will be safe.”

“You’re in love with that firecracker, aren’t you?” Declan asked.

Conor chuckled. “Yeah, I think I am.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “What are you going to do if Donovan kills Clyde? Are you cool with that?”

“Clyde killed my sister, held my brother hostage for more than a year, and sent his goon to kill Olivia. As far as I’m concerned, death is too good for Clyde Braniff.” Declan glanced at the closed office door. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped into the room. Donovan Muldoon sat behind a large desk against one wall while Shane sat across from him in a small, gray velvet chair. Muldoon rose to his feet as soon as Declan entered.

“Declan, it’s good to see you, boy. It’s been a long time.” He gestured to the chair beside Shane. “Won’t you have a seat?”

Declan sat down while Conor stood right behind him. Donovan came out from behind the desk to perch on the front of it, directly in front of Shane and Declan.

“I understand you have some reliable information regarding my nephew,” Muldoon said. “I’d like to hear it.”

Declan cleared his throat. “Clyde was going to start a war with the O’Reillys.”

Donovan shrugged. “Every day is a war with the O’Reillys. It’s a fact of life.”

“Not this time,” Declan said. “He wanted me and my crew to steal a shipment of drugs and money from O’Reilly. His plan was to use the money to take over the family and remove you. He said he was sick of being under your thumb, following your rules, and being beholden to you.”

“But he’s my heir,” Muldoon said. “It would have been his, eventually.”

“I don’t think he’s willing to wait, Donovan,” Declan said. “All Clyde cares about is the money and the power. Jesus Christ, do you know how much money I have made for that man in the last eighteen months?”

“What do you mean? How have you made him money?” Donovan interrupted. “I thought you got out, retired. After your sister died and your brother skipped town, Clyde said you moved to Maine somewhere because you didn’t want to be part of the family anymore.”

Declan scrubbed a hand over his face. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Donovan asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Shane leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. “Listen carefully, Mr. Muldoon. I’m going to be as succinct as possible. Clyde forced Declan to work for him, robbing banks up and down the coast. He did this by killing Declan’s sister and holding his brother hostage.”

Donovan sagged, and the breath left his lungs. He stared at Declan and shook his head. “I didn’t … I didn’t know.”

Declan sighed. “You have to understand, Mr. Muldoon. It was never enough. No matter how much money I stole for Clyde, it was never enough. He will risk a war between the families to get more. Clyde will kill Sean O’Reilly’s daughter if it meant more money. Is that really the man you want as your heir?”

Donovan’s face hardened, and a low growl came from his throat. He pointed at the man by the door. “Go get my nephew. I want a word with him.”

The man hurried from the room. Donovan returned to the chair behind the desk, grimacing as he sat down.

“I need you to understand something,” Donovan said. “My wife died giving birth to my son. The boy died when he was three days old. I never remarried; I never wanted to. My sister’s son became my heir by default. I thought it was what he wanted. I didn’t know he was unhappy. Obviously, I did not know what he was doing behind my back. I will not fight him to keep control of the family. I don’t have the energy. But I sure the hell won’t give it to him outright. The ungrateful, little bastard.”

He stared at the men sitting in front of him, the sadness in his eyes obvious. Something was wrong, something more than an heir that didn’t care about his family.

“What’s wrong, Donovan?” Declan asked. “What is it?”

Donovan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m dying, Declan. Lung cancer. My doctors say I have two, maybe three, months left to live.”

The door opened, and Clyde entered with Donovan’s man right on his heels. He froze as soon as he saw Declan.

“What the hell is this?” Clyde asked. “What are they doing here?”

“Have a seat, Clyde,” Donovan said.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Clyde snapped.

The man behind Clyde grabbed his shoulder, pushed him across the room, and forced him to sit on a small, wooden chair next to Donovan’s desk.

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