Page 27 of Sinner's Fury

“Like I said. I only know Silas.”

With that, Malice walked out of the boardroom, closing the door behind him. It didn’t take a fucking genius to know where he was going. Or should I say who he was about to do? Since Malice claimed Silver, the man rarely left her side, and neither of them had any aversion to public sex.

Hiding my smile, I turned back around in my seat just when Storm piped up, “Regardless of whether we can trust the intern or not, he’s a brother in this club and my responsibility. I trust the kid. I will vouch for him.”

“He fucks us, it’s your ass,” Montana griped.

“Don’t threaten me, Montana,” Storm sneered as he glared contemptuously at the club’s president. “Got love for you and my brothers, but you and I have been down this road before. Not gonna let your fucking fears cause harm to me or mine. Said I trusted the kid. My word should be good enough.”

No one said a fucking word because we all knew Storm was right. After the shit that went down with Delany, Storm had been keeping to himself lately, preferring to work from home than at the clubhouse. While most of us understood his reservations, Montana had a way of digging that knife in the back deeper, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself face-to-fucking-face with the man at the heart of the problem—Maxwell James Doherty.

Changing the subject, I asked, “Any word on Popeye?”

“No. The fucker is still in the wind,” Payne groaned, clearly annoyed.

I got it. Payne was an excellent tracker, but when he brought up Ravage from the Golden Skulls, Montana lost his shit. Prez meant what he said. He didn’t want any Golden Skull member anywhere near this club. He wanted no association, no debt to be paid, nothing. In the end, Payne went at it alone and, from the cut of his shoulders, his search wasn’t looking good.

“He’s vanished. I’ve got nothing. No one has seen hide nor hair of the fucker. I even called some of my contacts down in Florida, and nothing. I don’t know where else to look.”

“Not to pile on,” Mercy interrupted. “But I got word that Braesal O’Malley will be in town later this week.”

Montana sat up straighter. “What the fuck for? Kelley runs the Irish in New York. Why is that fucker coming here?”

Braesal O’Malley was the head of the Irish Mafia for the east coast. Based out Boston, Massachusetts, the man was the grandson of Casper O’Malley, the former IRA leader out of Ireland before Brian Buchanon took over. To make matters worse, the O’Malley’s were related by marriage to the Valentinetti’s, and with blood ties, they were a family this club steered clear of. With everything going on, I fucking knew Montana didn’t want to step on anyone’s fucking toes.

“Don’t know,” Mercy admitted. “O’Malley said he would be in the city this weekend and requested a meeting with you at the Gentlemen’s Club. Apparently, he’s already informed Illyria, and she’s reserved the room. All we need to do is show up.”

Payne groaned. “Could have something to do with a death I heard about last year. One of Braesal’s men, a man named Duane Murphy, died, leaving behind a widow named Maureen.From what I heard, Braesal has a hard-on for the woman, but she bought her way out and left. Last I heard, he’s been looking for her ever since.”

“Is the woman even in the city?” I asked, looking at my brother.

“No clue. There is also a rumor that O’Malley fucking hates Nolan Kelley. So, he could be just making an unexpected visit to check on the fucker.”

Storm nodded. “Kelley isn’t exactly on the up-and-up with his boss. I’ve heard rumors of double-dipping within the Italian Mafia.”

“Speaking of which. Do we know who the new head is?” I asked.

“Cesar Vitale,” Vicious stated. “The council made the announcement a few days ago.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Montana grumbled, “Mercy, let Illyria know we will attend. As for the rest of you, go find me something, anything, that I can use to put Reaper back in his place.”

Chapter Seven

Carly

Yawning, I poured myself a cup of coffee, enjoying the peace and quiet before Drew woke up. Leaning against the counter, I brought the hot cup to my mouth and took a sip while I stared out the window of our apartment. It looked to be another chilly day in the Big Apple.

Not that I would know.

I rarely left the apartment.

Heading over to my desk, I booted up my computer and took a seat while I waited for the black screen to change to blue.

For the last several months, I’d been digging into my grandfather’s past, and while it wasn’t pretty, I was finally getting somewhere.

Well, at least I thought so.

Like most things that wanted to stay hidden, I had to dig and dig for any nugget of information. Like when I sent off for William’s birth certificate. What should have been a straightforward task turned into another mystery, because when I sent off for it, I got back two of them. Both were issued by the State of California, but each had conflicting information. If that wasn’t bad enough. The birthplace for William’s father was also from two different states.

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