Page 80 of Stolen Mafia Vows
His eyes narrow. “They want Caleb dead.”
I get the feeling that he knows more than he’s letting on, and I can’t help him save my wife if I’m not armed with all the facts. “Why Caleb? What has he done?”
Terry spreads his hands wide. “Caleb’s a good guy.”
“Says every mafia boss’s stepdad ever.” I smile, and Terry reciprocates.
It feels as if I’m slowly chipping away at the armor he wears, not enough for him to welcome me into the family, but I’ll take it as a win.
“I think that we should give them what they want. We should give them a war.”
His face immediately clouds over. “I haven’t forgotten our deal, lad. You take me for a fool, and you’ll be traveling home in a body bag.”
“I know.” I down my brandy, tracking the heat inside. “Myfather wants war. He’s back there gathering an army of foot soldiers, and every bullet has Caleb Murray’s name on it.”
Revealing my father’s plans to anyone, let alone our biggest rival, goes against everything that we stand for, every perspective, every act of respect, everything that has been instilled in me since I was a kid. But I remind myself that I’m doing this for Emily, and if it means earning Terry’s trust, I’d sell my own soul to the devil.
“A life for a life,” I continue. Terry is part of this world; he understands what these confessions mean to me. “My father will think less of me if I don’t avenge Ruari’s death. But … he’s prepared to hold fire while I rescue Emily.”
“And your point is?”
“My point is, we let the bratva think that their game has been successful. We let them believe that we’re at war. And while they sit back to watch the distraction, we take them by surprise. Once Emily is safe, then we blow them sky high.” My use of Terry’s words isn’t lost on him.
“What about Caleb?”
“We’re on the same side here.”
“I’m listening.” Terry tops up our drinks and sits back, rubbing his thumb around the rim of his glass.
“I’ll leave my father out of this. But if we’re going to keep this real, I’ll need to involve my uncles. I’ll fly my own army into New York. We’ll create some ripples, make some noise, cause some trouble.”
Terry’s gun remains firmly in its holster: bonus. He might hate my guts for marrying his daughter and causing the domino effect that brought their family secret crashing downaround them, but he’s a realist. And I think he’s starting to realize that we’re both on the same page.
“Flush them out, you mean.”
“They’re not holding Emily for the sheer fun of it.”
My jaw instinctively clenches at the thought of anyone treating her badly. If I find out that they’ve so much as laid a finger on her, Terry won’t be able to hold me back. But for now, at least, she’s leverage, and as such, they should be treating her with the respect that she deserves.
“Eventually,” I press on, “they’ll crawl out of their hidey holes ready to reap the rewards of their little game.”
“And we’ll be waiting for them.”
17
EMILY
I spendthe next three days in my room.
The guards bring me three meals a day. They leave the tray of food outside the door, knock, and stand back while I retrieve it. The same happens in reverse when I’ve eaten. I don’t bother opening the door any other time, but I know that someone with dark brows, tattoos, and a weapon will be right there in the hallway, just waiting for me to emerge like a worm burrowing out of dirt.
I guess I’m kinda making a stand. For what it’s worth.
But neither Olivia nor Ilya come to check on me, and I wonder if this is an extended vacation for them, with a little extra baggage, or if they’re being proactive in contacting my family. Or Eoghan.
I’m also buying myself some time to get my head around all that happened back in Ireland.
I’ve never missed anyone the way I miss Eoghan. I learned about imprinting at college and how birds will imprint uponthe first animal or object they see within a short span of time after hatching. And that’s almost how I feel about Eoghan. I feel like I’m floundering without him, like he’s my source of food, water, comfort, and love, everything that I need to make me feel whole again.
