Page 4 of Corrupted Memories
Nico glances at me, still not assured. “Or Gio could not care.” He would know better than most. Nico has been my second in command since we were twelve and I had just moved to Chicago with my father. We’ve been inseparable since, plotting and planning for the future as a team, a best friend turned brother. I may not care about Chicago as much as Nico, but Arthur’s disrespect to Christian, the boss of the Outfit, and to his enforcer, my father, will not go unpunished.
I shrug. “There’s only one reason Gio would be searching for his half-siblings. He doesn’t want them to have a claim to his throne.”
“Second in command isn’t much of a throne,” Nico counters. Gio Moretti may become Luca’s Capo one day, and he wouldn’t want any of his father’s bastards jeopardizing that spot.
My lips quirk. “No it’s not. I much prefer being the hand that instills fear.”
Our eyes meet as we think about my father and hisuniqueways to get the people in the Outfit in line.
Nico clears his throat and focuses back on the road before asking his next question. “Have you thought about what you’ll do if she’s truly moved on and doesn’t want you?”
I ignore the ache in my chest caused by his words and roll my eyes. “She hasn’t.”
He raises his eyebrows, not looking at me. “You’re so sure?”
My mind flashes through the nights we spent together and the way she fit so seamlessly into my life, or at least the parts I’d shown her. The way we fit together so perfectly as if we were made for each other. The way her little bottom lip would pout if I didn’t spend the night with her. Hell, we practically lived together those years in college.
I run a hand through my ashy blond hair, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach. “She didn’t move on.”
Nico doesn’t look convinced and maybe I’m saying the words to convince myself, but deep in my heart, I know it to be true. If I haven’t moved on, neither has she. We’re as fated as anyone can be.
He doesn’t pester me with any more questions as we head to the hotel that the Irish directed us to. I hope I won't have to remain in New Jersey or Manhattan for long. I prefer to stay in Chicago as much as possible when I’m in the States.
When we park and get out, I keep my face tilted down as we enter through a back entrance and take a service elevator to a closed-off penthouse floor. Nico finds the key and ushers us back into the room. I blow out a breath. Now comes the worst part: waiting. It amuses me endlessly how glamorous some people imagine our life to be, but most of the time, it’s just a lot of waiting.
I unbutton my jacket and settle into a chair as Nico makes us a drink before sitting across from me. My hand goes back to the tiny butterfly in my pocket, and I can’t comprehend how close I am to having her again. Nico pulls out his laptop and starts working quietly while I ignore the buzzing of my phone, knowing the Irish wouldn’t be trying to contact me at this time and everything else is of no importance.
I don’t keep track of how much time passes before Cillian and Cormac slip into the room, breathinghard and covered in blood. It looks more ghastly on Cillian, the reddish-brown harsh on his pale skin. The sides of his head are shaved to expose tattooed skin. As a Black man with a deep copper coloring, the blood is barely visible on Cormac, but his dark eyes hold adrenaline I’ve only ever seen after killing another.
My hand stills halfway to my mouth, taking in their condition and wondering if I made a mistake meeting the Irish without more security.
Nico stands at once, hand on his gun. “What the fuck?”
Cillian gives him a cheshire grin. “Blood make you nervous?”
“You make me nervous, you fucking psychopath. I’ve heard the rumors,” Nico says, sitting back down slowly. Cillian and Cormac are the reapers of the Daghda brotherhood, a mercenary group within the Irish Mafia. If there’s anyone the Irish need to makedisappear, it happens at the hands of these two.
Cormac’s gaze falls on me and I raise an eyebrow while asking, “Run into some kind of problem?”
He shrugs, glancing back at Cillian as if just realizing how they appear. “We had to take care of something beforehand. Mind if we shower?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I’d prefer to have thisdiscussion without the taint of death in the room. There’s an ensuite in both rooms. Take your pick.”
Even though I’m not an official Made Man of the Outfit, I can’t help but take offense a little that Rian O’Callaghan didn’t meet me directly. Truthfully though, I don’t blame him considering his wife gave birth to their first child not long ago, but sending the two deadliest of the Daghda brotherhood is certainly a choice.
Downing the rest of my drink, I look back at Nico, gauging how he feels about it. Judging by his frown, he doesn’t like it. He finds me watching him and he swallows. “Are you kidnapping her? Have the plans changed?”
I shake my head. “No, they’re just getting me past Luca’s cameras so I can remain in Manhattan unseen until I make my first move.”
His eyes drift down to the blood that has dripped onto the floor. “Do you ever regret not swearing in?”
I’m surprised by the question. Out of all of the things I expected to come from his mouth, that wasn’t one of them.
“I’m not sure,” I answer him honestly. Being my father’s heir without loyalty to the Outfit has granted me a lot of freedom while closing plenty of doors.
“I often wonder if we would even be alive,” Nico says.
An amused smile pulls at my lips and my hand goes to my pocket, rolling the butterfly between my fingers again. “We wouldn’t have attended college, that’s for sure.”
