Page 2 of Beyond Rosy Irish Twilight

I nodded and drank the amber liquid, swallowing it down all at once. He eyed me carefully, and not for the first time today, I wondered exactly what he was expecting today.

He chuckled after a minute and grabbed the decanter, pouring us both another drink. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

Again, I didn’t say anything, but followed his instruction. He sat, draping his arm over the back of the couch and crossed one leg over the other. He gave the air of nonchalance, but that was only because we were in his club, surrounded by his guards. Even if I wanted to make a move on him, I would never make it out alive. In this room alone, there were five guards, and that didn’t cover the extent of security he had with the cameras and sensors I spotted around the room.

“My men tell me you’re making quite the waves since you took over for O’Toole. That was a ballsy move. Is it true what they say?”

“That depends what they say,” I retorted.

He chuckled again. “I heard you turned on Seamus in the middle of a deal gone wrong. Shot him right in the head.”

I shrugged. “You know what they say about rumors.”

He didn’t want me to confirm the story. He wanted to know what I was made of, how much I talked. He needed to know that I was a worthy partner in The Syndicate. I could tell by the way he stared at me, his eyes glittering with amusement at my refusal to boast in front of him.

Finally, after a very long pause, he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his drink dangled from his hand. “I have a proposal for you.”

Again, I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him, letting him know I was listening.

“You don’t say much, do you?”

“Not unless I find it necessary.”

He nodded. This was all a game of cat and mouse. This whole power play of having me come to his club was all about making sure I was made of the right stuff. After joining the ranks under O’Toole, I’d quickly learned to keep my mouth shut. My whole personality had changed once I entered this game. Gone was the jokester. In his place was this surly man that looked at everyone like the enemy until they proved otherwise.

“I know it’s been difficult for you to regain contacts in the United States since taking over for O’Toole. That fucker couldn’t sell weapons to an insurgent.”

My lips quirked up slightly at his jab. He was spot on.

“I have an offer for you, if you’re willing to take a different route in dealing with me.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’ll need a way to transfer funds in the United States. And since you’re based out of Canada, you’ll also need an estate here. I can sort out all the paperwork for you and ensure the transition is smooth.”

I raised my chin at him, wondering why I would need him for that. I already had an apartment set up in the United States not far from here, actually. I needed to be close to the action whenever possible. As for getting things set up, I had OPS to help me out with that, however reluctantly. “I’ve got that covered. Is there anything else?”

His eyes narrowed at my tone. He didn’t like that I didn’t immediately jump at the chance to accept his help. “Let’s put it this way, you’re struggling to regain buyers since O’Toole fucked up. No one wants to work with your organization. I know this because I’ve discussed the situation with all the major players. But everyone in The Syndicate is well aware of what your operation brings to the table if run efficiently. One wrong move and you’ll find yourself out of their good graces. Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal,” I retorted, not breaking eye contact.

He shifted back in his seat, eyeing me. I might have just blown this contact, but I had to play it the way I saw fit. He would admire a man of strength that could stand on his own. He might have thought getting me under his thumb was best for him, but that would never happen. Not if I could help it.

“I have a proposition for you, though I’m not sure you’re smart enough to take it. We like to keep our business contracts within our circle. Going outside is usually messy, but we’re willing to do it when someone fucks up. O’Toole fucked up big time. No one is very willing to do business right now, but I could grease the wheels and make sure they only do business with you. If you’re a smart man, you’ll accept my help. If you’re not, you’re going to find yourself out of business very quickly.”

And dead at the bottom of a river. That was implied.

“And if I accept? What are your demands?”

His lips quirked up. “I wouldn’t call it a demand. More like a stipulation. I need to know the men I’m working with are just as aware of the risks involved and willing to risk what’s necessary to make this a successful business venture. However, since you’re new to our organization, I require something more…personal.”

My insides clenched as he spoke. Whatever he wanted, it wasn’t going to be good. But if I didn’t go along, I wouldn’t be around much longer.

“And what’s that?” I asked smoothly.

He snapped his fingers, not bothering to look behind him at the guards. I heard a scream as the woman was dragged out of her chair and hauled over to Buchanan’s side. She kicked at the guard, desperately trying to escape his grasp, but he was too strong for her efforts to be fruitful. She stilled, but her breaths huffed out as she stared at Buchanan with anger in her eyes.

“This is my daughter, Jade.” His eyes glittered with mirth as I stared at him. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but now I was even more confused than before.

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