“Put that gun down,” Flannery told her. “You’re only going to hurt yourself if you try to use it.” He glanced
back at Sean. “And good for you, finding a woman to settle down with. I remember you being a ladies’ man. Nice to see you’ve grown up.”
Sean looked like he was grinding his teeth together. “What do you want?” he said flatly.
“What do
I
want?” That inspired another laugh. “You’ve got some big balls, barking out demands like that. You stole something very important from me tonight.” Flannery tipped his head to the side. “I assume you’ve seen the contents of the drive?”
“So what if I have?” Sean shrugged. “And so what if you knew my father? You don’t know
me
, Flannery. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
The man smirked. “Actually, I do. Did you think I haven’t kept tabs on you and your brother over the years? Think again, lad. I keep track of anyone who is or has ever associated with my old friend Eamon.”
“Good for you.” Sean crossed his arms. “But that also means you know if someone tells me to jump, I don’t ask ‘how high?’”
Flannery’s features hardened to stone. “You
stole
from me, you little shit.”
“Yeah, I did. Are you expecting an apology?”
Sean’s reckless tone put Bailey on edge. God, the man had zero concern for his own well-being. He was telling off a criminal kingpin like it was something he did every day, and it only emphasized how irresponsible he could be.
“Yes,” Flannery bit out. “I do.”
“Well, I’m afraid you won’t be getting one.” Sean edged toward the couch, chuckling when all four bodyguards whipped up their weapons. “Relax, boys, I’m just taking a load off.” He propped himself on the arm of the couch, meeting Flannery’s irritable gaze. “You claim you’ve kept tabs on me and my brother.”
“I have.”
“Then you must know where my brother is at the moment.”
“Indeed I do.” A ghost of a smile crossed the man’s mouth. “Is that how Eamon strong-armed you back into the organization? He threatened your brother?”
“We just talked about loyalty, did we not? You said my father was loyal. Well, so am I. But not to Rabbit’s cause. I’m loyal to only one person, mate. My brother. And the rest of the world can go to hell.”
Flannery stepped forward, nodding at Bailey. “And your sweet bird? She can go to hell too?”
Sean didn’t even spare her a look. “Yes.”
The dismissal stung, even though Bailey knew Sean was playing a game. Except . . .
was
he? At the moment, she had no frickin’ clue what he was up to.
“It’s late, so why don’t we get right to the point?” Sean slid off the couch, like a lazy cat with no care in the world. “I’m not apologizing for breaking into your safe-deposit box. I had my reasons and I stand by them.” He smiled. “I’m also not going to return your property.”
Flannery’s answering smile was indulgent, genuine even. “Is that so?”
“Oh, that is so. Very, very so.” Sean marched up to one of the bodyguards, and with lightning-fast speed, he grabbed the guy’s rifle.
He didn’t disarm him, though. Bailey’s breath hitched when Sean brought the muzzle of the gun to his own forehead.
“Go ahead and order your man to shoot.” Sean was speaking to Flannery, but his gaze remained locked on the eyes of the man with the gun.
Sweet Jesus.
Sean Reilly was insane.
Next-level, cuckoo-crazy
insane
. Bailey fought to
control the fear racing through her bloodstream as she watched the standoff in total astonishment. The bodyguard was as confused as she was, his gaze darting to his boss as if to say,
What the fuck do I do?
“Come on,” Sean coaxed in a low, soothing voice. “Do it. Tell him to pull the trigger. You’re not going to get what you want from me, so why waste everyone’s time?” He pressed his forehead into the gun barrel. Calm, defiant. “What are you waiting for? Kill me.”
Sean was so tired of playing games. He knew damn well that Flannery hadn’t come here to kill him. It was the reason he hadn’t run when Bailey had suggested it. If they’d fled, Flannery would have just tracked them down again, and then they’d be facing off the same way they were now.
He knew men like Flannery. Men like Rabbit. They had no qualms taking a life, but they were smart enough to know that you could gain more from a live puppet than from a dead man.
Cold steel dug into Sean’s forehead, but he wasn’t afraid. He was bored and annoyed and ready to pull the damn trigger himself, when Flannery suddenly chuckled.
“Put that gun away,” he told his thug, as if the man had been the one to raise it in the first place.
The bodyguard complied by lowering his weapon.
“And you,” Flannery said, jabbing the air in Sean’s direction. “Stop antagonizing my crew and trying to turn them into killers. Shame on you.”
Right. Like those thugs hadn’t murdered dozens—more likely hundreds—of innocent people at Flannery’s command. Like Flannery hadn’t committed murder
himself. Though to the man’s credit, he didn’t
look
like a bloodythirsty killer. Nice suit, groomed goatee, fancy cologne. He looked more like a banking executive than the slimebag he was.
Flannery and Rabbit had already been on the outs when Sean was a kid, but Sean clearly remembered the man. His father had always brought him and Ollie along when he’d visited Rabbit, subjecting the boys to meetings they had no business being a part of, allowing them to witness things they had no business seeing. Sean recalled the night Flannery had walked into Rabbit’s pub, hoping to strike a deal about the drug routes Rabbit and the locals were denying him. Rabbit had laughed Flannery right out of the bar, and Sean would never forget the look in Flannery’s eyes. The veiled promise of death and destruction.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Flannery said with a sigh. “Because we both know you’re worth more to me alive.”
When the man made a move for the armchair, Sean glanced over at Bailey. “Grab that bottle of Jameson and some glasses, luv.”
Her eyes flashed, as if she resented being treated like an errand girl. “It’s three in the morning,
luv
. Should you really be hitting the whiskey?”
“Yes,” he said sharply.
“Fine. I guess I will too, then.” She crossed the open-concept room to the kitchen and snatched a bottle off the counter, then rummaged through the cupboards until she located some shot glasses.
She returned to the living area as Flannery and Sean settled across from each other, the former in the armchair, the latter on the sofa. Bailey poured three glasses, handed one to each man, then threw her head back and downed the remaining shot.
“A girl after my own heart,” Flannery crowed as Bailey sat on the couch next to Sean.
Sean swallowed the whiskey and set the glass on the coffee table. “Say what you came here to say,” he told Flannery. “Then leave.”
The man chuckled. “You know, I was also acquainted with your mother, lad. And she’d be rolling over in her grave if she knew what appalling manners you have.”
Sean arched a brow. “What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted.”
“To see Rabbit dead?” Sean suggested.
“Fuck, no.” A loud laugh boomed out of Flannery’s mouth. “If I wanted him dead, don’t you think I would have killed him years ago?” The laughter died as the man grew serious. “My whole life, there’s only been two things I’ve cared about.” He paused. “My beloved wife.” Another pause, accompanied by a slight smirk. “And money.”
Sean rolled his eyes.
“Well, at least your wife is first on that list,” Bailey spoke up, her tone dry. “It’s nice to see you have your priorities straight.”
“Oh, I do, sweetness. I know exactly what’s important.”
Flannery’s gaze rested on Bailey’s thin tank top, slow and appreciative, and anger boiled in Sean’s gut as the other man stared at Bailey’s breasts. He didn’t want the bastard looking at her. Didn’t want him anywhere near her.
“What do you want?” Sean repeated through clenched teeth.
“I want to destroy Eamon O’Hare.”
“That’s a lofty ambition. I wish you luck with that.”
“Wish yourself luck, lad—because you’re the one who’s going to do it for me.”
Fucking hell.
That’s what Sean had been afraid of, and he suddenly cursed Rabbit for dragging him into this mess.
“You know that second priority I mentioned? The money?” Flannery prompted. “Well, I have heaps of it. But my business continues to suffer from the lack of hospitality I receive from my fellow countrymen.”
Sean snickered. “You mean because nobody in Ireland will work with you? Do you really blame them for that, Ronan? You’re notorious for screwing over your partners.”
The man didn’t acknowledge the accusation. “I’ve been denied access to certain routes because of my brother-in-law. The locals are stubbornly depriving themselves of golden opportunities because of Eamon and his silly ideals.”
“You believed in his cause once,” Sean pointed out.
Flannery looked amused. “Who told you that? Your father? I don’t give a shit about the
cause
, lad. It was always a means to an end, a way to advance my business.” A dark cloud flitted through his eyes, so deadly it brought a chill to Sean’s spine. “The
cause
killed my wife.”
“She wasn’t just your wife. She was Rabbit’s sister, too.”
“And did her own brother try to save her?” Flannery spat out. “No, her
brother
is the reason she was killed. She died because of Eamon and his delusions, and the bastard deserves to pay for what he did. For what he continues to do.”
“And I’m supposed to make him pay?” Sean swiped the whiskey bottle and took another sip. He could feel Bailey watching him, practically see the frown on her lips. She didn’t like this any more than he did, but she was wisely staying silent, and he was damn grateful she
wasn’t drawing any attention to herself. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”
“Eamon went to great lengths to bring you back to Dublin. You know what that tells me? He trusts you. They all do.” Flannery smiled. “Well, almost all.”
Sean narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “He’s right, isn’t he? There
is
a mole in the Dagger.”
Flannery was positively beaming now. “Of course there is.”
“Good. Great. Tell your little rat to take Rabbit down. You obviously don’t need me, then.”
“The situation is . . . delicate. You know as well as I do that Eamon’s soldiers are fanatically devoted to him. My man hasn’t been making much progress in changing their minds, and he can’t organize an outright mutiny. The change of leadership has to look natural.”
“You want your man to take over the Dagger? Is that it?”
“Yes, and once he does, all the doors that were closed to me will open right up.” Flannery shrugged. “And our friend Eamon will be destroyed.”
“I hate to break it to you, but being ousted from leadership doesn’t equal destruction.”
The other man chuckled. “No, but the corruption of his empire will do the trick. We both know Eamon doesn’t care about money—he never has.” An evil gleam lit his eyes. “Imagine the sense of loss he’ll feel, the crushing defeat, when his noble cause becomes just another money-driven operation.”
Sean couldn’t deny that Flannery had a point. Killing the cause
would
be like twisting a knife in Rabbit’s chest.
“Anyway, this little chat has gone on long enough, so let’s get right to the point. You’re going to rejoin the Irish Dagger and turn Eamon’s soldiers against him. And
you’re going to support my man and do whatever he asks of you.”
Sean looked the man square in the eye and said, “No.”
Flannery’s lips curled in a sneer.
“I already told you, I only care about getting my brother back. And at the moment,
our friend Eamon
,” he said sarcastically, “is playing games with my brother’s life. So, as much as I know it’ll displease you, I’m going to trade your little flash drive for my brother.” Sean leaned back and flashed a gracious smile. “But what the hell—I’ll do you a solid. If you want, I’ll let you know when and where the drop will be, and you can arrange for your men to be on-site to recover your stolen goods. Beyond that, I’m not doing a damn thing.”
“Yes. You are.”
With a faint smile, Flannery nodded to his bodyguards, and before Sean could so much as blink, one of them yanked Bailey off the couch and raised his gun to her temple.
Sean lunged to his feet, but he shouldn’t have bothered. Sometimes he forgot that Bailey was a trained operative—until the woman did something to remind him of it. Her leg shot out in a blur of speed, kicking the thug’s legs from under him. The man landed on the hardwood with a loud thud, and suddenly Bailey was on top of him, straddling his thighs. Sean hadn’t even seen her disarm the guard, but she was now in possession of his rifle and pressing the barrel into the man’s temple.
With a bored look, she twisted her head toward Sean. “Should I put a bullet in his head?”
The other three bodyguards closed in on her, but Bailey seemed unfazed by the guns trained on her.
“That’s some wildcat you’ve got there, lad,” Flannery told Sean. “I completely approve.” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “But you know what will happen
if she harms my man. And you know what will happen even if she doesn’t.”
Shit. He was screwed. Sean swallowed his anger as he ran over his options, but no matter which way he looked at it, he was royally screwed.
“I will kill her,” Flannery assured him. “I’m not the kind of man who bluffs.”
Sean’s brain continued to work overtime. If he didn’t agree to the terms, Flannery would kill Bailey. But the man didn’t
know
her. He had no idea how skilled she was, how dangerous she could be.
Sean just needed to buy some time. Eliminate the threat to Bailey tonight and whisk her away to safety the moment Flannery was gone. The bastard couldn’t hold Bailey over his and Oliver’s heads if she disappeared—and Bailey happened to be very, very good at disappearing.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Sean announced.
A broad smile stretched across Flannery’s face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
“Let him go, luv. Nobody needs to die tonight.” Sean barked the order at Bailey, who was still holding the bodyguard at gunpoint.
Anger radiated from her petite frame. Disgust, too, as if she couldn’t believe he was asking her to stand down. She gave Flannery a fleeting look before meeting Sean’s eyes again, and he could practically hear her unspoken plea. They could kill Flannery and his men right now. Between the two of them, they might even be able to get it done without losing much blood.
But he wasn’t willing to take the risk. Not with Bailey’s life on the line. And he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Flannery didn’t have a dozen men posted outside with orders to attack if he didn’t return.
As Bailey reluctantly released her captive, Flannery
rose from his chair and signaled to another guard, who took a menacing step toward her.
Sean swiftly blocked his path. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re taking her with us,” Flannery said coldly.
A humorless laugh popped out of Sean’s mouth. “Sorry, mate, but that’s not happening.” At Flannery’s frown, he placed a protective hand on Bailey’s arm. “She stays with me. If you want me to take down Rabbit, I’m going to need her help.”
Flannery’s laughter was equally harsh. “So be it. But if you think you can steal her away and tuck her somewhere safe, think again, lad. I’ll find her. I’ll find you, too, if you try to run.”
“I don’t run,” Sean muttered.
“Your father didn’t either.” Flannery shrugged. “He probably should’ve. Might still be alive if he had.” He clapped his hands together. “Well, this has been lovely, but it’s way past my bedtime.”
Tailed by his guards, Flannery headed for the door, then paused to shoot Sean a pleased smile. “We’ll be in touch.”
The second he was gone, silence crashed over the loft. The air grew thick with tension, with frustration, with Bailey’s disapproval.
Sean turned away from her piercing gaze and grabbed the whiskey, taking another much-needed sip. “We’re going to wait a few hours, and then I want you gone,” he said gruffly. “You’ll have to lie low for a couple months. We can’t risk Flannery tracking you down.”
Disbelief flashed on her face. “No.”
He slammed the bottle on the table and advanced on her. “You
have
to go.”
“Flannery is going to tell his mole about you, about
me
. He’ll know you’re playing him if you don’t show up there with me by your side.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
She was right.
“Then you can stay only until we make the trade,” he said firmly. “Once Ollie is safe, the two of you are getting the hell out of Dublin.”
“And what about you?” she shot back. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to do what Flannery says!”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I need to clean up one mess at a time, okay? We get Ollie, and then I’ll deal with the rest of it.”
“We should have just killed Flannery,” she said angrily.
He shook his head, choking back his desperation. “I wasn’t about to do anything drastic, not with my brother’s life at stake.”
Bailey went quiet, her expression softening. “You’re right,” she finally said. “It wouldn’t have been smart.”
“Well, fuck me—are you actually admitting that I was
right
about something?”
“It’s like an eclipse,” she muttered. “Happens every so often.”
He had to laugh at that, but the humor died abruptly, and his voice thickened as a confession slipped out. “I didn’t mean it, by the way.”
“Mean what?”
“When I told Flannery I don’t care about you.” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean it.”
She stared at him, gray eyes veiled, indecipherable. “It’s late,” she murmured. “We should get some sleep.”
He nodded awkwardly, masking his disappointment. “Sure.”
As Bailey went back to the couch, Sean headed for the bed, then stopped and turned toward her. “By the
way? If you insist on staying, it’s only gonna be you. I don’t want anyone else involved. Not your chum Rafe, or Noelle, or any of her girls. Understood?”