The Inside Man: A Dublin Nights Novel Page 3

  I reached for his forearm. “And you warned me. You explained that your work is dangerous, but I’m still here. We can’t keep having this conversation.”

  “If someone finds you—”

  “Then do what you have to do to prevent that.” I swallowed and retracted my hand from his forearm. “Don’t let me be found.” I didn’t want to know what that’d entail, but if keeping Cole or anyone from my past away protected them, I’d do it.

  Sebastian’s eyes dipped to my necklace. I was clutching it like a lifeline again without even realizing it. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.” He focused back on the water.

  “And you could tell me.”

  “The more you know, the worse off you are.” He was quiet but said on a sigh, “Pack your bags, then.” Defeat registered in my ears. “We’ll need to get some more photos of you in other places. Photoshop won’t work. It’s gotta be legitimate.”

  “What are you talking about?” I felt naïve at this moment. Like a ten-year-old kid looking up to her big brother.

  “Images of you around the world. Enough images to show that you’re happy and not alone.”

  My lips parted in surprise.

  “The guy that hit on me at the bar last night and then again today?”

  His jaw briefly tightened beneath his dark stubble. “I paid him, yes.”

  My temples began to throb. “You paid him to be in photos with me?”

  He nodded as if it were no big deal.

  “And if—”

  “If someone is tracking you, they’ll either think the man in the photos is your brother or a new lover.”

  My stomach tightened, and chills erupted across my skin.

  He reached for my elbow. “This is what you want, right? To protect your friends?” He angled his head as he observed me. “It’s the only way.”

  He was still so cold. So hard around the edges. Would he ever change? Would he ever love me like family?

  My eyes dropped closed.

  What did I do?

  Chapter One

  Cole

  Dublin – February 2020 (Present Day)

  In my thirty-two years, never would I have imagined I’d be standing outside an illegal chop shop with a gun tucked beneath my jacket. And with a man I’d spent the last six years hating, no less. Sebastian Renaud. Alessia’s damn brother. The man who’d stolen her away, taken everything from me but had somehow managed to give it back.

  The sky was a dark shade of navy. No stars in sight. The eerie calm of night crept up my back beneath my dress shirt and jacket.

  I was still in the clothes I’d worn to work today. A tailored Italian linen-and-wool coat with matching trousers. An off-white button-up dress shirt. Navy tie.

  Would I need to wash someone’s blood from my suit tonight, like I’d done last weekend after returning from a night out with Sebastian?

  I pulled in a deep breath at the memory of standing in my shower, numb, watching the red liquid while it sluiced down my body and turned the color of blush wine as it circled the drain.

  My once-enemy stood at my side, poised and ready to conduct business. He’d been this man for years. In the eyes of law enforcement, he was a criminal, even if he only targeted bad guys.

  But as a League leader, Sebastian had enough Garda, Dublin police, in his pocket to prevent ever stepping inside a cell.

  My fingers curled inward at my sides, and my jaw clenched as I eyed the building. It once belonged to the late Donovan Hannigan. The sign that had adorned the front was gone, but a faint imprint of Hannigan’s Auto Body remained on the stucco exterior. Donovan had been the crime boss who’d roped my family into a cycle of hell from which we’d only recently escaped. And we were indebted to Sebastian Renaud for our freedom.

  Sebastian had wedged himself into my life in so many ways long before I’d ever known it. He was even married to my cousin Holly now. They tied the knot in Paris this past Christmas. The man Alessia had chosen over me more than six years ago was now part of my family. What were the feckin’ chances?

  Before she left New York and walked out of my life, Alessia told me she’d learned her brother was Irish. But Sebastian had done a hell of a job sending me on a wild goose chase, following clues and looking for Alessia everywhere but Ireland.

  “You ready?” Sebastian’s gravelly voice hit my ears, bringing me back to the present. I relaxed my hands and faced him.

  “No,” I answered, the slip of honesty pushing past my lips before I could catch it.

  I scratched the beard I was growing, the whiskers in that irritating, itchy stage, and ordered my balls to come out of hiding. They’d been cowering in fear after getting the shite kicked out of them last weekend.

  All the ice in the world had done nothing last Saturday to alleviate the pain. Of course, my balls had already been a vicious shade of blue since Alessia had reappeared. Having her back in my life after six years of missing her, and now not being able to touch her, was going to shred me.

  It was our youth all over again. Even after she’d turned eighteen, I couldn’t touch her. I’d wanted to. Feck had I wanted to. But she’d been too fragile then. Hell, that was nothing compared to now.

  Alessia had barely spoken a word to me since she’d returned from the dead—well, everyone, including her brother, had believed her to be dead for the past almost four years, but that’s a story for another day. Right now, my balls needed to man the feck up, or Alessia would never be safe.

  The night was bitterly cold, typical for February in Ireland. Sebastian unzipped his wool coat and reached behind his back for his weapon. The sight of a Glock still wasn’t normal.

  I was a businessman. I wasn’t some guy who shoved the barrel of a gun against someone’s temple like I’d done last weekend.

  Ireland needed me to be that man, though.

  My family did, too.

  More importantly, now that Alessia had “returned from the dead,” it was imperative I step into this role. Keeping her safe trumped my desire to reject this new life. I would kill for her if it meant protecting her. I’d cross the line and take a life if I had to.

  But God help me, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to become like her brother. A killer. Seeking vengeance and delivering justice.

  Sebastian had been known as The Deal Maker, a devil among men. The man who kept The Alliance, an organization not unlike the mafia, from running rampant in Ireland. And now I was expected to fill his shoes.

  I hadn’t even heard of The League until last November. The secret society spanned Europe and Asia. They were led by a group of rich and powerful men who’d grown tired of criminals and corrupt politicians overrunning their countries. The men had banded together and, with their enormous wealth, had created a network to ensure the safety of major cities. They did their part to reduce crime and enact justice when law enforcement or the courts failed to do so. And they did it through whatever means necessary.

  Recently, a new deal had been cut between The Alliance and The League to prevent war between the two organizations. The bastards had thrown in one non-negotiable condition—Sebastian was required to step down from his role in exchange for keeping his wife, Holly, safe.

  And I’d volunteered to take his place. The only problem with this new role? I was having a hard time convincing the arseholes of the city that I could take over for him.

  People didn’t fear me as they’d feared him, and crime had drastically spiked in the two-plus months since Sebastian had stepped down as the guardian of the city. Maybe it was because I’d never gotten my hands dirty? Or maybe I didn’t have the same edge as Sebastian, the ability to come across as cruel and vicious even if it weren’t true? After all, I had no tough-guy reputation preceding me.

  “You want out?” Sebastian had his wrists casually crossed at his midsection, gun still in hand.

  “You know damn well I can’t get out, so why bother askin’ me?” I brought my back to the limo behind me, hoping I didn’t choke up again l
ike I’d nearly done last weekend when we’d faced a pair of coked-up drug dealers who’d decided to get into the prostitution business.

  “They need to be afraid of you.” He pointed his free hand toward the chop shop, the music of Notorious B.I.G. from inside loud enough for us to hear. “I know Alessia doesn’t want you becoming like me,” he began, his words a gutshot I couldn’t afford after all the actual punches Sebastian had thrown at me during training this week, “but it’s no longer a choice. You volunteered for this job. Whether she accepts that fact or not.”

  I didn’t need Alessia to tell me what she was thinking. I knew. She didn’t want me changing, becoming someone I never thought I’d be, a man like Sebastian.

  And yeah, most of what Sebastian did was in the name of good, but had the lives he’d taken also cost him his soul?

  “I know what I have to do, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” A sour taste filled my mouth.

  “It takes time.”

  Easy for you to say. Neither of us had anticipated how quickly criminals would try and take advantage of his absence.

  “I need more time to become comfortable with murder?” I shoved away from the tuxedo-black stretch limo and retrieved the Beretta 92FS Sebastian had trained me on over the past few weeks.

  It was supposedly a safer gun and wasn’t that an oxymoron, but I wasn’t sure how long it’d take to get used to the bulky polymer grip. Or, well, you know, the “shooting people” thing. So far, I’d only fired it during target practice. Last weekend, I’d managed to get by with my fists. Sebastian, on the other hand, had to shoot one of the drug dealers in the leg. All that blood I’d gone home wearing hadn’t been mine. I’d foolishly tried to stop the guy from bleeding out only to have him grab a knife and nearly stab me in the side.

  “You once tried to kill me,” Sebastian reminded me. “Or have you forgotten that? Focus on your hate for me.”

  Do I still hate you?

  Alessia was alive.

  She was at the club she co-owned with her brother at this very moment.

  She was in my city.

  My home.

  “Shit. You don’t hate me anymore.” Sebastian’s shoulders sagged for a moment as if disappointed but then straightened with determination as he stepped closer. “I married your cousin.”

  Holly would say otherwise, but he probably seduced her, then threw her into danger.

  Fecking bastard.

  His eyes were hard. Challenging. “I hid Alessia away from you for years. I sent you all over the world looking for her. She chose me over you, pretty boy.”

  He was trying to rile me up, and hell, it was working.

  Sebastian had pulled my strings while I searched for her. I’d looked every-fecking-where but in Ireland, and I was a bleedin’ idiot for that mistake.

  Alessia wanted a family so badly she literally became a new person. Tossed away her life. Her identity. She threw me away, too.

  Because of Sebastian and his dangerous dealings, I lost her. And that’s what hurt the most.

  I could feel my blood pressure spiking, my heart pounding.

  “And it was my best friend who betrayed me. Kidnapped her and faked her death.” His eyes held remorse for something that wasn’t his fault, but it was too late. I lifted my hand, prepared to swing as rage took over, but he caught my fist in front of his face and held it steady as if there wasn’t even a challenge. “There you go.” His brows slanted. “Channel that anger.”

  He let go of my hand, and I took a few seconds to collect myself before we went inside.

  There were six cars from my vantage point. Three in the process of being stripped for parts, and three that were probably next in line. The interior brick walls were covered in all kinds of colorful graffiti tags, which had probably happened while the building stood vacant before these lowlifes took up residence.

  The place reeked of body odor, cigarette smoke, and those tiny yellow scented trees you hang in your car to try and squash shite smells. Two fans were spinning overhead. And even though it was cold outside, it was too toasty for my taste.

  There were two closed doors off at the back of the garage slash warehouse, or whatever it was, so maybe James Jameson, known as J.J., was there.

  “Who the hell are you?” A fairly jacked woman who reminded me a bit of the UFC fighter Rhonda Rousey, but with red hair, stood to her full height alongside a pile of stacked tires next to a partially stripped black Audi.

  “Tell your boss Sebastian Renaud is here,” he said in a steady tone. There was something about a calm but deep voice that intimidated more than yelling.

  The woman studied him for a beat longer, then hesitantly started for the back of the garage in the direction of the closed doors.

  As if I were in some bad made-for-TV movie, two guys popped out from behind the black sedan off to Sebastian’s left. Their biceps were on the verge of tearing the material of their faded gray tees. When your neck is thicker than your thighs, maybe you’ve overdone the working-out thing?

  “You really him?” the beefier of the two spoke up, crossing his too-orange-to-be-a-real-tan arms. “You this League leader we’ve heard about?”

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to say yes or if Sebastian was going to speak up, forgetting he was no longer in charge of Ireland.

  If we were in a movie, The Alliance would be Darth Vader, and The League would be Luke Skywalker. Basically, we were all that stood in the way of world domination by evil forces. And yeah, this was legit—no movie with a soundtrack playing in the background.

  “I’m Cole McGregor,” I said when it was clear Sebastian was waiting for me to do so.

  “You guys changed the name, I heard,” the other jacked gobshite said. “You were The League of Brothers, right? But you let a woman take control of Italy, huh? That’s some bullshit.”

  Emilia Calibrisi. When her father died, she’d stepped in as leader of Italy without hesitation. She’d wanted it.

  While I’d spent my life as a privileged rich kid being groomed to help run a multi-billion-dollar global empire, Emilia had spent her childhood training to become the real-life version of Lara Croft. Well, that’s who Holly compared her to.

  “Shut your bleedin’ cakehole,” a man, who I assumed was J.J., barked out as he strode toward us. “Don’t talk to them unless I grant you permission.” He flicked his wrist, motioning for the guys to leave.

  The music shut off once the owner stood before us. J.J. was average in size, round around the middle, with dark hair and matching skull tattoos on both his forearms. “You really the Sebastian Renaud?”

  “Who I am doesn’t matter,” Sebastian quickly answered. “Cole McGregor is now in charge, and he has the full weight of The League behind him.”

  J.J.’s cold gray eyes observed me. Unimpressed. The feeling was mutual. “And I’m supposed to . . . what?” There was a cocky arrogance in his tone that never would’ve been present if Sebastian was still in charge.

  Sebastian was quiet, but when I glimpsed him out of the corner of my eye, I caught the tightening of his jaw, a signal he was close to snatching this arsehole’s shirt and lifting him off the ground.

  I would need more martial arts training to become close to Sebastian’s level. When I wasn’t at the corporate office of McGregor Enterprises, we trained. I’d agreed to take over the position without realizing how much work it’d entail, or how much time it’d take for Sebastian to turn me into the man I needed to be. Holly was more than understanding, though, she was even apologetic I had to take on this role.

  There’d never been an official statement about Sebastian stepping down. Not unless you counted what we were doing right now. You didn’t go on live TV and make an announcement when you’re part of a secret organization, but word did get out. News traveled fast that Sebastian was married and no longer in charge, and criminals began gearing up.

  “Put the word out. McGregor is in charge of The League,” Sebastian instructed.

  J.J. wasn�
��t convinced. Maybe he was looking to fill the void left by Donovan Hannigan, the crime boss that’d once pulled my cousin Adam into the illegal world of underground fighting years ago. Ironically, it was Adam’s fighting that brought Sebastian into our lives before I’d known the truth about his connection to Alessia.

  “Give us the name of your arms dealer, and I won’t close down this shop,” I said my rehearsed line. Sadly, I’d actually had to practice. I even called my sister, an actress, for some guidance. I needed the right amount of anger and darkness in my tone to sell it as believable.

  “Feck you.” J.J.’s remark had me stepping forward to fist his white dress shirt.

  I lost Alessia because I didn’t tell her the truth.

  Alessia was gone for six years.

  Alessia was in a Russian prison for almost four years.

  I took a moment to let my thoughts guide me. For my anger to move me. To help me be who I needed to be.

  “Let me make this clear.” My words practically touched his face. “My buddy at the Garda will be here within three minutes to tear this place apart if you don’t give me a name. And if you happen to get released from jail, my men will be there waiting for you to be certain justice is served, and believe me, you’ll wish you were in prison when they’re through with you.”

  “I ain’t no snitch,” he snapped.

  I brought my gun to his temple as Sebastian aimed his weapon on the man who’d crept up from behind with a firearm. “A name,” I demanded, barely recognizing the dark tone of my voice.

  “I’ll be killed.”

  I took a moment to consider responding with And what do you think I will do?, but I refused to be a living cliché. “A name.” I tightened my grip and pressed the barrel of my Beretta harder against his temple. “Last chance.”

  “You heard the man,” Sebastian seethed.

  “Ronan. Don’t know if that’s a last or first name, and I got no idea where you can find him. When I need weapons, I text him, and he provides a location for a meet.” I released my hold of his shirt at his admission.