Page 9 of Possessing Paisley
This time, it’s me who drops my hands and stares at my sister in disbelief. “I may be an asshole, Chloe, but I wouldn’t do anything to make your best friend lose her job. Now, the guy she said was an asshole, probably. Not her, though. She might irritate me, but she’s part of this family now, whether I like it or not. I’d protect her like I’d protect any of you girls.”
Chloe stares up at me, her mouth hanging open slightly. “You like her.”
The muscles from my neck to the tips of my shoulders tense. “As a friend of my sister. Sure. I guess.”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “No. Youlikelike her. Like you want to fuck her.”
“Chloe!” I snap. “Jesus Christ. I do not, and don’t talk like that. She’s just my sister’s annoying friend, okay?”
My tone does nothing to sway her. Nope. Her grin just gets wider, and it’s irritating the hell out of me. Why did I come over here again? Oh, right.
“Tell me who she works for. Please?”
Her face falls, and all her humor disappears. I knew the please would work. It always does with her. She knows if I use it, I’m serious.
“She works for a financial firm. I can’t remember the name, though. Brun Financial or something with a B, maybe? Why do you want to know so bad?”
I press a kiss to the top of my sister’s head and turn to leave. “The less you know, the better. I love you, and if I haven’t told you lately, I’m proud as fuck of you. Be good.”
“How is it that with all our resources, this fucker is still in the wind?” I demand as I look around the room.
We have a full house tonight at Declan’s. Aside from the top six Irish leaders, we have the boss and underboss of both the Italian and Russian mob, as well as four of our friends who work in the shadows doing vigilante shit when needed. Then, we have a couple of guys who work for an elite team of men who dospecial forces-type shit that is way beyond any kind of skill the rest of us have.
Cage, our main contact from the Elite team, taps on the table, his expression calm and maybe even slightly bored. “Because he knows the second he comes out of hiding, he’s a dead man, so I’m guessing he’ll be living under a rock for a while.”
“Shitty guns are still being sold, though, so he still has some guys out there working for him. If we can’t find him, we start with the ones wecanfind. The low-level assholes,” Declan says.
I crack my neck, trying to loosen the tension that never seems to go away. “I want Smoke found. I want him alive so he can look me in the eye while I drain the life from his body.”
Bash glares at me. “If anyone is going to kill him, it’s going to be me. She’s my wife.”
“And she’s my sister,” I argue.
Grady rolls his eyes. “You two can fight over who gets to kill Smoke later. First, we need to find him and get these guns off the fucking streets before our buyers start to think they’re coming from us and give us problems over them.”
He has a point. We’re known for supplying some of the best weapons in the underground market, and if our customers start to question our quality and integrity, it could cause major problems for all the syndicates running operations in the US.
We spend the next while coming up with a plan. Cage and his team will continue looking for Smoke, while we’ll keep up our efforts to weed out all the bad guns and drugs and get information from anyone who’s willing to sing. We’re also going to keep our eyes and ears out for any more trafficking of women and children. The fact that it happened the first time is unacceptable.
When everyone starts to disperse, I nod at Cage. He tips his chin and follows me out to the wide hallway, where we have a bit more privacy.
The muscles in my neck are tight, and I already know I’m going to regret this. “I need a favor.”
Cage smirks and leans his back against the wall as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Favors come with a price, Kieran. You know that.”
Irritation prickles down my spine. I swear to God, if this asshole weren’t so fucking dangerous, I’d hate him. He’s so damn cocky. He has good reason to be, but still. It grates on my nerves.
“I need trackers on Paisley,” I reply, deciding to ignore his comment.
“She yours?” he asks.
Pinching my eyebrows, I glare at him. “No. She’s not mine, but she’s part of this family. She’s my sister’s best friend.”
Clucking his tongue, his eyes glimmer. “If she’s not yours, it’s not really right to track her, is it? Would she appreciate that? From the text messages she’s exchanged with Chloe, it seems she hates your guts.”
This time it’s pure fucking rage that courses through me. “What the fuck are you doing reading her messages? Have you been seeing her?” I demand louder than I intended.
A couple of men passing by glance at us, probably trying to decide if they need to help me out since they’re Irish and Cage is not.