Declan
It had been two days since I last saw Scarlett. I slipped out of her apartment in the early morning hours when the sun was just starting to break up the night sky. I'd been keeping myself busy the past couple of days stalking Alex around Portland. Despite him being the nephew of the Pakhan, he still had to pay his dues and rise up through the ranks before he was given any part of their syndicate.
He's been tasked with doing their grunt work. Mostly selling drugs and soliciting young women. He tells them stories about how he can help them become a model or a social media influencer. Anything they want to hear all to get them to agree to come to some meeting place so he can drug them and kidnap them.
I'll give the kid this, he was pretty good at covering his tracks which was making it annoyingly difficult to try and pin point where their possible warehouse is. I need to find where they were processing this shit. The faster I find that, the faster I can find out where they're getting it from and burn their shitty little kingdom to the fucking ground.
It was late, maybe midnight. The first snow flurries of the season were starting to fall, leaving a light coating of white on the city. Alex was still making his stops around the city. I followed behind in my Jag trying to be as inconspicuous as possible; not following too close, parking a far enough distance away when he made his stops.
Fortunately I was able to have Tommy, one of my guys, hack his phone so that I could track him. I know this city so well I could follow him from parallel roads, keeping buildings between us so he wouldn't notice a blacked out car tailing him. Putting my car in park I looked out of my tinted windows at the lanky boy.
He was tall, probably five foot eleven with black hair. He was much skinnier than me, he had some lean muscles but it looked like he would snap if he lifted anything over fifty pounds. Looking both ways he jogged across the street and up to the front stoop of an old brick apartment complex in midtown. Trotting up the stairs he again looked both ways before he knocked on the door and then immediately walked inside. If it was anything like his other stops, he'd be in and out in ten minutes.
My head flung back against the headrest of the seat, an exasperated sigh leaving my lips. Another ten minutes staring at the door waiting for something, anything. My hand shot up to pinch the bridge of my nose before I started massaging it in frustration. Mindlessly, my other hand snuck into my pants pocket and removed my cell phone, unlocking it before I brought it up to my face. I tapped a couple of times on the screen until I brought up my profile for Scarlett Murphy. I stole a picture from her instagram of her laying on a patch of green grass surrounded by autumn leaves. Her eyes were squinted from how wide her smile was as more leaves were falling from above. Her blonde hair lay spread out around her smiling face, no doubt a staged photo. I found myself scrolling her instagram more than I'd like to admit over the past few days.
Scrolling down some more, I tapped on her text messages bringing up a list of people she's contacted over the past couple of days. Reading through the names I don't see anyone out of the ordinary, her delinquent step brother, the stoner who lived below her and her Uncle. Backing out of that screen and onto the main profile I tapped on her call log, again going through the list of names which was the same as her text messages. Backing out again I tapped on her internet search history. A sarcastic laugh escaped me as her top search had been 'How to un-hack a phone'. Her second search had been of my name. Good luck, little one. She wouldn't find anything. In the era of social media, I don't exist.
Hearing angry shouts I looked put to see Alex leaving the building in a hurry, darting out in front of traffic to get to his car across the street. I watched as he fumbled with the handle of his car before finally throwing himself inside the vehicle. A tall dark haired man came running out of the entrance to the apartment complex holding a metal baseball bat. He was screaming at Alex from across the street but I couldn't make out the words. Alex floored it into the oncoming traffic, horns erupting from the cars he drove out in front of.
I quick snapped a picture of the man standing on the stoop of the building, making sure to get the address of the building in the frame. I'll be back to question you later, I thought, throwing my phone into the cup holder.
Putting my car in drive I glanced in the passenger side mirror to make sure no one was coming before I pulled out into the road. I looked around to see which direction Alex went.
Nothing. I grabbed my phone that was on the passenger seat to see if I could track his location through his phone but there was a giant red exclamation mark pulsing on the screen. Looking out into the street I could see a smashed cell phone being run over repeatedly by the cars driving up the road. He must have dropped it in his rush to get out of the building.
Slamming my fist down on my steering wheel I groaned. Great, you fucking lost him, I scolded myself mentally.
Turning onto a side street I sped off, angry that I'd lost my target. Four hours of my life wasted. I drove around midtown mindlessly trying to calm my anger but with no luck. I heard my phone vibrating against the plastic of the cup holder for what seemed like the hundredth time before I finally grabbed it.
"Byrne." I snapped.
"Boss wants to talk to you," Nick's voice answered from the other line. He was still pissed at me from our fight.
"Put him on the phone then." I let out an annoyed breath through my nose.
"In person." Nick ended the call before I could say anything more. Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat I drove in the direction of Moriarty's, one of the many bars owned by Desmond Kelly, the current boss of the Malone crime family.
"Declan! Thought the Ruskies finally clipped 'ya." Sean called out the moment I walked in through the stained glass doors. Immediately I was assaulted by bagpipes as I'll Fly Away by Flatfoot 56 was blaring from the speakers that were connected to the jukebox. I leered at his cavalier mention of business in front of a crowded bar, regardless of the loud music. Sean's smile only got bigger as he turned around to reach for the bottle of dark brown liquor on the shelf. By the time I pushed through the crowd and got to the bar he had a glass of Maker's Mark ready for me; two finger pour, no ice. I raised it in a mock cheers before downing all of liquid. I felt the burn of the liquor scorch the back of my throat making me suck in air through clenched teeth. Returning the glass to the wood surface of the bar, I slid it back to the man for another.
"Dezzy's lookin' for 'ya." Sean slid the refilled glass back to me before grabbing an empty pint glass from in front of a college kid dressed in a powder blue pollo and jeans.
"So I'm told."
A brunette woman came around the other side of the frat boy, leaning her arm onto the surface of the bar and resting her head in her hand. It wasn't hard to tell she was drunk from her hooded eyes and the way her arm was swaying as she tried to keep her head up. Her free hand rested on frat boy's shoulder, rubbing it. She turned to Sean who was behind the bar and giggled while she slurred her words, asking for another pink martini. The girl's lidded eyes found my judging ones and her arm immediately dropped from the boy's shoulder. She leaned further over the bar, moving herself so that the deep V-neck of her dress fully faced my direction showing off her overly pushed up chest.
Taking a sip of my Maker's I turned away from the ridiculous display to look back at Sean who was busy shaking the drunk girl's martini. I slapped my open palm on the bar to get his attention. "I take it he's in his office then?"
Sean nodded in response as he handed the girl her glass. Glancing back to the brunette I watched her struggle to wink and wave at me. Frat boy noticed her blatant attempt at flirting and practically snapped his neck to look around to see who she was so enamored with. When he found me standing in the crowd with my drink in hand he looked me over and quickly changed his facial expression upon realizing he'd loose in a fight with me. Turning back around to the girl at the bar he moved so that he was in front of her view, taking her impaired mind off of me.
Chuckling to myself I walked further into the crowd to the opposite end of the space, crossing the packed dance floor and into the empty dining area until I reached the deep green painted door with the word 'Private' painted across in gold. Wrapping my hand around the gold handle I turned the knob and pushed open the heavy door. Once inside the hallway I stood and let the door close behind me, making sure that no outsiders followed me in. When I deemed it safe I continued down the mothball scented hallway, passing the doors along the left side of the corridor.
Most of the rooms were used as storage for the bar while another acted as a locker room for employees. Further down the hall is where I was headed, to the place were the employees of the bar knew never to go unless they wanted to be fired.
Desmonds' office was the last door on the right. The door itself was painted red with the word 'Private' painted across it in the same gold colored paint. Of all the bars he owned, Desmond liked Moriarty's the most. Probably because of the crowd this place generally had. Mostly college girls wearing next to nothing as they danced provocatively. He preferred this over the strip clubs solely because of not having to deal with the pettiness of the dancers. Here he could watch and interact without having to deal with the strippers wanting more money.
Raising my free hand to knock on the door it violently swung open. It took a second for my eyes to focus but as they did I saw that I was face to face with Nick. He already seemed angry but when he realized who was staring back at him his anger soared. His face was still in bad shape from the other night. His nose was bandaged up, dried blood stained the part of the bandage that was over the bridge of his nose was. Both eyes had bruised rings around them while his bottom lip sported a nasty scab.
Nick pushed past me making sure to slam into my shoulder as he hurried out of the door. I chuckled at his childish move while I tried to save my drink from spilling. I watched him slink down the hallway until he reached the door to let himself out into the bar area.
Stepping inside the room I let the door shut behind me before I looked up at the desk sitting across the room. The dark leather chair behind it was turned away from the door, tendrils of smoke coming up from behind the backrest. Situated behind the mahogany desk was a matching mahogany butler where Desmond kept his own bottles of alcohol as well as his humidor filled with his favorite brands of cigars. I could hear ice clinking against glass as the chair slowly spun around.
Desmond sat in his chair, cigar hanging from his lips while he poured liquid into his glass. Without looking up at me he spoke. "Deco, sit down me boy."
His thick Belfast accent came through even with the cigar between his lips. Moving up to the chairs situated in front of the desk I took a seat, resting my glass upon the armrest of the chair. I watched the older man put the bottle of Connemara down next to his money counter. He took the cigar from between his lips with his thick and calloused fingers, bringing it away from his bearded face. His hand rested on the edge of his desk.
Desmond finally looked up at me, his brown eyes piercing my soul the instant they met mine. He had a knack for being unbelievably imposing, seemingly without trying. It must be intimidating for most but for me I grew up around him, I was used to it.
My Dad and Ma didn't have a great relationship. He was never around, instead always out with his friends. It killed my Ma, she really loved him but from what I can remember when he was around she could never bring herself to even look at him. Desmond was a good friend of my dad and when my dad died, Dez would always come around and help my Ma, making sure we were cared for and didn't end up on the streets. No funny business, she wasn't cheating on my father when he was alive with Dezzy.
It never sat right with me as a kid, Dezzy always coming around and giving us money like some type of charity. I could see the silent look on my Ma's face, like she was embarrassed that this man would come and give us food or clothes or money. One night when he brought us a huge pot of chowder and soda bread, I finally snapped and yelled at my Ma. Demanding that she get a job and stop being such a filthy leech.
That quickly earned me the back of Desmond's hand across my face.
"Should we tell the Boyo?" He asked, turning to my Ma. "You see boy-"
"I have a heart condition!" My Ma blurted out, clutching her chest. I'd never felt so small in my life and from that moment on I would never again question her.
When I turned thirteen, to repay him for helping my Ma and I, I started running errands for Dezzy and his guys. Nothing special, just getting food they'd ordered or picking up dry cleaning. After a while it turned into me picking up "payments" from the local businesses in our neighborhood. It didn't take me long to put two and two together. I knew what they were all really up to. My Ma had never mentioned anything about the shady business Dez was involved in, I figured she didn't know so I kept it a secret from her. She had already lost her husband and was suffering from a heart condition, she didn't need to know her son was involved in a mob. Long story short, I worked my way up to where I am now, an underboss and Desmonds' right hand man.
"How've 'ya been, boyo?" Desmond took a long swig of his drink while he waited for my answer.
I didn't quite know how to respond. I was always straight forward with him, I never had a reason to lie. But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to put everything on the table like I normally do.
"I've been... busy." I respond, matching his actions by taking a tug from my drink.
Desmond's lips curl up into a sly smile. He must know. Nick must have told him about the new situation. I'd been watching the Murphy's for months now and I'm still coming up empty-handed which is very uncharacteristic for me.
Whatever Desmond knows, he wasn't about to let onto it. "Have you finally lost your touch, lad?" A deep laugh escaped his lips, filling the room.
My fingers tighten around my drink and I tried my damndest not to show that his comment struck a chord in me. "No, I just seem to have incompetent people working with me on this." I snapped back.
Desmond took a drag from his cigar. I watched as his lips stayed in a perfect O while he let the smoke swirl inside his mouth before blowing it out in my direction. "Ya must mean Nick. Ya did a bang up job on his face, aye? I'll remind ya once, he is my nephew and not your target."
"Yea, Dezzy, I know tha-"
"Tell me about this girl, aye?" Desmond's expression dropped to a stern one as he blew more smoke in my face. A tactic I've seen him use to make people uncomfortable.
I let out an exasperated sigh, sinking into the chair like a child. My free hand came up to my head as I started to massage my temple in annoyance. I can only imagine the shit story Nick's been spewing to Dez.
"Turns out Patrick Murphy has a daughter making her Mike Volkov's step niece. She works as a secretary at the car lot. She's got access to everything we need, I can take a step back from Alex for a while." I explained, but he must know all of this already from Nick so what was he looking for?
Desmond's hand was scratching at his greying beard while I spoke. He suddenly took his hand from his face, setting his cigar down in the gold ashtray and used both hands to help push himself up from his chair. Walking behind the massive leather swivel chair he went to his butler, grabbing his own bottle of Maker's and walked it around to me. Twisting off the red cap he poured a gracious amount in my glass before returning the cap to the top of the bottle.
"And she means nothing to you?"
His question hit me unexpectedly, confusing me. I felt my eyebrows pull together in confusion as I looked up at the older man staring down at me with a stone cold expression.
"Why would she mean anything to me? She's the enemy." I answered. The words didn't seem to convince me as them came out of my mouth and I could see Dez also wasn't buying it fully.
"I've known ya a long time, boyo. I watched ya grow up in this business, I see how much ya love what ya do; taking the life from the scum of the earth." He crossed his legs as he leaned against his desk, still looking me square in the eyes. "Nick tells me you were easy on the lass."
Nick was going to get his ass kicked again for leaking all this shit to Dez. I've been known to have my fun with women. Faking a love interest just so I can get my rocks off while still doing my job. I've never killed a woman but I wasn't above being ruff if I needed to be. Rape is where I drew the line in the sand. Unfortunately, not everyone in the business has the same morals as I do, Nick being one of them. Nick was always jealous that I had a way with women and resorted to sexual assault more often than not. He must have been equally pissed when I was defending the girl, saving her from his disgusting habit.
I had to pick my words carefully to get Dez to back off, otherwise he may take me off this job, never trust me again... or worse.
"Let me assure you, this is all because I wouldn't let Nick get his dick wet the other night."
"So ya beat the shite out of him?" His tone was so flat it was starting to unnerve me.
"I was having a bad day. If you recall, that was the day that Jimmy Donovan and I were out following those guys who tried to abduct that girl in midtown. They caught on and set us up, ended in a shoot out. Jimmy's been in the hospital on a breathing tube since. I wasn't in the mood to hear the girl scream while your nephew raped her." I spat, anger rising in me at just the thought of him touching her like that. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Desmond let out a long breath, his nostrils flaring as he continued to look at me. "Nick seemed to have let that last bit out." The old man rounded his desk and took up his seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the hard wood of his desk, steepling his fingers. "Don't let this lass get your balls in a twist. You've got a job to do." He rose a hand, shaking it in the direction of the door, singling for me to get the fuck out of here.
Just as I got to the door he called out to me, "Don't forget who's side she's on."
I left Desmond's office as quickly as I could without causing a scene. I'd never had an encounter with Dezzy quite like that before. I was always his favorite but because of Nick there was now a seed of doubt in the old mans' head. For the first time, I'd now have to watch myself around the boss.
The worst part of the whole encounter was how angry I felt at the thought of Nick's grubby hands all over Scarlett. She was just a pawn in this game so why the reaction? I downed the rest of my drink and threw the glass against the wall of the hallway before stalking down towards the exit, pieces of the shattered glass crunching under my boots. Nick had better not still be out in the bar because if he is, I'm going to kill him.
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