Jaded Soul: A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 3) by Fox Nicole

Author:Fox, Nicole
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

31

Cillian

The Office Of The O’sullivan Don—Midnight

“Jesus Christ. If isn’t Cillian O’Sullivan, as I live and breathe.”

Darragh Gallacher is gawking at me with that trademark smirk of his.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy.” I shake hands with the reedy lawyer who’s worked with the O’Sullivan clan for well over two decades now.

I’m surrounded by loyalists. Men who give us their trust and have earned ours in return.

It’s a good fucking place to start. But I can already tell the road ahead isn’t easy.

“How’ve you been, Darragh?” I ask.

The man gives me a calm smile. “Same as ever. Kids are out of the house now. The missus and I can finally hear ourselves think. Unfortunately, we didn’t like that much, so we got ourselves a fair few rescues. A trio of mangy mutts, if you can believe it.”

“You replaced your kids with canines?” I drawl. “Bet the smell hasn’t changed.”

He laughs. “You’ve got that right, son.” He hesitates, then asks the question on his mind. “Are you back for good?”

We both look around the room.

It’s Da’s office space. I’m sitting in the massive leather throne behind his desk.

Not because I want to. In truth, I’d rather be anywhere else on the planet.

But some things are bigger than my wants and needs.

This is one of them.

“We’ll see,” I reply vaguely.

“Well, it’s good to have you back, however long it lasts.”

I lean back in the chair. If I’m going to play the part of don, then I have to look like I belong in this seat. I have to command the same kind of respect my father did.

One thing’s for certain, though—I’m not Da.

But I never wanted to be. I swore from the day I was old enough to decide such things that I’d never be like him.

I’d be my own man. A different man. A better man.

“Sit down, Darragh,” I say quietly.

He notices it at the same time I do—my voice changed.

Gone is the laughter. Gone is the carefree, who-gives-a-fuck-lilt.

Darragh complies quietly, sinking into the armchair across the desk from me. His own smile is gone, too.

He’s somber. Serious.

The face of a man looking his don in the eye.

“You heard about the ambush?” I inquire.

Darragh nods slowly. “Aye. Kinahan bastards, eh?”

“The police, technically,” I explain. “But it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”

“Murtagh’s behind it all, then?”

I nod. “Who else?”

I lean forward, place my elbows on the desk, and look the lawyer in the eye. “I need to get my parents back, Darragh. And then I need to make these motherfuckers pay for what they did.”

Silence. Thick and tense. The room is rippling with violence. With my anger. With my confusion.

This isn’t why I came home. But what choice do I have?

This is what needs to be done.

“Of course,” Darragh murmurs. He strokes the old black leather briefcase in his lap like it brings him comfort.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“I understand, Cillian.” Again, his voice is reverent. Respectful.

I feel strange hearing my name in that tone. But I don’t say anything.

“Do we know where they’re being held?”

I shake my head and sigh.

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