BRIAN (The Callahans Book 1) (2 page)

Brian

“Your personal assistant quit because you were having sex in your office?” Jack laughed. “First-world problems!”

“Yeah, well, it leaves my office in a bit of disarray. I have human resources looking for someone new, but they haven’t come up with any suitable candidates yet.”

“You’ll find something.” Jack sat back in his office chair. “So, this shipment tomorrow night…”

“Yeah, I’ve got Killian and Kyle on it already.”

“Good. We might need a few more. This is a big shipment, the biggest we’ve had in a while. My guys are worried that the cops are getting too close. Might need Ian at the warehouse, just in case we have some unwanted company.”

“No problem.”

Jack set an envelope on the desk. “How long we been doing this, Brian?”

“Thirty years.”

“And it never seems to get old.”

I picked up the envelope and glanced at the money inside. “No. It doesn’t.”

***

I led Rachel through the restaurant, amused by the looks she was getting as we passed the other tables. I used to get looks like that when I walked through a restaurant in the old neighborhood. Still do from time to time. Things have changed over the years, though. Jack, he still gets the respect. But my boys and I were more behind the scenes these days rather than in the deep of things. I let Jack take the real risks now.

We took our seats, Rachel smiling uncomfortably when I helped her into her chair. I guess guys aren’t chivalrous anymore. The waiter came, and we ordered, then we found ourselves staring at each other with little to say.

I poured us both a glass of wine and sipped mine, savoring the almost smoky flavor. The restaurant was crowded, the noise level almost deafening. Rachel reached across the table and took my hand.

“Tell me something about you no one else knows.”

I studied her face, thinking how beautiful she was. How young.

“Tell me why you want to know.”

She tilted her head slightly. “I’m curious about you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re Brian Callahan. You’re CEO of MCorp. You’re one of the wealthiest men in Boston. And you’re one of the most generous men I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

“You sound like you’re still thinking about that article you wanted to write.”

“What if I was? Would that bother you?”

“I’m a private man, Rachel.”

“But people want to know about you.”

I doubted that, but she was nice to look at, and I kind of wanted to keep looking across the table at her. I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles lightly.

“I was married to the same woman for twenty-five years. I raised six kids. I’m a boring, ordinary man.”

“I don’t find you boring.”

“You’re probably the only one.”

I sat back and sipped my wine again, my eyes wandering around the room. We were still getting a few looks—probably people trying to figure out if we were lovers or if she was my daughter. And then I thought I saw a familiar face, but when I looked again, it was gone.

Stupid. She was long gone.

“Were you always faithful to Abigail?”

I focused on Rachel again. “Why?”

She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Curiosity. Self-preservation.”

“Are you wondering if I’d be capable of two-timing a girl like you?” I chuckled. “I don’t have that kind of energy anymore, Rachel.”

“But did you? When you were more energetic?”

I touched the ring that still rested on my finger, a simple silver band that was cheaper than I was willing to admit. I’d wanted to replace our wedding bands a dozen times over, but Abigail always insisted we hold on to the originals. She said they were more than the cheap, silver-plated pieces of junk that I’d bought with what little savings I’d had at the time. This was before MCorp was out of its infancy, before money was plentiful. Abigail said the rings were a symbol of what we were and what we would always be as long as we were together.

She was a romantic, my Abigail.

“There were several times when Abigail and I went through difficult times. And I, unfortunately, was not a good man during those times.”

“If you were separated, it doesn’t mean you were weak.”

“I was still married.”

“But you were separated.”

I shook my head. “Abigail believed in our vows. I knew she would never do to me what I’d done to her. Even now…I feel like an asshole just looking at you.”

Rachel’s expression softened. “That’s sweet.”

“You think so?” I drank from my glass again. “I don’t.”

“She was lucky.”

“No. I was the lucky one.”

“My parents got divorced when I was five. My dad’s been married three times since then, my mom twice. So I think you were both lucky.”

I picked up my glass again. “Is that what you’re looking for, Rachel? A long-term commitment?”

“Oh, don’t get that look,” she said, that soft, flirty smile back. “I know you don’t want that. Guys like you…this is all just fun and games.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you, Brian. But I don’t have any expectations beyond this.”

“And what is
this
?”

She tilted her head slightly, that smile widening. “A good dinner. Some good sex. Maybe a repeat in a few days, maybe not. Whatever feels right.”

That made me smile. A casual fling. That was about all I could handle right now.

I was married twenty-five years. Until yesterday, I hadn’t been with anyone but my wife in fifteen years. I wasn’t ready for a commitment, not like the one I shared with Abigail. I wasn’t sure I’d be ready for that kind of commitment ever again. So casual was fine with me.

I thought I saw a familiar face in the crowd again when the waiter brought our food, but I convinced myself it couldn’t be. I was seeing things because my head had been in the past for the last few days. Rachel reminded me of her. That’s all.

And then we left, and we made out in the back of the taxi as if we were sixteen. Her lips tasted like good food and great wine, her tongue knowledgeable in a way Abigail’s never was. I’d been with a lot of women in my time, and Rachel was probably on the top of the list as far as experience went. Women in my day—they were innocent even when they weren’t. But it was fun, being with a woman who knew what she wanted.

We got to her place, and my hands had a mind of their own, slipping under her skirt, searching for that swollen bit of sexuality. However, she had other things in mind. She pushed me down on the couch and knelt in front of me, tugging at the zipper of my pants while my hands were still seeking, sliding under the top of her dress, brushing the hardened nubs of her nipples. It was a beautiful sight, such a gorgeous young woman on her knees in front of me. I thought I might lose it when she took my cock into her hands, sliding them both over my length, leaving nothing uncovered. And then her sweet, painted mouth sliding over my cock head…

Fuck!

Could anything feel so good? I had to concentrate to keep from blowing my wad the moment she took me in, the second her sweet tongue traced a line around my thick head. I lay back, forcing my thoughts onto something else as she swallowed me, taking more of my cock down her throat than I would have thought possible. I buried my fingers in her hair, guiding her to all the places that felt the best and losing myself in the sensation of her incredible mouth.

Fuck!

They didn’t do it like this back in the old neighborhood!

“God, baby!” I moaned, pushing at her forehead. “You got to stop!”

“It’s okay,” she said with that flirty smile.

Hell…

I lost it. I’d never come in a woman’s mouth before, but this was…you’re never too old for a new experience!

She climbed onto my lap as soon as I was spent and slipped me inside of her. She didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t fully into it. I was still catching my breath. And watching her writhe on top of me was…I was getting into it. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. I slid my hands over her hips and tugged her down closer to me, groaning even as she dipped down to kiss me.

I could get used to this.

Brian

Killian checked the rounds in his gun, making sure he had a full load. Kyle and Ian were both doing the same thing, shoving the pistols in shoulder holsters when they were done.

“All set?” I asked.

Killian lifted his leg, checking the smaller gun he had in an ankle holster. When he was done, he looked up at me, a long look that seemed to read something that I didn’t know was there.

“What’s going on with you, Pops? You look almost happy.”

“Do I?”

“Getting laid?” Ian asked.

“Don’t be crude,” Kyle said.

“Everyone knows their job,” I said. “Make sure the shipment gets in with no problems. Ian, if you spot anything at the warehouse that doesn’t look right, you give the signal to abort. Got it?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t worry, Pops,” Killian said, slamming his hand down on my shoulder. “We know what to do. We’ve been doing this long enough.”

I watched them head out, wondering what Abigail would say if she could see them now. She’d be proud of our boys, but she wouldn’t be thrilled with what I’ve exposed them to. They’ve each gone to jail at least once or twice, but I don’t allow them to run jobs for Jack anymore. Now it’s just the protection racket. We’d help Jack’s guys out when they needed extra security, and we’d act as bodyguards to special members of the family when necessary. Everything was on the up and up these days. No reason to put ourselves in danger.

But Abigail still wouldn’t like it. She’d never liked my relationship with Jack.

That man will get you killed one of these days.

She’d always been convinced I’d make her a widow. Instead, she died on me.

I followed the boys out and got into a car with Ian. He was quiet as we drove across town.

“You been to Vegas lately?”

Ian shook his head. “Things are running smoothly there. But I’ll probably fly out in a couple of months, just to make sure.”

“Who do you have in charge out there?”

“Mickey.”

I nodded. Mickey was one of the old guards, a guy Jack and I grew up with. I’d trust him with my life, but I wasn’t sure I was happy trusting him with my casino. It was a business venture that I got into some years ago. The idea was to move the whole family to Nevada. It was still the plan, sort of. The thing was, Abigail wanted to retire first, and then she got sick and things just…life has a habit of getting in the way. And then I put Ian in charge, and he put Mickey in charge…

I had to trust him.

“Have you heard from Stacy recently?”

“She’s engaged.”

My eyebrows rose. “To whom?”

“I don’t know. Some guy she met at school. I think he’s a professor.”

“Why hasn’t she called me?”

“You know she’s pissed at you since Mom died.”

Most of the kids had always felt closer to Abigail than me. Especially Stacy since she was the only girl. And when Abigail got sick, she didn’t want the kids to disrupt their lives and come stand around her hospital bed to watch her die. Stacy was still living with us at the time, but she was busy with school things. She was more than pissed when she found out our trip out of town was really a two-week stay at the hospital. She hasn’t said more than a few words to me since.

Maybe it was time for me to head to New York and set her straight.

Ian glanced at me. “She’ll come around.”

I shrugged. “Have you heard much about this delivery? I know you keep your ear to the ground.”

“Cops have everyone scared. Between them and Reilly’s gang, I’m surprised Jack went ahead with this. Should have waited another month or so.”

“I think the suppliers in Ireland were getting antsy.”

“Should have waited anyway. Getting everyone arrested isn’t going to make Ireland any happier.”

“No one’s getting arrested tonight. That’s what we’re here for.”

Ian gripped the steering wheel a little harder, but he didn’t say anything. We were getting close to the warehouse where Jack’s people wanted to bring the supply of guns they were taking off a ship tonight. Jack brought guns in from Ireland and sold them to local gangs for drugs. Then his people sold the drugs to rich assholes who thought they were the first generation to discover the benefits of cocaine. Then half the money went back to Ireland for more guns. It was a good system that had worked for fifty years—since the old crew was still in charge. Jack changed a few things when he took over twenty years ago, but not much. He was smart enough to know you don’t change something that works.

“Cops,” Ian said, his voice low and hard.

Sure enough, there was a dark sedan parked a block up from the warehouse. I tugged my phone out of my pocket and sent a text that was already written and prepared for this occasion. Best not to waste any time in these situations.

Ian pulled to a stop beside the sedan. The driver’s side window rolled down, and a smiling detective with alcohol-reddened cheeks smiled out at us.

“Hello, Brian,” he said.

“Anthony,” I said politely.

“Detective Scarsorsi,” he reminded me.

“Yes, of course.”

We looked each other over, as though we hadn’t seen each other last month when we had lunch at a local Italian place. Anthony and I grew up in the same neighborhood. His Irish mother lived with a distant cousin of my mother’s, so we were practically related. Everyone in an old Irish neighborhood is practically related.

“How’s your sister?”

“Good,” he said, touching his temple. “Husband of hers is a loser, but she’s making do with what little he offers her.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Jack?”

I shrugged. “Man’s running a multi-billion-dollar conglomeration. How do you think he is?”

“Rich.”

I laughed. “You could say that.”

“And you? How you been?”

“Can’t complain.”

Anthony looked me over for a long moment. “Well, I guess you’ve called the dogs off.”

“That would be the wise thing to do.”

“If you don’t mind, we’ll just sit here a little longer, see what develops.”

“You do that, Anthony.”

Anthony leaned against the window and nodded to Ian.

“Take care of yourself, boy. Abigail would roll in her grave if she knew what you were up to tonight.”

“I think my mother would be right proud of me, Detective Scarsorsi.”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose, but then he settled back in his car and rolled up his window.

Ian guided the car into a careful U-turn and took us back toward town. MCorp had a couple of warehouses under the names of some of their smaller, less profitable businesses. One was right downtown, three blocks from the police station, a warehouse that was once a storefront housing the barbershop where Jack’s predecessors hung out. That’s where we were headed now.

It was so obvious the police likely overlooked it.

Ian and I arrived less than five minutes ahead of the trucks. Four trucks. A fucking lot of guns.

I must be getting old because just being here was making me nervous.

Ian and I opened the big doors at the back of the warehouse and watched the trucks drive inside, one at a time. Not as much space as there would have been at the other place, but they fit. I got my boys out of there, leaving Jack’s people to deal with whatever came next. Our job was done for the night.

***

“To another job well done,” I said, holding up a glass of good old Irish whiskey.

“Amen,” Ian said quietly, as the others said, “Salude.”

We downed our drinks and smacked the glasses on the bar. The bartender didn’t have to wait to be asked, he came over and poured more drinks.

“The cops are getting too close,” Killian said. “Jack needs to do something about that.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“He’s going to lose a shipment one of these days,” Sean added. “Those cops…”

“As long as you boys stay out of jail, that’s all that matters to me.”

“What if Jack goes down?”

I shrugged. “I’m protected. As far as the law knows, he and I are just business associates. He goes down, MCorp is mine.”

“Sweet deal.”

“Your mother was a good woman. She insisted we all sit down with a lawyer before we got into business together.”

“She thought you were legit,” Ian pointed out.

“For a while, yeah, she did.”

“Did she know about this, about us?” Killian asked. “Before she died?”

I looked over at him, but I didn’t think it was something I needed to answer. I swallowed the fresh drink in one gulp and picked up a handful of peanuts, swallowing them in one bite, too.

“I should go,” I said. “Got meetings in the morning.”

“Busy man,” one of the boys grumbled.

“Aren’t we all?”

I was stumbling out the door—booze seemed to go straight to my head these days—when I nearly ran into a beautiful woman I knew instantly. I’d thought I’d seen her a few times over the last week or so, but I kept telling myself it was just my imagination. But here she was, on the arm of some ruddy-faced man I’d never seen before.

“Cassidy?”

I had her arms in my hands to hold her up—or maybe she was holding me up—and her pretty face turned up to mine, a soft blush and the dim light hiding the expression in her perfect blue eyes. I’d never known a woman like her before or since I’d met her. She was a student at Boston College when I first met her over twenty years ago. Abigail and I were separated for the first time, her disillusionment with my association with Jack getting in the way of our blissful marriage. Killian was a toddler and Sean on the way, but Abigail was set on the idea that she couldn’t be with a man who could so carelessly break the law.

And then Cassidy…she was young and beautiful and fresh and new and everything I needed at the time.

Those days with her were the best six months of my life.

“Hello, Brian,” she said softly.

“What are you doing here? I’d thought you’d gone home long ago.”

“I did. Lived in Austin for years. But I’ve decided to make my home in Boston now.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

I studied her face, sensing there was something wrong with what she was saying. But I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“We should go inside,” the man behind her said. We’d both forgotten about him.

She glanced back, then at me again.

“It’s nice to see you, Brian.”

I slipped a business card out of my wallet, somewhat relieved that I still carried them despite the fact that I hadn’t handed one out in months.

“Call me. We’ll get together sometime.”

She nodded, studying the card as she held it between her delicate fingers. I had a flash of memory of those fingers moving over my chest as I laughed at something she’d said. She hadn’t changed. She had the same beautiful curves and the same lovely smile she’d had back then. There were a few new wrinkles around her eyes, a splash of white in her dark hair. But otherwise, she could have been that same blue-eyed beauty I’d met all those years ago.

She moved around me and slipped into the bar, gone like a ghost. Like she’d never been.

I was suddenly less interested in going home than I had been before.