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“Julien’s clever, we all know that.”
“He’s notthatclever.” I take a drink. “The Julien I know is a selfish asshole.”
“Maybe you aren’t such a great judge of character then.” Niall sounds thoughtful, not mean, but it still bugs me. “Julien comes off like he’s a hedonistic Frenchman that only cares about himself, but there is much more to him than that.”
I tilt my head from side to side. I can understand what he means by that. I didn’t expect Julien to care about Adam’s death so much but, apparently, he’s taking it very hard and thinks I’m partially responsible. He’s wrong—but I understand why he feels that way.
“I just feel guilty, that’s all. Ronan’s dealing with ten times more shit because of me.”
“Ah, quit feeling sorry for yourself. We all followed the plan because it was a good one. You couldn’t have known that a random third party would intervene and blow it up.”
I glance at him. He’s looking back at me, face a stone wall, but there’s something else behind his expression. His eyes narrow, almost like he’s concentrating. Almost like he’s waiting for something.
“HowdidJulien find out?” I ask him very quietly, leaning in to make sure nobody can overhear. “The only people that knew about the plan were Rocco’s guys and your guys, and only then it was need-to-know until the day.”
“That is exactly what Ronan’s dealing with right now,” Niall says, nodding very slowly. “And a question we need to be asking ourselves very seriously.”
The implication sends a shiver down my spine. In any big crime organization, the potential for betrayal and backstabbing is always there, but ideally, it’s counteracted by the bonds these men form with each other. We call it afamilyon purpose and for a reason—not because these guys are all related, but because a family doesn’t turn its back on its members, not for any reason, no matter what.
There’s always intrigue. Every Famiglia deals with some level of backstabbing and the threat of undercover cops infiltrating the highest levels. All crime organizations have a few feds running around with the soldiers.
But for a family like Ronan’s to leak an operation like what happened earlier to a rival? That’s unheard of. That’s enormous.
And it means the divisions in the Hayes Group run deeper than I realized.
As I drink my wine and let anxiety rattle around my chest, another person pushes through the crowd and lurks right next to Niall. I look back and it’s Seamus, his eyes slightly glassy, a wet stain on his chest, his cheeks bright red. He’s swaying to the side.
“You okay, cousin?” Niall asks him with a grin. “You imbibe a bit too much?”
“It’s her fuckin’ fault.” Seamus spits the words, staring at me the whole time. “You know that, don’t you? How the fuck can you sit there with this bitch right now,cousin?”
“Easy there,” Niall says, smile fading. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m drunk,” Seamus agrees. “And that bitch is still here. That’s the real fuckin’ problem. Hey, bitch, how’d you convince Ronan to turn his back on his family, huh?”
“Seamus.” Niall’s voice is hard now. He stands and puts a hand on the drunk. “You should walk.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. A part of me wants to hear it. Seamus is drunk, and he’s a sexist douchebag, but this is what he’s thinking, it’s what they’re all thinking, and it’s almost better if it’s finally out in the open like this.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Seamus says, shrugging off Niall. “The bitch says it’s fine, ‘cos she knows she’s fuckin’ our family up and probably suckin’ Ronan’s dick and makin’ himforgetwho he reallyfuckin’is, and she’s doin’ it just to get some fuckin’ money and power.” He’s riling himself up and Niall grabs his arm tightly.
“That’s enough,” Niall says, but Seamus shoves him away.
Niall staggers and runs into me, and I’m knocked from the stool. The wine glass spills and I hit the floor in an undignified heap. I’m not hurt, but I have to untangle myself from the sudden appearance of more legs and feet as people swarm around the altercation.
By the time I get back up, Ronan’s in the mix. He’s got Seamus by the throat in one massive hand and his nostrils are flared as he pulls his fist back.
“Don’t youevergo near her again,” he says, lips pulled back in a snarl. A crowd’s gathering and more of the cousins and uncles are watching. “Do you hear me, Seamus?”
“The fuck are you doing?” Seamus says, gagging as Ronan tightens his grip. “For some fuckin’ Italian girl?”
“She is under my protection. Do you know what that means? You go near her, you speak to her, you so much as look at her again, and I will kill you. Do you understand me, Seamus?”
Seamus gags and nods. He looks scared. I feel horrible for him, and I wish I could fade into the background and disappear, but more eyes move in my direction. Cousins stare, and none of them are happy. Some are outright hostile.
“Go home.” Ronan releases Seamus and shoves him away. A couple of the younger Irishmen take him by the arms and drag him off.
Ronan seethes. He stares around him at the mass of his people, and for a moment, I think he’s going to tell them all off. I want to reach out and stop him—he already went far enough. I don’t want to see him destroy his family because of me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he ruined the one good thing in this world, if he became like me, lost and confused and without any real home, all because of one stupid drunken interaction.
