Page 64 of Reckless Desires

He just laughs. “Looks like the mom would have been down too.”

“Just fucking drive, Donal.”

There’s something about marching into a room filled with your men that makes you want to run away. It’s not that I have a problem with the power. I like the power. I enjoy the way all focus turns to me as I step around the room, head held high, hands in my pockets, like this is just another casual meeting.

No, the part that makes me want to run away is knowing that I’m going to have to deal with these fucking idiots.

Donal stands at the front of the room, his arms crossed, the gun on his hip more visible than normal. “Last night, there was an attack,” he says, his voice loud and firm as he looks around the room, making eye contact with several of the high-ranking men. “You need to all speak with your inferiors. Find out what they know. Someone is working with the Russians.”

“Well, if we just took that deal the Russians wanted, maybe this wouldn’t be happening right now,” Tommy, a man who might be as old as dirt, says, glowering at us. “You young men come in here with big ideas that you say are going to change the way things are done. We go from one person who’s going to get us killed to another, and we’re expected not to say anything. I think it’s time that some of us start speaking up.”

“Very well,” I say, dropping into my chair at the head of the table. “You start speaking up. Tell me how you would solve this. Tell me what you know about why the Russians are attacking us. Anything you have to say, now’s your chance to say it.”

The others in the room lean toward each other, whispering. Some of them look at me like they know it’s a trap. Others look like they want to believe it.

I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest, arching one eyebrow as I look at Tommy. “Well, you had something to say. Are you going to be man enough to say it?”

He puts his hands down on the desk, standing up. “You should have made the deal with the Russians for the guns. You should have given up territory for it. Instead, you aligned us even closer with the Costellos. They have a child at their helm.”

“Alessio’s in his twenties. Hardly a child.”

“He’s a child in the grand scheme of things, and you know it. He’s too green to be a proper alliance for us, and now we are paying for it in blood once again.”

“Alessio pushed the Russians away from seizing our territory. He didn’t say he would keep them away,” I remind my men. “Have you all gotten too lazy? Have I filled our bellies too much? Why haven’t our borders been properly secured? Once the Russians were out, there is no reason they should have gotten back in so easily.” I pace around the room.

“You had the leverage to keep Alessio from helping us,” Tommy shoots back. “What happened with that?”

“Interesting that you seem to know so much about my comings and goings,” I say. “Maybe you’re the one who tipped the Russians off to where I was last night. Or maybe the one who put the bomb in there.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “I might not like you, but I have no use in getting rid of you. That means somebody else would step into your place, and none of the men here are capable of doing that.”

There is chatter throughout the room. A round of protests erupts from around the table, all of them looking like they’re going to lunge across it at Tommy. He smirks and sits back down, unbothered by the dirty looks he's getting from the others in the room.

“All of you know that you’re not capable of doing shit,” he snaps.

Ronan is the next one to stand up. “He’s worried about making the deal with the Russians. You chose the wrong alliance. You allowed friendships to come before the good of The Reapers. We’ve been fighting too hard and too long⁠—”

“And in case you forgot, the Russians have been our enemies for as long as we can remember,” I say, cutting him off. “You want me to align us with somebody who has a history of turning against us, people who would put us in the ground before they would help us? That’s the kind of alliance you want?”

“How is the Costello Family any better? They killed more than half of our men, and you led them straight to us.”

“I didn’t lead anyone,” I shoot back. “I used them to get to Jacob Reilly. You remember him, right? Your old leader that I overtook? The one who left you all with scrapes while he wined and dined with the finest. You can disagree with my choices but don’t bite the hand that has fed you.”

“Reilly never helped enemies. You were either friend or foe. Nothing in between.”

I don’t bother to respond. This kind of talk can’t be tolerated. I pull out my gun, flip off the safety, and fire into his shoulder before anyone has the chance to react.

Ronan stumbles back in his seat, sinking down. Crimson blood drips down the front of his shirt, staining the white fabric. His eyes are wide, but he says nothing, his jaw clenching as he presses a hand to the wound.

“You all chose me as a leader. You all helped me stage a coup to take over as that leader. So don’t question my methods on who or why we align ourselves with. Nobody wants to work with us. They view us as weak. They view us as unable to benefit them. Which means that we’re on our own in this war. Trust that my friendship with those Alessio surrounds himself with can and will help us get through this. I keep putting them in a place where they owe me, us.”

Donal chimes in, “Just because he needs us doesn’t mean he’s smart enough to realize he needs us. He’s in his early twenties. Young and cocky like every other man his age. With his underboss and advisor as our close allies, they whisper in Alessio’s ear, and so far, it’s been working in our favor.”

“Until now,” Tommy says with a scoff, his gaze locking on mine.

“Trust the process,” I say, commanding.

Tommy says nothing, his thin lips pressing into an even thinner line, his gaze dropping down to the table before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He shakes one out before passing the pack around, most of the men at the table taking one and lighting it. The heady scent of the smoke rises in the air, thin ribbons curling up.