Chapter Five

 

Ivan waited patiently outside in the dispensary while Sean and Kelly hashed out whatever their issue was.

He should’ve known that she would be a firecracker, given who her father was. He almost couldn’t blame her for being annoyed at someone else coming in to handle things—but it wasn’t like he was going to go around being judge, jury, and executioner. He was just investigating for Sean. She didn’t have to jump down his throat like that.

Besides, if her brother died then she was the only living child that Sean had left. She’d be the heir. Keeping her safe had to be Sean’s number one priority right now and if she conducted the internal investigation then she’d be even more of a target. How could she not understand that?

Unless… she didn’t want Ivan investigating because of what he might find out.

Kelly was the oldest child. That meant that she should be the heir, not her younger brother Shane. Yes, traditionally it was the oldest male child who was the heir but women had broken those rules over time and nowadays there were more women running the mobs and cartels than ever. It was more unusual for Sean to skip over her than to make her heir, honestly.

Maybe Sean had his reasons—and maybe those reasons were something more than just an old-fashioned nature. Perhaps there was a psychotic streak to Kelly, one that didn’t seem apparent at first. Ivan had known plenty of crazy people who seemed perfectly normal when you first met them, or even the third or fourth or tenth time you met them. It took a long time to see the madness peeking out of the corners of their eyes.

Could it be that Kelly was the actual traitor?

It was a little early to tell but she knew the books. She would know the schedules of her brothers and where they would be, and if she didn’t, all she had to do was ask one of them. They’d be sure to tell their sister if she casually asked what club they were going to that night or something.

And being passed over for the heir… that was enough to build resentment in anyone.

Still, he couldn’t underestimate the lieutenants. Ivan had heard far too many stories of a trusted right-hand man who turned around and killed his boss, taking over everything, having quietly been turning the men against the boss the entire time.

He’d have to interview people and look into the books and camera surveillance and all the rest to be sure.

The door to the hospital room opened again and Kelly poked her head out. “You can stop standing there awkwardly and come back in.”

Ivan glared at her but didn’t say anything. Smartasses like Kelly fed off of people’s responses.

Kelly just smirked at him, opening the door wider for him to enter.

Sean was sitting up straight in his chair, gazing at the unconscious Shane. “It’s settled,” he said. “Kelly will provide you with the necessary information and translations. As she said, most of our official records are in Gaelic to avoid anyone else getting their hands on them.”

Kelly nodded her affirmation. She didn’t look happy with the decision, but she didn’t look like she was going to punch Ivan in the throat anymore either. She just looked resigned.

“I’ll get started right away,” Ivan told Sean. “And you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?”

Sean nodded. “Bring one or two of your lieutenants around to my place tomorrow for lunch, we’ll go over what exactly you need assistance with and discuss how it’ll be best to handle things.”

Ivan inclined his head respectfully, then reached out his hand. Sean shook it, his grip firm and strong despite the frailness of his body.

There was no contract, no witnesses other than Kelly and the comatose Shane, but it was a deal that would be honored. Sometimes Ivan thought that was all that was holding the various mob families together and keeping them from an all-out war with one another: their damned sense of pride and honor.

Nobody wanted to be called a welsh. No one wanted to be called out for having reneged on a deal made in good faith, a bargain struck. Ivan wondered if that would someday be all that people could say about the mob, when crime had invariably changed so much that none of them were left: ah, it was their pride, their damnable pride.