Page 86 of Arranged Scars
Ipark the van and kill the engine. There aren’t many people around this late. The street lights glow a soft orange and occasionally flicker. The apartment building looms to my left, windows bright. The doorman looks half asleep.
“How much did you bribe him?” I ask, not taking my eyes from the building.
Liam answers, sounding almost lazy about it. “Fifty grand.”
I laugh and stare. “Seriously? Fifty for a doorman?”
“What? The guy’s really well paid. You want him to keep his mouth shut, it costs.”
He’s got a point, but still. This operation is already way more expensive than I thought it would be.
Not that the money is an issue. I’ve never been a big spender. I live comfortably and I have my vices, but I’m not crazy about it. My war chest is likely much, much bigger than anyone in my family realizes.
I make a quick call and raise the phone to my ear. No walkies this time, only phones. That’s more of a risk but it’ll have to do. Can’t have our line of communication failing again like it did with Redmond.
“Yes, darling? Are you in position?” Caroline answers almost immediately. She sounds excited.
“Just parked. How are things over there?”
“Fine. Terrible. You know. But Dermot’s here and he doesn’t seem like he’s leaving anytime soon.” She’s talking at a whisper. I assume she’s hiding in a bathroom or something.
“Good. Keep an eye on him and call the second something changes. We’re heading in shortly.”
“Be careful. Gotta go. Talk soon.”
She hangs up. I pause and look at my phone. I hate that she’s at her father’s place right now. I know how much it hurts her to step foot in that house, but it was the best way she came up with to make sure Dermot wouldn’t be home. She arranged a little family gathering, and while she’ll probably have to swallow some verbal abuse, at least we know they won’t touch her. Not while she’s my wife.
“You ready?” I shove my phone back into my pocket and check my gun.
“Definitely, but I’m not the one with the bum shoulder.”
I absently rub at the wound. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“You good to carry those boxes?”
“Probably not, but I’ll make it work.” I get out and Liam follows, moving around the van on his side. We meet at the back and throw the rear doors wide.
The boxes don’t look like much. They’re heavy duty cardboard with some Chinese symbols on the side. But look past the boring exterior, and just beyond, any intrepid searcher will find a bunch of subcompact semi-automatic weapons plus enough ammunition to storm Fort Knox.
I’m about to reach inside when a voice stops me.
“You boys need a hand?”
I almost laugh as I turn around to find Cormac standing casually behind us.
My brother’s wearing street clothes. Black jeans, dark shirt, light jacket. His hair’s messy and slightly curly and his eyes take us in with almost no expression at all. Cormac’s always been hard to read. He’s one cold bastard.
“Jesus shit, where’d you come from?” Liam says, clearly startled. He steps to the side, hand paused mid-reach for a weapon.
Cormac glances at that hand and seems to visibly dismiss the threat. His eyes move back to mine. “You weren’t worried about someone following.”
“Why would I be? I didn’t think the family Ghostman would come after me.”
He tilts his head. “If I were here in a professional capacity, you’d be dead already.”
“Then are you just here to help out?”
“Declan wants a word.”
