It's going to be marriage and sex.
That's more.
And maybe friendship.
The idea of being friends with an outsider is odd. I haven't had friends outside of the service or the mob in nearly two decades. But she's not really an outsider, is she?
She was married to a mobster. I force down the rumble of annoyance that thought brings. And working for Kenneth, knowing what she does, Áine is part of the mob already. Whatever she thinks.
"Get your crew working on the assignment I gave you this morning before you leave."
"Copy that." I'll text them right after I call Brice, give him a sit rep and clear my time out of New York with him.
O'dark thirty the next morning, I've got my crew together at the Bunker and read them into our assignment.
"I knew Kenneth Shaughnessy was an arsehole, but I didn't realize he was thick as a ditch too," Dagda says, a slight Irish lilt to his voice.
A Shaughnessy Mob legacy, his da grew up in Queens, but his ma is from Ireland. And Dagda spent summers with her family over there until his da died and he moved there to live full time with his ma.
At twenty-six, he's eight years younger than me, but Dagda served like I did. Only in the Irish Defense Forces. He was a Ranger too in their Army Ranger Wing, but served on a UN peacekeeping mission in Mali while I did two tours in the sandbox.
His time in Mali was every bit as blood tainted and dangerous as my time in the sandbox though.
When he mustered out, he moved back to New York and took his place in the Shaughnessy Mob with no detour to an alphabet agency or freelance work like me. Said being a soldier in the mob was less dangerous.
"I've heard a couple of guys talkin' smack about Mick becoming the next boss, but I thought it was just jealous bitching." Noah chews on the ever-present toothpick sticking out the side of his mouth. "Ain't nobody going to take over from Brogan but him."
"Who?" I immediately ask.
He names two of the men he plays basketball with and I curse.
Thomas scowls. "Both of those idjits are on a crew under Rory. He'd knock their blocks clear off their necks and into the next borough if he heard them talking shit like that."
Thomas is a legacy through his da like Dagda, but his ma is Nigerian. A doctor who works in a syndicate sponsored clinic in Queens, she was wicked pissed when her youngest son refused to go to college.
To hear Thomas tell it, his ma made his da sleep in the guest room for two weeks after he sponsored Thomas for induction.
But Thomas doesn't like school and never has. He's got focus and dedication all right, but it's directed toward other things. He's been training in Krav Maga since he was a kid and is already working on his Nidan.
I don't test for belts, but he's a damn good sparring partner and that means he knows how to fight dirty, not just the Krav Maga way.
Neither Thomas, nor Dagda have heard any rumblings like Noah. Is that because people think they can talk more freely around a recruit without family ties in the mob?
I haven't heard anything either, but everyone knows I'm Mick's man, even if my lieutenant is Brice.
"What did you do when they started saying shite?" Torch, our resident explosives expert, asks Noah.
"Elbowed one in the stomach while blocking him and told him to shut the fuck up. Tripped the other guy so he landed face first on the court. Broke his nose on the concrete. Don't think anyone is going to repeat that shit around me," Noah says to me with an apologetic look.
"How did the other players react?" Thomas asks.
Noah stops and thinks before he answers, like I taught him. "When Sean spouted off, the only other player who could hear was Patrick and he acted like he hadn't. But he was the one who brought up that shit a couple of weeks later. That time, we were all leaving after the game. I got some fist bumps after I tripped him and Liam asked if Patrick had a death wish. No one agreed with him."
"Not even Sean?"
"No. In fact, he was one of the guys who fist bumped me."
"Either your elbow to the midsection knocked some sense into him—" Thomas says.