“What can I do you for?” Celt asked sitting back, folding his hands behind his head.
“Man named Donovan McCarthy. A year ago, he brokered a deal between Mikhail Volkov—” Celt arched a brow at the name. “—and the man I’m trying to find. Volkov handed over the merchandise a week ago, but the final transaction doesn’t go down for another sixteen days.”
“Why so long?” Celt asked sitting forward. “If they made the transaction a year ago, why is it just now ending?”
Niklaus had been wondering the same thing since his meeting with the Kingmaker. No matter how he ran the possibilities, it didn’t make sense. He doubted Mikhail hadn’t been able to supply the weapons long before now—that was what the Volkovs specialized in—so that begged the question, what the hell were they dealing with? It was obvious this was no ordinary transaction, especially if a man like the Kingmaker was involved in this.
“I don’t know, but I need to find out. What can you tell me about McCarthy?”
“His main operation is out of Dublin, but he recently transplanted here with his sons to branch out—take over territory. You’ve heard of Declan Flanagan?”
Only because of his connection to Mikhail and Mishca. Back when he had first started looking into the Volkov Bratva, he didn’t just stop at the men that made up that particular organization, but anyone they had come into contact with as well. The list was a mile long, filled with politicians, other syndicates, and at least a dozen men in different precincts around the state.
But whereas most of those had been allies, the Flanagan family hated the Volkovs—particularly Declan Flanagan. While Niklaus might not have been able to find why the pair were at odds, he knew, if only because Declan never failed to do something to get under Mishca’s skin—like the time he sent two brothers to try and kill him, though he had to have known they would fail. Niklaus might not have known the man personally, but he liked him.
Enemy of his enemy, and all that.
“Yeah. What of him?”
“His da died a year and a half ago, complications from an old gunshot wound. They say Declan couldn’t handle it, went off on a binger for the better part of a year. That was when the McCarthys moved in, started taking over his territory. By the time he got his shite together, they had already planted roots. They’ve been at war ever since.”
“We could use that,” Niklaus said, more to himself than to Celt.
“Tell me this. How exactly are you going to get a name from the McCarthys. It was different with Volkov, no? You had leverage over him. This lot…you’re going in blind.”
“I’ll find it.” He always did. “Where can I find them?”
“They have a warehouse near the docks, but I’ve heard their youngest hangs around a pub. Parting Glass Tavern. Some say he’s sweet on the owner.”
Getting to his feet, Niklaus memorized the faces staring back at him from the projector.
“Right, I’ll give it a look.”
“Aye. Careful out there, Red.” Celt dropped his feet down. “You know how we Irish are.”
Yeah, that was the last thing he needed to worry about.
Parting Glass Tavern, he had heard of it, and not because of its connection with the Irishman he was tracking.
It seemed the McCarthy boy wasn’t the only one that knew and had a thing for the owner.
Chapter Seventeen
Thunder boomed, lightning streaking across the night sky in jagged arcs, briefly illuminating the dark room Reagan stood in. For the better part of two weeks, rain had constantly poured. While she didn’t think herself to be superstitious, she couldn’t help but think perhaps this was mother nature’s way of telling her that waiting in the cold, damp basement for a man that had been dogging at her heels for the last six months was not where she was meant to be.
As far as days went, hers had already gone downhill early in the morning when she had received a call from her bank, informing her that she was late on the lease, again, for the space that was home to her family’s pub. She could have told the man the truth. That times were hard—not to mention the salaries she owed the few employees she had, plus her own bills, rent, and helping out her family.
Or the little fact that more than half the neighborhood was being shaken down by the very men she was in the room with…
But they wouldn’t care about that, only when she was going to send in the check.