Unchosen Ruler by Maggie Cole

27

Liam

In under three hours,we get to Indianapolis. It's dark, which is why I rolled into town at night. I want to experience what Rory and those other Bailey thugs will when they arrive for our meeting.

Declan and Nolan have their laptops out. Each one is checking in with our guys. Declan takes the right side of the street, and Nolan takes the left. Killian and Finn trail in an SUV behind us, looking at other possible holes in our security that could leave us exposed. We've got another fifty men waiting in different hotels for our instructions. Our clan members on the street have been here for two weeks, watching for any sign of a Bailey or even a Ryan. So far, neither has been seen in Indianapolis.

When we get to the meeting location, we do a sweep-through. To the public, it's nothing but an abandoned building. A corporation owns it, which on paper appears unattached to the O'Malleys, but my father has them in our pocket. We have the floor plans, pictures, and video footage of the inside, but several of our men are already there. They drove their vehicles inside, so it still appears dark and empty, should the Baileys or Ryans try to approach it tonight.

I step out of the SUV, and one of our top men, who is almost as ruthless as the twins, steps out of the shadows. His short, skinny frame wouldn't worry anyone from afar. When we were kids, someone gave him the nickname Leppy, saying he resembled a leprechaun. All these years, it stuck. He even started introducing himself as Leppy. In some ways, I think it helps him stay underestimated, which is a strength for him. Because if anyone messes with him, he'll slice you to shreds and enjoy every minute of it.

"Liam." He slaps my hand. "Glad you made it out."

I nod. Leppy was inside the prison with Finn and me for what we termed several tours. He'd come in for a few years, get out, then find his way back in. The last time I saw him was three years ago. "Good to see you're not back in."

He grunts. "The deal your dad made with whoever seems to have come in handy for me."

"Let's keep it that way. Want to fill us in?"

He points around the open space. "This is where we'll keep everything. It's open. There's an easy in and out for vehicles. The rest of the building, we have locked off and guarded. No one's made any moves in the last few weeks since we got here."

"And the back door and side entrances?" I ask.

Leppy walks, and we follow. "No one is getting in or out unless you're ten feet tall and have the power to remove those bolts." He points, and I look up.

Declan whistles. "That's the thickest piece of steel I've ever seen."

"You'll need a drill gun to remove it," Leppy adds.

"So all the exits have them?" I ask.

"Yeah. There are also identical pieces of steel on the outside," Leppy confirms.

"So, one way in, and one way out?" Nolan asks.

"Sounds like fucking prison," Finn mutters then pins his gaze on mine.

Leppy's voice grows colder. "There's one other way out, but it's not a door. And it isn't on the building plans."

The room turns silent.

"Don't tell me it's Shawshank bullshit and you want us to swim through sewage. I'm not down with that. I'd rather take a bullet," Killian claims.

Declan slaps him on the head.

"Fuck off!" Killian cries out.

"No one is taking a bullet."

I scrub my face, not into Killian's antics. "Knock it off. What's the way out?"

Leppy points up.

We all glance up at the beams, forty feet in the air. There isn't anything but the roof.

"Should I get my Superman cape?" Killian cockily remarks.

Declan's hand flies toward his head again, and this time, Killian ducks.

Leppy chuckles. He motions to the wall several feet away. "That's your way up."

Nolan looks at Killian. "Yeah, get your cape because Leppy seems to be high on acid or something."

"Jesus. Everyone shut the fuck up!" I growl.

"Chill out," Killian grumbles.

"This isn't the time for jokes. Leppy, stop being dramatic and get to the point," I order.

He walks to the wall, flips a switch, and a four-foot piece of concrete moves backward. A thick, twisted rope hangs off to the side. "Go stand on that platform."

The six of us do as he says. I look up at the pulley system that the rope weaves through. Beyond that, stars shine in the night sky. I raise my eyebrows at Leppy.

He points to Killian and Nolan. "Let the two loudmouths get us up there."

No one moves. I cross my arms over my chest. I arrogantly say, "You heard the man."

Killian and Nolan both give me a "fuck you" but start to pull on the rope. We begin to move up in the air.

"Those thugs will shoot us by the time we get up here," Finn points out.

Leppy shakes his head. "There's a flip on the inside to shut the wall."

"We'll get shot before the wall even opens," Declan says as Killian and Nolan grunt from the job of pulling on the rope.

"We'll put an SUV in front of it. The door will stay open. All you have to do is run and hit the closing switch if needed," Leppy claims.

"Liam, how many of our men will be in the building?" Declan asks.

"Two dozen, plus us," I reply.

Declan's eyes harden. His voice makes the hairs on my arms rise. "If we need to take this way out, that means our guys are dead. Including the ones on the way in."

I stay quiet, knowing it could be a reality. The pulley creaks, and we finally get to the top. Nolan reaches for the latch and locks it in place.

"Now what?" I ask. The wall in front of me is another twenty feet high, barricading the roof from anyone on the street.

Leppy nods behind me.

I spin. A rusty, black helicopter sits on a pad. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"The owner liked to fly in and out. He was a bit eccentric. He retired years ago and has dementia. He never married and has no family. It's been sitting here all this time," Leppy informs us.

Killian jumps off the platform. "Does it even run?"

"Looks like a deathtrap," Nolan mutters.

Leppy scratches his beard. "Craig looked at it. He replaced the gas lines and did some other things to it. He said it should be good."

Killian groans. "Should doesn't make me confident enough to get inside this tin can."

I stare at the aircraft. My chest tightens, and my never-ending gut acid starts to climb up it. "Who would even fly this? None of us are pilots."

Leppy smiles. "Keith will be here tomorrow night. He'll be ready to go at any time."

Oh shit. My gut drops.

Killian spins. "Crazy Keith? You want us to put our lives in the hands of a man who got kicked out of the military for stealing their aircraft and crashing it into a government ship?"

Leppy's face turns red. He angrily spouts, "You got another pilot you want me to bring in on this?"

"Anyone but Crazy Keith works for me," Killian replies.

I glance at Finn. He gives me his "I don't know what the fuck to do" expression. It doesn't make me feel any more confident, but I'm not sure what other option we have.

"I vote to unlock one of the back doors," Nolan says.

Declan shakes his head in frustration at Nolan. "Yeah, because if the Baileys attack us, it's not like they won't have thought about coming in from behind."

I pace the roof. I can't see over the walls. It really is the perfect surprise escape, assuming the helicopter still flies and Crazy Keith doesn't kill us. I turn back to Leppy. "Make sure Keith is ready."

Killian's eyes widen. "You're serious?"

"There aren't any other options unless you have another idea?"

He stays quiet.

"That's what I thought. Now, does anyone else have any other ideas or things we need to check out while we're here?"

My cousins all stay quiet.

"Then let's get out of here."

We leave and reassess all the checkpoints on our way out again. More acid curls in my stomach, thinking about what could happen and wondering what Rory will say. I want to give orders to take him out as he comes into the meeting, but if I do, there will be an all-out war in the streets, not just from the Baileys and Ryans but from other mob families. There are rules to obey. My father was very clear on this, and I'm not so naive to think my actions won't have consequences. If I give the order and attack the Baileys during this requested meeting, I might as well put a death warrant on every O'Malley.

It's three in the morning when we get to our hotel. I refrain from contacting Hailee, knowing she's going to ask questions I won't answer. I don't fall asleep for hours. When I finally crash, I sleep hard and don't wake up until noon. I go into the hotel's gym, get a workout in, then meet my cousins in the restaurant. I attempt to eat, but I'm too nervous.

My father's words—to keep quiet and use my head and gut—are on replay in my mind. The problem is, all I see are Hailee's blue eyes staring at me. So all day, I struggle to separate my desire to kill Rory from following one of the few rules of mob code.

Nighttime comes. It turns dark, but we wait until midnight approaches. We arrive at the warehouse but not too early. Within minutes, the Baileys arrive.

Three black SUVs arrive. Two are ours and one belongs to the Baileys. It's as it should be, but my heartbeat never slows down. I hit the recorder my father gave me, inside my coat pocket. My cousins and I stand in a line, with the other O'Malleys circling us with guns drawn.

Leppy holds his firearm and shouts, "Out! Now! Hands up!"

Slowly, the doors to the SUV open. When Rory steps out, my chest tightens. It's been fifteen years since he put a plastic bag over my head and tried to kill me. The smell of his breath rushes to my nostrils just by looking at him. His long leather coat is almost identical to mine. Hatred and cockiness fill his expression. He steps ten feet in front of me and stops. I want to slap the smug smile off his face. I know it all too well. His eyes dart from me to Finn then the Irish accent I will always know as his, says, "Feels good to be out, doesn't it, boys?"

We say nothing.

He laughs then steps closer to me. His brother Mack steps up next to him.

"Go any closer, and I shoot you," one of my guys warns.

His expression morphs from arrogant to disgusted then into what I think the devil himself might look like. His eyes turn to slits. "You have what's mine."

My pulse accelerates. I can't help myself and jab, "Yeah. I'm rather enjoying what no longer is yours."

He licks his lips, attempts to keep calm, but the vein in his neck pops. "I don't see your father here. Did he die yet?"

My heart stammers, but I don't allow myself to flinch. "He said to tell you he's looking forward to seeing you in Hell."

"Guess he'll be warming my seat up, won't he?"

I sniff hard. "Did you come to discuss my father? Or is there a point to all this?"

He lunges toward me, and my cousins and I all draw our guns. Rory and the rest of the Baileys aim theirs at us.

Rory orders, "You crossed a boundary. You'll deliver my wife and four daughters to me in forty-eight hours."

Rage consumes me. I struggle to maintain my composure. "No. You crossed the boundary. You're leaving Chicago. All of you."

"Forty-eight hours. You deliver them to me. If you don't, we'll take this to the streets," he seethes.

My veins race with horror. When two heads of crime families get together, threats aren't empty. An all-out war will destroy one of our families, but whoever is left standing will also be severely harmed. You can't have a war in the streets without casualties.

I fire back, "You have twenty-four hours to get every Bailey out of Chicago."

Through gritted teeth, he sneers, "My daughters are Baileys. So deliver them to me, unless you want to make another deal."

The hairs on my neck stand up. I grind my molars and force myself not to press the trigger aimed at his head. "I don't need to make a deal with you. They're O'Malley property now. And you know this, don't you? Because any Bailey or Ryan who steps foot in Chicago is in O'Malley territory. And since they have both families' blood, they're now ours. As a courtesy, I'm giving you twenty-four hours to leave Chicago. I suggest you take it."

A sinister smile develops on his lips. "Do you remember when I held that plastic bag over your face?"

My insides quiver, and I say nothing.

"I determine what happens in this world. Not you. If I could get to you there, I can get to you out here," he claims.

Finn snarls, "You might want to remember how that ended. Unless you have something else to say, I recommend you get back in your vehicle and return to North Carolina."

Mack speaks up. His face twists into an evil smirk. His Irish accent sends a chill down my spine. "Still looking for Brenna?"

My stomach lurches. I swallow down bile. I do everything in my power not to take my eyes off of Rory and look at Finn. Silence fills the warehouse.

"Do you think she's still alive?" Mack taunts.

I pull my other gun out of my back pocket and aim it at Mack. I step closer to them and command, "Meeting's over. Two seconds to get in your car, or I shoot both of you."

Rory grunts. He warns, "Forty-eight hours. If you don't deliver my family to me, you'll suffer the consequences."

"Twenty-four. Leave Chicago, or you'll see the wrath of the O'Malleys," I warn him again.

They slowly back up, the Baileys all get in the SUV and our vehicles escort them out of the warehouse. When I can't see the taillights or hear the motors, I turn to Finn. "He only said that to fuck with you."

The crazy look I saw in his eyes the night I met him at his hotel after he killed our financial guy is back. He walks toward our SUV and opens the door. "No one kills Mack. Not until I've had my chance to get every bit of information out of him regarding what he knows about Brenna."

"He's lying," I claim.

Finn spins. "What if he's not? He's friends with Judge Peterson."

I don't answer. There isn't anything I can say. It is a possibility Mack would know.

Killian and his brothers get in one vehicle, and I get in the other one with Finn. We ride in silence for a long time. Finn eventually turns toward me and says, "What are you going to do? You know Rory doesn't make threats he doesn't intend to keep."

There's no analyzing the situation. There's only one option. "I'm going to find a way to kill them before they kill us."