Page 12 of Savage Little Secret

I eye him, but as he stares back with a plain look on his face, the more I start to believe he’s telling the truth. “But you did attack my goddamn warehouse.”

The corner of Brendan’s mouth turns up. He doesn’t say anything, the grin is answer enough.

I punch him in the face this time, making blood splatter across the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” Brendan bites out.

I reach out with my free hand and grab the front of his white t-shirt, yanking him forward as much as he can go in the chair. “You killed one of my men that night. A good man! All for fucking what?”

“Don’t know,” Brendan replies through bloody, gritted teeth.

“You will tell me,” I hiss out in his face, feeling his shoulders tense underneath his shirt.

“What does it matter? You’re Russian, we’re Irish. Vegas was ours first, that’s why,” Brendan snaps.

“Trust me, I know that the Irish mob has been up to a lot lately,” I tell him.

Brendan’s stony expression wavers.

“Not only have you been attacking my men and my warehouses, but you also sent her,” I say as I release his shirt and step away from him, watching his jaw tighten. “I’ll admit that it took me a while to realize it. You picked wisely when choosing the person to infiltrate my fucking life.”

Brendan stares at me in silence. I may have to encourage him to fill in the blanks.

I twirl the bat in my hand as I pace in front of him, attempting to suppress my anger. When I think about Cara and what she’s done to me, I want to take this bat and beat the shit out of Brendan.

“First of all, what was the point of the plant?” I ask him.

Brendan looks away from me, and all I have to do to make him flinch is raise the bat in the air. He shrinks back in the chair with a scowl. “Intel. The usual reason you’d have a plant.”

I shake my head as an uneasy feeling creeps up the back of my neck. “It wasn’t just intel. She was way too…involved. Way too deep.”

Brendan grips the arms of the chair, his eyes trailing me as I pace again. “That was the job. Get as deep as possible.”

I whirl around to turn on him. “What else? She was there for a bigger purpose, wasn’t she? I fucking know it!”

Brendan tenses as I point the bat at his head. “Do you think I was let in on all the details? I’m just a soldier. A grunt on the street. I don’t know shit about all the boss’s decisions!”

He’s probably lying, but my mind travels to a new point of interest. It’s curious that a young woman is the one those assholes trusted with such a risky assignment. Cara is obviously someone the Irish viewed as loyal.

But how the fuck did she get that way? What is her place in the mob? Did her convict ex drag her in too deep?

“Why was she chosen to be the plant?” I question him as I step closer, the bat now hovering just a few inches in front of his eyes.

“O’Malley chose her. You would have to ask him,” Brendan replies, his eyes nearly crossing as they focus on the end of the bat. He swallows hard, more sweat accumulating on his forehead.

Chosen by the big boss himself. Interesting.

“You know her as Cara Cahill,” I state.

Brendan shrugs, which I take as answering in the affirmative.

My PIs are still looking into Cara up in Boston, but the man in front of me likely has information that a background check can’t tell me.

“She’s young. She doesn’t act like someone who’s involved in the mob. How did she get chosen for a mission like this? Why was she trusted to be put near me?” I question him.

Brendan looks away from me, shifting uncomfortably in the seat like he wishes he could disappear. “O’Malley believed a woman would be a better plant. You would see her as innocent. Less of a threat.”

Yet, she’s been the biggest threat in my lifetime.