Chapter 4 - THE RAT IN THE SYNDICATEThe kiss was hot, hungry, and thick with seven years of unspoken desire.
Abby melted into his arms, her hands tangling into his thick dark hair, her soft, voluptuous curves molding perfectly against his muscular frame. Declan let out a low groan deep in his throat, lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of the kitchen counter, sliding his hands up her thighs, pushing her uniform skirt out of the way to feel the warm skin beneath.
"Declan..." she gasped as his lips moved down her jawline, trailing fire across her throat.
"I've dreamed about this," he growled against her skin, his hands pressing into her soft waist, claiming every inch of her body with a possessive ferocity that made her knees turn to liquid. "Every time you walked past my desk... every time you brought me coffee... I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and lock the doors."
Before they could slide deeper into the dark fire consuming them, one of Declan’s burner phones on the table began to vibrate furiously.
BZZZ-BZZZ-BZZZ.
Abby gently pushed against his broad shoulders, breathing heavily, her face flushed pink. "The phone, Declan."
Declan closed his eyes, drawing in a long, ragged breath, resting his forehead against hers for a second before reaching for the encrypted phone.
He clicked speaker. "Talk to me, Marco."
"Boss!" Marco’s voice—Declan’s former chief of security who had gone into hiding after the river shootout—rang out from the small speaker. "We found the paper trail! Tommy didn't plan this takeover alone!"
Declan’s face instantly reverted into the cold, terrifying mask of Don Gallagher. "Who gave him the financial backing to turn the Commission?"
"It wasn't the Russians, Boss," Marco revealed, his voice shaking with nervous energy. "It was Don Silvano Lucchesi from New York! Lucchesi paid off six of your captains to vote against you. And there's more..."
"Speak," Declan commanded.
"Tommy is holding a grand formal coronation ball next Friday at the Drake Hotel," Marco said. "He’s inviting the entire Midwest underworld, the mayor, the police chief, and the Commission to officially ratify his position as Don of Chicago. And... he’s publicly announcing his engagement."
Abby frowned, sitting up on the counter. "Engagement? To who?"
"To Lady Genevieve Lucchesi," Marco spat. "Don Silvano's daughter. Tommy is uniting the Chicago and New York syndicates through marriage."
Declan let out a low, dark laugh—a sound that sent a chill straight down Abby’s spine.
"A coronation ball," Declan murmured, his hazel eyes flashing with a terrifying, lethal light. "How magnificent. My little brother wants a party."
"Boss, what do we do?" Marco asked. "I have twenty loyal men staged in Indiana. We can hit the Drake Hotel with military gear—"
"No," Declan interrupted cold and smooth. "We don't hit it like gangland thugs, Marco. We let Tommy host his party. We let him put on his ring. We let him toast his fake empire in front of the entire country..."
May you like
He looked at Abby, his hand reaching out to wrap firmly around her waist, pulling her off the counter into his embrace.
"...and then I am going to walk into that ballroom from the dead," Declan declared, his voice echoing through the small room, "and introduce them to the real Don’s wife."
