Ruthless People (Ruthless People 1)

I hated the thought of having to prove myself. I had done that for years—proving to every man we interrogated, every boss I took down, every crackhead with a big mouth, and even with my men. I thought I was done with that phase of my rule, and yet here I was again.

“Don’t think too long about it, we’re not all still in our twenties.” Orlando smiled at me, and even though he was only a shadow of the man I used to know, that smile always made me smile.

Walking behind him, I pulled his wheelchair back before exiting my closet for the last time.

“Fine, I will try, but if he treats me like a doormat or worse, Martha Stewart, I am shooting him in the other thigh.” I was only half-joking.

“That is all I ask,” he said as he was wheeled out of my bedroom. Adriana and Fedel’s backs straightened as they followed us down the hall.

“Fedel, are the houses finished?” I asked him, walking slower than needed, but I was in no rush to get to my destination.

“Yes, ma’am, they are. Most of our equipment and technology has been moved into the basement, and the men were moved last night. However, they want to stay away from the Irish for as long as possible.”

“So would I.” I muttered.

When I had found out whom I was to marry years ago, I had slowly but surely bought, bribed, and taken “government-protected” lands just far enough away from the Callahan Manor to give my men a place for their families that was nearer to where I would be staying. The houses were not anything close to Callahan Manor or my home here, but they were nice, common family homes that would typically be found in the suburbs of Chicago. We had started building three years ago, a task I left to Antonio and Fedel to complete.

“Are you ready?” Orlando asked me.

My father’s right-hand man since he was a teen, Fiorello, stood at the door waiting for us to answer before opening. He was the only one, with the exception of a cook and a nurse, who my father wanted to stay with him here. Fiorello had been tortured by the Valero once upon a time, for dirt on my father, which left him with the scar that now graced his face. He fought his way out and came back, asking only for a doctor and a large glass of red wine. I knew my father was going to be fine. I just wasn’t sure if I was.

Nodding, I signaled for Fiorello to open the door. Beside me, Orlando’s nurse took her place at his wheelchair. The moment the door opened, I was met with four pairs of eyes staring at me, each more beautiful than the last until they fell on Liam, whose green eyes were glued to my legs. His gaze lingered a little on the bruise at my ankle before wandering up the rest of my body meeting mine. His lips were turned in a frown, but in his eyes were filled with lust.

“Ma’am.” Monte walked over to me, handing me an iPad. He must have put all the information on Ryan Ross here. I took it from him before walking toward my new famiglia, or teaghlach as it was called in Irish.

“Good morning, am I late?” I asked as kindly and brightly as possible.

“No, ma’am, just thinking you’re beautiful this morning,” Declan replied trying to take my hand to kiss it but I pulled back.

His cousin did not seem to get it because Neal opened his arms as if he were about give me a hug. “Save your fancy words, she looks fucking hot. Simple.”

“Let me make this clear to the both of you. Touch me and I will strap you down then take every last bone out of your bodies. Understood?” I asked him with a smile. His arms dropped and Declan kept his hand in his pocket.

“Beautiful.” I added.

“Stupid Irish brut,” Fedel hissed lowly in Italian.

“Senza rispetto,”6 Monte said softly. He was all about respect.

“Enough you fools. We are going to be late. Your mother says it’s mayhem outside the manor. Let’s go,” Sedric told them before winking at me. The old pervert.

They walked toward their cars, leaving me alone with Liam and his brand new black, Audi. He said nothing, opening the door for me and then closing it when I took a seat. He didn’t say anything when he took his seat beside me either, and I didn’t need him to. In fact, I had work to do.

According to the files on my tablet, Amory Valero had gotten out of prison, a secret the Valero were trying to hide from the world until they released the savage for their own personal use. Apparently, from what Ryan spilled to Monte and Fedel, they wanted Amory in Brazil to attempt to steal my fucking cocaine. They must have been on fucking cocaine to think that it was going to work. But this was what the Valero did, it was what they were good at . . . the fucking thieves. For years, they had stolen whatever they could from my family. The leader, Amory’s father, Vance, was all but run out of Italy by my father. Instead of withering into nothing, however, he resorted to the black market. If it was worth a penny, Vance stole it, flipped it, and bought himself more men. If I could, I would hang him by his balls.

“What is that?” Liam’s green eyes narrowed as he tried to read the encrypted files all while the driver in front pretended not to even be in the car.

None of your business, you motherfucking Irish asshole.

“Work,” I replied instead, trying my best not to speak my mind. I knew needed to listen to Orlando, but the look of anger and disgust in Liam’s eyes made me want to shoot him in the dick.

He tried to pull himself back. “You should relax today. It’s a day for family.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I smiled. “I slept like a fucking baby.”

Because I got out of the chair you fucking chained me to like a dog, you bitch ass motherfucking cock.

He glared at that. “So did I, in fact. The bed was not what I am used to, but I am not one to complain.”

Unless you don’t get what you want. Then you just cry like a newborn baby who had his ass slapped.

I smiled again before looking back at the information in front of me.

“You should know that my mother is not fond of cursing, especially in women. To her, women who have to curse are classless, brainless, and foul.” He stretched every word out as I crossed my legs, my beautiful sexy legs. He could not look away.

I grinned. “You don’t fucking say? Well damn, ain’t that a mother-shit-fucking bitch? Don’t worry, Callahan, I am not going to cock it up. In fact, I am going to try my absofuckinlute best not to curse in front of Mama Callahan.”

His eyes blazed. “Stop the car,” he told the driver, who stomped on the brakes.

Liam grabbed the iPad from my hand, a bottle of brandy, and then stepped out of the car and poured it all over the poor device before dropping his lighter, flame blazing, on top of it. It went up so quickly that I could hear the glass cracking. Stepping back in the car, he ran his hands through his hair before adjusting his jacket and tie.

“Go on,” he told the driver.

Remember Orlando.

“A tad bit immature, don’t you think?” I asked, not bothering to look over for fear that I might smack the shit out of his face.

“You don’t fucking say?” He repeated my words. “But it was either the tablet or you, and since there are dozens of photographers and reporters all waiting to see a happy couple, I figure killing you wouldn’t go over well.”

“You better hope it burns thoroughly,” I said, breathing through my nose.

He sighed. “Knowing you, love, I wouldn’t doubt if it had a self-destruct switch.”