His Mafia Prince
Chapter 242: Whatever They’re After

Chapter 242: Whatever They’re After

(SASHA)

We settle in and I even have what Darla calls a "restorative nap," although my mind is too busy for much of it to let me sleep.

When I finally do, I have dreams—nightmares, really. All the anxieties running around in my subconscious coming to the fore. I feel more tired after my nap than before, and so I decide, on Darla’s insistence for tonight, at least, to dine in my room.

Tyler looks highly approving when he finds out. "I’ll stay up here, too," he says.

"No, angel. You go down and enjoy yourself with all those people you like."

"I like you," he retorts.

"I want you to relax while we’re here."

He folds his arms. "I’m not going to leave you sitting up here brooding on your own."

"I won’t be alone; I’ve asked Gloria to join me. We have things to discuss, angel. Business."

I know Tyler like I know myself. I know every expression he has, from delight to distaste to despair. But I can’t quite read the slight frown he gives me now.

"What is it?"

"Business," he says dully. "We agreed to keep things separate—"

"Yeah, yeah." He throws up his hands. "I just don’t see why business means Gloria gets to spend time with you when I don’t."

"Because—"

"I know why," he snaps, despite having just claimed ignorance.

I don’t like these little irritations between us. They’re happening too often, and they’re not like our normal arguments. There’s something deeper underlying Tyler’s barbs these days.

"Where is this coming from, this sudden urge to...to change things that have been working for us?"

He gives me an incredulous look. "Working for us?" He takes a breath, holds it, and then lets it out slowly. "That’s a longer conversation, honey. I’ll go down and tell Gloria she’s been summoned."

"Thank you," I say, because it’s all I really can say. But I can tell from the look on Tyler’s face it’s the wrong thing to say.

It takes longer than I’d like that night to steer Gloria off the subject of my health, but she gets the message eventually, when I change the subject for the third time.

"What I’m really interested in discussing," I say, after taking a sip of water—no wine for me, Darla insisted—"is the Irish mob situation."

Gloria looks down quickly at her meal, set up on a little stand in front of the chair she’s pulls over.

"Yes. Well." My meal—a very hearty shepherd’s pie—is in on a bed tray set over my lap. In a way, it feels luxurious to be eating in bed. If it weren’t for the circumstances, I think I’d actually enjoy it.

"Any further information on the Chester attack?" I press.

She forks through the mashed potato topping, leaving little tracks in it without eating. "Nothing yet."

"If you need help with gathering information," I begin, and she gives a scowl that reminds me so much of Tyler that I have to suppress a smile.

"No, thank you," she says frostily. "My people are just as experienced as yours. If they can’t find anything, it’s not because they’re incompetent."

"I meant no disrespect," I say gently.

She sticks the fork firmly through the pie and lifts a forkful to her lips. "I’m sorry," she says. "It’s just very stressful. But of course it must be even more stressful for you, after the warehouse attack." She takes the mouthful, chews, swallows.

"I don’t know what happened to Shanahan, how they got to him. Two of my men were actually with him only moments afterward: Rory Byrne and Craig Murphy. They only recently got out of prison and they’ve been working under Conor. Both say they arrived while Shanahan was still alive, that they tried to get him to give a name before he died, but..."

She drops the fork back into her meal. "But the assassin had also cut out his tongue," she says neutrally.

"These men—Byrne and Murphy. Do you trust them?"

Murph’s been with the Family for years. Decades. And Rory—he’s saved my life more than once. He’s always talking about how he wants to bring down the Irish. He’s quite fanatical about it."

Fanatics don’t make good Family men, in my opinion, but I’ve already stood on Gloria’s metaphorical toes once this conversation. I won’t offer any more free advice. "Tyler is convinced Byrne and O’Hara are...?"

With a laugh, Gloria sweeps her hair around to one shoulder, nodding. "Yes, they’re very close. I’m happy for Conor. He works so hard, it’s good to see him have some more fun. And in other good news, we have reclaimed Snowcap Chalet."

"That is good to hear," I say. Snowcap Chalet, the Marco and Gloria’s private retreat outside Chester, isn’t exactly strategically significant, but it is symbolically important for their Family. Rather like my townhouse is symbolically important. "I hope there weren’t too many casualties."

"Not at all. They must have gotten cocky when my people went in, there was only a skeleton crew guarding the place. I know it’s just one battle," she says. "But..." She gives me a sheepish smile. "Well, it helped morale." The property is important to her, I know

"Unfortunately, the Irish really did a number on the place," Gloria goes on. "I mean, they ripped out floors, blew out all the wall safes, took sledgehammers to the plaster..." She shakes her head in disapproval. "What bothered me most was the pettiness of some of the things they did. Pulling all the books out of the bookshelves. Smashing all the ornaments. I don’t understand that mentality."

She looks up, expecting agreement, but I’m just staring at her thoughtfully. "What is it?"

"It sounds...like they were looking for something."

"Looking for something?"

"Yes. And the interesting thing is, I thought the same—I mean, the day they attacked you in the warehouse. I remember wondering why they squandered their initial advantage by going for Tyler instead of coming straight for me. Maybe they went looking for something at my home. But now I think they were on a mission, and that mission was not necessarily about killing me. And now, as we found out at the hospital, they actually want Tyler for some reason."

Gloria studies my face. "So you think there might be more to this vandalism of Snowcap Chalet than spite?" For a moment I hesitate, but then I incline my head slowly. "I do. Yes."

She pushes her meal aside and leans forward. "It makes sense. When they invaded Hillview, most of them stayed on the lower floors at first, and I never could figure out why. A few worked their way up, but once we’d cleared them out and had a look at the damage—now that you mention it, it does remind me of what happened at Snowcap Chalet. Everything overturned. Searched through."

"And at the hospital, they wanted Tyler for some specific reason," I say, trying to follow the logic.

"So—" The thought strikes us at the same time, and Gloria gives it voice. "They think Tyler knows where it is, whatever it is they’re looking for."

"Maybe."

"But what could it be?" she asks. "What on earth do a bunch of terrorists think your family or the Adonis’ are keeping from them?"

"I suppose," I say slowly, "we’ll have to ask Tyler."

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