“Hey, Mr. Genovese!” a female voice called back. From around a corner, a familiar face popped into view, her freckles smudged with dust and ginger hair looking a bit white on top from the fallen plaster.
“Hey, Gaby. I thought I’d stop in and check on things. How’s it going?”
“The more we dig in, the more trouble we find,” she reported with a sigh. “Come see for yourself.”
Stepping through the area gingerly, Brannigan did as bid, then followed her pointing finger. Gaby had knocked out a good section of the living room, leaving only one wall not demolished, but the section she indicated was around the front picture window. It was clear even to his eyes how rotten it was. “That looks done for.”
“Basically is. It’s all water damage. The seals on the outside failed at some point, but with no one routinely maintaining things, it just seeped right into the studs. Right now, the window’s so loose in the frame, I bet I could push it out with a single shove.”
“Yikes. Are all the windows like this?”
“About half, or at least that’s what we’ve seen so far. All the plumbing’s iffy, the wiring is basically shot—I’m honestly surprised we haven’t had an electrical fire take the whole place out yet. So your timing on this place is good.” She rubbed at her nose, leaving a new streak of dirt behind. “But we can fix it.”
Gaby wasn’t his foreman, but she was the foreman’s right hand and good at her job. Brannigan had collaborated with her company on a total of six projects so far, and they did good work. He trusted her opinion on this. “Okay. Tell me if costs go up. I want this place done right.”
“Sure thing.”
“And also tell me if you’re getting hassled. I’ve heard some disturbing reports.”
Wincing, Gaby admitted, “Had a few thugs come by and try to muscle us out. Duke was here, though, and he threw them out on their asses. I don’t think that was the end of it, but they left.”
“When was this?” Brannigan asked in alarm.
“Day before yesterday. Haven’t seen them since, but we’re all on the lookout for them.”
He mentally swore a few times. “I’ve got security forming up and patrolling the area. You want someone to sit nearby, just in case?”
“I think we’d all feel better about it,” she admitted openly, hands spread. “It’s just so…unnerving working out here.”
“I’ll make a call and get it set up. For today, everyone knock off. I don’t want you out here after dark.”
“Sure. I’ll pass the word to lock it up for the night.”
Brannigan walked back out of the construction zone and to the sidewalk before he fired off a text to Gideon to get someone stationed out here by tomorrow. He was so focused on his phone that the hand on his shoulder startled him out of his skin. “The hell!”
“Sorry, sorry,” a man with a thick Russian accent apologized at his elbow. “Did not mean to scare you, da?”
Brannigan eyed him warily. Who was this? He looked…dangerous, to sum it up in a word. Rangy build, penetrating grey eyes, a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his black sweater. Brannigan’s instincts were going haywire because of him even though there was a genuine, amused smile on the man’s face. He belatedly realized that coming out here without Gideon was perhaps a poor life decision on his part. “And who are you?”
“I’m Eidolon,” the man introduced himself cheerfully. “One of K’s family. Ouch. Right now, he yell at me.”
“Yell?” Brannigan repeated uncertainly. He couldn’t believe he was finally meeting someone from K’s family in person. It was too surreal after six years of nothing but texts, emails, and phone calls. Was this man legit?
Eidolon slipped something from his pocket, holding it between thumb and finger to show Brannigan. It was a small, very compact earbud. With a wink, he slipped it deftly into Brannigan’s ear, which was almost instantly filled with the sound of a voice he knew very well.
“—can’t fucking believe you’re just chatting him up. God, Ivan, I’m going to kill you!”
“So he is one of yours?” Brannigan asked, bemused. They had earbuds? Like in spy movies?
There was a startled intake of breath. “Did he just give you his earbud?”
“I think he still has one in. But he gave me one, yes.”
“Shit. Eidolon, what the hell are you playing at?!”
“Shh,” Eidolon (Ivan?) soothed, smile metamorphizing into an impish grin. “I was curious. Just followed him for a while.”
A sound, like someone had just thumped their head against something solid, came through the bud.
“Bad men are following him,” Eidolon informed him.
“You mean aside from you?”
Eidolon snickered. “Da, aside from me.”
Brannigan listened to this by-play with fascination. This was all still surreal, as if he’d walked into a daydream and hadn’t yet figured out it wasn’t reality. He’d never have expected this in a million years and while Eidolon still looked a bit alarming, he couldn’t take it seriously while the man was messing so much with K and obviously enjoying it. Anyone who could tease was good in Brannigan’s books. “You could have just come up and said hi, you know.”
“Da,” Eidolon agreed, bouncing a bit on his toes. “But seeing K lose his shit more fun.”
“I hate you,” K ground out. “Just for that, I’m telling your husband about all of this.”
“Bah,” Eidolon dismissed airily. “He finds it funny too. But we chat more later, da? Brannigan, you need to leave now. Trouble’s coming. Come, go, go.”
Brannigan dug in his heels against Eidolon’s pushing, which took some effort as the man was stronger than he looked. “What do you mean, trouble? I have employees here—”
“Is fine, is fine,” Eidolon soothed, still urging him forward. “Malvagio and Smiley here too. We all protect your people until they can get in cars and go home. But Mob is not happy and are wanting to take bit of revenge on you. We stop them tonight.”
“I’m not exactly helpless, you know. I can help drive them off.”
Eidolon looked him over, considering. “I believe that.”
K made squawking noises of protest.
“Tonight, can you go anyway?” Eidolon requested sincerely. “For one, K might have heart attack. For another, you do not know how we fight. We do not know how you fight. Dangerous to put an unknown in this situation.”
Brannigan wanted to protest, but both points were valid. “You sure the three of you can handle it, though? The O’Conner family isn’t a pushover. I think they were just testing the defenses two days ago, judging how much muscle to send in.”
“Da, I think you’re right. But we’re an assassin, thief, and mercenary. We can handle it. They not send much muscle.”
“Eidolon,” K sighed, sounding resigned, like he already knew the answer. “Did you break into the Irish Mob’s headquarters?”
“Am I in trouble if I did?”
“Yes, you’re fucking in trouble if you did.”