The Irish Syndicate Novelas e Histórias

"The director isn't Russian." I go still. Maya watches my face. "Who?" Liam pauses. Then says it. "An Irish holding company." My jaw locks. "Name?" "Hayes Maritime Investments." Silence. Complete fucking silence. I look at my father. Then Maya. Then the photograph in his hand. Hayes. Our name. My voice comes out low. "Who owns it?" "We're still pulling records.” He tells me. “Liam,” I say. "I know." "Find out,” I say. I should’ve brought my computer and my stuff, everything would be out int he open by now..

"Go on." "The Irish are planning something big. We caught wind of a shipment coming in Saturday. We'll get them all." I exhaled slowly. That was good news, maybe even better than some rat willing to betray the great Niko Valencia. Over the years, Niko had grown soft, his men lazy. The Irish had been creeping in, testing the waters, searching for a way to carve out their own piece of New York. But this? This wasn't just testing. This was a move.

) Another man yelled from the other end of the table. “It was the Irish mob” A lady that looked Chinese to me walks in on a black suit through the now open entrance doors . Finally another woman asides me in this huge house. The sound of her heel echoed as she walked to the don and dropped files on his desk. “The Irish mob planted a guard in the New York cosa Nostra to learn secrets about the business since the don has refused to merge ,and the guard was killed . The revenge plan was to kill he’s girlfriend and take Mr Adams hostage until the don agrees to merge business or handover …or so we figured”

If he’d known I was on a rampage, he wouldn’t have promised me a visit from his crew. He’d spat blood and promised that his death wouldn’t go unavenged. I’d snarled back that I wouldn’t expect any less. The fucker didn’t get another breath after that. He’d been a name we crossed off the hit list. One of the major players sniffing around the Grand Marlow hotel with connections to the syndicate. The syndicate wasn’t just an individual, but a disease spread across half the city, rotting it from the inside out. Trafficking, smuggling, blood money. If you cut off one limb, another would reach out.

They have no idea what's coming from them. I've worked hard for one very purpose and that's to make Reynolds pay. I did not become the owner of the most feared mafia group here in London for nothing. My organization is huge and I have people under me who fear me. I built up ‘The Beasts Syndicate’ from scratch and now I'm the most feared. I did not attain the nickname ‘la bete’ for nothing. “I hate you, Keiran,” Vaughn mutters through gritted teeth. “You're free to do that. It's a free world. I have to go now. And I hope you liked the gift.” I say before walking past him. As I reach the door, he yells after me.

Both of us are daring the other to make the first move. I know what he's talking about. It's the La Rosas. I took them down, took their all and these bloody red haired Irish syndicates want in on a share! Not by deal though, they want it by force. One thing about the La Rosas is that they've got connections, dead or alive. And connection is worth more than seventy ripped off heads of soldatos “You’ve got two options,” I finally say, coldly and flatly. “Turn around and crawl back to whatever rock you came from, or stay, and I’ll bury you here.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. She’s a woman, not a threat. Our plans will not be thwarted.” He wagged a slender finger, differing with another opinion. “But she could be a threat. There’s hushed news about the Irish forming alliance with the Mexican tycoon Tristan Gomez, and it’s not that fucking hard to figure out the only reason the fifty-nine-year-old will agree to that arrangement. He has eyes on the girl and wants to make her his. Despite the rumors about him murdering his first wife, her brother doesn’t seem to give a fuck if she suffers the same fate.” That wasn’t news to anyone. The Irish were greedy sons of bitches who cared more about power and money than brotherhood. They’d twist and tu

He says with a hint of a smile in his tone. “Daragh O’Rourke, this is Matteo. Where is he?” I ask, and Daragh chuckles once more. The Irish are men and women you don’t fuck with. Some think the Bratva and Italian Mafia are the ones to be worried about. They would be wrong. The Irish are much worse. They started revolutions back in Ireland and bought them to the US. Starting in New York and moving to Boston.

Nimi muttered his palm rubbing his forehead as he watched the both of them walked out. She gently took out his phone and dialed Darell, “She found out,” Somewhere in Canada …. “With all said and done, the syndicate will now be handed over to Mr Franco Thatcher as I step down!” The current leader of the syndicate said and the few people in the small hall erupted in an applause. “You lie!” Aiden growled and his voice filled the room as he gallantly made his way in. “You’re already late Aiden just take your seat quietly,” the anchor said to him.

There was no telling what move they had been planning. “Yes, they’re back. We’re doing a thorough check on them for rats,” Rione said, crossing his hands over his chest. “I have new information as well.” I twisted my head toward him and he continued with a worried look on his face, “They’re going into business with O’Sullivans.” I scoffed. “That’s it?” He shrugged. “We have Callahans and they’re the biggest force in Ireland. O’Sullivans may be powerful, but they’re no match for Callahans.”