Inked Destiny

dominated, drifting upward from an arrangement delivered fresh earlier in the day.

His father rose from the sofa as they neared. Cathal said, “This is Mirela.”

“My mother was Jaelle Dvorak,” Mirela said, causing a flash of surprise in his father’s eyes, and then the shock was his when she added, “On her deathbed she finally gave me the name of my father. You.”

She thrust her hand out, the ring appearing ordinary against the backdrop of the San Francisco Bay. “In case you doubt me, here is your proof. You gave this to her in Prague.”

Fuck. Not Brianna’s sister. His.

Niall motioned to the furniture in a gesture to sit. When they had, he looked at Mirela and said, “Why did you come here? What do you want?” His voice was cool, his eyes assessing, in that moment, the mafia don Cathal knew him to be.

Mirela’s chin lifted, and if her hands tightened marginally on the material of her pants, he still gave her props for bravery, and he admired her for it. “I came to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Not always a smart move.”

“Dad—”

A glance in his direction said this was between his father and, Jesus, his sister.

She sent him a glance too. “I wanted to meet Cathal. I have no other family now that my mother is dead.”

Bad timing, Cathal thought for the second time since getting a look at Mirela. “We need to take this into your office, Dad.” Code for I have something to tell you and it’s not something for the authorities to overhear.

“It have anything to do with why you’re traveling with a bodyguard now? From the look of him, one of Eamon’s?” Proof his father had been called to watch what was going on outside.

“Yes.”

Niall’s focus shifted to Mirela. “Coincidences make me itchy. Now more than ever since I have a son who’s hooked up with a policeman’s daughter.” Meaning he wasn’t convinced she wasn’t working for the authorities.

Cathal’s own paranoia allowed for the possibility, ratcheted up a notch because she’d been at the club. Icy sensation swept over him. What if last night was some kind of a setup? What if the authorities had caught him walking away from a body, even if the death would be ruled self-defense in any court. What if—

He shook it off. For once magic and the existence of the supernatural actually provided some relief. Cage wasn’t human. The blade wasn’t simply a knife. And the ring Mirela wore as a keepsake was something more than that, he’d known last night and Heath’s reaction confirmed it.

Careful subtext, he’d spent a lifetime communicating with his father that way, but in that moment he was tired of it. He took out his phone, typed in a text message he’d never send. Someone came after me. Warn Denis in case Brianna is also a target.

The cold in his father’s expression deepened at reading it. “Your woman has some dangerous friends and acquaintances. You nearly got killed yesterday because of her.”

Cathal laughed at the rich irony of that, coming from his father. “She’s the one who would have been collateral damage. Fallout from seeing that justice is done.” Your brand of justice. Her father’s and her brother’s.

The slightest tilt of Niall’s head acknowledged the point and message. “I’ll tell Denis that because of your association with her, you now feel the need for a bodyguard.”

“Good enough.” Which left Mirela, unprotected, a complication.

Another irony there. He could hear Eamon’s voice in his head, calling him the same thing.

He wasn’t sure whether his father would offer her protection. He couldn’t be positive she’d be smart to accept the offer if made.

Mirela wasn’t to blame for the circumstances of her birth. Acknowledging her existence wasn’t a moral dilemma for him though his mind shied away from thinking about the impact of this on his mother.

“You interested in following me home and meeting my fiance, Etain?” he asked her, making his position clear to his father and also creating the possibility that Eamon would assign an Elf to guard her.

She seemed surprised by the offer, genuinely pleased. “I’d love to.”

“Your mother’s due home in a few minutes,” Niall said, not that he couldn’t easily have her delayed.

Cathal took the hint. “I need to get going anyway.”

Niall escorted them as far as the front door. When it was closed behind them, he turned to Orin. “You get a tracker on her car?”

“Yes.”

“Follow them. Then follow her after she leaves my son’s house.”

* * *

I expected you to hate me,” Mirela said as they reached her car.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t make sense to. I’ve always known what my father and uncle are. You want the address?”

Her smile reminded him of Etain’s, without the sexual jolt of awareness. “I already have it.”

Of course she did. “You were at Saoirse last night. Why didn’t you approach me then?”

She started to answer. Hesitated. Finally said, “You’ll think me crazy.”

He laughed at that. “Trust me, there’s plenty I could say that would make me sound it.”

“I felt it wasn’t safe. A premonition. I’ve learned to listen to them.”

He stepped back to allow her to get in the car. It was a rental.

Heath waited for him in his. “A sister? A cousin?” It was the first curiosity the Elf had revealed since accompanying him.

“Sister. Will Eamon offer her protection?”

“In the interim, I’m sure he will do so.”

“What do you mean by that, in the interim?”

Auburn eyebrows lifted. “When the Lady becomes his consort, it will be in her power to assign bodyguards, and by extension, yours.”

Cathal didn’t have time to determine how he felt about that. His cellphone rang as he pulled away from the curb, the tone indicating Sean.

“You got a hit on the prints,” he said.

“Always in a rush to get to the climax. I hope sex isn’t that way for you.”

“If I respond you’ll be covering your ears and complaining about too much information.”

Sean laughed. “Doubtful. I admit to my kink. Secondhand works for me when the parties are visually attractive.”

“Ever been accused of being shallow?”

“Not recently.”

“What have you got for me?”

“The prints belong to a banger who just happens to be in the same gang Marc Ruiz, street name Sleepy, is now part of. How’s that for a coincidence?”

Cathal glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Mirela’s car tucked behind his, his thoughts echoing his father’s. “I don’t believe in coincidences. You don’t either.”

“No, but I’ve got a working theory that’d explain it.”

“Want to share?”

“The gang Ruiz is in is Sureno. Individual gangs can be at war with each other over turf, but they all answer to the Mexican Mafia. As long as you have Surenos, some of them aspiring to be made members, carnales, of La Eme, you’ve got a steady stream of soldiers to carry out murder, extortion, whatever, you name it, including contracted hits.”

“Meaning Ruiz and associates could also be a strong possibility for what happened in Oakland?”

“If the order came from a Mexican Mafia member, yeah, though their going across the bay bothers me. I’d have assumed an Oakland Sureno gang would have been used. But that’s how assumptions go, they can leave you screwed and rushing to cover your ass for a bad call. I need more intel. I get it, I can take a stab at who ordered