Mac a scottish mafia rom.., p.1
Mac: A Scottish Mafia Romance (Mountain Men), page 1
Mac
A Scottish Mafia Romance
Jane Henry
Copyright © 2021 by Jane Henry
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover photography by Wander Aguiar
Cover art by PopKitty Designs
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Previews
About the Author
Free book
Synopsis
Bryn Aitkens is the daughter of my enemy.
And my enemies must pay.
Vengeance for the wrong done my family has driven me.
Consumed me.
And collateral damage means nothing.
So I’ll charm the innocent girl.
Seduce her.
Win her over, heart and body.
Ruin her for anyone but me.
And then strike the Aitkens family when they least suspect it.
For no enemy of the Cowen Clan goes unpunished…
Including her.
Chapter 1
Mac
I walk into the meeting fucking prepared.
I know everything about her.
Everything.
I know her height, her weight, and the fact that she’s got two little dimples on either side of her mouth, freckles she covers with makeup, and when she’s nervous, she clears her throat and blinks rapidly. She listens to jazz and rock music, depending on her mood. She designs and sews her own clothing and has done so since she was young, reads historical romance in her downtime, and she hates her bloody father.
That makes two of us, then.
The youngest child of the Aitkens family, she’s been somewhat spoiled but starved for affection.
I’ll keep that in mind.
I swipe my mobile off, hiding her social media accounts I’ve been monitoring now for months, and head into the office for our meeting.
“Mac.” Leith’s sitting at the desk when I enter, sipping a cup of tea.
“Y’alright, lads?” I ask, greeting the men of the Clan as I lean across his desk and push the window open higher.
Leith scowls at me. “We need privacy, Mac, what the hell are you doing?”
I can’t help but smirk at him. My older brother’s a bit of a tight-arse.
I stick my head out the window.
“Not a bloody soul from here to the road to Inverness, Leith. Don’t know how anyone’d hear a single thing. And Jesus, I’m bloody sick of not having some fresh air in here. Feels good.”
I’d make damn sure no one’s heard us. I have a plan to put into action, details I’m about to discuss with my brothers that no one can hear.
No one.
But a little fresh air won’t threaten that.
He huffs out a breath, and just to placate him, I draw down the window a few centimeters.
“There. That better?”
He rolls his eyes and scrubs a hand through his hair. The overhead lighting glints on the gold ring on his finger. Who’d have thought Leith would be married? He’s so much of a loner, I half expected him to be the family’s perpetual bachelor.
Seems that role, however, has been reserved for me. Maybe Tate. But definitely me.
“We need to talk about the Aitkens girl,” I say to Leith, and Tate’s eyes swivel to mine.
“What about her?” he asks.
“You remember our plan last year, for me to make a move on Aitkens for what he’s done—”
A sharp knock sounds at the door. Leith sits up straighter and raises his voice.
“Aye?”
The door flies open, and our younger sister Islan walks in.
“Hello there, boys,” she says with a smile.
Has she heard any of our conversation? Bloody hell.
I can tell already she’s got something up her sleeve by the look she’s giving Leith. Islan’s not one to interrupt a quarterly meeting with pleasantries, so I suspect she’s trying to butter him up. He’s ridiculously dedicated to safety, so she rarely asks for much. Every once in a while, though…
“What is it, Islan?” Leith asks. She’s recently turned twenty years old, though she’s acted like she was going on her twenties for the past few years. Tall and willowy, she’s got our mum’s high cheekbones and vivid, mischievous blue eyes. Unlike Mum, though, she’s still unafraid of the ways of the world, still enamored by what the world has to offer her.
“Was just thinking, Leith,” she says in a sickly sweet voice. “I heard that Mac and the boys were heading to Paris on one of your little mission trips.”
How the bloody hell did she hear that? It’s a good reminder that nothing we’ve said is really private, not when we’ve got sisters that listen in on every damn thing.
“How’d you hear that?” I ask, fixing her with a stern look. She only looks abashed for a fraction of a second before she flashes me a grin.
“I have my ways.”
I growl at her, shaking my head. “It’s none of your business, Islan.”
She holds her head up higher with an air of superiority. “What is and is not my business isn’t your business, Mac.” She turns back to Leith. “So. Paris.”
A muscle ticks in Leith’s jaw, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s called one of the biggest potential moneymakers of our lives our “little mission trip” or because he knows where she’s going with this. I lean back in my chair and watch what’s sure to be a bloody good fireworks show.
“And I was wondering if you'd let me and the girls tag along with you,” she finishes. She bats her eyelashes so innocently, I half-wonder for a minute if he’ll cave.
“Is that all?” he asks. I watch her eyes light up with false hope. There’s no way he’ll allow the girls to travel with us, especially because one of them will most certainly be his wife Cairstina.
“Aye,” she says. “That’s all. I know that Paisley’s been dying to get to Paris, and you know I’ve never been. It’s such a shame, so close to us, yet so far away…”
I roll my eyes. Paris is hardly “close” to us. It’s a good fifteen hours by car from Inverness, which is half an hour from here, and just over three hours by plane. Her voice trails off in a sigh, and I can’t tell if she’s trying to get him to be sympathetic and feel badly for her, or if she really is wistful.
I honestly feel badly for her, even if she ought to know better than to stick her nose in our work. While my brothers and I travel quite frequently, it’s always for business and hardly a joyride. The girls, on the other hand, are frequently secluded in our mountain dwelling, deep in the Highlands of northern Scotland, and are lucky if Leith allows them to shop in Inverness with their bodyguards.
Leith picks up a sheaf of papers, looking suddenly so similar to my father it makes me wince a little. He isn’t my father, though, something we all need to remember. He taps the papers on the table, straightening them up. When he looks at her, he almost looks sorrowful. I think being married to Cairstina has softened him up a bit.
“Not this time, Izzy.”
Tate looks at me, and we share a look. He hasn’t called her our childhood nickname, Izzy, in so long… not since our eldest brother Tavish died, if I’m not mistaken.
She pouts at this and flounces into a chair. “Then I’m not leaving your super- secret sanctuary meeting,” she says, tossing up air quotes with her fingers, “until you actually cave this time.”
I make a sound of warning she doesn’t heed. Little brat.
Leith’s jaw firms even more, and he shoots her a withering look. “Really? We’re playing that game now? You know we won’t allow it, so you might as well move along.”
If Leith thought patronizing her further would actually work, he was wrong.
I decide it’s time to intervene, to try another tactic, since clearly intimidation isn’t working. She knows how we bloody well adore her and Paisley, and she’s using that to her advantage. She gives me a doleful look, pouting, and I sigh. I can’t help but be affected by it.
“Listen, lassie,” I say, reaching my hand out to pat her knee. “We’ve got more than one trip to Paris planned, I guarantee it. Just be patient until the time is right, and soon enough I’ll know the lay of the city well enough I can take all of you for a real trip. Can you just be patient a wee bit longer?”
Leith scowls, likely unhappy with both her pouting and my interference, but I have no regrets. Maybe the girls ought to be able to get out once in a while.
“Islan!” Mum’s voice sounds outside the door. There’s a knock, then she pushes it in and smiles when her eyes alight on our sister. “There y’are. Come, will you, Paisley’s got her dress and needs a good fitting. We want yo ur opinion.” The girls are in their friend Fran’s wedding, and have to do a “fitting,” whatever the hell that is.
Islan pushes to her feet with an impressively dramatic sigh. “Fine, then,” she mutters. She turns and shoots daggers at Leith. “This conversation isn’t over.”
He smiles. “Ah, but it is.”
Mum looks from one to the other in surprise. I only shrug and smile back at her. Islan throws up her hands in frustration and leaves with Mum.
When the door shuts tight, Leith nods at it. “Favor, Mac. Lock the bloody thing, will you? Next thing you know Paisley’ll be wandering in looking for something as well.”
Though he complains about the interruptions, I know he really wouldn’t have it any other way. Devotion to our entire family’s at the core of who he is. It is for all of us.
“Now, Mac,” Leith says, leaning back in his chair and fixing me with a serious look. “Tell us what you mean by multiple trips to Paris?” He hasn’t mentioned the other plans I brought up yet.
“Well,” I begin. I've researched this heavily, and I'm prepared. “The recent exchange rates make it much more profitable for us to have loan deals in Paris, in addition to everything we have in Scotland. I know you like to keep our work close to the vest, but the interest we’ve made in Paris over the past six months makes it clear we need to pursue business there.”
“Ah, right,” Leith says with a nod. “And at the end of the month, I’m to meet with Luis Martin and seal the deal finally.”
“Excellent,” my older brother Tate says with a grin. He looks a lot like Leith, but with a heavier beard and Mum’s blue eyes.
Leith nods. “Well done, you,” he says with an actual smile that reaches his eyes. “I’m damn proud of how you’ve handled this.”
My chest swells with pride. My dad never gave praise and still doesn’t, no matter what we’ve done. He’s quick with correction or criticism, but seemed to think somehow it would make us weaker men if we were praised. Leith has no such compunctions. Though he hardly lavishes it on any of us, when he’s truly proud of a job well done, he doesn’t hold back either.
Clyde, William, Tate and I all watch as Leith rolls out a newspaper.
“Didn’t know they still made those. Like seeing a fucking dinosaur,” Tate mutters under his breath. I snicker along with the rest of them, but Leith only rolls his eyes.
“I don’t need someone watching what I click on online,” Leith says. “Jesus knows they watch damn near every fucking thing we do. Makes sense that no one can trace the paper, though. And aye, they’re hard to come by, but turns out it helps having a sister whose best friend works at a bookstore, hmm?”
Tate gives him a look I can’t quite decipher. “Aye, brother. Fairly good point, that.”
“Cairstina sure likes it.” Cairstina, Leith’s wife, is an avid reader. The girls’ mate Fran’s got a job at the bookstore in Inverness centre now, and she keeps the girls well stocked with new reads.
Leith rolls out the paper, smoothes it down, and the smell of paper and ink fills the small room. It brings me back to my childhood, and I remember sitting right here in this chair, while my father read the paper. I’d bring him his afternoon tea, or a message from Mum. He rarely looked up. Rarely acknowledged me.
It’s not a pleasant memory.
“Here,” Leith says. He circles an article with a black marker, scowling at the paper. “Aitkens strikes again.” He shakes his head from side to side and looks at me. “It’s time, Mac. What were you saying about the Aitkens?”
I know exactly what he means, though I’m not sure anyone else in the room does.
Just over a year ago, our rivals, the Aitkens Clan, attacked our Clan. They didn’t have the fucking bollox to attack us outright. They’d lose that battle. Instead, they went after our sister. We were told by Jimmy Aitkens that our father had promised our youngest sister Paisley to them in an arranged marriage when she was just a wee bairn, but our father vehemently denies it. And when asked to prove the promise, Banner Aitkens, the Clan Captain, flailed.
The Aitkens were responsible for attacking my family. For hurting my sister.
They’ll pay for what they’ve done.
Ever since then, we’ve planned retribution. It isn’t the way of the Scottish to immediately seek revenge, though I wanted to go after them the very night we found out what they did. We waited. We want them to think that we’ve forgotten what happened. But we haven’t.
It hasn’t been easy for me to delay the vengeance I wanted. That all of us craved. But we’ve kept ourselves busy bringing money into the Cowen Clan coffers, securing deals and trades, and Clyde has upped his racketeering game to record levels.
“We’ve never been in a financially better spot,” Leith says to all, as he addresses the room. “It’s time for us to put into motion the plan Mac proposed last year.”
“And what might that be?” William, our bookkeeper and the older one in our Clan, asks.
Leith jerks his head at me. “Tell them.”
I sit up, eager to discuss what I want to do. “We decided last year the best way to get revenge on Aitkens is through his daughter, but Leith asked me to hold off, so I did. This time, we’ll play meet fire with fire.”
“How?” Tate asks, his keen eyes holding mine.
“Actually, it should be a lot easier than we thought.”
Leith smiles grimly at me, nodding to encourage me.
“Aitkens’ youngest daughter has been kept out of the spotlight, to a fault. She knows nothing about the work her father does, nothing about his rivals.”
“How do you know this?” Tate asks.
“I’ve been following her for the past fucking year.”
“Brilliant,” Leith mutters.
I snort and nod my head. “Aye. So this time, we get the upper hand. She won’t know me from Adam if I introduce myself to her. She works in a little private shop just outside of Inverness, and I can make my way in with her easily. I know what she likes. I know what she doesn’t.” I smile. “And I have a way with women.”
“Jesus,” Tate mutters with a snort. “Why has her father allowed her to own a store in the centre?”
“Not really sure he knows. She does have a security detail, and they follow her everywhere. Looks like she uses the store as a front.”
Tate nods slowly, clearly not impressed.
“So that’s yer plan?”
I smile, eager to tell them the details.
“I’ll seduce her. Make her think she loves me.”
Clyde snorts. “How the bloody hell will you do that? Drug her?”
Without hesitation, I shrug. “Aye. Naturally. If necessary.”
The room quiets.
“Mac’s planned this for long enough, I’m certain he knows every detail of what he’s planning,” Leith says with absolute confidence.
Slowly, the men around me nod as I explain.
“She’s a bonnie lass. But she’s been protected. Kept away from the world of the mob. She won’t know who I am.”
“Her fucking guard might.”
I shake my head. “They won’t. I’ve already scoped them. Suffice it to say, my sources say Aitkens fired his entire guard and hired Russians. They’re brand new. Won’t know who I am.”
Not to mention the fact that we’re reclusive, rarely sighted by anyone outside of our inner circle.
“You’re fucking inked from the top of your head to yer nuts,” William says, and the men laugh.
He’s exaggerating. “What have you seen of my nuts, ya wanker? Easily covered. Plus, I’ve been watching her. I know that she’s able to get away from her bodyguards if necessary.” I wink. “And I’ll make it necessary.”
“Wow, are you an arsehole,” Clyde says with pride. I grin at him.
“Why thank you. She’ll know who I am eventually. I only need to keep my identity secret to begin with. But by then… well, by then it will already be too late.”
