Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
Alfie Scott
T hanksgiving was shaping up to be a weird day. Life was good, but we were hella uprooted at the moment. The house in Ardmore was a bit of a mess because we’d put all the shit from the Center City house in various rooms and in the garage. We’d also started packing some stuff for our move in February.
The house on Wister was it. West and I had done a single walk-through, and shit had just clicked for us. Now, the couple who was selling it and had watched their kids move out one by one had clearly not remodeled since the ’60s, so we had a lot to get done. But the structure of it, the layout, the comfy nooks in the arched windows, the size, how we could see the entire backyard from the patio…yeah, that was our forever home.
The most rattling thing about today was West and whatever was going on in his family, though. Despite that it’d been years since I’d celebrated the holiday having to put up with seeing Lucille and Bob, not to mention West’s sisters, being back together with him had sort of smacked me right into the headspace where I assumed we’d return to old traditions. And the old tradition dictated that we saw them in some capacity. If we were at my folks’ for dinner, then we had breakfast or brunch with the Scotts, and vice versa.
To make matters worse, Mom had woken up yesterday with a fever—according to Dad—and I wasn’t sure I bought it. Neither was West. We speculated she was building up to a cancelation. She’d been off lately. I’d seen Dad’s concern. He was worried about her but didn’t tell me shit.
I was wondering if the nightmares were back.
Now that she was off her painkillers altogether, maybe the trauma of the whole attack was coming to the surface. I didn’t know how those things worked, only that she’d been super tight-lipped about everything. Whenever I’d asked her about therapy and nightmares, she’d downplayed things and then brushed me off completely, pretending the ordeal was over.
After shoving another moving box into the guest room, I located West in the kitchen, where he was cleaning the nice china.
“I have zero Thanksgiving spirit,” I said.
He smiled sympathetically and wiped down another plate. As if they weren’t clean already. They’d been sitting in the china cabinet in the living room for ages.
“It does feel a bit off,” he conceded. “Maybe that will change once your parents get here.”
Maybe. If they showed up.
Had it not been for Mom and Dad being invited, I would’ve accepted the invitation to go to Finn and Emilia’s place. They were doing it up big. And for Christmas, they’d be in Ireland.
“Daddies!” Ellie hollered from upstairs. “Can I have more ice cream?”
“One bowl was enough!” I called back. “There’ll be plenty of sugar after dinner!”
“And bring the bowl back down here, please!” West added.
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the stove, and I just observed him for a moment. Was I imagining things or—no, fuck that. Something about him had changed.
No matter his personal issues with his parents, he had always been a man with a sense of duty and commitment. If he was in the middle of a fight with them, he would still make sure Ellie and Trip got to see them. He kept people and situations separate.
Lucille called West on his cell at least once a day. He never picked up. She never walked her snooty ass over here. But she did call.
“Are you really never gonna speak to your folks again?” I had to ask.
He offered a light shrug and kept polishing the plates. “I can’t predict the future, but I have no desire to do so at the moment.”
“What about Trip and Ellie?” I wondered. “What about your nephews? You used to insist on making sure they saw each other, regardless if you was on bad terms with your sisters and whatever.”
He took a breath and calmly set down the sixth plate in the stack. That was it. Six people for dinner.
“I don’t know what to say. Whenever I think about…” He trailed off when we heard the doorbell.
Who was here now? I doubted it was Colby. For one, he was in the city seeing some friends. For two, he finally came and went as he chose. No more knocking on the door. He used his key. For three, he was supposed to head over to JJ’s family later. Colby’s relationship with his brother was on the frosty side, but he’d grown closer to his cousins.
I pushed up the sleeves of my Henley and headed out into the hallway, and I opened the door.
Whoa. Three grim-looking Sons in similar black coats. Kellan, Eric, and Finn.
“Uh, hey. Who died?” I asked. Then worry set in, because who fucking knew. “Wait, did someone die?”
“Who is it, love?” West called.
“The Three Stooges!” I hollered back.
“We need to speak in private,” Finn told me. “Let’s go to my car.”
What the?—
“Oh—hello.” West joined us and put a hand on my lower back. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not here to wish us a happy Thanksgiving?”
I swallowed uneasily, and dread crept up my spine. Had something happened? I’d texted with Dad an hour ago, so it had to be Sons-related, in which case it couldn’t be too bad, could it? But to get a personal visit like this?—
“You’re welcome to join too,” Finn told West.
“Join what?” West furrowed his brow.
I pushed pause on the unfurling chaos in my mind and turned to him. “Tell Trip we’ll be back in ten.”
Perhaps he sensed the urgency; he didn’t have any follow-up questions. He just headed up the stairs, and I closed the door and went with the others toward Finn’s SUV.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“The case,” Kellan replied.
Fuck. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Like a flip of a switch, a noose tied itself around my throat, and a million scenarios flew past my eyes. The attackers were already dead, they’d fled to Europe or South America, there was no chance of ever tracking them down, the cops had gotten to them first?—
“I’ll wait out here.” Kellan opened the door for the back seat for me, while Finn went around to the passenger’s side, and Eric got in behind the wheel.
West strode quickly toward us as I got in.
“Before we show you this, I wanna be clear about one thing,” Finn told me. “This is not your mother. You hear me? It’s one of the other victims.”
They had footage, didn’t they? I was gonna see a video or something like that. CCTV?
“Okay.” I nodded.
West slid in too, and Kellan closed the door.
I put my hand on his thigh. “They’re gonna show us something—one of the other survivors.”
Eric extended an iPad between the seats and pushed play.
It was dark and grainy, with a lot of motion, as if someone was running or jumping around, so that ruled out surveillance footage. This was someone filming.
“No!” someone shrieked. “Please stop!”
I flinched and went rigid in my seat.
The shadows cleared as the silhouette of a woman was pushed against a dumpster, where a lone light shone down on her.
“Help me!” she screamed.
I gnashed my teeth. I heard heavy breathing on the video, in the background, and—then the video stopped abruptly.
I snapped my stare to Finn and Eric.
“That’s all we have,” Eric said.
Finn pointed at the iPad. “That’s the free preview of a video that’s being sold in a fucked-up corner of the internet. We found two of them, and they’re definitely from our attackers.”
I had no words. This was just… I had no words. Beyond revolting. Nauseating—literally. I swallowed hard as my mouth watered like it did before I had to throw up, and my throat felt too tight.
“So this is a sick game they make money off of,” West said quietly. “One attacks, the other films?”
“They’re wearing bodycams, presumably small ones on their shoulders,” Eric answered. “None of the survivors mentioned seeing any cameras, or that there was more than one man—but considering how the attackers are described, we know they’re taking turns. We think the second one simply keeps an eye out while the assault occurs.”
I flinched again, picturing Mom in one of these videos. They’d found two, but if this was a source of income for these fuckfaces, it was hard to believe they’d go through with some assaults without filming.
How the fuck was I going to keep my distance now? I’d struggled for so long already, always forcing myself to be more aloof and shut off about the search, because if I got too close, I’d fucking lose it. And now my brain wanted to spin. I wanted to know if they picked women like my mom because they were simply an easier target. A little older, a little weaker because of their size, less resistance for easy money to sell videos…?
“We have a lead to follow up on too,” Finn said. “Two of the women have, with semi-certainty, identified the same mark on their hands, and we know which club it is.”
I glanced at him. “So it is a club.”
He nodded. “By next week, we’ll have twenty-four-seven surveillance in there, and I’ve put JJ’s crew on a stakeout detail. We will find them, Alfie.”
“We don’t know if they’ll actually be there,” I replied. “They could still be using the club stamp to fuck with the investigation.”
“The club caters to a Balkan crowd,” he told me. “That’s not a coincidence. We’re getting closer.”
Maybe he was right. I knew it was no use for me to ask to be involved again; Finn would just deny me and say I was too close and too emotional. He had a small point—a tiny one—but fuck, I hated being on the outside.
“Furthermore, I tend to get what I want, cousin.” Finn buttoned up his coat and retrieved his phone. “Once upon a time, my wife said she could picture having two or three kids. Now I’m hoping for a fifth boy so she’ll keep going for six and seven.”
Man, I hoped they had a girl. Emilia fucking deserved it!
“Is she pregnant already?” I asked.
“No, not yet.” He looked to be writing something on his phone. “West, I’mma shoot my old man a message. If you wanna vent, keep it within the syndicate.”
West cleared his throat and opened the door. “No venting necessary. Have a nice Thanksgiving, boys.”
I chewed on my bottom lip and watched him head back inside.
My stomach tightened with worries, and I hated feeling the slightest distance between us.
We’d been so good with complete honesty.
“He okay?” Finn asked.
“I don’t know.” I was gonna find out, though. “Today’s gonna suck. Have a good one, guys. And thanks for coming over.”
“No problem.” Finn nodded with a dip of his chin. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“Aight, cheers. Give Emilia a hug from me and tell her I hope you have a girl.” I climbed out of the car and bumped fists with Kellan to the sound of Finn’s bitching.
Music to my ears.
Now I had to confront West.
I was gonna blurt some shit out in true Alfie fashion.
If nothing else, it would distract me from picturing the scum of the earth buying videos of women being beaten half to death.
Praise the lord for small miracles—Trip and Ellie were nowhere to be heard on the first floor, and I wanted privacy for this next bit.
West was in the kitchen again, this time inspecting the wineglasses.
I took a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No. I’m angry.” He didn’t look away from what he was doing. “I trust you can relate.”
Yeah, I still felt the distance, and we needed to nip this in the bud before we went on to talk about what we’d seen in the car.
Nerves fluttered and tightened in my stomach, and I took a step closer. “I’m gonna tell you something—we said we were gonna be stupidly honest all the time, but lately, I feel you’re keeping something from me,” I said. I swallowed dryly as he stopped and turned toward me. “And it doesn’t have to be big or bad or whatever,” I added. After all, I didn’t wanna blow shit out of proportion. “Just…something’s changed—you’re a little colder in general—and now I want you to say yes, something has changed, rather than get defensive and tell me I’m wrong because I’m not wrong. I know you, and I see it. Something’s happened. Something’s changed. You’re a little different. Please admit it.”
Okay, shut the fuck up.
I drew in a breath and waited.
He was infuriatingly unreadable, merely staring at me, and for every second that ticked by, the distance grew. The noose around my throat was back, because I couldn’t fucking take it. We’d been so happy.
Please, baby. Talk to me. I need you.
Eventually, he dropped his gaze to the counter, and his jaw ticked the way it did when he was struggling with something.
“It hasn’t been my intention to hide anything,” he said quietly. “I’m still figuring things out—but you’re right. Something is changing.”
Funny how that admission both terrified me and offered a pinch of relief. It meant the world that he’d answered honestly, but goddamn, if he’d changed his mind about us, I was going to break into a million fucking pieces.
“Okay, so—” I had to clear my throat because it was closing up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this couldn’t be happening. “Can you walk me through it? Tell me if I can fix anything? Is it me? If it’s too much with everything?—”
“What?” He snapped his gaze up and frowned. “Why would you—” As if something dawned on him—fuck if I knew—a breath gusted out him, and he closed the distance between us and hugged me tightly.
Thank fuck.
My eyes welled up in a heartbeat, and I hugged him back just as hard.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
“ Never ,” he whispered vehemently. “It’s my outlook on the world, on society—not you . I’m walking around like a ticking timebomb, and the whole situation with Giulia’s made me feel so fucking helpless.”
I screwed my eyes shut and let the relief wash over me.
Fuck me, I was almost dizzy with it.
“The reason I haven’t taken my mother’s calls is because I can’t bring myself to give a shit anymore,” he admitted. “I’ve lived my whole life keeping my mouth shut and accepting their ivory-tower view of our society—the same ivory tower I grew up in. And I’m done.”
I sniffled and inched back to look him in the eye, and I wanted to hear his thoughts. This was clearly something that had bothered him for some time.
“I’m exhausted,” he murmured. “I’m sick of worrying about if I’m a good man or not, what the right thing to do is, and how to justify my wish to make those sons of bitches die a painful death.” He let out a breath and rested his forehead to mine, and his eyes fell closed. “The past few weeks, it’s been building up inside me slowly. I wondered if I was being ungrateful for not appreciating my mother more—because you never know what could happen—but then I felt sick to my stomach.”
I cupped his cheek and scratched the back of his head.
“I don’t think I want them in our lives anymore,” he confessed. “I know what they stand for, who they defend, who they’re against, and what they value. And I don’t share any of it. The thought of sitting down with them for some fucking brunch, listening to them talk about…whatever the fuck…all while the people I truly care for?—”
“Hey,” I whispered. “You don’t have to. Let it all go. Okay?”
He drew a deep breath through his nose, eyes still closed.
“Most importantly, you can change your mind,” I continued. “Maybe we can let the kids see them…? If not now, then down the road. Or not at all, you know. I was just thinking—we talked about this once. That it’s better for Trip and Ellie to discover for themselves that your folks are…you know. And hey, maybe your nephews will grow up to be more like you. Maybe they’ll be little dicks. In which case, Ellie will put them in their place.”
He exhaled an unsteady chuckle.
At some point in the future, I’d get him to at least want to see his nephews. They adored him. They looked up to him. And they had a better shot at becoming good men if they were near West.
Speaking of good men…
“For the record, you are a good man,” I told him. “Both objectively and in my biased mobster opinion. You’re my fucking heart, West. And, occasionally, my moral compass.”
He smiled a little. “Occasionally.”
“It happens.”
He inhaled deeply again, like things were finally settling, and he nodded slightly and then kissed me on the forehead.
“I know what we need tonight,” he said and backed away. He reached for his phone, and before I could ask, he was calling someone. “Hello, this is West Scott. I have a Thanksgiving delivery scheduled for five PM for six people, and I was wondering if I could make a last-minute change.”
Wait, why?
“That’s right,” he said. “I want you to deliver it to the nearest shelter instead. My family and I won’t be needing the food.”
Whoa. What the fuck? It may be a shitty day, but I was still gonna be hungry as fuck. I’d barely eaten anything for breakfast.
What was he giving away our food for?!
I widened my arms and stared at him in disbelief.
He quirked a smirk at me. “Yes, that sounds good. Thank you very much—and happy Thanksgiving.” He ended the call. “There. Now we can?—”
“Papi, that was my turkey. I had obscene plans for it. I was gonna make sex noises when I ate the whole thing, and you just gave it away?”
He snorted softly and came over to me again. “Today’s not our day, baby.”
“I don’t know. I thought things were lookin’ up,” I muttered. “I mean, we talked and all.”
“Then let me remind you of what we just watched in Finn’s car,” he murmured, and I flinched. “Yeah. Fuck Thanksgiving. I propose we pack up the children in the car, bring comfortable clothes, and stop somewhere for hoagies or burgers on our way to your parents’.”
I looked up at him.
“We both know Giulia’s going to force herself to sit here and act like everything is fine,” he said. “Unless Phil calls with a late cancelation.” He checked his watch. “They’re supposed to be here in two hours.”
He had a point. A big one. It was better if we helped her stay comfortable, and she preferred to stay home.
“You’re right.” I pressed a kiss to his chin. “Thank you. It’s no wonder she loves you more than me.”
He chuckled and knocked his forehead to mine. “You know that’s not true.”
“It feels like that when she’s busting my balls all the time and never yours.”
I was right. I knew I was right. End of story.
“Did you get my onion rings, Daddy?” Ellie peered back as I loaded up the trunk with takeout.
“I got ’em.” Five bags filled with burgers, fries, onion rings, shakes, sodas, wings, mozzarella sticks, and one plain cheese pizza. This was after we’d stopped at a fuckin’ 7-Eleven to buy “dessert.” As in, chocolate bars, chips, and cookies. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.
“Yessss!” Ellie was way too triumphant. “No gross Thanksgiving food!”
I stared at her. “You’re basing that on the sole fact that you don’t like cranberry sauce. It makes no sense. You like turkey, you like mashed potatoes, you like?—”
“It’s grooo-oooss,” she sang.
“ You can be gross,” I snapped.
“Hey!” she yelled. “You can’t say that to your kids, man!”
Oh, whatever. I slammed the door shut and pulled up my coat a bit. The rain was coming down heavier.
Once back in the passenger’s seat, I did my best to avoid West’s look. I bet he was giving me a look. He always gave me a look.
I looked out the window instead.
“I’m glad you’re not feeling tense or anything,” he drawled and started the engine.
I wasn’t tense. I was never tense. He could be tense.
We continued toward my folks’, which was just a few blocks away from here, but it took us several minutes to find a parking spot and then carry all our shit to Mom and Dad’s building. Plus, the fucking elevator was broken, so we had to lug it all up the stairs.
Maybe I was a little tense after all. Dad had been audibly relieved to hear we were coming to them instead, but he’d offered very few details about Mom. Knowing her, she’d waved her fists around and demanded he didn’t reveal how she was really doing.
I was out of breath by the time I reached the landing, and Ellie pounded on the door.
“It’s me, Nonna!” she hollered, her voice echoing.
We heard Mom on the other side.
“You get the door. I am not dressed to entertain!”
Had he just told her we were coming, or what?
Dad opened the door and smiled as Ellie rushed forward to hug him. “Hey, li’l sprite. How you doin’?”
“I’m good! Where’s Nonna? Nonna!” She didn’t wait. She ran in.
He chuckled and turned back to us, and he was quick to offer to grab some of the bags. “Come on in, son,” he said. “Mom’s getting ready. I told her youse were on your way when she was done in the shower, so she’s been cursing me out ever since.”
Of course, of course.
“I haven’t cleaned!” Mom yelled from somewhere. Probably their bedroom.
“How’s she doing?” I asked quietly. Trip headed in too, kicking off his shoes and jacket. “No bullshit. She havin’ nightmares?”
Dad nodded with a dip of his chin. “I told her this morning we could cancel, but you know how she is.”
Sure did.
“Did she really have a fever?” I set down the rest of the bags on the floor and let West walk past me.
“Nah. She has a mild cold,” he replied. “I just figured the excuse of being sick might be more comfortable for her. You know.”
Yeah, it made sense.
In that case, I had some work to do, where I had to overstep some boundaries.
While West and Dad entertained the kids and set up the food in the living room, I made quick work of stripping down to my T-shirt and boxer briefs. Then I pulled out my sweats from a bag—never mind, those were West’s. There. I grabbed mine and stepped into them.
West and I weren’t fucking around. We were here for a night of takeout and watching movies.
As I headed to my folks’ bedroom, I messed up my hair and hollered for the kids to go change into jammies.
They thought the prospect of a pajama party was fun.
I knocked on the bedroom door. “Ma? You decent?”
“No! I’m in my robe!”
Eh, decent enough.
I opened it carefully, just a few inches, and saw she was covered up.
She glared at me, busy brushing her hair. “Your father told me ten minutes ago. Ten minutes! That is how long it takes to remove the plastic from this stupid thing.” She gestured at the boot brace thing. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“Because this is the dress code for tonight.” I walked over to her and gently took away the hairbrush. Don’t think about the video, don’t think about the video . “Come on. You’re good to go.”
She scoffed but didn’t protest too much when I ushered her out. “What are you talking about?”
West met us in the hallway with a smile. “Hi, Giulia. I’m just gonna go change.”
“Nonna, look!” Ellie beamed in the doorway to the living room, and she’d donned her latest kitten pajamas. “Trip has trains on his. Auntie Luna sent them to us.”
“I want to eat while it’s warm, please!” Trip announced.
Mom peered farther in and saw the coffee table. It was packed with the takeout we’d brought.
“What is this?” she whispered thickly.
I kissed the top of her head. “Thanksgiving in PJs—and you choose the movie as long as it doesn’t require subtitles.”
Dad extended a hand to her. “Come on, honey. I’ve got your blankets and everythin’ here.”
Mom swallowed hard and glanced up at me. “But you ordered dinner.”
“Fuck it. It was never gonna be as good as your food anyway,” I murmured.
Her eyes became glassy, and I helped her over to Dad, who assisted her to her seat in the left corner of the couch. Trip and Ellie took up the middle space, and the right corner became mine.
When West joined us, he went for the other chair.
I kept an eye on Mom as Ellie spoke loudly over everyone, claiming all the onion rings—of which I had ordered twenty—and West and I prepared plates for the kids. Dad filled a plate for Ma?—
“Dad, that burger has no pickles.” I pointed. It was Mom’s.
“Ketchuuuup!”
“Princess, lower your voice.”
“Can we watch Minions ?”
“Nonna’s choosing, champ.”
“I’mma steal all the onion rings?—”
“No, Daddy!”
“For the love of God, Alfie.” West shot me a look. Always with the looks!
I snickered and threw a couple fries into my mouth.
Dad looked real content, sitting in his recliner, scarfing down a slice of pizza, and Mom—she was looking at me, and she had a small smile on her face.
“Thank you, mijo ,” she mouthed.
I smiled back. “It was West’s idea.”
“I’m grateful for you both. This is perfect.”
I had to agree. West had saved Thanksgiving.
“Seven pizza boxes, two bags from Federal, six containers from Hershel’s, and more tinfoil than in a conspiracy theorist’s hat collection,” I announced, reentering the room. “We need to create healthier lunch habits, buddy.” I stopped short when I saw how quickly Colby closed a tab on his computer. “Are you watching porn at this ungodly hour?”
“What the fuck? No!”
I lifted my brows. What else did a sixteen-year-old do online that caused such a swift removal of evidence?
I walked over to the coffee table and threw all the soda cans and old napkins into the garbage bag.
Our little workplace condo was clean once more. Tomorrow, I’d bring over a Santa hat. Maybe pin it to the wall to really showcase our winter wonderland to all the zero people who visited. Well, Kellan stopped by sometimes to do inventory of the safes in the bedroom slash storage. In fact, he was coming over in twenty.
“So what were you doing?” I wondered.
He eyed me over his shoulder, hesitating. “You can’t tell West.”
Color me intrigued.
I walked over to his desk. “Your secret is likely safe with me.”
“Likely,” he muttered. Then he sighed and wheeled out his chair a bit. “I’m tryna figure out how I can get my GED, but I need some fuckin’ age waiver because I’m not eighteen yet.”
Damn.
I leaned back against the desk and pinched my lips together, and it was hard to not smile.
There was something about this kid. He was simultaneously heading in two different directions, one for me, and one for West. Given West’s hope for Colby to attend college, I hadn’t put pressure on him in the syndicate, opting to let things play out the way he wanted. But he clearly loved working for the Sons, and he’d admitted to wanting to become initiated one day. Where I saw a boring one-bedroom condo with stripped walls, very little furniture, and too many takeout containers, he saw an office he had plans for. He was the one who’d assembled the two desks next to each other. He was the one who’d created his own blueprints for how we could essentially turn the bedroom into a vault. He loved coming here every morning.
But he also loved listening to whatever West said. Secretly. The kid didn’t show it much, but I’d seen the books in the guest apartment at home. He was studying. It just hadn’t occurred to me that he was studying to get his GED.
“This is why you always have your nose in a book,” I deduced. “You’re a nerd.”
He smirked. “How the fuck did an adoption agency give you two kids, man?”
“I let West do most of the talking,” I replied, not missing a beat. “And it was two agencies, actually. With lots of home visits.” But let’s not get shit twisted. It’d been my idea to create baby books covering their history and heritage. Something we worked on together to update a few times a year. That was how good I was. “Kidding aside, this is great.” I nodded. “We’ll get’chu that age waiver somehow. As long as you’re prepared to start finding college pamphlets around the house. West won’t stop until you’re heading off to the Ivy League.”
He turned bashful and scoffed in an attempt to dismiss what I said. “That’s nuts. If I decide to go to college, there are community colleges right here in the city.”
“Yeah, and they’re well-known for their awesome computer science programs or whatever a hacker-in-the-making wants to study.”
He scowled to himself and turned to his computer again. “I’m still not used to having grown-ups give a shit. Can you ask West to knock it off?”
I grinned. “Fuck no.”
He rolled his eyes. “Besides, which Ivy League school accepts a crappy GED graduate?”
“The ones that also accept very large donations from the Scott family,” I drawled. “If you wanna go to school, we’ll make it a good one.”
He flicked me a glance. “What do you think about college?”
I shrugged and scratched my elbow. “Higher education never did me any favors, but I didn’t put in enough time and effort. Or money, for that matter.” Truth be told, I thought college was overhyped in many cases. It was just a way to bury a young person in debt, unless you were planning on becoming a doctor or something that really required years of schooling. What we needed more of were apprenticeships and in-house training. “College can be good for other things too, though,” I mentioned. “That’s how I met Ford and later decided to move to LA, where I met West.” I nodded at him. “It might do you good to meet people who aren’t Sons. Make more friends your age, find random classes you’re interested in…”
He chewed on his bottom lip and eyed the computer screen. “Maybe it’d be nice to be some other place when my brother comes home.”
Was that something he worried about? Dreaded, even? In that case, I had good news for him.
“I don’t think he’s coming back for a long time, buddy.”
He looked at me, confused and surprised. “Do you know something? Has he fucked up again? He doesn’t say much when we talk.”
“He’s fine,” I replied. “He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but they’ve made use of him as a courier between Dublin and the UK. He’s apparently met someone there too.”
Colby exhaled. “Okay. I hope he knocks her up and stays. Like, I want him alive and shit, just not near me.”
I could understand that. Although, let’s give the woman a chance to split before a kid got involved. We could make the guy stay, regardless.
“Would you be interested in seeing him?” I asked. “Like a visit, nothing permanent.”
Colby shrugged. “I dunno. I can’t say it’s on my mind.”
Fair enough. “Either way, you’ll get the chance sooner or later. West and I are thinking about flying the family over to Ireland for New Year’s—and that obviously includes you.”
That surprised him too.
I didn’t know why at this point. We had a busy holiday season upon us, and we were involving Colby in everything. We were flying out to Chicago the weekend after this one, for instance. We had a dinner soon to catch up with Evan and Malena. Holiday party at West’s office, though Colby was spared from having to attend. Christmas would be celebrated at home, with my big-ass family attending from both Mom’s and Dad’s sides. But now, knowing the O’Sheas, Murrays, and Fords traditionally spent the holidays in Killarney, I wanted a piece of that. They’d invited us, so maybe next year.
It’d been all kinds of adorable to see West itching to go, too. He wanted to play golf in Ireland with Shan, and he wanted to see where my ancestors came from. Hopefully not in that order, but you never knew.
Right now, I was just itching for him to come home. He’d left this morning for a two-day work trip up to Boston, and I wasn’t a fan. It’d been spur-of-the-moment, an emergency meeting involving the board or some shit.
When I heard a key jiggling in the lock on the front door, I looked out into the entryway and saw Kellan entering.
“Oi,” I said.
“It’s cold as fuck outside,” he replied, shuddering. He didn’t take off his coat. “Youse got lunch plans?”
“Not yet, but if you need inspiration, there’s a trash bag full of takeout containers over there.” I nodded at the bag by the coffee table.
“Screw that. You know I get my juice at the pub,” he said, removing his gloves. “That’s why I asked. Join me and save yourselves from that greasy shit.”
What the…?
“That’s a Hershel’s Reuben you’re taking a dump on, mate,” I told him. “That’s not okay.”
He flashed his hands in surrender. “My bad. I didn’t know Hershel’s was involved.” He walked farther in and flicked a brief glance at Colby, then back at me. “When’s my first sit-down?”
“At two,” I said. “You got a territory problem comin’ in hot from the Strawberry Mansion crew.”
He made a face. “My toilet paper costs more than what they bring in every month. I wish Finn would let the old guys go already.”
Eh. Better to keep the peace, especially when that generation was dying out anyway.
Colby looked away from his computer and eyed Kellan. “What do you wipe your ass with, boss?”
I grinned.
“Never you fuckin’ mind,” Kellan chuckled. “Can you give Alfie and me a minute?”
Colby nodded and rose from his seat. “I’ll go downstairs and grab a smoke.”
“You can wait there,” I said. “We’ll get some pub juice with Ford after.”
Mick’s stew was good, particularly when you went with yesterday’s batch, ’cause the flavors had mixed and set in properly.
I folded my arms over my chest and waited till Colby had ducked out.
I nodded at Kellan. “Sup, gorgeous?”
He smirked faintly and lifted his brows. “I come bearing good news, actually.”
I was all ears.
“Late last night, three of our boys overheard a conversation at that Balkan club,” he said. “They reported it in, and Colm gave the green light for pursuit.”
Holy shit. Was he for real? I pushed off the desk and let my hands fall to my sides, my pulse skyrocketing.
“It’s them,” he confirmed.
“Ah, thank fuck.” I scrubbed my hands over my face as a tsunami of relief crashed down on me. We knew who they were, we knew who they were. Did we also know where they were? I peeked between my fingers. “How did the pursuit go?”
He pocketed his gloves. “They’re currently tied up in a safehouse halfway to Allentown.”
Jesus Christ, I couldn’t fucking believe it. I’d been forced to remain on the outside of this whole mess, so while I didn’t even know what they looked like, what their names were, and how they’d been found, Finn’s boys had actually located and apprehended them.
They’ll never hurt you again, Mom.
I cleared my throat and blinked back my emotions, and I let out a laugh as if I was losing my mind. Halfway to Allentown—got it. We had two locations around there, though one was in the middle of a small industrial area. We used it mainly for storage and distribution.
Kellan smiled and joined my side, and he threw an arm around my shoulders. “We told you we’d get ’em, mate.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek before easing off. He nodded toward the doorway. “Come on. Stew and a couple pints are on me.”
Yeah, gimme a fucking minute. I sniffled and scrubbed another hand over my face.
They’d found the fuckers. They’d shot their last video. They’d hurt their last woman.
“And you’re sure it’s them,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Oh, we’re sure.”
I sniffled and did my best to get my shit together. My chest felt so weird, tight and relaxed at once. Like, every breath was now liberating, but I had so many emotions stirring that I was a little mindfucked. Like my body and brain couldn’t contain it all.
“There’s only one minor problem,” he said. “We gotta lie low for a few days—our three guys who caught ’em, I mean. And that includes not going to the address they’re hiding out at for the moment. The safehouse. We gotta wait.”
“Okay?” I frowned. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure anything happened,” he answered. “It’s a precaution. There’s a small risk someone spotted one of our Mikeys when they loaded up the attackers in a van, so I told them to remain at the safehouse while we check things out. Eric’s on it.”
“So one of the Mikeys and the other two?—”
“Bran and Chase in JJ’s crew.”
“Right. They’re at the safehouse with the attackers?”
He inclined his head. “In short, we don’t want any traffic on the road leading up to the property. Easier to keep track of anyone coming and going—there are three houses on the road, with ours at the far end.”
Okay, got it. “Aight, but nobody else needs to lie low? Do I need to schedule something with JJ?”
“Nah, it’s all good. We’ll just let them hide out for a couple days, and then I’m heading up there.”
“With me , I hope,” I said pointedly. “Finn better let me get involved now.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, you can start making a list of how you wanna make them suffer.”
Oh, I fucking would. I’d already fantasized quite a bit about this day.
“One more thing,” he told me. “No mention of this to anyone. That includes your man. Nothing on the phone, nothing in person, nothing to Colby—this doesn’t leave the inner circle. Not until we know the coast is clear.”
I pretended to zip my mouth shut. Suddenly, it was a blessing in disguise that West had his work trip.
“You have my word.” And my giddiness. Fuck me sideways, I was gonna make those sadists cry, bleed, beg, and writhe in agony. Fork over the pliers, the knives, the brass knuckles, and some goddamn Chinese throwing stars.
They were going to regret ever being born.