Chapter 7
“Again.”
Deantipped the Son back, replacing the soaked cloth over his face as Mikey slowly poured a three gallon jug of water over him. We listened to him gurgle and splutter and cough and choke.
“Enough,” Dad said from behind me and Dean fumbled the chair, dropping it and the man tied to it onto its back before picking it back up.
“Watch the fuckin’ chair, man,” Dad chastised. “Sloane’ll have my damned head.”
Andshe would. Ma already wasn’t fucking happy we brought the Son back to their place to interrogate, but options were limited. We still had no idea what the driver of that black SUV saw. It could be minutes or hours before the Sons made a move to retaliate.
Wealready evacuated all the wives and children. All except for Becca and Ma, who waited upstairs with Kaleb, Pope, and Zade, with a further six Saints manning the perimeter and the rest scattered throughout the city, watching, and waiting.
Theygot the bastard back upright and removed the cloth. Saliva-streaked water poured from his blue tinted lips as he hacked it all up and struggled to get air into his lungs. I didn’t miss how the whites of his eyes were turning yellow. The color seeping into his skin as well.
Hedidn’t have long. The trauma from getting hit by the car and the trauma we inflicted on him here over the last few hours were going to see him dead by dawn.
“Where is he hiding?” Dad asked for the eighth time. “Tell us and we’ll kill you quickly.”
Asound somewhere between a cough and a laugh left the Son’s lips and when he raised his head I saw amusement in his bulging red-veined eyes. “You think he tells us?”
Helaughed once before the laughter turned into another coughing fit. “He doesn’t even tell his own flesh and blood where he hangs his hat.”
SoSéamasO’Sullivan has blood here…
Ifiled that information away for potential future use as I lifted a hammer from the table by the door and strode over.
“Wait,” the Son choked out, but I’d already swung, and his knee shattered. His screams echoed in the room, ringing in my ears. I slapped a hand over his mouth, grabbing the weasel by his greasy fucking face to shut him up.
Mygirl was sleeping upstairs. Couldn’t have this fucker’s screaming waking her up.
“Shut. Up.”
Ilet go when his screams turned to broken, hysteric half sobs, half angry laughter.
Fuck. They were all completely insane.
“You don’t get it, do you?” the Son spat between bouts of laughter forced between clenched teeth. “There isn’t anything you can do. IfSéamas wants it, he’ll have it.”
Aswe pulled this bastard apart, his accent only seemed to get stronger, to the point where I barely understood the fucker anymore.
“And he wants this place. He wants you on your fuckin’ knees!”
Ibackhanded him and his head snapped to the right. He spat blood onto the cement floor of Dad’s whiskey cellar.
“He knows your weakness…”
He’dsaid it so quietly, I wasn’t sure if I heard him.
“The fuck did he say?” Dad asked, but I already had the Son by the throat, squeezing tight, forcing him to look at me.
Ilooked between his eyes, seeing the light in them fading. “What does that m-m-mean?” I stuttered, heat ripping down my back as I felt Dean and Mikey share a look over my head. It didn’t matter.
Itdidn’t fucking matter because I had this feeling. This fucking slimy, slithering feeling in my gut that whatever this fucker knew—whatever Séamasknew—would be the end of us all.
Ishook him. “Talk!”
Hislips pulled up in a crooked, dopey smile.
Ishook him harder, seeing red. SeeingBecca with her neck in a noose. Becca covered in blood. Becca with her eyes open and unseeing. Becca, a casualty of a war she wasn’t even a soldier in. Becca, dead because I couldn’t protect her.
Ihit him. Hit him again. Again.
“Hardin.” Distantly, I heard my dad calling my name, but all sound turned dulled. Muffled as if it came from another room. A room where people talked and people had reason, but here, in this room, reason had no place.
Therewas only the sting in my knuckles. The crunch of bone. The spray of hot red on my face. AndBecca’s face in the void of my mind.
WhenI came back, I was on my ass against the wall and Dad had a fifth of whiskey in a short glass held out to me. I blinked, seeing the mess of my hand slung over one knee, feeling the air enter and exit my lungs in heavy, hard breaths. I clenched my jaw and breathed through my nose, curling my hand into a fist until the split skin there stung and fresh blood dripped down onto my jeans.
“Take it.”
Itook the drink, throwing it back in one swallow, letting the burn wake me back to the moment.
Deanwas untying the brutalized pulp of the captured Son from the chair to get him into the open tarp on the floor.”
“He wasn’t going to tell us anything, anyway,” Dad said, sliding to sit next to me against the wall, his own whiskey glass dangling over one knee as he swirled it.
“How long?” I asked.
Heknew what I wanted to know. How long was I gone? How long was I not me? How long was I the other thing. The fucking monster I’d become so goddamned good at keeping on a leash these last few years. The monster who snapped and killed my biological father. The one who almost murdered a sixteen-year-old kid for daring to hit my little brother when he was in the ninth grade.
It’dbeen a while since I blinked to find myself covered in blood without the ability to fully recall how it got there or whose it was.
“Only about five minutes,” Dad replied. “You said they couldn’t have her.”
Iturned to look at him, surprised I’d spoken at all while in black out rage.
“You’re right,” he continued as the Son’s corpse was tipped unceremoniously onto the tarp and our men set to wrapping him up. “Rebecca’s mother was already taken because of this bullshit. I love your mother, more than…” He trailed off, knocking the back of his head against the wall to look up at the ceiling. “You know I do, but I owe it to Becca’s mom not to let her daughter have the same fate. She deserves a life. And if after this she decides to live it far away from here—away from us—then that’s what she’ll have. But she will have that choice.”
Idropped my own head. She said she wouldn’t leave. She wouldn’t run away. I knew it would be better if she did. Safer. ButDad didn’t understand. I…I wouldn’t let her go.
Icouldn’t.
Notif it was the better thing. Not even if it was what she wanted.
Dadthrew back his whiskey. “They don’t know who she is,” he said. “If we’re lucky, the Son who got away didn’t even see her there at the Kents’ pub. For all they know, she’s just some chick you and Kaleb are friendly with. They may not even know that. Or care.”
Thatwas way too many fucking maybes.
Whatif they did know?
Maybenot that she’s DamienSt. Vincent’s daughter. But even just that she’s…important. Important to the sons of a Saint. That could be enough to take her. To use her.
Iclenched my fist again. “Get cleaned up,” Dad ordered, rising as the others dragged the corpse out of the room. “And get ready. They could make a move any time now and we need to be?—”
Thedoor burst open and Pope poured into the room, taking in the corpse and my blood splattered face with a wild blink.
“What is it, Pope?” Dad said in a rush, his body rigid.
Popeblinked, remembering what he came down for. HisAdam’s apple bobbed. “Gilligan’sFinch…it’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” Mikey asked.
“They blew it up.”
“And the Kents?” Dad demanded, his face paling.
“Most were inside when it happened.”
Ishook my head, jaw clenching. Kaleb told them. He fucking told them to leave, but they refused. After we cleaned up the mess in the lot, they chose to stay and play it cool despite the fact that one got away. Said they didn’t move against the Sons, that we did. They’d refused our offered deal. They weren’t at fault.
Kalebtold them it wouldn’t matter. It happened on their turf.
Theydidn’t listen and now they were dead. Fucking idiots.
Dadthrew his whiskey glass and it shattered in the corner, showering glass over the room. “How’d they get that close?” He seethed. “Our men are out there watching and the Kents—they would’ve had lookouts, too. There’s no fucking way a goddamned cavalry just pushed through without?—”
“It wasn’t a big move,” Pope interrupted. “They made it look like a gas leak. That’s the angle the news is spinning. Could’ve been done by one man. One fuckin’ guy could’ve got through alone. Pulled the gas lines. And you know damn well Kent and his crew smoke in there. Someone probably went to light up and…”
Agas leak?
“Have they taken credit for the hit?” I asked and all eyes turned to me.
Popefrowned, his brows lowering. “No. Not that we know.”
Igot to my feet, sharing a look with Dad. I gave my head a tiny shake, telling him what I thought. It didn’t sit right.
Fromwhat we knew about this Irish snake, he liked to put on a show. He liked the spotlight. He would’ve taken credit for the hit right away. Word would have been put out that you don’t strike out against him and expect to live.
“It couldn’t have been an actual fucking gas leak,” Dad reasoned with my unspoken argument. I shrugged. I didn’t say it was, but something about it wasn’t right. Beccadid hit the building. A gas line could’ve ruptured. ButI doubted it.
“Give us the fucking room,” Dad growled and Mikey and Dean left the burritoed Saint on the floor and followed Pope from the room.
“I don’t think it was an accident, but he would’ve taken the credit by now. It doesn’t add up.”
Dadnodded. “He still could.”
“I can’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t.”
“Unless he thinks he doesn’t need to. Maybe the message is that he can take any of us out at any time and make it look like an accident?”
Iconsidered that. “Maybe.”
“It had to be them. FuckingJason, man… I’ve known him since we were kids. And his son—you went to school with him, didn’t you?”
“We told them to get out. They should’ve listened.”
Dad’sbrows drew together, and even though he said nothing, I knew what he was thinking. How he’d just remembered that one of his adopted sons lacked the ability to have empathy. Old news, really.
“There’s a play here,” I added, lowering my voice. “If the driver that got away didn’t see our faces. Ifhe thought this attack was orchestrated by the Kents and only the Kents…”
“...and retribution has already been meted out,” Dad finished, considering.
“We could be in the clear.”
“We don’t know that for sure. Not yet.”
“But soon. If they don’t move against us soon, we can assume they don’t know we had any involvement.”
Henodded quietly to himself, and even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, I knew he had the same thought I did. TheKents’ sacrifice—however fucking idiotic—might’ve saved our lives.
“I need to talk to your Ma.”
Heleft without another word, and I took my time scrubbing the remnants of the dead Son of O’Sullivan from every crease in my knuckles and every crevice of my face before following him upstairs.
Thehouse felt quiet. Tight.
Likesomething balanced precariously at the edge could tip over and shatter the silence at any moment. But as I made my way into the den, the quiet held, and I sighed with relief, finding Kaleb seated on the couch, one hand absently stroking Becca’s head in his lap, the other resting atop his weapon on the cushion next to him.
Arerun of some sitcom played with muted volume on the screen, but there were no smiles or laughter from my brother. He glanced up at me with a look that dared me to make a sound and wake her.
Soundlessly, I crossed the room and perched on the arm of the sofa next to him, looking down at my little Hawk in his lap. My jaw ticked, watching him brush her hair back from her neck, where half a dozen butterfly closures cinched the small cuts closed on the skin there.
Itwasn’t jealousy, not really, I told myself. Not of her feelings for him, at least. But of his ability to do this. To be gentle. Patient. His ability to give her things I wasn’t sure I ever could.
Iwas glad she had that. Someone to touch her gently. Softly. Someone to hold her when she felt like breaking.
“Did they tell you?” I asked in a whisper.
“About the Kents? Yeah. They told me. Idiots should have left when I told them to.”
Yeah. They should’ve.
Onewrong choice. That was all it took to dig their own graves. It was all it took for any of us to get our ticket punched.
Beccasighed heavily in her sleep, a little knot pulling between her eyebrows as she began to grind her teeth. I leaned down and touched her jaw. Kaleb glared at me, but after a second, she stopped grinding her teeth and fell back to sleep.
Inoticed the phone she held tightly in her hand, arm curled in against her chest and something nagged at me seeing it there.
“What is it?” Kaleb asked, concern etching into his features as he looked between Becca and me. There was something…but I couldn’t seem to catch it. An errant thought.
“Hey,” Ma whisper yelled from the arched entryway to the living room. Both of us turned to see her standing there, apron covered in red. For the first time, I realized I could smell something other than bleach and blood. Something salty and garlicky filled my nose.
“You boys hungry? I made a spaghetti.”
Ofcourse she did. Ma could never sit still when shit got tense. I barely heard them continue talking as I fought off the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something.
“Ma, could you not. She’s sleeping,” Kaleb hissed, shaking his head with a raised eyebrow in her direction, but both of us heard his stomach growl. Becca stirred at the sound, letting out a little groan as she started to wake up.
Kalebgave Ma a pointed look that said this was her fault as Becca started to sit up and rub her eyes.
Marolled her eyes at his dirty look.
“The hell you doing making spaghetti? It’s four a.m., Ma.”
Shewaved him off. “Call it breakfast, then. Come on, all of you, before it gets cold.”