Ruthless Reign

Chapter 23

Pope’sdead.

Itwas him. He was the reason Kaleb didn’t have a vest the night of the meet, and I remembered him being there, sitting on the porch the night before, guarding the house while I went with Dad to meet with SantaClaritaPD. He’d had unrestricted access to the Bronco. And the vest Kaleb always kept beneath the back seats.

Healso had unimpeded access to the payment meant for Séamas the night of the meet. Pope made sure that payment was light. Popewas ready to let Kaleb die.

Iwanted to tear him apart myself with my bare hands, but when I told Dad, he’d wanted to deal with it himself. Pope was practically family. He’d been with us since I was a shithead teenager with a bad temper and an ax to grind.

Hedidn’t even deny it. He admitted his betrayal when Dad confronted him. Said he never thought it would go so far. That the bastard Séamas promised to spare him and his family. And after what Séamas did to the Warden and his men and every other smaller gang in the area, I could forgive being?—

Nah. NahI couldn’t forgive it.

Andneither could Dad.

Fuckingcoward.

Hecalled me back when it was done.

Popeonly made one request before biting the bullet. Safe haven for his family if they needed it. Apparently, they didn’t know about his dirty dealings. AndDad being Dad agreed to take them in if needed. To cut them in on Pope’s usual take from the autobody shop until his wife could get back on her feet.

Itwas more than the fucker deserved.

Dadshould’ve sent him to hell thinking the worst of the worst, but he’d offered the traitor a peaceful death. He should’ve let me have him.

Iscratched absently on a pad of paper with a pencil, the blunt numb digging deep graphite grooves in the pages as I watched the newly installed camera feed surrounding the house.

Dadhad SantaClaritaPD patrolling the streets in the area, but in my limited experience, they were absolutely useless. Uniformed dogs, easily distracted, highly caffeinated, and easily provoked when presented with a bone.

Acouple soft knocks sounded at my bedroom door, and I glanced at the time. Nearly four in the morning.

Shedidn’t wait for me to answer her before coming in.

“Hardin?”

Itossed the spent pencil onto the desk with a sigh. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Ipinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ease the ache starting behind my eyes.

Yeah, I couldn’t sleep, either, but if I didn’t soon, I knew every living thing in my immediate vicinity was at risk of being subjected to my monster.

Hawksat on the edge of my bed amid the messy covers, close enough that I could reach out and touch her if I wanted, but after earlier…

Therewas something between them. Her and this Aodhánfucker.

Itdidn’t matter if supposedly he was going to help us. If he’d already done so much to try to keep her safe.

Shewas mine.

Ours.

Nothis.

“What did your Dad say?”

About him.She wanted to know about what Damien thought about Aodhán, not what happened with Pope. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Ibit my tongue, feeling something twitch in my jaw.

“He’s not counting on anything,” I told her. Neither was I.

Dadwas absolutely livid when I told him we met with the bastard who shot Kaleb, but he seemed more cautiously optimistic than Kaleb and I were. He said he knew firsthand the lengths a man would go to in order to try and protect someone he cares for. I knew it, too.

ButBecca wasn’t his to protect. She was ours.

“He said to let it play out,” I continued. “If the little Irish fucker comes back, we’re supposed to bring him in.”

Littlewasn’t exactly a fair description, but I didn’t give a fuck. Over six feet tall or not, AodhánO’Sullivan was no better than the dirt under my goddamned boots.

Beccashifted on the bed. “WillDamien kill him?”

“Worried, Hawk?”

Shedropped her head, wringing her hands in her lap.

Iscoffed, shaking my head as I turned back to the cameras just in time to see a black car roll up to the front of the house.

“GetKaleb,” I hissed, shoving out of the chair to draw my gun.

Beccadidn’t question me, she was up and out the door, almost tripping in her haste to run back to Kaleb’s room.

Adark shape fell from the driver’s side door, struggling to get to its feet.

Whatthe fuck?

Isquinted, trying to make out the make of car, half wondering if this was one of ours, but no one I knew had a late sixties model Impala.

Kalebcrossed the threshold of my door, and I followed him into the living room, Becca on our heels, her weapon mercifully aimed at the floor. She was getting better, but I’d rather she didn’t keep that shit level with my damn head.

“What is it?” Kaleb whispered harshly in the dark as we silently slipped into the living room.

“Don’t know. Someone in an Impala.”

“AnImpala?” Becca echoed, and something in her tone shifted, changing gears from fear to relief. “Aodhán has an Impala.”

“Is the idiot really fucking dumb enough to drive that shit right up to our house?” Kaleb hissed as I crossed to the window, keeping to the side, out of sight, to peer out into the pre-dawn streets.

TheImpala idled at the foot of the yard, the driver’s side door hanging ajar, the taillights catching swirls of mist in the morning air, painting them shades of screaming crimson.

Therewas no sign of him.

Ifthis was some kind of trick, I was going to rip this bastard’s heart out.

Adull thud against the front door broke the tense silence and Becca gasped, her face draining of color as she edged to the door.

“Hawk,” I warned, rushing for her, but she was faster as her fist closed on the handle and she opened it to the night.

Ilifted my gun, ready to fire, but the threat wasn’t standing eye to eye with me. He was falling onto the mat in front of the door with a groan, his blonde hair catching with silver in the moonlight.

“Aodhán,” Becca cried, pulling him into the house while Kaleb swept the front porch and the road.

Aodhánlet out a hitched growl when she tried to sit him up and I noticed the unnatural way his shoulder was dangling from the socket. Becca seemed to notice, too, releasing it to try to put him up by his middle.

“Help me,” she managed between heavy pants, her brown eyes wild as she took in the carnage of him.

Becausethat’s what it was.

Therewas a garish wound on his collar and some swelling to the right side of his face. Those seemed to be the worst of it aside from the mangled shoulder but he was absolutely riddled with tiny cuts and scrapes. He didn’t seem capable of standing on his own, but I liked him better that way. Less of a threat.

“Shit. I know that fucking car,” Kaleb said from the front porch. “It was you? Fuck, Vixen, did you know?”

Ittook a minute to figure out what the fuck he was talking about, but then I remembered where I recognized the car from.

Racenight.

Aodhán’scar was the one that’d come out of nowhere to beat both Kaleb and our cousin Grey in the race.

Beccahad the decency to look at least a little guilty as Kaleb muttered curses to himself, looking between Aodhán and the car like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “You fucker,” he spat. “I want a rematch.”

Hetrotted down the front stairs, sweeping the front lawn while I covered him. “You hear me? I want a fair fucking race.”

“Kaleb,” I growled as he approached the car and slung himself into the driver’s seat, but I realized what he was doing as soon as he shut the door. Aodhán’s car couldn’t stay there on the street. We couldn’t risk anyone seeing it. Knowing he was here.

Kalebwas going to find a place to ditch it or hide or maybe put the thing in drive with a brick on the gas pedal and throw it off a cliff. He’d searched for the ‘mystery’ driver for a week straight after race night. He wouldn’t fucking shut up about it.

Ishook my head.

“Aodhán,” Becca said behind me, and I slammed the front door and locked it. I turned to find her gently shaking him. The bastard was half dead, barely there. “Aodhán, hey, wake up! What happened?”

Hiseyes rolled open, and he sighed heavily before the pain pinched in his face again, drawing lines in his forehead and between his eyes. He coughed, and I thought I saw blood on his mouth in the dark.

Hereeked of smoke and metal.

“I.” He coughed hard, struggling to catch his breath. “I bought you some time, mo mhuirnín.”

Andit looked like he almost killed himself in the fucking process.

Beccalooked up at me, eyes damp and jaw set. “Will you help me or not?”

Icursed, tucking my gun into the back of my waistband before bending to help her with him.

Iowed him this if he really had bought us the time we needed to wait for Diesel and the Crows to get here. But after this we were square. Justthis. Nothing else.

“Careful,” Becca blurted as I hauled him to his feet, and I cut her a glare that I hoped conveyed that I was going to do whatever I needed to do, however the fuck I needed to do it if I was going to help him.

Idisarmed him, removing a gun and two knives, tossing them to the floor before I dragged his half limp body to the table. Motherfucker was heavy as shit.

Beccaran ahead, clearing the surface for me to set him down on top of it. His head rolled to one side, and I saw angry red skin at his hairline, where it looked like a bit of his golden hair was singed off.

Whatthe fuck did he do?

Igritted my teeth, trying to tug off his shirt to get a better look at the shoulder that needed setting, but he came to all at once, a hand whipping out to grip my wrist, stopping me. “Don’t,” he gritted out. “Leave it.”

“It’s dislocated,” Becca crooned to him gently. “We need to set it.”

Aodhánshook his head weakly. “No. The shirt. Leave the shirt.”

Somethingwet touched my hands, and I turned around to seal the blinds shut before turning on the lights, momentarily blinding us all. Aodhán grimaced, sealing his eyes tight.

“He’s been shot,” I said, mostly to myself, shoving his head to the side and lifting his mangled shoulder to find the black t-shirt he wore was covered in blood. AsBecca reached over to help me tip him onto his right side, I noticed she was covered in his blood, too, from trying to drag him into the house. But she seemed wholly unbothered by that, the concern in her eyes completely focused on Aodhán, keeping none for herself.

Myjaw clenched so hard that I heard teeth crack.

Icouldn’t do a damn thing about the bullet wound in his shoulder until his arm was set, but it didn’t look like the bullet had gone through. I’d have to dig for it once I got the bones back in place.

“Set him back down,” I told Becca, and she helped me lower him onto his back.

Ididn’t give him time to prepare, using my weight to lean into this chest and keep him down while I lifted his arm back into place to the sweet music of his screaming. As the bones were sucked back into place, his shout choked off, and I felt him go completely limp beneath me.

He’dpassed out.

Good.

“Was that necessary?” Becca looked like she was going to be sick.

“Go grab something to use as a sling.”

Hercheekbones flared with defiance, but she did as I told her, coming back a second later with the fucking sheet from my goddamned bed. She ripped it with her bare hands and shouldered past me to bind his shoulder herself.

“I jerked off in those sheets last night, Hawk,” I said, knowing full well I was only saying it to be a dick. “And the night before that.”

Shegrumbled something to herself that I didn’t catch and whirled around to throw the torn sheet directly into my chest. I let it fall to the floor, watching as she pulled her own shirt off and used her teeth to tear it down the back before carefully gathering it under his arm and pulling it up to tie around his neck.

Herdark indigo bra barely contained her milky tits as they threatened to spill out onto Aodhán’s face. If he woke up, I was going to have to take his eyes.

“How do we get the bullet out?” she asked when she was finished, not rising to my bait. SmartHawk. I’d like nothing more than to tear into her right now, in more ways than fucking one.

“There’s a kit under the sink.”

“Of course there is,” she muttered to herself as she stalked past me to retrieve it.

TheIrishman’s face looked decidedly less punchable while he was passed out, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t deck him if he woke back up. It was better if he wasn’t awake for this part.

Itore the collar of his shirt, exposing the gnarly jagged cut there and there and the bullet hole still seeping red onto our dining room table. It was in the top of his shoulder, near the outside. Someone was a shitty shot. It was all meat there. It should’ve gone right through. Unless it went in at an angle. Becca hovered over me, biting her nails as I took out everything I needed.

Ittook five minutes of patient digging with the forceps before I got hold of the damn thing and yanked it out. He didn’t so much as stir.

“Shouldn’tKaleb be back by now?” Becca asked, peering between two slats in the wood blinds while I finished stitching the gash in Aodhán’s collar. It was a hack job if I’d ever done one and he’d have a nasty scar, but the bleeding had stopped. At least, from what I could see. There was a burnt section of black t-shirt on his side and the opening in the cloth revealed mottled purple and blue skin.

“He should,” I said, hating how I sounded but unable to help it. “Let’s hope Romeo here didn’t set a trap that my little brother just walked into of his own free fucking will.”

Shedidn’t deny it was a possibility. Didn’t defend the unconscious Son lying on my table. And it left me somehow even more angry than if she had. What the hell had she gotten us into with this guy?

Itook out my phone to text Kaleb just as we heard footsteps on the porch. I didn’t even get my gun out before Kaleb called, “Just me,” and stepped into the house.

Hetook one look at me, at Becca, at the slack-jawed Son on the table and whistled low, his eyes going wide as she let the door shut behind him.

“Is he dead?”

“Just passed out,” Becca replied.

Kalebcame over wordlessly as I tossed the bloody needle and gauze into the metal bowl on the table. “Help me flip him over.”

I’dalready checked his front torso for more wounds and his legs seemed fine, but there might be more bullet wounds in his back that needed to be dug out and stitched up.

Kalebused Aodhán’s jeans to heft his middle while I shoved at his injured shoulder and ribs. “Hold him like that,” I said once we got him onto his right side.

Theangle was pulling at the stitches in his neck, but I figured if he bled out it’d be less headache for us later.

“Scissors,” Kaleb said and I passed them to him from my side of the table.

Hecut up the back of Aodhán’s shirt and right away I could tell something wasn’t right, but it wasn’t what I was expecting. The bruising I noticed on his ribs seemed to extend to his back, but that wasn’t what had my lungs seizing and my teeth clenching as if my jaw was wired shut.

Thebottom flap of the shirt fell to the table and Kaleb flicked the other side over his front, revealing his back to us.

Astrangled sound left Becca behind us only a second before she doubled over and vomited on the rug.

I’dnever seen cruelty like this.

AndI’d been subjected to a fair amount of my own.

Iwas definitely a fucking authority on the subject, but as I beheld the carnage of Aodhán’s back, something deep in the hollowed out trenches of my stomach tightened and twisted. SomethingI thought died a long time ago.

Scarslaid on top of scars on top of scars.

Kalebwent to help Becca, leaving me to hold Aodhán up as I just stared.

Iswallowed, finding the ability to breathe again as I bent to get a closer look even though the sight both physically and mentally repelled me.

Theylooked like welds. Done in flesh instead of metal.

Awhip.

That’swhat it was. Aodhán had been flogged. Recently. Some of the marks were still angry and red with blood lingering at the surface of the raised ridges of skin. Other lashes were silvery. Some more of a pink color. They created a macabre work of art carved directly into his back. I couldn’t see a single square inch of space from his neck to his tailbone that wasn’t marred with wounds old or new.

Séamas.

Itwas Séamas who did this to him. His own father. I had scars from mine, but not like these. I had angry lines from my biological father’s buck knife. I had cigarette burns and burns from the stovetop. The entire surface of my right knee was one big scar. But all of mine were given to me when my father was in a blind unseeing, unfeeling rage. And all were easily covered in black ink tattoos.

These?

Theseweren’t given by a man who lost his temper. These were marked into his son’s flesh with purpose. Practiced patience. Likely as a punishment. Were some of them given because of his connection to Becca?

Bythe horrified look on her face and the guilty set of her eyes, I knew she was wondering the same thing as she pushed away the glass of water Kaleb offered her and walked over to the table.

Shefell into the chair next to it and sniffed, reaching out to touch his back, but stopping just shy, curling her fingers into her palms, setting her hand back into her lap.

“What did he do to you?” she whispered.

Iwas careful not to jostle his shoulder as I lowered him onto his back again. No wonder he didn’t want us to remove his shirt.

Iwished I hadn’t.

Ididn’t want to feel like this.

I’drather go on fucking hating him.

Beccaadjusted his arm so that it was laid over his middle, but when she had it placed, she didn’t let go of his hand.

Shedidn’t let go of his hand.

Sheheld it, her knuckles turning white.

Kalebcleared his throat, and she let go as if shocked.

AndI couldn’t fucking stand it another second.

“Hardin, where are you going?”

“Hardin?” she called after me.

ButI was already gone.