The Eraser (Houlihan Men of Dublin Book 1)

Chapter 4

”What”s going on?”Freddie asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as we leave the pub.

It”s been two hours since the burial of Patricia Grace and I”ve spent that time in the pub listening to that cunt of a husband of hers talk about how he”s all alone and how no one will replace his beloved Patty, all the while not once mentioning his teenage daughter, who”s alone and without a mother.

”I needed to get the fuck out of there.”

He nods. ”Thomas Grace has always been a fucking twat,” he spits. ”I”ve no idea what someone as sweet as Patricia saw in him, or how she managed to stay married to him for so fucking long. I”d have drowned the bastard a long time ago.”

I shake my head. He”s not wrong. Thomas Grace is a fucking asshole who has no fucking idea how to behave like a man. Instead, he acts like a child. I”ve hated the man since the moment I met him when I was fourteen, but as Jer”s right-hand man, he”s someone I”ve given a wide berth to. But Christ, it”s fucking hard.

”Where the fuck is his daughter?” Freddie asks.

”Dunno,” I reply, but the fact of the matter is, I”m curious. That sweet, innocent girl was devastated when I saw her at the church. I watched her barely acknowledge anyone who offered her their condolences. At fourteen and losing her ma, she”s had her world rocked and is barely holding it together.

”Alright, man, I”ve got to go. I”ve a job to do, but I”ll probably see you later.”

I nod. ”Try not to get caught,” I tell him, and he grins.

He”s come close the last few jobs he”s done for Jer. All of them have been bigger than the last. The last one was robbing a fucking bank. Thankfully, he managed to escape—narrowly—otherwise he”d be sitting in a cell right now. I know he”ll do whatever it takes not to get caught. If he does, well, Jer has so many people in his back pocket that it won”t take long for the charges to be dismissed. Still, it”s a pain in the ass to wait around in holding.

It takes me fifteen minutes to get to the pub Jerry owns. I”m here to meet with Emmanuel. He”s Maverick”s best friend and is also one of Jer”s men. He likes to kill just as much as I do. The urge to kill never left me. In fact, the bloodlust grew. It”s embedded inside of me, urging me to do whatever it takes to quench that thirst. I”ve killed more men and women than I can count. I don”t give a fuck what they”ve done or haven”t; I have my orders and I”ll take them out. Jerry Houlihan is the reason I”m able to continue to kill without getting caught. The man has helped me find a way that works best—not only me, but Mav and Emmanuel too. I kill using the wood chipper. I think it”s fitting. It’s the way I killed my father—even though it was an accident. It started me on my journey and because of that, I”ve kept to it. I”ve honed my skills as a killer. I”m a fucking myth among men and women in Ireland—hell, the fucking world. They”ve heard of the Eraser. They”ve all been told the tales. Most don”t believe them to be true, some believe they”re exaggerated. If only they knew the truth.

I”m even worse than they realize. I enjoy the scent of blood, I love the thrill of death, and I live for the screams of my victims as they feel the pain of the metal as it crushes their bodies. I may be a story they tell one another as a way to scare each other, but if they knew I was real, they”d fear for their lives, because I don”t discriminate. I don”t give a fuck who I kill as long as I kill them.

The day I killed my father, it changed the course of my life—not only mine; but Ma’s too. Being away from the beatings and the anger, I was able to thrive. I began working for Jer and earned money. That money was used to help Ma. She needed it. I got her into a recovery programme, and while she relapsed a few times, she’s over six years sober now. She’s no longer living in Dublin, but in Tramore, Waterford. She loves the slower pace and being by the sea. She’s happy and healthy.

I glance along the street, my gaze scanning the people around me. I”m always on edge, always alert. A man in my position can”t take chances. While I”m known as the Eraser, it wouldn”t take a genius to work out just who the Eraser is if people dug deep enough, and one day the truth will come out. My eyes narrow and my gut clenches as I spot Jessica Grace walking quickly, her head down, a duffle bag on her shoulder. She”s changed out of the dress she wore to her ma”s funeral. Now she”s in pink leggings and an oversized hoodie. I keep my gaze on her, watching to see where she goes.

”You good?” Emmanuel asks as he steps beside me.

”Yep,” I reply, not taking my gaze off of her. ”You got what you need?”

”I do. Jer said you”d know the best way to get to Carlow without being seen.”

I grin, noting Jessica entering the dance studio at the end of the street. ”You need to get a car,” I tell him. Emmanuel is newer than the rest of the guys who work for Jer, but he”s quickly grown a name for himself. Emmanuel is known as the Silencer. Unlike me, who likes to get close to my prey, Emmanuel is the one who will shoot them without needing to be near them. He”s a crack shot and has yet to be caught offing someone.

”You want me to steal a car?” he asks, dumbfounded.

My lips twitch. God, he’s so fucking green. ”You”re going to off someone,” I say low. ”But you draw the line at stealing a car?”

I hear his deep sigh. ”That”s not the point,” he says thickly. He”s from the north side of Dublin and has a thick accent. ”It”s easier to be seen stealing a car.”

”Then call Jason and have him steal you one and leave it in a remote location. You can swing by later and get it.”

”Thanks, man. Today”s been a clusterfuck altogether.”

He”s been friends with Maverick since they were babies. His ma was best friends with Patricia Grace. Losing the woman was a blow to everyone involved, including Emmanuel, who was close to Patricia himself, but Jer has him working on this job.

”Let me know if you need anything,” I tell him, but he shakes his head, pulling his cell from his pocket and turning away from me. The second he”s out of sight, I make a beeline for the dance studio Jessica entered not long ago.

It doesn”t take me long to find the room Jessica”s in. I shouldn”t be here. She”s just lost her ma, just buried her today. She needs to grieve. And yet there”s something about those deep green eyes of hers that pulled at something deep within me. The second our gazes collided at the church, I felt something within me shift, and I have no fucking idea what the hell it was.

I enter the dance room and stand against the door, watching her. She”s dressed in her pink leggings and a matching sports bra. I shouldn”t be watching. I shouldn”t be staring. But fuck, I”m entranced. I”ve never seen anything so graceful in my life. Never felt I was in the presence of such innocence. The music is soft, and Jessica almost floats along the floor as she moves. She”s not seen me yet. She”s so engrossed in dancing that she hasn’t noticed I”ve entered the room.

I”m not sure how long the music goes on for, but she doesn”t stop, moving across the floor as though she”s an angel, silent as she dances. I”m captivated even more than before. I shouldn”t be. She”s fourteen, for fuck”s sake. Fourteen and innocent. A man like me would taint her world, ruin her. I”d destroy her even more than she already is.

The music stops and she drops to the floor in an exhausted heap. ”I know you”re there,” she says, breathing heavily. ”I knew the moment you entered the room.”

I grin as she turns to look at me. Her face is red and blotchy, her chest rising and falling as she watches me closely, those green eyes of hers intense and filled with so much pain. ”You didn”t go to the pub,” I say.

She presses her hands to the floor and rises to her feet. ”Dad didn”t want me to,” she tells me. ”I couldn”t deal with all those people anyway.”

”What do you mean your da didn”t want you to?” I ask, needing to know what the fuck that bastard Thomas said to her. I”ve never liked that man. He”s a fucking gobshite. The fucker thinks he”s God”s gift to mankind just because he married Jer”s sister. Had he not married Patty, there wouldn’t have been a fucking hope in hell of him becoming Jer”s right-hand man.

She lifts her shoulders and shrugs. ”Did you follow me?” she asks softly.

I smirk. ”No, but I happened to be across the street when you scurried past. I was surprised. On a day like today, you should have been with your family.”

”No, I shouldn”t,” she says with a heavy sigh. ”Other than Jer, no one else gives a fuck about me,” she slashes out, and I find it endearing that she curses with such venom. ”Before Mam died, I hadn”t seen any of them since Jer”s birthday last year. Hell, none of them have spoken to me in years other than Jerry. The only time they do is if there’s a family gathering. So tell me, Stephen, why on earth would I want to be around them?”

”Anger is natural. You”ve lost your ma. But don”t push away those who want to help.”

She shakes her head and moves toward her bag. I watch as she pulls on her hoodie and shoes. ”Do they want to help for me or for themselves?” she asks, her voice no longer filled with that anger. ”They all have lives. They have things they need to do. No one needs to worry about me. I”m fine.”

Bullshit. She”s fucking far from it. The pain she feels is etched into every feature on her face. She”s crumbling under it, but she”s not going to let anyone in. I know that all too well. When things get tough, you batter down the hatches and ride the storm.

”What are you doing here, Stephen?” she asks, her green eyes wide and uncertain.

I like that she”s not hiding. She doesn”t act scared of me, which a lot of people do. I”ve earned a reputation. I”ve committed heinous crimes and I”ve enjoyed doing every single one. ”Curiosity. You”ve piqued my interest, Little Dancer.”

”There”s something wrong with you, isn”t there? I mean, I”ve heard the stories about you. Not to mention, Aunt Nicola said to stay away.”

I”m not surprised Nicola warned her off. As close as I am to Callie and Maverick, I”m still a killer, and they all know that. Though only Jer and Freddie know when I began killing. They’re the only ones who know my da was my first victim.

”Why aren”t you scared of me?” I ask with a raised brow, loving that she stares back without blinking. ”You don”t cower in fear. You don”t try to hide. Why is that?”

”Is there a reason I should?” she fires back.

I can”t help the laugh that escapes me. ”Oh, Little Dancer, you have no idea the depths of Hell that I belong to.”

”Doesn”t the majority of my family belong there, too?”

She”s got a point. ”You think they”re bad? They have nothing on me.” Not even Maverick who”s probably the deadliest man I know is anywhere near how deranged I truly am. ”I am the man the Boogeyman”s afraid of. I”m the reason people sleep with the light on.”

”Sometimes,” she whispers as she hitches her bag onto her shoulder, ”those who are deemed dangerous are really the ones who are the safest.” She flashes me a soft as fuck smile and moves past me out of the room.

I let her leave. If I don”t, I could find myself becoming obsessed with her. There is a connection here—a pull. Jessica Grace is someone I should steer clear of. Her innocence and the way she doesn”t give a fuck about who I am will only make me become obsessed.

I know how fucked up I am. It’s not right to obsess over a fourteen-year-old girl. Her ma’s just died, for fuck’s sake.

Three years and she”s legal. Seventeen is the legal age of consent here in Ireland.

Fuck. I need to keep my distance. That girl is pure temptation.