Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Brendan
T here’s something therapeutic about spending time working in the garage. The mixed scents of rubber, gasoline, and chrome polish are my version of an aromatherapy candle. Bent over the hood of my Dodge Charger, I tweak the engine of my baby and my mind drifts—as it always does lately—to thoughts of Nora.
After I dropped the bombshell about Da being poisoned, Nora forwarded us the copy of the coroner’s report and a file outlining Siobhan’s testimony against Tag.
In the days that followed, Finn has verified the legitimacy of the coroner’s report and discovered that Jordan Kelly’s boss was the one who sealed the findings and kept us from finding out.
We’re guessing he wanted to pin that on Tag and wipe us off the playing field.
No such luck.
And once we knew that, it didn’t take us long to check back through the security logs at the gate to find out the only person in the house the day Da died, other than family, was none other than Siobhan fucking Daley.
May her rotten soul swallow her up and drag her to the depths.
Our money is on her working with Mad Mattie or Declan and killing Da as a power play to take the north. No one thought Tag could hold the territory.
No one except us.
So, now that we know, we need to figure out what to do about it. The task force is still watching us. Siobhan is in protective custody somewhere. And my happily ever after with Nora hangs in the balance.
At least she quit her job at Legend.
That news smoothed the water with her father—the one and only thing we’ve ever agreed on—and made her return home almost bearable for her. I miss her like crazy, but we talk every day and will figure out how to make this work.
Because like I told her—she’s mine. Us being apart isn’t an option. The first chance I get, I will claim her and then she will never leave my side.
In the meantime, she’s monitoring her father and the task force from the inside. Tag clarified that she’s not to get involved or do anymore snooping, but if she hears anything she feels she can share, we’d appreciate it.
I hate that she’s out there on her own when the McGuires are mucking about in our business. I also can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming, something bad.
So, to keep myself busy, I’ve been working on my car. A lot.
“Oi, there you are. I’ve been searching for you.”
I straighten, set my wrench down on the tool chest, and grab a rag for my hands. “What’s the craic, Finny? You look like you swallowed a lemon.”
My little brother sets his laptop on the top of my tool chest and shows me a prison mug shot. “No craic today, I’m afraid.”
“Who am I looking at?”
“That’s the bloke who targeted Nora on the night of the fundraiser.”
I stop fiddling with the rag and take a long look at the fucker. “Who is he?”
“Terrance McNevin—the man who killed Nora’s mother.”
My heart drops as a wave of confusion hits. “Nora’s mother died in a car accident.”
“That was the public statement. In truth, Jordan Kelly was putting pressure on a British crime firm out of Liverpool and his wife, Melody Jordan, was killed in a targeted mob hit.”
Shit . “A warning to back Nora’s father down?”
“Aye. From what I’ve found, McNevin killed the wife and Jordan was told Nora would be next if he didn’t back off.”
I lean back against my car and run my fingers through my hair. “When did he get out?”
“The Lord Chancellor sentenced him to fifteen years, and he was let out in thirteen for reformed behavior.”
Reformed behavior, my ass. “Fifteen years? Isn’t a minimum sentence like twenty-five or thirty?”
“No weapon was used. If he’d opted for a knife or a gun, then it would’ve been a longer sentence, but he didn’t—he snapped her neck.”
White hot fury builds in my veins. “And now he’s back on the streets?
“Aye, he got sprung six weeks ago.”
My gut tightens at the thought of this prick coming after Nora.
“And there’s more.”
I arch a brow, my kill-meter flipping into the red zone. “What else?”
“With McNiven’s identity in hand, I went back to the night of the shooting outside the Confession Box, on a lark. I thought, what if Petey wasn’t the target? I mean, the killing of the girl in the foreground always bugged me. Ryan said it wasn’t the McGuires, and Pete didn’t have anything damning to report. On top of that, McGuire men are more of an up-close-and-personal kind of killer.”
I swallow, adrenaline pumping in earnest now. “It was him?”
Finn nods. “Aye. I tapped into the traffic cams and caught him coming through the intersection and parking against the curb right as you walk into the frame.”
“So, he’s been after her all this time?”
“Aye, I’d say so. Though you putting the boots to him must’ve taken him out for a few weeks. And then, Nora spending a few nights with you at the loft probably kept her off his radar.”
And thank fuck for that. “But she’s home now.”
The idea that this fucker might be after her makes me weak in the knees.
“Aye, and that brings me to the last bit of news.”
I flex my fingers in and out, working to stay in control. “Which is?”
“I went through the images Tig, Drake, and Frenchie have been submitting in their reports of the Kelly house surveillance.”
“And?”
“And McNiven is the asshole in the silver Nissan. It seems he’s been scoping out the house, waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” But even as I ask, I know the answer. “Waiting for his chance to get to Nora.”
“Aye, that was my take on it, too.”
“I’ve got to get to her.” I slam the hood shut with a force that vibrates through the garage and then drop into the driver’s seat and start the car.
Finn jumps in on the passenger side and we tear out of the garage. “Wait, Brenny. You have to play this right. You can’t just march into her house.”
“Watch me.” My palms ache from the death-grip I have on my steering wheel. “Hey, Siri, call Nora.”
My Bluetooth connection kicks in, and my phone begins to ring.
After five agonizing rings, it goes to voicemail. I’m at a loss. There’s no way I can leave her a message and be like… Hey, you know that guy that stalked you after the charity fight? Yeah, he killed your mam, is out of prison, and coming after you. Call me back.
Instead, I go vague. “It’s me. Lock down, angel. There’s trouble. I’m on my way.” I end the call without saying anything more and try again. “Hey, Siri, call Drake.”
The phone rings and thankfully, the guy picks up on the first ring. “Morning, bossman. What can I?—”
“Do you have eyes on Nora?”
“Uh, not at the moment. She’s in the house with her father. I’m down the block, parked in the driveway of a neighbor on holiday.”
“But you have a line of sight on the house.”
“I do.”
“Is there anyone else watching the house? Frenchie mentioned there was another interested party the other day. The fucker in the silver Nissan.”
“Aye, but he fucked off fast the moment Frenchie marched over to tap on his window.”
“And you haven’t noticed him back?”
“No. Why?”
“Because his name is Terrance McNevin, and he’s a fucking Lillipudlian Made Man with an axe to grind with the father. He killed the wife years ago and did time for it. Now he’s out and coming after Nora.”
“Fuck. All right, what do you need?”
“I need you to make sure Terrance McNevin gets nowhere near that house.” I hang up the call and cast a glance at my brother sitting in my shotgun seat. “Call Sean. Tell him I want a team at Nora’s. I’m done with this shit. I’m pulling her from her life.”
“Consider it done.”
With the decision made, I press my foot down harder on the gas. “I’m coming, angel. Stay safe until I get there.”
Nora
Steam curls around me as I step out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around my body. The hot water helped wash away some of the tension from missing Brendan while navigating the mercurial moods of my father.
My phone screen lights up on the counter, showing a missed call from Dan. My heart skips. I grab it, water droplets falling from my fingers as I access the voicemail.
“It’s me. Lock down, angel. There’s trouble. I’m on my way.”
Oh, no. His voice is hard—dangerous. Gone is the playful tone from our time at the loft. That was definitely Brendan the Quinn mafia enforcer calling.
But he can’t come here. My father is downstairs in his office.
I drop the towel and scramble into my closet, yanking on the first things I touch - yoga pants, sports bra, oversized sweater. No time for underwear. My wet hair soaks through the fabric as I hop on one foot, shoving the other into a sneaker.
Maybe if I run down the block, I can intercept him before?—
The sharp knock at the front door freezes me mid-motion.
Too late.
My heart pounds as I stand paralyzed between my bedroom door and the window. He said lock down, but that knock… Brendan’s here, probably ready to burst in with whatever danger is following him. And my father is right downstairs.
Another knock, more insistent this time.
Hoping to send him away before my father comes to the door, I race down the stairs. “I’ll get it.”
I swing the door open and stop, mid-racing-heartbeat. It’s not Brendan.
It’s a guy in a navy hoodie.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
He lifts his gaze, and recognition hits me like a punch to the stomach. It’s the man Brendan beat up the night of the charity fight—the man who was chasing me. My instincts kick in and I swing the door to close it.
I brace it with both hands and push, but it won’t close.
He’s got the toe of his boot in the way.
With a solid shove, he pushes through the door, knocking me staggering back. His mouth quirks up in a cruel smile. “Hello, Nora.”
Brendan
The engine of my Charger is growling as I slam on the brakes outside Nora’s home. Drake is face down on the front lawn, a pool of blood staining the manicured grass beneath him. “Fucking hell. Help him, Finn.”
The front door was closing as I pulled up, so hopefully…
I’m not too late.
Every violent impulse known to man is driving me right now. I will gut this fucker. I will gut him and fucking bathe in his entrails.
But not until Nora is safe.
The only thing that’s keeping me from totally losing control of the beast that lives within me is knowing I need to be smart to save Nora. Despite what her father tells her, Quinns are a different breed of dangerous.
We aren’t mindless thugs—we’re calculated killers.
I make a juggernaut run at the house and thrust my boot at the front door. The jamb gives way with a booming crack, wood splintering as the hinges try and fail miserably to keep the paneled slab attached to the wall.
Nora’s scream pierces my heart, and I race into the living room.
McNevin spins her and wraps his arm around Nora’s neck, holding her prisoner against his body like a shield.
“You fucking piece of shit. How dare you touch what is mine.” My fists are clenched so tight, my nails bite into my palms. “I am Brendan-fucking-Quinn and I’m telling you—let her go.”
“Oh, I know who you are, mate, but she was mine long before yours.” He studies me, but doesn’t flinch an inch. Not that I expected him to—he’s a fucking scouse Made Man straight out of prison. He thinks we stand on level ground of ruthless violence.
He’s wrong.
I step forward and he tightens his hold, making Nora cry out. I hold up my hands, my heart thundering like it never has before. Fucking hell, the thought of him taking Nora from me makes my knees weak.
“Your beef is with her father. She’s got nothing to do with this.”
Jordan rushes out from the dining room, and his expression morphs from rage at seeing me in his home to horror when he spots McNevin holding his daughter. “Get your hands off my daughter!”
McNevin grins, the sick fuck. “I don’t think so, Kelly. I’ve thought of little else but getting my hands on her since the night I snapped her mother’s neck. I was going to kill the kid then, but that wasn’t the job. She was the leverage to stand you down.”
Confusion washes over Nora’s face, her pleading gaze piercing my heart.
McNevin brushes his lips over Nora’s ear as if whispering a secret. “Your father made it look like a car accident. He denied me the glory of my kill. He’s been lying to you, chippy. Didn’t want you to know she died because of him.”
“Shut your filthy mouth.” Jordan’s voice is warped with emotion, but it’s the grief and guilt etched on his face that is the most telling. It’s actually sad.
I almost feel for the man. Almost.
But none of this matters with Nora in danger.
The roar of my brother’s arrival sends a surge of relief through my chest. The thundering rumble of a dozen Harleys pulling up outside is enough of a distraction to have McNevin shifting his attention to the window.
Jordan and I both take advantage of the moment.
I grab a heavy crystal figurine off the sofa table and hurl it just above McNevin’s head. The shattering of glass sends an avalanche of shards bursting outward onto the lawn as Jordan rushes him like an enraged bull.
The two of us get to the fucker about the same time. Jordan goes for McNevin and I’ve only got eyes for Nora. As much as I struggle with the urge to kill the fucker, Nora is the only thing that matters.
I pull my girl away from the chaos of meaty punches thrown with desperate force. The collision of Jordan and McNevin has been building for over a decade, Nora’s father a wronged man possessed.
With the bastard who stole his love within his grasp, Jordan gives the reins over to revenge. I don’t blame him. If it were me, I’d be just as unhinged.
In a heated battle, they grapple one another, taking out the furniture and demolishing the facade Jordan Kelly has put on for thirteen years.
I shield Nora with my body, pressing her face into my chest so she doesn’t have to watch as Jordan and McNevin scramble like rabid dogs. Her fingers dig into my shirt, her trembling body gloriously solid and alive against mine.
“I’ve got you, beautiful.” I murmur in her ear, holding her tight against my chest. “I’ve got you and I’m never fucking letting you go.”
The scramble takes the men through the opening of the shattered window and Sean and the Devils race up the lawn. The rhythmic whine of an ambulance siren is growing closer, and I think about Drake bleeding on the lawn.
The chaos of the fight falls silent, and I pull Nora tighter against my chest, watching the empty window. With my gun in my hand and my arm raised, I wait to see which one of the men gets up.
Neither of them do.
Sean approaches the house, leaning forward and stretching his neck to see. “Clear. They’re both down hard.”
“What?” Nora’s tear-stained face pulls away from my chest and stares up at me. “My father’s okay, though, right?”
It doesn’t sound like it . I holster my gun at my back and ease away from Nora. “Let me go see.”
I take a few steps, and Nora is right with me. I meet Sean’s gaze through the broken window, and he shakes his head.
I stop her and bend down to meet her gaze. “Please, beautiful, stay here while I check on him. I don’t want you in danger, and I don’t want you to see him if it’s bad.”
A shuttered sob escapes her, and she nods. “Okay, but be quick.”
Finn races inside to check on us, and I hand him Nora. “Stay with Finny, angel.”
Rushing out of the front of the house, I jog over to stand next to Sean. “Jesus fuck.”
“Aye, it’s gruesome.”
McNiven’s neck is snapped, the bastard’s head pivoted around to look backward like a fucking owl. And Nora’s father… “Fucking hell.”
When the fight went through the window frame, Jordan’s thigh got dragged through the jagged glass. By the amount of blood soaking his pants, his femoral artery was severed. And there’s a second jagged shard sticking out his neck.
“Brendan? What do you see?”
“Nora, stay here, lass.” Finn’s urging has me turning back to the front door and racing to keep her from coming outside.
I meet her at the door and push her back inside. “No, angel. You don’t want to see.”
Nora looks up at me, devastation on her face. “Is he dead?”
“I’m sorry, angel. They both are.”
And with that, her eyes roll back in her head, and she faints in my arms.