17. Liam
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The recoil reverberates through my arm, but my stance remains solid. Each bullet meets the target with trained precision.
The Russians’ methods of attack are becoming more creative. But we’re more violent. More calculated. We know exactly where to hit them and when.
I’ve killed dozens of those slimy fucks since I walked away from Emily. The distraction is needed but it barely tames the ache in my chest.
She hasn’t returned to the estate since she left.
Not once.
Last night, I overheard Declan mention that she’s been spending more time with Ryan. I know I pushed her toward it, but it doesn’t lessen the hurt.
Growing up around the Irish Mafia, I’ve always found a sort of peace with pouring my frustration into shooting a gun. The control and concentration cause my mind to blank, and I focus solely on hitting my target.
But now? Nothing but Emily brings me peace.
And I let her go.
It eats away at my heart that she is going to build a life with someone who isn’t me.
Bang!
The head of the target explodes into hundreds of broken pieces. Changing my stance, I hit the one next to it. Then the next. And the next.
Tonight, Conor is having a banquet to announce her engagement to Ryan. I’ve tried finding an assignment to avoid being present, but I'm being forced to watch because Conor knows what Emily means to me.
Rhys shakes his head at me in disappointment any chance he can, and it pisses me the fuck off. Fuck him. Fuck Conor.
I drop the pistol and move to a semi-automatic rifle. I fire until the magazine is empty, and the barrel is hot.
“Liam.”
Turning my head, I peer over my shoulder at the sound of Declan’s voice. He nods his head for me to follow.
I set the rifle down and then stride to his side.
“What’s up?” I ask as we continue down the path toward the guardhouse.
“Looks like you need something to get your anger out. We’re training.”
I open my mouth to deny his assumption but quickly shut it when he side-eyes me.
The guardhouse is a large apartment building on the far end of the property. It houses any of the guards that don’t have houses or apartments of their own.
Me included.
The building has a massive sparring gym on the lowest level that is used for hand-to-hand combat training.
As we enter the space, my senses are invaded by the smell of sweat, rubber mats, and blood. The sounds of the men grunting and punches landing on bare skin fill my ears.
“Let’s head to the mat on the far end.” Declan slaps a hand against my back and then strides to the mat he indicated. I follow close behind.
Once we’ve reached the end of the mat, Declan and I tug off our shirts and boots. As we walk to the center, some of the other men take notice and make their way over.
Declan bounces on the balls of his feet with his fists up – protecting his face.
“Alright, Liam, let’s see what you got.” He says in a mocking tone.
I twist my neck from side to side, roll my shoulders, and take my fighting stance. My fists are loose when I raise them to just below my nose.
I meet Declan’s eyes for a second before throwing a right hook. He dodges it and jabs me in the ribcage. I grunt from the force and jump back.
Dropping down, I swiftly sweep his legs from under him.
The ground shakes from how hard he hits the mat. Moving quickly, I straddle him and slam my fist into his face with enough force to cause his head to bounce off the mat.
He gives me a wide bloody-toothed grin before slamming his head against my nose. I feel the crunch and fall back.
“Feck!”
“Shouldn’t have left yourself open like that.” He cackles.
I growl and spit out the blood that now flows down my face.
He spits the blood from his mouth and then we collide once again.
We continue to grapple on the floor – fists and elbows meeting flesh – before Declan manages to pull me into a triangle chokehold. One thigh presses down on the side of my neck while the opposite cages my other arm and shoulder across his pelvis and stomach. His hold tightens, squeezing me like a vice. I grit my teeth from the pressure building in my skull due to the circulation being lost.
“Get yourself out of it, Liam.” Declan orders.
My eyes feel seconds from popping out of their sockets.
Using my trapped arm, I drape it over his hips, lock my hands together, and press down. In rapid succession, his hold loosens, I bring my knee upward, and ram it into his side.
When he lets go, I push away. The blood rushes to my head, and my vision is momentarily blurred.
“Good.” Declan praises through panted breaths.
He stands and I remain seated on the mat. My nose is still throbbing from his head crashing into it. Sweat streams down my chest and back.
Someone tosses each of us a rag, followed by a water bottle, and we wipe the blood from our faces.
“You good?” Declan asks with a raised brow, gulping water.
“I’m grand,” I say between panted breaths.
He gestures toward my face with a nod. “Go get your nose checked out by Dr. Robbins.”
I nod and he reaches out a hand to help me up.
We clap each other on the back before walking out of the gym.