Chapter 14
14
KILLIAN
W ar and I both like to drive, so we alternate. Today, it’s his turn, so I’ve got the burn phone where we’ve got the map to the meeting spot. We roll out, both wearing sunglasses and serious expressions.
Once we’re close to the rendezvous, we find ourselves on a dirt road, heading into the woods. The message said to leave the truck and walk east until we saw a marker on a tree, then take the path.
As we’re tromping across uneven ground for fifteen minutes, I start to doubt we’re gonna find the marker, but finally War spots it. A strip of yellow fabric tied around a branch. Right next to it, there’s a trail.
Another ten minutes pass before we hear anything but insects. As we draw closer, there’s laughter. It’s C, the leader of C Crue. He’s a monster when it comes to muscles, but at five-foot-eleven, he’s the shortest of the bosses.
Connor McCann, nickname C, is War’s uncle. They hadn’t seen each other in person for years when War was growing up in Europe while living with his mother, C’s sister. Then, War came over to the U.S., and C recruited him to work for the business .
War and I enter the clearing that’s the site of the meeting. On one side, there’s an unlit fire pit and some equipment. On the opposite side, there are a couple of outdoor couches made of that plastic wicker stuff. The outdoor furniture, with its square black cushions, kind of looks like the living room furniture at our house.
C and Scott Patrick, aka Trick, sit on either end of one couch. Trick is Jamie’s cousin, and he looks a lot like him, except Trick’s got brown hair and is about a decade older than us. The years have taken the right amount of smoothness off the shine. Unlike with Jamie, no one would call Trick a pretty boy now. Not that anyone smart would’ve to his face in the past, either, I’d imagine. Trick’s a stone-cold killer. All the C Crue founders are.
C and Trick stand and shake our hands before we all sit. War and I are at either end of the black couch facing theirs. War leans back into his corner while I sit forward with my forearms on my thighs.
Trick takes the burn phone from me and casually pops its SIM card out. No personal cell phones are allowed at a meeting site ever. Not theirs and not ours. Trick’s got a jammer too and some other tech set up on a tree stump near their couch. Even though this place is off grid, they’re cautious. It’s how they’ve amassed a multi-billion-dollar fortune without any of them doing a stint in jail.
I was “the doer” last night, so they want to hear from me first. I tell them about the hit, including that Wilson mistook me for someone else and then changed his mind and called me out by name.
“You had your mask on the whole time?” C asks.
“Yeah, from before we left the vehicle.”
Despite the lack of fire in the pit, a smoky smell lingers in the air. It’s infiltrated the cushions, so each time I move, I catch a whiff. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve always liked the smell of smoke.
C glances at Trick.
“Moran’s got the Sullivan green eyes,” Trick says. “The target might have noticed Killian doesn’t.”
Sullivan, of course. That’s how I know the name Shane Moran. He’s the grandson of Joe Sullivan, head of the Irish Mob in Boston.
“As to how he knows there’s a Callahan on campus, we’ll have to do some digging,” Trick says. “Your brothers have had a beef with people from Boston to New York, but all our kind of people. No one with ties to a prestigious university like Granthorpe.”
“Are the Dark Knights an Irish gang?” I ask.
“No,” C says. “Maybe a campus club. We’ll look into that, too.” C glances at Trick. “What do you think? Leave him or pull him?”
My muscles go rigid. I’ve long suspected our little cell is at GU for more than just business classes. The last thing I want is to be pulled out. Number one, because they hand-picked me for this job, and I want in on it. And second, because Raine’s at GU and it’s easier for me to keep an eye on things if I’m there, too.
“Leave him,” Trick says.
C thinks for a beat and nods. “All right, bonus time.”
War clears his throat and turns his big shoulders so he’s looking at me, rather than them. “You gonna tell them? Or am I?”
C’s hand is almost on a plastic-covered bundle of cash when it pulls back. Their laser focus returns to us.
“Something go wrong that you didn’t mention?” C says.
“Not at the job site,” I say. “During disposal of the materials, my stepsister showed up at the house. She was there because I sent a text with a typo. She thought I wanted her to come by, when I meant I’d go to see her later.”
It’s nothing but crickets and death stares. I know Trick’s armed. With one signaling look from C, he’ll end me with a single bullet. A lot of professionals do a double tap, but Trick doesn’t need to. His aim is always dead on. One and done.
“When did you send the text?” C asks.
“When we got back to the house.”
I know where he’s going with that question, and a second later, he gets there.
“You sent a text between the op and evidence destruction? Did you stop to eat a burger and some fries, too?” His gaze cuts to War who remains silent. “Did you catch it?”
War doesn’t answer.
“So, you saw him go in for his phone?”
I’m tempted to jump in, but the question isn’t for me, so I keep my mouth shut. What War says next and how he spins it will make or break me.
War leans forward, resting his forearms on his tree-trunk thighs. “Our phones were on a window ledge. O’Rourke brought them out while we were stripping out of the op clothes. Callahan was in nothing but shorts when he went to the ledge. Gloves, suit, mask, all in the barrel. He went while I was pouring the lighter fluid. By the time I stepped away from the barrel for O’Rourke to light it up, Callahan was already headed to the boat.”
“Time at the ledge?” C asks.
“Ten to fifteen seconds,” War says.
Trick’s hand is resting on his leg. If he slides it to his waist, I’m done.
“Account for the gun,” Trick says while looking at me.
Sweat trickles down my back. I’ve been questioned by principals, school counselors, lawyers, a serial rapist, and the police. I never once started to sweat. Not when I was deciding to kill someone and not when a kid died in a fiery crash while drag racing against me.
These guys are a different breed of interrogator, though. They’re killers, and as the story unfolds, there’s a good chance they’ll kill me for not executing the op the way I was trained to.
I’m not ready to die tonight, but there is no way around it if C gives the order. The three of them against me in close quarters? Not a prayer in heaven.
When Trick says “account for the gun”, he means second by second. These guys do everything with precision. Fuck-ups are not allowed. And the way things were supposed to be executed did not include sending texts to a college girl in the middle of the op. I don’t know how many times they stressed to us that a mission is not over until every bit of the disposal is complete.
I crack the knuckle of my right trigger finger and answer the question. “When we exited the truck, I dropped the gun in a paint tray that Jamie had waiting. He poured bleach over it, so it was totally submerged. I didn’t see him take it out and remove the silencer because I was getting undressed. When I looked over, I saw him shoving the small wire bristle brush into the gun’s barrel. War had the lighter fluid. My hands were clean and free, so I checked my phone.”
“Why answer a text then?” C says.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I had an idle second, so I fired it off.”
“With a typo.” C’s scowl deepens. “One that brought a girl to the house.”
“Yeah.”
“Keep going.” C’s jaw muscles stand out as his jaw clenches. “Did Jamie intercept her and send her away?”
I’m silent for a moment because I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to lay the blame on anyone else. “I didn’t see what happened before we got back to shore, so I’m just speculating. She must have come around the far side of the house, not from the street next to the back lot. I think by the time he spotted her she was at the barrel, filming the fire. My white suit was still visible and had smeared blood on it. I don’t know if she saw the blood or knew what it was.”
“You don’t? Why else would she be filming the burn?” C says incredulously.
“She’s a film student. She films literally anything that catches her eye.”
C’s jaw looks as though it’s made of iron as he glances over at Trick.
“That tracks,” Trick says. “I know which girl she is. The Callahan stepsister. You’ve seen her, C. Petite. Medium brown hair. Name’s Raine with an e on the end.”
C shakes his head. She’s not been on his radar. Of course, Trick has been to more Callahan events where he would’ve seen Raine.
“She does film random things.” Trick nods. “One reception, I saw her filming a bird feeder. I walked by because I was curious. She was tracking a leaf’s progress as it floated around the edge.”
“Hmm.” C looks back at me. “For our Crue, a witness—even to evidence disposal—constitutes a major error. For some other organizations, bystanders wander into op zones from fucking anywhere and spot things happening, including stuff they can later report. That doesn’t happen to us. We’re better than that.”
I nod .
C shakes his head in disgust. “So, she gets on the property, then what?”
“He catches her filming and detains her. That’s when we got back to shore. By this time, it’s close to dawn and we’re outside in nothing but shorts, freezing our balls off, so we went inside the house. Her, too.”
“She came in voluntarily or by force?” C asks.
“I picked her up and walked inside with her,” I say.
“Break it down for me from there with details.” C cracks his knuckles “And don’t make me ask another fucking question. We want the whole picture from start to finish. The facts.”
The sweat on my back has dried. I’m calm now. Whatever’s going to happen will happen.
There’s not a bit of uncertainty in my voice when I speak. It’s dead steady and distant as I lay it out for them, including that we were divided about what to do with her. The only thing I leave out is my having a sexual encounter with her after we woke up. When I finish, I look at War. “If I missed anything, tell them.”
“He got it all,” War says without hesitation.
“Every one of you failed at some point,” C says. “You see that, right?”
War nods. I’ve already admitted my mistake but incline my head anyway.
“The girl came to see you in the middle of the night for a booty call, right? So, you’re close?” C asks.
“No, not for sex. She came to talk about something.”
“Bullshit. What college girl comes out at four-something-in-the morning to a sketchy neighborhood to visit a house she’s never been in, just to talk?”
“She was afraid to ignore me. For what it’s worth, she knows other things about me. Things that predate my coming to work for you, of course. She’s never told anyone what she knows.”
“That you know of,” C fires back.
“Right, but no one’s ever tied me to the worst things I’ve done. The cops definitely would’ve brought me in for questioning if they’d gotten wind of those things.” I lean forward and look him in the eye, so he knows I’m not avoiding it. “I know her, who her friends are, a lot of what she’s said to them in text and email.” I touch my chest. “Hacker. I don’t monitor everything daily now, but there were times when I did. She never mentions me at all. Not even casually.”
C leans back. “You’ve been breaking Rule 2.”
My brows pinch together in confusion. “Rule 2 is no moonlighting. The only crimes that get done are the ones you guys order.”
“Exactly.” When I still don’t understand, C looks at Trick.
Trick’s brows rise and fall. “Sounds like the girl pretends you don’t exist and tries to not have a relationship with you. Today, she comes over because she’s afraid you’ll react badly if she doesn’t. And you’re tracking her movements and hacking into her communications.” Trick taps his fingers on his leg like he’s playing a beat for me. “Stalking is illegal in Massachusetts and the rest of the fifty states. If she complained about that alone, you’d be on campus police and local PD’s radar. GU would expel you.”
“Oh. Well, my watching her predates my coming to work for you. And I… didn’t think of it as stalking. But you’re right. It is.”
“Could you stop if ordered to?” Trick asks.
“Yeah,” I say, but I hesitate, and they see it. I’ve never cut myself off from keeping current on what’s happening with Raine. Going even a few days without checking spurs me into action. Unlocking her phone to look through it. Scrolling through her email accounts.
C turns toward Trick. “He let them chain him to the bed with her. So, he’s not as cut off from the world as we thought.”
“And keeping tabs on a girl, we’ve all done that from time to time.”
“Sometimes to excess,” C murmurs.
Trick smirks, then his smile drops when he looks back at me. “If stalking this one girl matters more than finding a new one who hasn’t seen the worst of you, it’s time to change the dynamic. Fear might keep her quiet, especially if she’s been able to get on with her life and pretend your dirty deeds never happened. She could put last night in a box, too. People can do it for years or even a lifetime. The problem is it doesn’t sound like you ever let her forget you. Eventually, she’ll have had enough. Maybe she already has. Then, if the police bring her in for questioning and convince her they can protect her from you, she’ll give you up. Why wouldn’t she when fear is all she has to look forward to if she stays quiet?”
I fold my arms across my chest. He may be right, but I refuse to say so.
“You can’t stop stalking her,” C says. “That’s clear from the look on your face when I suggested it. But we’ve invested a lot to get you into position on that campus. You’re not just there to get a business degree. And if this girl burns you now, it won’t just bring the heat for you. It’ll burn all three of you. That can’t happen. So she either has to die, as painlessly as possible because she’s innocent, or…”
My face stays the same. I force it to. But Trick grimaces when C mentions killing Raine.
I’m trying to figure a way to leverage Trick’s reaction when he says, “Or you have to make her okay with your obsession.”
I stare at them. “How would I do that? Brainwash her?”
“Yeah, actually. You get her to fall in love with you,” Trick says.
C nods. “Consider that your new op. You’ll tell her she has to stay in the house until your bosses say it’s okay for her to roam free. Tell her you’re going to escort her places and keep track of who she talks to, but act like you’re sorry about it. That if it was up to you, you’d let her go because you trust her. And start to behave like she’s the princess who’s tamed the dragon.”
My brain tries to work out what that would entail and draws a blank. Which doesn’t matter, because she’d never believe it of me anyway.
War mumbles a skeptical, “Yeah, right.”
C’s attention turns to him. “If he fails, you all fail, you feel me? You chained her to a fucking wall, making her sleep in the same bed as the guy who’s been terrorizing her. So now, you’re in this fucking stew with him. And if I have to pull you out and replace you, you and O’Rourke can fuck off back to Europe.” C leans forward. “Killian’s a psychopath. He’ll probably never feel much for anyone.”
My brows rise. No one’s ever straight up called me that. I’ve watched enough True Crime documentaries to know, but before now, no one else seemed to realize.
C’s voice is low, but his stare is trained on War. “That means he’s gonna have to fake feelings for this girl, and it better be an Oscar-worthy performance.”
War is stone-faced. Trick’s sitting back casually, but his forearm is lying across his belt. If either War or I make a wrong move, he’s ready. I’ve seen how fast he is. Even this close, he could probably shoot us both before we got to him, especially with C there to knock us back onto the couch.
There’s a bird chirping somewhere in the distance, but otherwise it’s quiet as C lets what he’s said sink in. “You get me, kid?”
War nods. “Yeah, understood, C.”
C picks up the plastic-wrapped stacks of money and stands. He tosses one onto the couch next to War and a couple to me, which I catch. My bundles are bigger because I did the actual shooting, but it’s a big payday for both of us. Not that it matters now.
C bends his fingers toward his palm in a “c’mon” gesture that’s directed at War. “Let’s take a walk.”
War stands.
As they walk away, C’s tone is different when he speaks. More like it was when we first sat down. “Part of having your partner’s back is stopping him from making a stupid mistake. Both the guys you’re partnered with are smart…”
Once C’s voice becomes too faint for me to hear, I turn my full attention to Trick.
“You’ve got advice for me?” My voice sounds colder than I mean it to.
“Of sorts,” Trick says, his voice just as cool. “Your brothers are friends of mine. They sent you to me because I’m good with computers and so are you. When we started the training drills, C and I saw you’d be able to handle high pressure situations, which is important in this line of work. Then, we realized what you are and thought about cutting you loose. Figured you might be better off as a lone contract killer. But you seemed to click with Jamie and War. Until last night’s fuckup, you guys were exceeding our expectations. I want to see you get back on track.
“But don’t let getting a second chance confuse you into thinking there will be a third. We have never had to kill an innocent teenage girl. I don’t have a taste for it. In fact, I started one of the bloodiest gangland wars in history because someone tried to force me to ignore grown men doling out vicious beatings to kids.” His eyes are glacial now as he watches me. “If you make us kill your stepsister, you’ll die, too. In the worst possible way. It’s like we told you. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re C Crue. You live and die by Crue law.”
“Did C leave us alone so you could explain that to me?”
“Yes.”
I blow out a breath and nod.
Death isn’t what I want for myself, but I’m not afraid of it, either. As I look at things objectively, the likelihood of failure of the fake-feelings op is high. Really high. And failure would get Raine killed, too. Whereas if we skip it, only one of us has to go into the ground.
“I’m surprised you don’t just kill me now, Trick. Clean. And let Raine go with a warning. She’ll stay quiet.”
Trick shakes his head. “There’s no telling how she’d react if you disappeared. There may be more than fear that keeps her from implicating you in things. Second, there are your brothers, my friends, to consider. And lastly, I chose you for the GU op for a reason. We’re playing a long game, and I want you in position to help me carry it out. If we succeed, you’ll earn enough bonuses to buy ten Corvettes and more. Don’t fuck things up. Do what we’re ordering you to do.”
Trick means what he says. All the bosses do. Loyalty in the Crue runs deep. No one turns on them. No one leaves. And they haven’t had a single guy end up in prison. Arrested, yes, but in for a stretch? No. I respect their operation. Everyone who’s seen inside it does.
Licking my lips, I shrug, then nod. “I’ll try to trick her, but I can’t see it working.”
For a long time, Raine has been the place where I lock my darkest secrets. She’s also been the inspiration for the dark deeds that led to them. It’s how I turned her into my own personal Pandora’s box, and then locked her tight and swallowed the key.
She couldn’t stop me from doing that. But she can hate me for it and does.
Raine has made me two promises. One, she’ll never betray me. And two, she’ll never be mine .
My hands rub my jeans, and I stare at the dirt and crushed leaves. When I glance up, Trick’s still watching me.
“Raine’s seen me without a mask, Trick. I can’t make her unsee it.”
His expression is neutral now, his own mask back in place and covering the killer within. “In my experience, a woman can forgive even the unforgivable if she wants to bad enough.”