21. Ronan
21
RONAN
S ometime early in the night, I awaken curled around Maeve. She's snoring lightly, deep in sleep, and her hair is still damp from showering. Two towels lie across the foot of the bed. Mine is still tightly lashed around my waist. I kiss the back of her shoulder, but she doesn't stir.
The clock radio says just after eleven. I don't know what time it was when we fell asleep, but I'm not tired now. After everything that happened and returning here to Maeve, I'm guessing it isn’t that late. Now I want to know what Declan and Lochlan sorted out and whether I have to deal with Eamon or not. It isn't on the list of things I'd like to be doing right now, but sleep is evading me, and I might as well use my time wisely.
So after pressing another kiss to Maeve's shoulder, I slip out of bed. The lights are off, but I don't need them to find clothes. I leave my towel on the floor next to the bed and find some slacks and boxers. When I slip into the walk-in closet, I shut the door behind myself so I can turn the light on to find a shirt. Falling asleep early wasn't my plan, but after being shot again, drinking that much all at once, and the great sex, I passed out. Now I have to make up for it.
When my shirt is on and my tie is tied, I find a pair of shoes that aren't stained in blood and shut the light off, allowing my eyes to readjust to the darkness before returning to my dresser to take socks. Maeve continues sleeping peacefully, something I know she really needs, so I leave as quietly as I can.
When I step into the hallway I hear voices in my living room. I recognize Lochlan's voice right away. At least he's wise enough to know I was sleeping and didn't disrupt me, but now that I'm awake, I need to know what he knows so I can get down to business. I move in that direction and find him seated across from Connor on the sofa, talking. Each of them has a glass of alcohol in their hand, and I nod at Lochlan as I enter and sit next to him.
"So, what's the update?" I suppress a yawn and rub the sleep from my eyes. It'll take me a few minutes to really get going, but tonight, we have to finish this.
"Declan is still out. So are Finn and the rest of them…" Lochlan doesn't look convinced that they'll find our enemy. I can't even say or think his name right now, I'm so angry.
"They're hunting him…" Connor says the words as if they taste bitter, and I scowl at him. I understand the family is divided, but I won't stand for those who dissent. I'm the leader. I have to teach Connor this valuable lesson before it's too late for him.
"Good. Any man who can light a fire that burns his cousin to the ground without feeling remorse or guilt needs to be hunted." As the words roll off my tongue, Connor's eyebrows rise slightly and then fall. I see the pain in his expression and I know that feeling. None of us likes the idea that our own family would betray us and do something like this, but my brother has to see that if he follows Eamon, it won't just be our cousins.
"Ronan, Benny didn't make it. Some of us held out hope that he got out. We just prayed he stumbled away, but…" I look up at Lochlan, whose face is stricken with grief. "They found his body charred. They have to use dental records to identify him, but?—"
"But the family crest he wore on a chain around his neck was melted and fused to his breast bone." Connor finishes what Lochlan can't say, and it's something I already knew. When I saw that blaze, I knew nothing could survive it.
"We'll avenge him," I say softly, focusing on a moment of silence for my cousin who didn't deserve what happened to him. After the moment passes, I look Connor in the eye. "Eamon is coming for my authority, and when he gets me in his crosshairs, I'm next. You know this."
Connor meets my gaze and solemnly nods. The understanding is clear. He's choosing me or his cousin, and I can see the remorse in his eyes. No one likes that our blood is turning on us, and no one likes what we have to do, least of all me. But it has to be done.
"Let's go, then…"
I stand, and the boys follow me. We walk out the front door, leaving Aiden on the front step. He's been stitched up and he's using a cane to walk, but he's armed and more than able to make sure Maeve stays put, though she was left alone at the house earlier and did nothing but lie on the couch and read. Her book is still there now. I leave word with Aiden to call for a few more men to guard the house just in case Eamon gets any more ideas, and then we climb into Lochlan's SUV.
We pull out and head south. I'm not sure where they've searched, but we have to leave no stone unturned. Eamon's not stupid enough to have stayed at his house or his father's place. I won't harm anyone who isn't involved in this, but anyone who crosses me is dead to me already, anyway. It'll be nothing for me to pull the trigger when necessary now.
"What are our chances of finding him tonight?" Lochlan asks. He drives while I sit in the passenger seat and Connor in back. Connor hands us each a fully loaded weapon, and reaching back to get it causes a stabbing pain in my shoulder. I'm reminded that I, too, got shot tonight, but it's not stopping me.
"Not good, but we're not stopping until we've exhausted everything. I know a few haunts. We just have to rouse the boys." Lochlan nods at my words and focuses on his driving.
I press my eyes closed for a second, and all I see are the flames devouring our home. The pub was where our family gathered for years. As a child, I sat on a bar stool with my apple juice pretending I was one of the men. At fourteen, I had my first drink with my uncle and father. At fifteen, my father gave me my first whore there. She was well experienced and taught me how to please a woman. At seventeen, I made my first kill—a man who stole from my father. My father had no qualms about my doing it. The man was a message, and I delivered it with a single bullet to the head.
The memories flood back, but I push them aside. Now isn't the time for reminiscing. I need all my wits about me if we're going to find Eamon before he disappears for good, or worse, if he decides to retaliate again.
We drive past the charred remains of our pub. The pub is now reduced to a mass of blackened walls and crumbling debris, like a scene from a war-torn city. The flames have long been extinguished, but their destructive power still lingers in the charred remains. I turn my head away, not wanting to look at the ruins. The memories it brings up are too fresh.
The acrid smells of smoke and burnt wood fill my nostrils as we drive past the remains. It's a scent now tinged with the bitterness of loss and devastation. The pub was more than a building to us. It was the center of our lives, the heartbeat of our family. Now it's just rubble and ashes.
Lochlan parks the car a few blocks away from one of Eamon's favorite haunts, an old warehouse where he stashes product and runs his illegal gambling ring. "Alright, lads, we go in quiet. Don't want to spook the prey." We all nod in agreement, weapons drawn and ready for anything.
We approach the warehouse cautiously, every step calculated, ears pricked for any sound out of place. The air is thick with the smells of rotting garbage and burnt wood carried by the wind. The area is desolate, save for a few stray cats scavenging through trash cans. It's the perfect place for Eamon to hide, blending in with the filth and decay.
At the warehouse entrance, I motion for Lochlan to cover the back while Connor and I take the front. I try the door. It's unlocked. Eamon's cocky, always has been. He probably never thought we'd come here. We enter single file, our steps silent on the creaking floorboards.
The warehouse is pitch black inside, but I know this place like the back of my hand. We flick on our flashlights, illuminating our path and casting eerie shadows on the crumbling brick walls. The air inside is stale, thick with dust and mold. The smell of death lingers too—Eamon's ruthlessness.
We clear room by room, finding no one but rats and feral cats. My frustration is mounting, my shoulder throbbing with each step. We reach the basement where Eamon runs his card games and deals his drugs. The door creaks ominously as we push it open, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and sweat assaulting our senses. The space is empty save for overturned tables, chairs, and discarded betting slips littering the floor.
"Damn it!" I roar, kicking over a table in anger. Lochlan and Connor quickly train their lights on me, their eyes wide with fear and adrenaline. I'm on edge, one wrong move away from snapping. I take a deep breath to calm myself down. We can't afford any mistakes now.
"He's close," I say through gritted teeth. "I can feel it in my bones."
"Where to next, Ro?" Connor asks, the weight of the night's events etched on his face. He hates this, and I know it’s tearing us apart.
"We head to his mother’s place," I say, already knowing in my gut that Eamon won't be there. He's not stupid enough to go to any of our usual haunts, but we have to check them off the list. "He's gotten cocky. He'll have left a trail."
Lochlan and Connor nod in agreement, their faces grim. We leave the warehouse as quietly as we came, the stench of smoke, sweat, and desperation lingering on our clothes and in our nostrils. We pile back into the car, and Lochlan peels away from the curb, tires squealing as we speed off into the dark night.
The hunt for Eamon O'Rourke, to extinguish his name, continues. I'll hunt all night if I have to. "I need a drink," I tell Lochlan, and he nods. We'll find a liquor store and we'll keep searching, even if it takes days.