Chapter 9
CONALL
Killing people had never been on my list of pleasant things to do.
Sloan loved the feeling that came with watching someone take their last breath under the power of his hand, but I never understood his enjoyment.
Oh, I murdered people when necessary, but it wasn’t as exciting to me as it was to Sloan or Cillian or Aspen or any of the other men who worked here.
Of course, there were exceptions. Like Kieran fucking Pender. He’d always been a little homophobe, throwing insults at Rourke Tormey all those years ago and never expecting me to hear them. But I did. I hadn’t trusted him since. The fact that he was trying to take over wasn’t surprising.
It was nice seeing him tied to one of three chairs, naked except for a pair of dirty tighty-whities. I didn’t know what he’d expected. Three against an entire company? Yeah, maybe they weren’t working alone. No one could be that stupid.
Despite the glare he sent me, he was shaking. Terrified. I didn’t blame him. The cousins stood in front of him, ready for justice. They looked like guys who enjoyed some torture, or at least, Tiernan did. Maybe Senan. Kyran always seemed as though he’d come along for the ride.
I closed the distance between me and Pender, then tapped him on the nose, making him snarl. “You’re not smart enough to make an attempt to pull this off. Who’s backing you?”
He snapped his head away, lips pressing tight together.
“You know if the boss was here, he’d rip your fingernails off.” My gaze slid to where his wrists were tied to the arms of the chair. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
Senan snickered. “Sounds a wee bit of fun, don’t it?”
Pender firmed up his jaw, but I didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his eyes. It was brief but there. The man was many things—a raging arsehole, being one of many—but he wasn’t brave. Rather, stupid.
His cohorts were different stories. They struggled against their bonds, eyes bugging as they tried to speak into gags stuffed in their mouths.
I didn’t think they’d have much to tell us, or maybe I preferred to hear it from Pender.
He was a piece of work, and I should’ve gotten rid of him ages ago.
But there’d only been that one instance with Tormey that worked against him, the rest came down to a gut feeling.
I hadn’t thought being a dick once was enough of a reason to end a man.
Now it seemed I should’ve followed my instincts.
I was half tempted to let the cousins deal with them, but I had a point to prove. If I wanted to help Fionn run the Company, then I had to get my hands dirty. Although, Fionn wasn’t here.
I frowned. He’d stepped out to take a phone call over five minutes ago.
“There’s three of them. One for me, one for Fionn, and one for you guys. How does that sound?” I smirked at Tiernan, and he returned the expression. Oh yeah, he was definitely going to enjoy every second of torture. Maybe the desire to make others scream ran in the Killough blood.
Pender grumbled something into his gag, and I yanked it out of his mouth.
“What did you say?” I offered him a sweet smile.
His face twisted in anger. “I said you’re a coward. A fucking—”
A fist landed against his cheek and his head flung sideways. Three sets of eyes, including mine, turned on Kyran in surprise as he rubbed his knuckles. His gaze narrowed on Pender.
“Manners,” he growled out. That was the first time I’d seen a reaction out of him. Interesting.
I hummed in appreciation as I shoved the gag back into Pender’s mouth.
“Congratulations. We’re leaving you for last. The cousins can have you.
” I smiled again, this time as big as I could.
“So yeah, I’m not going to be the one to torture you, but guess what?
Being a boss means having people willing to get blood on their hands for you.
It’s called delegation. This power move of yours will be the biggest regret of your short, miserable life.
It’s also the cause of your death.” I glanced at the man on Pender’s right.
“You, on the other hand.” I held out my hand toward Tiernan, who passed me a handgun he’d pulled from his waistband holster.
Giving him a curt nod, I turned to Pender’s man and raised the gun. The trigger barely had any resistance under my finger. The man’s head snapped backward. His body went limp on the chair, and his head rolled forward, blood oozing from the hole in his forehead.
Pender and Smithe reacted immediately, struggling against their bonds as the reality hit them. They were next. It didn’t matter what they did, what bullshit they spouted, this was their fate. Betrayal meant death.
Nausea began to swirl in my stomach as I passed the gun to Tiernan and smirked, ignoring the sensation as much as I could. “Hurt Pender a little first. Leave Smithe for Fionn.”
Tiernan inclined his head, excitement flashing in his eyes. He was definitely a Killough. “Of course, sir.”
I patted Kyran and Senan on the cheek as I walked past and up the stairs of the basement.
My neck ached, the stiffness spreading down my spine making it a little harder to get up the stairs than usual, but I bullied myself to keep going.
I found Fionn outside the door, his back bowed as he leaned toward the wall with his phone pressed against his ear.
He whispered furiously to the person on the other end, and I couldn’t hear a word he said.
“You okay?” I frowned.
He popped his head up and offered me a smile. “Fine. Just some small business issues. Nothing to concern yourself about.”
I didn’t fully believe him. I trusted Fionn to take care of the Company. After all, I was only here to help, but there was something too . . . lively about his answer. It didn’t fit him, but I didn’t question it because he was a big boy. If he wanted to talk to me, he could.
“I’m going out to the greenhouse if you need me,” I murmured, low enough not to interrupt his call, and he gave me a thumbs-up. I didn’t miss the stress lines creasing his forehead. There was no chance I was going to get him to open up, even if I asked.
Fionn was as stubborn as me and Sloan combined. Not to mention, since when did Fionn give anyone a thumbs-up? It was weird. I made a mental note to talk to him later, and if he didn’t spill, I’d do what he did to me—I’d tell Sloan. Two could play that game.
Of course, it was a bit of a double standard. I was having fucking hallucinations of my dead father and hadn’t told anyone.
Not Sloan.
Not Fionn.
Not Rory.
Obviously, my stress had manifested into a mental nightmare. I wasn’t handling Sloan going to jail very well, but Fionn didn’t need an unstable partner right now. We had to stand strong. United. It wasn’t worth calling in any doctors, even Rory. Not until Sloan was out again.
Shoving the thoughts aside, I grabbed a light jacket because it was still a little cool outside and slipped it on.
I nodded at the guards I passed, aware of the shadow at my back.
Ronan. When he was on duty, he followed close behind me.
His personal mission was keeping me safe.
He took his job seriously, and I was glad I had him. I trusted him with my life.
I eyed the backyard, a part of me expecting to see my father again, his vile words tearing a hole into my soul. Everything he said was poison and that wasn’t anything new. He’d always been a cruel man. His hatred for me was never hidden.
As I neared the greenhouse, O’Nunan stepped out from the glass door. He inclined his chin forward, his sandy blond hair fluttering in the breeze that rushed past us.
He sent me a lopsided smile, his right cheek dimpling with the action. “Sir. Right on time. I cleared the greenhouse.”
I laughed. “Thank you, O’Nunan. Glad to know I’m safe and that the plants won’t kill me.”
O’Nunan grinned wider. “No foxglove in sight.”
I whistled, impressed. “You know your flora.”
He chuckled. “Irish mobster, sir. I kind of know how to kill someone.”
Ronan cleared his throat, sending O’Nunan a glare over my shoulder when I glanced toward him.
O’Nunan raised his palms and his dimples came out in full force when he sent Ronan a large smile. “Don’t worry, John Cena, no threats here. Pointing out the obvious.”
I chuckled and shook my head as another guard came out of the greenhouse, stepping to O’Nunan’s side. They usually checked the premises in twos to make betrayal less likely. If they wanted to get someone dangerous in, first they’d need to bring the other man in on the plot.
Gilmore, the guard who’d joined us, was taller than O’Nunan by at least a head, and while he wasn’t as muscular as some of our other men, he wasn’t small.
He’d played college football for a few years and had the size to match the sport.
While he wasn’t as good looking as O’Nunan, he wasn’t bad, either.
He was all dark hair and charismatic grins.
“Who’s trying to kill who?” Gilmore asked, flashing us a beaming smile. “And how do I get in on the action?”
O’Nunan snorted. “We were talking about foxglove.”
“What the fuck is foxglove?” Gilmore glanced between us as O’Nunan pointed at him with his thumb.
“Clearly not all of us kill silently with grace.”
Poison was a coward’s weapon as far as I was concerned.
“You calling me dumb?” Gilmore shoved him, and O’Nunan laughed.
“Shouldn’t you both be doing a perimeter check?” Ronan snapped.
Gilmore gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir. On it, sir.”
O’Nunan nudged him with his elbow. His blond eyebrows dipped as he nodded at me. “Sir. Have a good day. You know if you need anything, we’re here.”
What I needed was for my boss to be home, but that wasn’t something they could give me. The more I talked to them, the more I missed Sloan and our witty flirting and banter.
I raised my chin at them as they left before rolling my head as a twinge spread from my neck across my shoulders and down my spine. I hissed.
“Conall, are you all right?” Ronan stepped up to my side, a dip of concern in his forehead. His blue eyes narrowed as he swept them down my body, as though he’d see something physically wrong with me. It wasn’t often he called me by my first name, which meant he was really worried.
I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “Fine. I think I slept wrong and now I’m sore.”
His stare said he didn’t believe me, but he backed away, taking his position right behind me. I hated that he stood back there, but no matter how many times I told him to walk at my side, he refused.
I sighed and went through the greenhouse door.
Taking the familiar route to my favorite bench, I brushed my fingers over my flowers and plants, a comforting touch that calmed the irritation and turmoil swirling in my chest. Between the aches in my body—including my head—the sleeping issues, and the hallucinations, I wasn’t all right.
But this place was soothing, somewhere I could close my eyes and relax.
I sat down on the bench and exhaled, aware of Ronan moving off to the side to give me space. Even if I asked him to sit beside me, he wouldn’t.
I inhaled, taking in the mixture of scents filling the greenhouse.
“Nice, isn’t it?” a feminine, Irish voice asked.
I jumped and shot a look to my left where an older woman stood with a bunch of roses clutched in her gloved hands. Ronan hadn’t reacted, so I had a feeling she wasn’t . . . here. Then, why was she here? Fuck, I was going crazy.
I massaged my temples and growled in frustration.
“Hi, Conall.” She sat on the bench beside me, laying the flowers in her lap.
She wore simple brown pants and a pink blouse, dainty and high class.
Her silvery brown hair was pulled back into a bun, her sea blue eyes the same color as Sloan’s.
I’d seen her photos around the mansion many times, so I knew who she was—Bridget Killough, Sloan’s mom.
“You’re dead,” I whispered, low enough that Ronan couldn’t hear me. “You died of cancer.”
She tilted her head, smiling. “Aye, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here, does it?”
“You’re not.” I ducked my head and closed my eyes, hoping she’d go away. She wasn’t real, just like Dad wasn’t real.
“I loved this wee greenhouse. It was me safe place. Even when I was in pain, I always felt better in here.” She brushed her hand over the metal arm of the bench. “I died here.”
I froze, a zing of shock shooting through me. “What?”
Ronan straightened and leaned to look at me. “All right, sir?”
I gave him a sharp nod. “Fine.”
“Well, kind of anyway. By the time Sloan found me, I was barely breathing. He rushed me to hospital, but I died fifteen minutes after I arrived. I was palliative, after all.” She chuckled the same way Sloan did, but it was slightly lighter and more airy.
“He was a worrywart. Always watching over me. It was me time. They gave me two months to live, I made it four.”
I sucked in a deep breath, my heart battering against my rib cage. The thought of Sloan finding his mother half dead broke me on the inside. He was strong and had a killer instinct, but his mom had been special to him. “Oh.”
“He loves ye very much. I can tell.” She stroked her knuckle over my cheek, but I didn’t feel it. “Ye be real good to him, Conall. Take care of him. He’s a hard arse, learned that off his father, but he loves deeply. He’d die for ye.”
“I know,” I murmured, sending her a smile. Real or not, she was Sloan’s ma.
“Hmm.” She sat back against the bench. “I still like it here. It’s nice. Quiet. Away from all the workin’ of the mob business.”
I chuckled, earning me a frown from Ronan.
Bridget glanced his way and hummed. “I know. He can’t see me, so I won’t ask ye to talk. Let me tell ye about some of me favorite flowers.”
I grinned. “Please.”