CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Achilles
Three days after I delivered Tyrone Callaghan his much-deserved demise, I sat in the office of Forbidden Fruit Club, tapping my phone over my desk.
Something was wrong.
I didn’t know what it was.
Fine, yes. Yes, I did know.
What was wrong was the fact that I hadn’t given Tierney much say in the decision to be with me.
As always, I’d bullied her into moving in, negotiated her love, and even lured her into a bet about having sex. I made everyone in the Camorra, save for my brothers, refer to her as Mrs. Ferrante.
Yes, I didn’t stalk her anymore, but I was still a toxic, overbearing monster who didn’t give her room to decide what she wanted to do with her life. And that bothered me.
What bothered me more, though, was my last loose end.
Tristan Hale, that motherfucker.
I needed to find a way to get him back on American soil so I could finish him off. Or at the very least, threaten him a little to ensure he knew never to mess with Tierney again.
Which meant I was now dialing the pakhan’s number. It was still seven in the morning in Vegas, but if I had any fucks to give, they weren’t in my immediate vicinity.
“Someone had better be dead,” Lyosha greeted.
“Not at present, but I’m working on it. That’s why I’m calling. I need a favor.”
“I already did you ten this month alone. Were the territory and weapons not enough?”
I was sure the deal he and Jeremie had agreed upon put a dent in their relationship, to say the least.
“This has nothing to do with that deal.”
“What do you need?”
“Tristan Hale,” I said. “I need you to lure him to New York.”
“Why?”
My silence told him what my mouth wouldn’t. Hale wasn’t going to survive his next trip to the Big Apple.
“And what makes you think I hold that kind of power over him?”
“You’ve worked with him before.”
Hale only offered his services to people he deemed acceptable to work with, not vice versa.
“And what do I get in return for that favor?” Alex drawled.
“What do you want?”
“That Porsche looked nice. Is it custom-made?”
“You think I fucking go to the dealership and take what they have in stock like some kind of peasant?”
Alex snorted. “I’ll have it, then. It’ll look good in my collection.”
The man had at least twenty-five sports cars. How small was that dick of his? “Have at it.”
“And a month’s supply of drugs, free of charge, delivered straight to one of my compounds.”
“We don’t have a contract with you,” I said, balking, but only so he’d think he managed to negotiate a decent deal. “And that’d take a dozen trucks.”
“Hmm.” Alex mulled it over. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“Fuck. Whatever.”
“When and where?”
“Forbidden Fruit. Next Thursday.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
I killed the call.
When I got home, Tierney popped out of the bedroom looking like a trillion bucks in one of those dresses that made me want to throttle the designer. “Should we go to the movies?”
I blinked back at her, stunned into silence.
The movies? That was normal-people shit.
We didn’t go to the movies.
We went to underground clubs and Michelin-starred restaurants where the owners valued their organs too much to tell us we had to book a reservation, or on shopping sprees in places you could only get to with a private jet.
Movies were…well, ordinary.
Movies also meant a public outing. Together. This beautiful creature was going to be seen with my fugly-ass face. Tierney did not need to be reminded of the fact that I was hideous. No, thank you.
“I don’t like movies,” I drawled.
“You mean all of them?”
I shook my head slowly. Disappointment was written all over her face. I knew if I didn’t go, I’d just prove to her I was still the old asshole Achilles. The one who’d pretended not to care what she wanted to do.
Fuck. I was going to do it, wasn’t I?
“What did you have in mind?” I asked tersely.
“There’s a new Henry Cavill movie out.”
“What’s it about?”
“Uh…Henry Cavill being hot?”
I flashed her a flat glare. “Really selling it to me. Wouldn’t you rather I take you on a shopping spree on Crimson Key?
” No one would dare whisper about my hideous face on my own private island.
“Or eat at Casablanca’s?” I knew the owner of the restaurant and was positive I could get an isolated booth, even at an hour’s notice.
Tierney trotted over to me, coiling her arms around my neck. “I want to do something small and intimate. To share popcorn and a flat Diet Coke with you.”
I stared her down, confused. “Why?”
“Because we never got to do it when we were teenagers. We were always so scared of our families. I want us to have these moments. Even if we have to make them as adults.”
Don’t be a fucking baby.
Just say yes.
Look how much she wants it.
So what if a few people stare?
I sighed, grabbing her waist and leaning down for a kiss. “Sure. We’ll go see your hot-guy movie. Let me just hop into the shower.”
She grinned up at me, looking genuinely happy for the first time in forever. Her hair was becoming redder—more hers—and even though it was still very short, she moussed it in a spiky, trendy way that made it look like a fashion statement.
“This is… I…” She struggled for words, her voice catching, and I knew it meant more to her than it did to my mother that I braved getting out there, taking a stab at normalcy.
Tierney shook her head, chuckling to herself in wonder.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much for healing with me.”
I never thought of it this way, but I guessed it was true. In helping her, I was helping myself get over our shared past.
Her eyes pinked, and I knew she was close to crying.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” I squeezed her waist.
She nodded. “I feel better than okay. Liberated, actually. Tyrone deserved to die.”
It took him three days to kick the bucket. The kidney failure and internal bleeding occurred after twenty-four hours, just on track, but he battled it out, struggling for his last breath before he finally gave in.
The minute he was dead, I called Tiernan to remove his corpse from my parents’ basement. Tiernan collected his enemies’ skulls and he had been saving a special spot for his traitorous father’s cranium after what he’d done to his sister.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this.” I thumbed her cheek.
“I’m not. I never loved him.”
“Not even a little?”
She shook her head. “Did you ever love your father?”
I gave the question some thought. I had wanted his approval and admiration growing up, and I was willing to go very far for it. So far, in fact, that the girl of my dreams wanted to set herself on fire before letting me know she couldn’t give me heirs.
“Once upon a time, I suppose I did…” I brushed my thumb along her smooth temple, tracing the gorgeous face that was forever inked into my memory.
“But the more I grew up, the more I realized nothing about our relationship was normal. And when he hurt you…” I closed my eyes, willing the fury bubbling inside me like lava to calm down. “When he hurt you, that’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“The difference between love and obsession. I was obsessed with getting my father’s approval, but I never liked much about him.
He was a cold, angry man, driven by nothing but power and bloodlust. But you…
” My forehead dropped to hers, and I breathed her in.
“I realized that I loved you. Inside and out. Your sense of humor, your smarts, your resilience, your fight. I could name all the things that made me fall in love with you. I couldn’t name one thing my father possessed that made me appreciate him. ”
She brushed the tip of her nose against mine.
“See? This is how I feel about Tyrone. He was my family by blood only. His love and approval always felt conditional, so I never sought them. It was clear from the get-go that he favored Tiernan and Fintan. Strong, hungry sons who could further his own and the Irish clan’s position in New York.
I saw through his facade before Tiernan did, but only because I didn’t have the luxury of his attention and respect.
So don’t you worry about my sensibilities when it comes to him, Achilles. Because I have absolutely none.”