Chapter 30
LIAM
“Iwant you to know that I’ve had a long day and I’m unhappy, and all of this is fucking personal.”
I punch Kieren in the mouth for the fifth time and feel a tooth crack under my knuckles.
His head lolls sideways as he groans, his eyelids fluttering. Blood pours from his lips and dribbles down his chest. He’s filthy, bruised, swollen, and a pale imitation of the man he used to be. If man is the right word for a creature such as him.
I stalk across the basement, rolling my shoulders.
Of all the hells I’ve been through, this has to be one of the hardest, mostly because I care about the outcome.
Back in the day, when I was a delinquent running around the fucking streets, a stabbing, a fight, a shooting, all that shit flowed around me like water in a lake.
I made ripples, I made splashes, but it all ended up back in the pile in the end.
None of it mattered, nothing ever clung to me, because I wouldn’t let it.
Now everything’s different.
“You know the sick part of this?” I talk and Kieren listens now.
He spent the last half hour screaming, begging, crying, and confirming everything Luke told Regan and then some.
The intelligence he gives me about the house in the suburbs is invaluable, assuming it’s not all some fantasy made up to stop the pain.
That’s hard to tell sometimes when it comes to torture.
“The sick part is, I’m enjoying myself. I know, right?
My wife’s concussed, my brother-in-law is in bad shape, and here you are, a living punching bag at this point.
What right do I have? How dare I enjoy myself?
” I kneel down in front of him, looking into his battered face.
“But god, Kieren, I really love making you suffer.”
He grunts, only half conscious. I flick him on the cheek and he cringes away. I stand and step back.
“I don’t even hate you for what you are.
I’ve met men like you a thousand times. Liars, cheaters, manipulators.
You played the long game and you almost played it well.
I have to give you props. It’s not my sort of thing, but that shit with Luke?
I can recognize a master at work, even if I find the end product distasteful.
” I pace behind him. “But here’s the thing.
You messed with my wife. Oh, she wasn’t mine then, but still.
You never should’ve hurt her, you twisted little shit. ”
I kick his chair hard, knocking him sideways.
He hits the floor with a scream, his head bouncing off the concrete.
His choked grunt is like a symphony to my ears.
I stand over him, watching his one visible eye as he breathes hard, like a caged animal in a panic.
Probably wondering when the end will come.
“I’m going to leave you like this. I’m guessing nobody will be down here to check on you for a while. Think about your many crimes while I’m gone. Or don’t, I don’t care.” I nudge him with my boot before heading to the door.
His strangled pleading moan follows me up the stairs and back into the main Whelan family home.
“You have fun down there?” Finn asks when I find him sitting in the back yard. He’s on the porch drinking coffee and reading the paper.
“I really did. Nothing like some mild beating to get me going.” I flop down across from him wearing a blood-stained shirt while he’s utterly pristine. He smiles wryly at me.
“Want something to eat or drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I stretch my legs.
“Get what you needed?”
“He confirmed everything and added a few good details.”
Finn nods. “We should act on it.”
“Agreed. Sooner rather than later. The Baranovs likely realize there’s a problem by now. They’ll start increasing security.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“But you still haven’t told me how you found all this out to begin with.
” He considers me from across the table, head cocked.
He’s got his usual charming smile on his face but I know that’s only a mask.
I can ignore it and see the real Finn, the stark killer hiding under the facade of easygoing family man.
“I know I haven’t.”
“And I haven’t asked because I know you’ll tell me the truth, but the fact that you’ve held it back makes me think you don’t want to. Am I getting this right?”
“Pretty much. It’s better if I don’t say.”
“You know I don’t like that.”
“We’ve been working together for a long time. I’ve trusted you, done whatever you asked, burned the world at your word, and now I’m asking for some of that in return. My source is solid.”
Finn’s lips press together. He hates this and I can’t blame him.
I don’t like it either. Holding information back feels too much like lying, and I fucking hate liars, but I’m doing it to protect Regan.
Not for her shitbag brother—if it were left up to me, Luke would be down in that basement with Kieren right now, if not dead already—but because losing him would hurt her and she’s not ready for that. Maybe one day, but not yet.
Finn though, we know each other. We trust each other. I’ve gone to war for him and I’m sure I’ll do it again before this whole show’s done with.
“Alright. I can accept that. From you, at least. Anyone else and I’d be cutting them to ribbons.” He flashes teeth like that’s a joke, but based on Kieren’s state, he’s not kidding. “What’s the plan then?”
“I have some ideas. Both Kieren and my source insist that the old Baranov boss doesn’t trust electronics and keeps everything in hard copy. They both think the dossier is in that house. Which means the house is everything.”
“That’s good for us. A single point of failure. But if it’s so important, it’ll be guarded.”
“I have some thoughts on that. I’ll need resources though.”
Finn waves a hand. “You have them.”
“And Cormac.”
That gets a surprised laugh. “I don’t exactly give orders to him.”
“Who does?”
“Declan, in theory, but really nobody.”
“Let’s see if he’ll help anyway. My plan is dangerous and I’ll feel a lot better if he’s involved.”
Finn exhales and stretches his legs. He folds his paper and adjusts his hair, running a hand along his scalp.
“It’s the girl, right? She’s why you’re not telling me anything?
Which means her brother is your source, which means her brother helped our friend Kieren in the basement steal that blackmail material. Am I getting it right?”
My jaw aches from clenching. I nod though, because to do otherwise would be to lie to him.
He shuts his eyes and rubs his nose. “What a shit sandwich.”
“I’m eating it, not you.”
“You love her, then?” His gaze is hard. No smile, no mask. “You’re not asking me to go along with this for anything less?”
“I love her,” I confirm, the easiest thing I’ve said all day.
“That’s good. You’ll find loving a person fucks you up in a good way. Changes things, shifts your priorities around. Makes you grow.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Good. I’ll talk to Cormac.”
“Thanks, Finn.”
“You’ve saved my ass so many times over the years, I more than owe you some leeway. But Liam—“
“I know.”
“The brother—“
“I know.”
“Yeah.” He lifts his coffee to his lips. “I’m sorry for her. But you know.”
I push myself to my feet with a groan. “I need a damn shower. Got to wash all this blood off.”
“Shit stains, it’s annoying.”
“You’d think we would’ve figured it out by now, but do you have any idea how many shirts I’ve ruined thanks to this stuff?”
“You got to talk to my laundry lady. She’s fucking fantastic. I’ll send you her number.”
“Speaking of laundry, I’m going to need that sack of shit in the basement alive.”
Finn makes a face. “You sure? I was going to get rid of him later today.”
“Hold off for me. I’ve got some ideas.”
“Alright, this is your show then.”
“I won’t fuck it up.”
“I know that. You think I’d go along with anyone else? Absolutely fucking not.”
Appreciation floods me. It’s oddly warm, all this talk of killing, but mostly because I know Finn has my back, despite the gap between us.
He’ll always be a Whelan, always be my boss, but I feel like something is shifting between us.
We’re figuring our relationship out, and we’re not exactly becoming equals, but something closer.
I leave the Whelan house. Now all I need to do is get the dossier back or destroy it, which should be easy. It’s only in one of the most heavily guarded houses in the state.
Lucky for me, I’ve got something in mind.