Chapter 12 Finn
FINN
Caroline hesitates on the sidewalk. She frowns at the dilapidated old warehouse and looks around the crumbling Hunts Point neighborhood. “You said we were meeting a friend?” she asks, clearly uncertain.
“Liam’s inside.” I gesture at the building. “It’s better if we don’t linger out here. Remember, we’re up to no good.” I raise my eyebrows and reach out a hand.
She doesn’t take it. I like that for some reason.
My wife has had a rough few days, but she’s doing her best to process on her own.
Tonight, she’s wearing black jeans and a dark long-sleeve shirt.
It clings to her body. Her light brown hair’s up in a braid and her eyes are done up all dark.
I like this look. She’s fucking beautiful.
But I need to remind myself that I can’t trust her, not yet at least.
I take her through the side entrance. It used to be for trucks, but someone built makeshift steps up to the big loading bay years back. There’s a side door where a big man sits on a stool, glaring at us with obvious displeasure. I give him a twenty and he nods us through.
Once the door opens, music blares through the soundproofing. Caroline moves closer as we walk down a cramped hall. Human shouting echoes closer. It’s a mix of elation and terror. The full gamut of emotion. I can’t help the big grin that spreads across my face. For once, it’s not fake.
I love this place.
We step out into the main room. The windows are all blacked out.
Big lights shine on a boxing ring on a raised platform.
People are arrayed all around it, smoking cigarettes, drinking from plastic cups, screaming and yelling as two shirtless men pummel each other, bare-knuckled and brutal.
Both fighters are bloody. Both are swaying from the effort. Neither wants to give up.
“What is this place?” Caroline calls in my ear.
“It’s an unaffiliated, unofficial fight club.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Our families aren’t involved. We’re safe to talk.”
She gives me a look. It’s slightly bewildered.
I grab her hand and pull her on, past the spectators, around the ring, right as one fighter lands a nasty blow to his opponent's face. Both topple to the mat, a tangle of struggling, bloodied limbs. Past the thickest crowds are booths and tables, hidden away in smoky, dim light. There’s a bar against one wall and more people milling around quietly.
Several bookies are taking bets. Money flows freely in a place like this.
I find Liam already waiting with a beer. He’s at a high top in the corner, away from the speakers. When we approach, he grins and gestures at a waitress wearing barely more than a bikini for more drinks.
“You’re late!” he calls out, beaming happily. “How’s it going?”
“Liam, this is my wife, Caroline. And Caroline, this is my lieutenant, Liam.”
“I’d say we’re best of friends, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
Liam laughs and shakes Caroline’s hand. “Nice to meet the woman cursed with this man for life.”
“Uh, thanks, nice to meet you, too.”
“Liam’s been helping me with this project.” The waitress returns with more beers. Caroline doesn’t touch hers. She only stares at it with a deep frown, probably having flashbacks to her vicious hangover yesterday. I lift mine and take a long drink. Violence always makes me thirsty.
Liam places a folder down on the table and flips it open.
Inside are photographs of Caroline’s brothers, each of them going about their daily routines, dozens of them showing the brothers at different places.
One’s at the dry cleaner’s, one’s in the grocery store.
I watch my wife carefully, noting her reaction.
Her face pinches slightly and she shies away from the folder like it might infect her.
“You’ve been thorough,” I say as Liam shows me what he’s got. There are charts and lists detailing exactly what each brother does most days. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to fall in love with your subjects?”
“I’m always in love with my victims. It’s part of the appeal.
” Liam thumbs through the pages and points at one.
It’s a picture of Malachy, the oldest brother, getting out of a car.
“I was thinking we could start with him. Make a big splash and get it over with. I have a feeling he’ll be the hardest, so it’s best to get him when he’s not ready. ”
“That’s a good point. You found a decent spot to take him?”
“He’s tough to pin down, but I’m working on it.”
I glance at Caroline. She’s shaking her head rapidly, and I’m worried she might be getting cold feet.
It’s one thing to agree to killing her brothers in the abstract. No matter what they did to her in the past, they’re still her flesh and blood. But now she’s being confronted with the hard facts of ending their lives.
“Not Malachy,” she says, and I’m surprised at how sure she sounds.
I look at Liam briefly. “Why not? It’s a solid plan. Take him down before he’s ready for it.”
“No, not him. The second Malachy’s gone, Dad will lose his mind. Malachy’s his pride and joy. Mal’s the heir to everything. If Mal gets killed, Dad will be a paranoid, psychotic wreck, and that’ll make all the others ten times harder to reach. Mal can’t be first.”
I look at Liam again. He only shrugs and seems thoughtful. “Who did you have in mind then?” he asks.
Caroline touches the pages. Her hands are shaking, but she flips through them until she comes to a photograph of a very big, burly man walking down the sidewalk, a phone against his face, a deep scowl on his lips.
“Shane,” she says, and there’s a sharp note of hate to the quaver in her voice.
I wait a moment and let her try to calm down. This is hard, even if she seems like she’s doing pretty good, all things considered. If I had to kill my brothers, I’d at least struggle with it.
“Why him?” I prompt when it’s clear she wasn’t going to elaborate.
“He’s the enforcer. Street-level stuff. Everyone’s always going on about how reckless he can be. I think they all expect Shane to be dead at any minute. At least my mom definitely does. He races cars and likes snowboarding and all that kind of stuff. His death won’t alert everyone. Not at first.”
She’s making a good point. I let that sink in, watching her very closely. Bringing Caroline into this conspiracy was an enormous risk, but the second I saw those scars on her back, I knew it had to happen. I just didn’t know how.
Now it’s obvious. This girl’s as broken as I am. She’s only been dealing with it better than me. But I can’t imagine the hell she must’ve been through living with those animals all those years. I got away eventually. She grew up with them.
“Well, we’ve got good intel on Shane,” Liam offers, flipping to another page. “He’s got some routines. Likes this pizza place, goes to a gym—”
“I know how to do it.” The certainty in Caroline’s voice rings a few bells.
“It’s one thing to get involved, but it’s another to start planning.” I move closer to her. I touch her arm and lean in so I don’t have to yell as loudly. “Are you sure about this?”
“I know how to do it,” she repeats, her expression grim but determined. “Shane’s a tough guy. He knows how to handle himself. But he’s got one glaring weakness.”
Liam laughs. He throws back his head and howls. He grins at me, wiping one eye. “What a fucked-up family!” he cackles, and I can’t help but grin too. The bastard’s got a point.
Caroline doesn’t think it’s funny.
We stay for the next fight. She watches the brutality with an impassive stare like she’s already very far away.
Liam and I speak about logistics and Caroline offers suggestions, and by the time one of the fighters chokes his opponent to death, we have a pretty good plan.
The crowd screams with bloodlust as the referee drags the lifeless corpse from the ring.
I hold Caroline’s hand as we leave the warehouse an hour later. Liam says goodnight and disappears into the evening. He’ll start the preparations over the next few days. I pull Caroline close as we head back toward where I parked my BMW a few blocks over.
“When I brought you into this, I didn’t think you’d get so involved. You don’t have to do this.”
She stares straight ahead, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“What did they do to you, baby?”
She flinches slightly and turns, hands suddenly shoving against my chest. I step backwards, off-balance, and my back runs up against a tree.
She gets in my chest, up on her toes, grabbing at my wrists.
“You wanna see?” she hisses, eyes wild with anger and fright.
“You want me to show you?” She guides my hands to her throat.
She shoves them against her neck like she’s trying to make me choke her.
“Go ahead, squeeze hard, and don’t stop until my lips are blue.
It’s a fun game. The first person to make me pass out wins.
But be careful, if you kill me, Mom might be sad. ”
My heart races as she holds me like that, teeth gritted. Her mask is gone now too. The wildness is there, the hate and the terror burning in her like hellfire. I caught a glimpse of it, but now she’s throwing it all aside, tearing apart the polite facade she usually wears.
I grip her neck. Just like she wants. “Harder?” I whisper.
She gasps. Her eyes widen. I doubt she thought I’d do it. “Harder.”
I turn until she’s the one pinned to the tree. I tighten my grip. I’m not cutting off her air, but she feels me now. I get close, my mouth inches away. “How hard do you want, baby? You want me to keep on squeezing until you don’t have to deal with this anymore?”
“Go ahead. Keep going.”
I force her chin up. I stare into her eyes. “Beg.”
Her jaw tightens. “Please.”
I crush her mouth with my lips. I kiss her hard, brutally, violently. She whimpers, gasping, hands clawing at my face. Her nails rake down my cheek. I kiss her, bite her lower lip, and release her throat. She pulls at me, trying to yank me back, but I push her away.
“I’m not playing that game.” I grip her hair. I pull it tight and kiss her again, hard enough to bruise her pink lips. She’s breathing fast. “I don’t break my toys.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.” She stares at me, still daring me to cross the line. There’s too much fucked up between us. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted in my life. Every ounce of my blood burns to take her and fuck her into mewling submission.
Instead, I let her go. “Focus on the plan, baby.”
I walk away. I’ve never hated myself more. I wish I could turn back and fuck her right here on the sidewalk. Instead, I don’t let myself forget. We’re both drowning, and we’ll just drag each other under if we don’t swim.