Chapter One
Rian
“It’s busy out there tonight,” I say, looking through the one-way glass and down at the club below. Paradise is one of the many ways we clean the money we make through our…less-than-legal channels. Not that everything about Paradise is legal either, but it looks that way from the surface.
“It’s summer. Everyone wants to be out and having fun,” Conan says from the office chair.
He runs the club, though Finan also has his hands in it some.
Conan is good with numbers, though. Honestly, there’s not much Conan isn’t good with.
He’s responsible for a little bit of everything, and this family wouldn’t be half of what it is without him.
When my brother was alive, he didn’t appreciate Conan the way he should have, and now that I run the family, it’s not a mistake I’m willing to make.
“I’d like to be out there having fun too,” Finan says, before snorting a bump of cocaine off his hand.
“You would do nothing except have fun if you had the choice,” Flynn teases him. They’re the three men in our organization that I’m closest to. I would trust them with my life. Hell, I do trust them with my life every fucking day.
“Except every Sunday morning when you’re in Mass.
” I cock a brow at him. He’s the only one of us who does everything in their power not to miss a Sunday.
I rarely go anymore. We went more when Moira was alive, but after all the things I’ve seen in my life—after all of the things I’ve done—I find it hard to believe anymore.
“I’m fairly certain I’m the only one of us getting into Heaven,” Finan teases.
“You literally just snorted coke and killed three people last night,” Conan argues.
“You were there too,” Finan replies.
“I doubt there are hookers in Heaven, though.” Flynn nudges his best friend.
Finan leans back against the couch with a loud sigh. “Fuck. Looks like I need to do even more bad shit so I don’t get sent to that place.” Finan grins, and the rest of us laugh. “Speaking of bad shit, are we going to talk about the fact that Bobby is most definitely skimming off the top?”
Bobby is our money guy. Conan has noticed discrepancies over the last few months—too many to ignore—so we set a trap for him, and our hunch was proven true early this morning.
There’s no coming back from this for Bobby. He had to have known that. I don’t know why he risked it, but it’s going to be a painful and deadly mistake.
“Kill him.” I nod at Finan. He’s the most bloodthirsty of my men, and I know he would be disappointed if I didn’t give him this job. “Make it slow to prove a point. I want him displayed, so anyone else who is thinking about pulling the same shit will think twice.”
“You got it, Boss,” Finan says before turning to Flynn. “You wanna go with me?”
“Fuck yes,” Flynn replies. “Mayhem and murder are two of my favorite things.”
“You and me both, brother.” Finan nods and he and Flynn head out, both laughing, the jittery excitement from them palpable.
“They enjoy this way too much.”
“And you don’t?” I ask.
“Not in the same way.” Conan is ruthless, but he doesn’t show much of his enjoyment for anything, really. He’s different than the rest of us; he’s been in love with Fia for as long as I can remember and has chosen to spend his life alone since he can’t have her.
“Yeah, I get it.” I’m on edge tonight, but I don’t know why. I wouldn’t have minded going with Finan and Flynn to blow off some energy.
Conan and I talk business and share a joint—which honestly, I need—before I head out.
I’m halfway home with Metamorphosen, one of my favorite moody, atmospheric orchestral pieces playing softly in the background, when I pull into the empty convenience store parking lot—quite frankly, craving an apple pie after smoking with Conan.
Sweets have always been a secret weakness of mine.
I nod at the young woman behind the counter when I go in. She can’t be any older than twenty-one or twenty-two, working the graveyard shift alone in what isn’t one of the best neighborhoods in the city.
I find the apple pies by the donuts and grab two before moving toward the back of the store to see what else I might want.
I stop in front of the freezer in the far right-hand corner that’s holding a shitty choice of ice cream flavors, but one that might have to work.
I don’t pay much attention when I hear the door open, and someone enters.
“Well, what are you doing in here all alone?” a deep voice asks, surprisingly loud considering I’m in the back of the store and can hear him. I can’t see him or the store worker from where I am, so I assume they can’t see me either.
“I’m working. How can I help you?” she asks.
“What time do you get off? I could wait around for you…”
I slowly and quietly close the freezer before setting my pies down.
“I’m not interested,” she says, my feet already moving, silently making my way down the aisle.
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re interested or not. In fact, I like it better if you’re not,” he says, making my blood run cold.
I’m a lot of things, and I’ve done a lot of terrible shit in my life—most of which I don’t regret.
There’s no point in wishing I didn’t make most of the choices I did or wanting to be someone I’m not.
Outside of hurting Moira and my son, I like who I am and what I do, but I sure as shit have never put a hand on a woman who didn’t want it.
Only fucking cowards do that, and a coward isn’t one of the things I am.
“Let go of my arm,” she says. “There’s someone else in the store,” she adds, just as I reach the end of the aisle and see him there, hand around her wrist. He’s young, but still older than her, I think.
A white guy, with dark hair and eyes, scruffy face, faded jeans with holes in the knees, and, despite the heat, a beanie on his head.
“Fuck off, old man,” the kid says as I cross my arms, staring at him.
“No. I don’t think I will,” I say.
He turns in my direction, using his other hand to lift his shirt, showing the gun there.
“Well, that only makes this more fun.” I take a step forward, then another.
He lets go. “Don’t fuck with me.” The dumb kid puts a hand on the butt of his gun.
“I think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew,” I say. “But I’m glad, because I needed a little action.” Before he even realizes what’s happening, I’ve pulled my gun out of the holster beneath my arm, aimed, and shot into his shoulder.
He screams and falls backward, the woman behind the counter screaming too.
He’s crying and cursing, in too much pain to even reach for his piece—fucking pussy.
I walk over and stand above him, trying to block out the screaming in the background while I point the gun at his head. “Tell her you’re sorry.”
“Fuck—” His words are cut off by a shot to the other shoulder.
“Tell her. You’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry!” he shouts. “I wasn’t gonna do anything, all right. I was just talking shit!”
“Maybe. But I don’t believe you. And I don’t like you. So I’m going to kill you,” I tell him as though I’m saying something as simple as how are you?
“Hmm. I guess here,” I say, pointing my weapon at his left thigh and shooting.
“And here.” Now I shoot his right, his loud, incessant screaming grating on my nerves.
“Can’t forget number three.” A shot to the stomach, the pool of blood beneath him growing.
“Kill shots are my favorite,” are my last words before I pull the trigger again, the shot going straight through the middle of his forehead, eyes instantly blank.
I shoot the camera, then slip my gun back into the holster beneath my jacket, the woman tucked against the wall as if she’s trying to disappear into it, not making a noise. Shock, I assume.
“Take me to the back where the camera feed is,” I say, but she doesn’t move or make a sound. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I need that recording. I’m sure you understand.”
She nods, then stumbles as she hurries toward a door. It’s old school, with a damn VHS that I can’t believe actually works. I instruct her to take the tape out, which she does.
“Are there cameras outside?” I ask.
“No…no, sir.”
“Perfect. Give me five minutes before you call the cops, will you? I need some time to get away.”
She stares at me wide-eyed but doesn’t reply.
I make it to the door, using my arm to open it instead of touching the handle. “You should have someone here to protect you. Your boss can expect one of my associates to have a word with him so nothing like this happens to you again.”
She stares, nods, then says, “He’s an asshole too.”
“Then you can expect him to treat you better after tonight.” And without another word, I walk away, feeling much better than I had before I’d gone inside, not even missing something sweet.