28. Angie/Connor
ANGIE/CONNOR
Angie
Mom’s leg dangles over the side of the couch. She’s in sweats, a sweatshirt, and a nature documentary’s on TV. For the first time in a while, there’s no burning joint, no vape, no weed-stink. A big pile of gummies is perched on the coffee table.
“Since when did you get into edibles?” I tidy up, unable to help myself. There’s house staff to take care of this but Mom’s always been my responsibility. I can’t change that now.
“Oh, I don’t mind them. Whatever gets the magic in me is good in my book.”
“One time you said you’d rather chew leather than eat weed.”
“People change.”
I pause, folding a pair of sweats. “Seriously, why the change of heart?”
Mom groans and sits up on an elbow. “You want the truth? He told me not to say anything, but forget it. There’s no stopping you when you start asking questions.”
“Connor has something to do with this?”
“Your husband is a real—“ She hesitates at the look I give her. “He’s protective. Last night, he came storming in here, plucked my smoke from between my lips, put it out in my soda can, and told me, in very rude terms, that I will no longer be allowed to smoke in this house, especially if you’re going to be around.”
“Did he really? And you listened?”
“There were threats. He came up with an alternative solution.” She gestures at the edibles. “Not ideal but I understand we’re guests in this house and I will do my best to behave.”
“Huh.” I watch her, stunned. I’ve never seen my mother give up her smokes before, not once in my entire life. She’d usually rather cut off her own fingers than let someone like Connor win.
But he went to war with her, stood up, and he won.
All for me and the baby.
My heart flutters. He didn’t even say anything about it either.
Connor saw a problem and he fixed it.
No discussion, no worries. Only action.
I like that.
I continue straightening until the place looks decent. It’s obvious why Mom gave in to Connor’s demands once I start thinking about it. This house is pure luxury: all her needs are met at all hours of the day. No fuss, no stress, no reason to get off her ass at all. It’s my mother’s ideal state.
That should bother me more than it does.
After all this time, I can’t get mad about it anymore. Dawn is who she is and she’s never going to change. Yes, she gave up smoking for the baby—but mostly for her own comfort, and mostly because Connor forced her to.
It’s strange having someone looking out for me, when I’ve always been the one putting myself after others.
As I place some dirty laundry in Mom’s basket, there’s a loud pop outside, like an explosion. I check the window and wander back into the living room. “Did you hear that?”
Mom doesn’t look over. “Hear what?”
Another blast. And another, and another. Louder this time. “What is that?”
“Fireworks. Didn’t that girl set some off the other night?”
“True, but?—“
This time, the house shakes. It feels like the floorboards tremble. I grab onto the back of the couch and even Mom perks up in surprise.
“I’ve been saying since we came here, this family is no good.” Mom takes a gummy, pops it in her mouth, considers, grabs another, and swallows both.
“Do you really need to get higher right now?” The cracks are sharp and quick and there seem to be noises in return. My brain keeps telling me it’s fireworks, only fireworks, nothing to be worried about, but another part of me isn’t sure at all.
That sounds like gunfire.
“Nothing a good buzz can’t cure.” She flops back down. “Go check it out if you’re worried.”
I drift to the door, thinking that’s exactly what I’ll do. Connor left fifteen minutes ago for another meeting and he won’t be back for a few hours he said. But Deck’s here overseeing the guards and he’s got at least two dozen men or more watching the grounds.
No way someone could get through.
I make it to the hall when Rowan comes sprinting toward me in a panic. “Angie! Holy shit, Angie!”
“Hey, did you hear those fireworks? What’s going on down there? Did you?—“
Rowan grabs my arm. Her face is pale and her eyes are wild with fear. “Those aren’t fireworks.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad’s trying to get us into the safe room but I wouldn’t leave you here. Angie, please, we have to run.”
I try to shake her loose but she holds on tight, her fingers digging into my arm. An attack? Right now? That makes no sense. There’s Deck… the soldiers…
The firework explosions resolve into automatic weapons and the first scream of pain echoes from down below.
Holy shit.
This is happening.
“Help me with my mom.” I sprint back into my mother’s room, Rowan on my heels. “Mom! We have to go!”
“What are you shouting about? Come on, chill out.” She beams at me, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “These gummies are crazy.”
“Jesus fucking—Rowan, get her other side.”
I sling Mom’s right arm around my shoulders and heave her up.
Rowan gets on the other side. Mom laughs, baked as hell, as we drag her stumbling to the door.
But fuck, shit, she’s hardly helping. We’re lucky Mom barely eats and is like ninety pounds at best, because otherwise there’s no way in heck we’d be able to get anywhere.
As it stands, we’re moving at a crawl, and the shouting and shooting is getting louder.
“I got her, you run,” I tell Rowan as we stagger to the wing doors. “Go find your parents. I’ll be right behind you.”
“No way, you won’t make it.” Rowan is trembling. She’s pale and tears roll down her face, but she clutches Mom tighter. “I won’t leave you two behind.”
“What nice girls,” Mom mutters, head lolling. “Oh, boy. Did I take too much?”
“Shit!” Another blast rocks the building. It feels like the floor flexes and jumps. I stagger sideways and lose hold of Mom. She tumbles down, rolling a few times, smiling stupidly at the ceiling. Rowan pushes herself back to her feet and helps me up.
“Shit, Angie, you’re pregnant. We have to be careful with you.”
“It’s fine, I’m still early. Help me with?—“
A man comes sprinting around the corner.
Connor
Marcus scrolls on his phone as the Mercedes glides through traffic. I watch out the window as the city sprawls around us, heading back toward Manhattan, and it feels like all of New York is somehow against me, like there are faces in the thousands of windows and they’re all praying for my death.
I’m not sure where this mood came from. Angie’s doing well. She’s getting along with my family, and that’s the most important thing in the world right now. Even Danielle grudgingly admits my wife is fucking great.
Maybe it’s that I’m not with her right now.
Every time I have to leave the mansion, I feel like I’m making a horrible mistake.
Angie’s my world now, my everything, and the baby growing in her is more precious than all my money and power combined.
My soldiers will take care of her, and Deck would never let anyone get near the core of our strength, but even still.
I miss her when she’s not around.
Marcus nudges me with his elbow. “Brother, got a message.”
“Yeah? What’s going on?”
“Looks like she needs to cancel. Doesn’t say why though.” He turns the screen so I can read the text. Something came up. Can’t meet anymore. Another time.
“That’s strange,” I say, checking my device, but she only reached out to Marcus. “Why would Sinead set up another meeting only to back out at the last second?”
“Don’t know, but I agree, it’s off.”
I tell the driver to turn around and head back.
Relief floods me knowing I’ll be home soon.
I’m thinking I’ll sit with Angie for a while, maybe bring her over to spend time with my dad and Rowan, or maybe we’ll go for a walk around the grounds.
The doctor said light exercise would be good for her right now.
And fresh air can’t hurt. I’ll make sure she eats something healthy, takes her vitamins?—
My phone starts buzzing.
“I bet that’s Sinead,” I say, taking it from my pocket again. “Probably gave you a text and decided to call the actual boss.”
“Right, since you’re so important.” Marcus flips me off and taps at his screen.
But it’s not Sinead’s number on the display.
Instead, it’s Colm.
Panic fills me when I answer.
“Sir, it’s me.” His voice is strained and something loud is happening in the background.
I sit forward and grip the seat in front of me so tight my fingers turn white. “Is that gunfire?”
“There’s an attack. We’re doing our best to repel them?—“
“An attack?” I snarl the words and look at Marcus. He’s gaping at me in alarm. “What the fuck is happening?”
“They’re through the gates already. We’ll hold them off, sir, but we need more—“ Gunfire erupts. Close this time. There’s a scream and the line goes dead.
Fuck. FUCK.
“What the hell?” Marcus asks.
“Driver, break every fucking law you can. Get us home immediately.”
The driver nods grimly and slams down the gas.
I start making calls. Angie first, Rowan, Dad, even Danielle. None answer. I’m losing my fucking mind as I try Deck, but I go straight to voicemail.
“I’m not getting anything either,” Marcus says, taking out his gun and checking to make sure it’s loaded. “Any idea how bad?”
“Didn’t sound good.”
“We headed into a firefight?”
I dig my fingers into my scalp. “I don’t know and that’s the problem. Angie’s there. My wife. My fucking baby—my whole family?—“
“Connor, listen to me.” Marcus leans over, grabbing onto my shoulder. “I already called all the lieutenants. At least three crews are speeding to your place now. We’ll beat them there by a couple minutes at most.”
“They might not have that much time.”
“They will, brother. You have to stay calm for them.”
I breathe in through my nose. He’s right, I know he’s right, but the thought of Angie lying sprawled in her own blood is like a knife in my skull.
How is this happening? How the fuck did the Gallaghers get in?
If Colm called, that means they’re already at the home.
Oh, God. Oh, fucking God.