4. What Started It
Chapter four
What Started It
MICK
Feckin' hell. My wife doesn't even consider the cop in the outer office as she ushers the children from the room.
I do, so I keep my words short and to the point. "I expect your resignation tendered at the emergency board meeting."
No doubt in my mind there will be one. St. Patrick's school board cannot afford to ignore Kara Fitzgerald's request.
Mr. Shaughnessy? Bleedin' hell, I should cut the secretary's tongue out.
Turning away, I ignore the squawking behind me. There's no point telling him what a sorry excuse he is as a man and administrator. He's not worth my time, but he won't find employment at another school.
He'll either resign voluntarily, or I'll see that he resigns from life. Permanently.
He upset my wife and mishandled my son.
I might have to kill him regardless.
Our lawyer has arrived and is engaging the cop when I come out, but the uniform is still blocking Kara and the chislers from leaving the office.
I step around them and stick my hand out to the cop. "Mick Fitzgerald."
He's not on our payroll, but that doesn't mean he's ignorant of who I am.
Eyes narrowing, the cop shakes my hand. "I'm Officer Nooly. I need to interview your son in regard to allegations of violent assault on two of his classmates."
"There were four of them. Only two went to urgent care," Fitz says with disgust and zero remorse.
Good.
"Where are the other two?" I ask the officer, not my son.
"Uh…I don't know, sir."
"Find out. Any interview of my son will be scheduled ahead of time, done in our home and with our lawyer present."
The only way the officer gets access to my son right now is through an arrest. And if he attempts to do that, his career in law enforcement in the state of New York is over.
This whole situation is pissing me off.
I picture the agony on Nooly's face as he suffocates from a well-placed knife wound to the chest.
When I'm feeling merciful, I puncture the carotid artery, and death happens quickly with relatively little pain. When I'm not, I puncture the lungs and watch as my opponent dies slowly and in agony.
Nooly's face loses color and he takes hasty steps backward. Huh, something of what I'm thinking must show in my usually stoic expression.
Now that there's room, Kara doesn't hesitate to guide Fitz and Sadie past the cop and out of the office.
Dismissing Nooly without another word, I follow her.
We all climb into one of the armored SUVs.
It has been modified for family travel with a bench seat directly behind the front seats, facing toward the tailgate.
Two cabin seats face forward opposite with three feet of reinforced cargo space behind, making even a rearend collision relatively safe for the occupants.
When we travel as a family, I drive and Kara rides in the back with the littles. Fitz rides in the front passenger seat, watching for potential trouble.
At twelve, he has better instincts than a lot of our soldiers.
Right now, Fitz and Sadie take the bench seat while Kara and I sit in the captain's chairs.
"Do you want to wait to talk about all this until your mom is with us at the mansion?" Kara asks Sadie with that gentle, caring voice my wife has.
Sadie shakes her head vehemently. "I don't want her to know. It's hard enough…"
She stops talking, leaving what's hard enough unsaid, but I'm starting to get a picture.
"You're Troy Gallagher's daughter, aren't you?" I ask her.
Fear washing over her features, she nods.
Troy Gallagher was a rat, and I killed him for it six years ago. Is that why she's afraid? Does she know who and what I am? Not only underboss but executioner when necessary.
No way should she, but kids can be arseholes and if Kenny Jr. knows Gallagher was a rat, he's probably taunted her with it.
"Kenny and his stupid friends are mean to Sadie because of who her dad was," Fitz informs me, confirming my suspicions.
Kenneth Shaughnessy is thick as a bleedin' plank, acting the maggot around his son, letting Kenny Jr. overhear shite he shouldn't.
"They used to only say really mean things to me, call me names and stuff, but lately…" This time her voice trails off into a quiet sob.
Feckin' hell.
Fitz takes up the story. "They touch her, da. Places no boy should touch a girl without her permission."
I know exactly what places my son is talking about because I taught him to show respect.
"Today, th…they…" Again the girl can't go on for her tears.
"They dragged her into the boy's locker room during lunch and they were trying to get her clothes off when I heard her scream."
I don't ask what my son was doing in the locker room during lunch. It doesn't matter. What matters is what those four miserable little feckers were doing.
"Kenny said if her ma could be a whore for his dad, she could be a whore for him. That's when I hit him the first time."
And then my son, who has been training in hand-to-hand combat since he could walk, took apart the other three boys.
I nod my approval.
"My m-m-mom's n-not a whore!" Sadie yells.
"Even if she chose to be a paid sex worker, that wouldn't make you one, or her undeserving of respect," Kara says firmly.
I stare at my wife. I may be a sociopath, but even I realize now is not the time for a lecture on slut shaming.
But Fitz doesn't agree. Offering his hand to Sadie, he says, "Slut shaming is for losers."
Sadie puts her smaller hand in Fitz's and doesn't pull away when he clasps it. "I know, but that's not how Mr. Shaughnessy thinks. My mom hates going to work." Sadie bites her lip. "Just like I hate going to school."
That's going to change for both of them.
"That will change, I promise you," Kara says, proving my woman's thoughts are in sync with mine.