Chapter 11
A sk any man if he’d rather face an armed rival or a pissed off woman and nine times out of ten, they’d vote for the armed rival. There’s just something about a woman’s wrath that makes our balls retreat quicker than you can say pussy. Ergo, when Mum called, complaining it had been too long since my last visit, I got my ass over there pronto. Dad often swore that my childhood home was perfectly located from Jonathan’s—close enough for a quick drive if needed, yet far enough to avoid being on constant call. He appreciated the balance, a perk of climbing the ranks and becoming a family man.
Entering the gated community always feels like stepping into a secluded, safe haven. Even now, as I hand over my ID and get waved through, it feels like I’m entering a slice of paradise. That image is only slightly tarnished by the knowledge that everyone who lives here is connected to the Four Points in one way or another.
I pass through the living room and the framed photos that tell the story of my parents’ relationship and my life. I head straight for the kitchen to find Mum. Her kitchen is her baby, which is glaringly obvious, considering the double oven, huge kitchen island, double sinks and every gadget known to man. Dad has always been a sucker for buying her everything her heart desires, whatever her latest fancy is would be purchased and in her kitchen within the day.
Dad is perched at the island, watching her cook with a fond look. He turns to face me. “Son, it’s been way too long. I’ll have to tell Jonathan to cut you some slack.” He hugs me.
“I volunteered.” I shrug. “And even if he asked me to step back, I wouldn’t.”
“Owen!” Mum wraps me in a hug so tight it’s as if she’s trying to meld herself to me. Scanning me from head to toe, she tuts at my scraped knuckles and mutters about me needing to eat more before ushering me into a seat beside Dad, and then taking her seat beside me.
“Your father’s right, you know. We miss seeing you and just because you live in the same building doesn’t give him the right to call on you so much,” she harrumphs.
“Mum, stop. You know he’s just got his daughter back and she’s being targeted. You would do the same if there was a threat against me.” Maybe it’s not too late to kidnap her and run away from this shit show.
“You always were sweet on Cora. Seamus, don’t you remem- ber him ranting and raving about her after their first day of high school?” she teases, and Dad laughs, further interrupted by a phone ring.
“Speak of the devil,” he mutters with a sigh. Going by the way he tenses, it’s not a social call. I brace myself for the imminent blow.
“We’ll be right there,” is all he says before hanging up. He kisses Mum on the forehead with an apologetic look and gestures for me to follow. I give her a quick hug and kiss before following him, a sense of dread weighing down my limbs. I join him in the garage and slide into the passenger seat of his car, abandoning my own. For now, gathering as much information as possible is more important.
“It’s Cora, isn’t it?” I ask as he puts the car into gear. “ Someone attacked her in the changing room while she was half naked,” he snarls.
“Those motherfuckers have gone too far. I’ll kill them!” I slam my fist on the dashboard. The need to see her, to hold her, is burning me alive, and every second we waste in traffic makes me more angsty.
The car barely stops before I jump out of it and rush through the doors to the lift with Dad hot on my heels. The ride takes less than two minutes but every second feels like hours, to the point that as soon as the doors open, I surge into the room, gasping for breath as if I’d run a marathon. Jonathan tears the brothers a new one, rightly so, but ignoring them for now, I head towards the sofa.
Cora lies unconscious, her neck marked by strangulation, bruises blossoming from rough hands. Her blonde hair is dishevelled, and someone has hastily pulled a hoodie over her head, inside out, but at least she’s covered. Crouching beside her, I gently try to smooth down her hair. It’s only after I’ve reassured myself she’s here and in one piece do I twist around to see Abigail perched on the chair opposite the sofa as she cries into her hands, her Mum trying to console her.
“It’s not your fault, Abigail. How could you have known taking her out would result in this? Those three should have been keeping a closer eye,” I murmur, still stroking Cora’s hair. As I check Cora’s injuries, a cold resolve forms—whatever pain was inflicted on her, I’ll dole out in kind to whoever did this. I’d stay by her side forever if I could, just calming myself with every touch, but it’s not long before Dad’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Jonathan wants us in his office. She’ll be safe here, son,” he says.
The sooner we figure this shit out, the better. Following Dad into Jonathan’s office, I’m greeted with the sight of him pacing his office. “I don’t know what more I can do. I don’t want her to be a prisoner here but she couldn’t even have one fucking day out without something happening.”
“The only other thing we could try is sneaking her into a safe house without them noticing. But if you go with her, there’s no way we could keep it under wraps,” Dad musses as he leans against the wall beside me, crossing his ankles and looking far too relaxed for my liking.
“I could take her,” I suggest. I can see the cogs turning in Jonathan’s head as he weighs up the options. It’s either make her a prisoner here, which is our headquarters and endanger everyone that works and lives here. Or, by taking her to a safehouse, we can ensure no one knows about her, and hopefully, it’d buy Jonathan enough time to get Angus to back the fuck down before I say fuck the consequences and put a bullet in his head myself.
“Fine. But there’s going to be rules. And those self-defence lessons? You’ll need to start them ASAP.”
Just then, a knock interrupts us. Abigail opens the door and steps into the room with, “She’s awake.”