Chapter 15 #2
He hadn’t felt guilt about his decision. Call it suicide or a sacrifice of love, Steel didn’t give a shit. He would not live in a world where Jenna did not exist.
And so he burned. Every breath a trial, every second a new agony, because what sort of father did it make him that he couldn’t say the same vow about his own daughter? The fact that he could live on without his baby girl, the fact that he would…because he still had Jenna.
What sort of man did that make him?
He’d been faced with the ultimate test, the unknown answer of the impossible choice.
If forced to choose, who would he save? Steel was not so much an egotistical masochist that he believed he’d somehow chosen for Melanie to die over Jenna.
However, that did not change the fact that he now knew the answer.
He could survive, burn alive for the rest of his existence, plagued with guilt and sorrow, so long as he had Jenna.
Staring down at Melanie’s picture, he forced himself to breathe. He was only human. He made mistakes, got knocked down and forced to get back up, had to live in a world of darkness while trying to keep his head above water. He’d thought he was a good father. He’d thought he was a good husband.
Yet when faced with the horror of losing a child, Steel learned he was neither. He was not a good father, nor was he a good husband.
But as Jenna was fond of saying recently, the fight wasn’t over with. Steel was not dying; he just had to fight to live. And if there was one thing Steel was good at, it was the fight. The grit and the determination to take just one more step.
Steel was a Marine. He did not know how to quit.
He would live. He would burn. And he would spend every moment left of his life being a man, father, and husband, his family could be proud of.
Rubbing his thumb over Melanie’s still smile, encapsulated forever on flimsy paper, Steel knew he had to set things right. He wasn’t the only one who would burn for Melanie’s death.
“Tell me who pulled the trigger.” Steel didn’t speak to anyone in particular now. He didn’t care who answered, so long as it was the truth. “Tell me who took my daughter from me.”
Rodney Baldwin was a son too. He was a person with a family who mourned him, but Steel couldn’t find it in him to care about the loss of his life. Melanie’s was all that mattered, the innocent in this equation.
Steel heard grunts and groans from behind him, no doubt the peons trying to point the finger at each other. But neither Kelly nor Eoin said anything. Eoin had made some hacking sounds, but that wasn’t an admission of guilt.
Finally, Steel tucked the picture away. Both to protect it and so Melanie didn’t see what happened next.
“Cut their gags,” he ordered to anyone who felt like listening. “I want to hear them scream.”
The sharp snap of the cigar cutter caused the man in front of Steel to flinch, though no part of him fell to the floor.
Only another cap of processed tobacco leaves.
Steel felt sorry for the Oscuro Maduro currently housed in Eoin’s stomach, but it had effectively shut the man up—that was, until he started to vomit.
So while the rest of the captives were being ungagged, Mercer, aka the other Ghost and Phoenix’s Knightmare, had shoved a gag into Eoin’s mouth, forcing the mobster to swallow back down his own vomit or suffocate.
Seamus was the oldest son. Steel knew from Keys that he was forty-two, never married, and ran the chop shop portion of his father’s enterprise. From a money transfer Keys found, there was also a more than likely chance that Seamus had been the one who ordered his uncle a new pair of shoes.
Kelly departmentalized his business so much that he essentially pitted his five sons against each other to win favoritism from him.
Doing so had caused division within his family, meaning that no son helped or rooted for another.
When Eoin’s portion of the business was in trouble, he never would have reached out to his brothers because they would have seen the theft as weakness and worked their own angle to gain favor with their father.
Seamus might have questionable morals, but then Steel didn’t exactly have a halo over his head either. From what Steel had seen of Keys’ research into the Gavigan family, Seamus was the most levelheaded of the lot.
The man’s dark brown eyes did not leave Steel’s torch lighter as Steel lit up his second cigar.
“Are you loyal to your father, Seamus?”
A black eyebrow raised. “What kinda daft question is that?”
When Kelly made to protest, Starbucks placed the gag that had been in Seamus’ mouth into his father’s. Kelly bit down on the plastic, like he could destroy the offending object with his teeth. After that failed, he stared daggers at his oldest, which both Steel and Seamus ignored.
Steel pocketed his lighter. “An honest one, and one that will decide your fate. I’m aware that your brothers and you had nothing to do with my daughter’s murder. So I am prepared to let you live.”
Seamus’ eyes narrowed. “In exchange for what, now?”
“Well, there are four of you, so I would need four things.” Steel puffed on the cigar, trying to use the earthy scent to center himself. “First, I want the man who pulled the trigger. The real name, no patsies.”
“And how do you propose I get that information?” Seamus asked pointedly. His eyes went to his brother, who was still gagged and noisily having to swallow back down his vomit.
“That’s your problem, not mine,” Steel informed him. “Eoin is not the only one who would know that answer.”
Seamus looked Steel up and down. “Ye said four things. What else?”
“Second, I need to know if the shooter was alone in the cage or if there was a driver too.”
“And I would assume neither of these men will be seeing tomorrow’s sunrise?” Though phrased as a question, they both knew it wasn’t.
“They won’t be the only ones. Which leads me to the third demand: you and your brothers will agree to never retaliate for the death of your father and brother. Either against myself, my family, or anyone else here.” Steel leaned down and added, “And I should warn you, I have a very large family.”
Seamus’ eyes glanced directly behind Steel. The hint of ginger hair in his peripheral told Steel it was Ghost behind him.
“And the fourth demand?” Seamus asked.
Steel touched his breast pocket, though he did not take the photo out again. “You will get my daughter’s name branded onto your arm, so there will never be a question of you forgetting this moment or my generosity.”
Seamus’ chin shot up. “Yer mental! I ain’na gettin’ no brand on me arm!” The man’s accent thickened with his anger.
“Then you stand with your father,” Steel countered. “Congratulations, Seamus. You’ve proven yourself to be a loyal son.”
As Steel made to step away from Seamus and towards the next oldest brother, Fergal, Seamus called out, “Wait!”
Steel turned, smoke billowing out around him. He said nothing, though, as Seamus clearly was trying to contemplate his next move.
“Make it her initials, and ye have yerself a deal,” Seamus offered.
Steel, though, was not in a negotiating mood. “Not good enough. Full name, or I go see if Fergal is as loyal to your father as you are.”
Seamus’ jaw tightened, and he seemed to have to force it open to say, “Fuckin’ hell, fine. Now, I assume yer gonna let me out of these,” he indicated to the thick rope connecting him to the metal chair around his arms, “so I can get ya the fuckin’ name.”
Steel nodded once. “We will. But first…” He turned in time to see Poison walk into the room with a blowtorch and what looked to be a fire poker with an unusual end.
“A friend of mine welds metal for a living. I asked him for a very specific item, and thankfully the man works fast. It was delivered yesterday.”
Cage stepped forward to hold the poker while Poison started to light the end. It wasn’t long before the metal started to glow red.
Seamus’ eyes widened. “The fuck?!” He bent backwards in the chair, like he was trying to get as far away from the flaming hot metal as he physically could.
“So you can’t change your mind,” Steel explained as Starbucks took a step to his left. In a quick motion, he flipped open a butterfly knife with a twirl before cutting through Seamus’ shirt, revealing the man’s bicep.
Seamus looked to his brothers, but his eyes never strayed from the torch for long.
The brighter the metal became, the more Seamus started to sweat.
Steel honestly thought the man was going to back out—which was no skin off Steel’s back—when he saw Seamus catch his father’s eye.
The pure hatred that radiated off of Kelly seemed to steel Seamus’ resolve.
Like the flick of a switch, Seamus squared his shoulders, gripped the arms of the chair with white-knuckled fingers, as he took several short, huffing breaths. “Let’s do this! Come on!” he shouted, hyping himself up.
Cage handed Ghost the brand. Steel stepped back. Though he had orchestrated the deal, it was Ghost who would uphold it. Before the brand had time to cool down, Ghost pressed it directly to Seamus Gavigan’s upper arm.
The sickening stench of burning flesh permeated the room as Seamus let out a yell of fury to mask the pain.
It was over in seconds, though the smell remained.
Seamus sagged a little in his chair as Ghost stepped away. At Steel’s nod, Starbucks’ knife sliced through the ropes that had bound Seamus to the chair.
When Cage stepped towards the large fireplace in the adjoining room, Seamus called out, “Wait!” again. Cage paused, and Seamus looked between Steel and Ghost. “Them too,” he said, nodding his chin towards his brothers who were not sentenced to die.