Chapter 8 #2
His face went beet red, the flush climbing all the way up to his balding scalp and the gray combover he used to hide it. “He doesn’t even have a mark on him. I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been doing with the devil, but your father would—”
“He gave me the Bonnams’ route earlier. In detail.” I blew a puff of smoke in his face. “I know what I’m doing.”
I didn’t know shit, but he didn’t need to know that.
Rank just stood there, blinking, and a murmur spread through the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys duck his head to hide a grin.
The old man finally recovered. He clearly didn’t want to be appeased—he wanted me deader than my father. “How do you know he’s telling the truth unless he’s screaming?”
I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I didn’t make him scream?”
Rank looked taken aback, but he was too puffed up to back down now. He pointed a gnarled finger at my chest. “It’s not right what you’re doing, boy. We have just as much right to him as you do.”
He’d already crossed a line threatening Devlin, but calling me ‘boy’ was the cherry on top of his demise sundae.
I reached out and grabbed the back of Rank’s head, then slammed his face down into the bar.
His friends immediately surged forward, but Rhys was there in a second, holding them back with one outstretched hand like a wizard.
Rank struggled in my grip, letting out a muffled cry as he turned and smeared the blood from his nose across the surface.
I leaned over him and gritted my teeth. “That’s the last time you will ever call me boy, old man.
I’m the leader of the O'Shea crew, not you. And let’s be clear.
Even if I weren’t around? You still wouldn’t crack the top ten on the list of people capable of taking my place.
I earned this spot through blood and sweat and tears.
I earned this spot at the end of my father’s belt, and I have the scars to prove it.
So no, Rank, you aren’t entitled to a piece of fucking anything.
You’re entitled to lick my boots and say thank you. ”
I tore him away from the bar and slammed him to the floor.
His wounded cry cut off as I pressed the bottom of my boot over his mouth.
He kicked and squirmed and scrabbled at my leg, but I was much stronger than him.
“No more words, Rank. I need a nod from you, and that’s fucking it.
” His watery eyes went wide as blood dripped from his nose and down his cheeks.
I pressed harder, until he finally managed to jerk his head.
I made sure to dig in a little more before I lifted my boot. “Get the fuck out. Stay off this property and out of O'Shea’s for five days. If I see you back before then, I’ll put you in the ground with my father.”
Rank rolled onto all fours and stumbled to his feet. Then he slunk out the front door, his two friends on his heels. I gestured to Hack. “Make sure they leave the property.”
“Sure, Cian.” Hack was younger than me—closer to Jace’s age. A computer nerd who thrived on creating online chaos. He followed orders well. Unlike Mads, who in his late twenties still got distracted, forgot things, or fucked them up. But he was loyal. He tried. And he was fun to be around.
I’d finished my cigarette by the time Hack returned.
“They’re gone.”
“Gates closed?”
“Closed and locked.”
I blew out a deep breath. “Good.”
Jace joined me, and I could see the sass had leached out of him.
Maybe because he was tired, or maybe because he saw that I needed a fucking break.
Knowing I didn’t drink, he poured me a club soda from behind the bar.
I gulped down half of it, and the bubbles slid down my throat and fizzed in my belly as I slid onto a barstool.
The only reason I remained upright was because my men were watching me, and I couldn’t look weak.
“He told you?” Jace asked. “About the route?”
I nodded once. “Yeah.”
“How’d you get him to do that?”
I choked on my next sip. Rhys was studying me with those intense eyes, unfazed when I shot him a glare. Just because.
“Trade secret,” I replied.
A wide grin split Jace’s face. “Oh, fuck off,” he laughed, pouring me another club soda.
“You all right?” Rhys asked, his deep voice soft.
My gaze flicked over to the door Rank had skulked out of. “Should have done that months ago.”’
“Probably,” Rhys conceded. “Why now?”
Because Rank wanted Devlin. And Devlin was mine.
“He crossed a line.”
Rhys didn’t ask which line I meant.
I sat around for a while, just shooting the shit.
Now that Devlin was chained up in Frank, I knew I’d have to talk to my officers about him.
And as much as I wanted Devlin to myself, I wasn’t the kind of leader to keep my officers in the dark.
Not about the devil in our midst. I told Hack and Mads to let other officers know there’d be a meeting tomorrow.
One by one, the men trickled off to bed until only Rhys and I remained, sitting side-by-side at the bar, shoulders brushing. He’d been nursing the same beer all night, long enough for it to be warm now as he twirled the bottle between his palms.
I’d never known a time without Rhys. As far back as I could remember, he was there by my side.
He’d always been a calming presence, even as a kid.
An old soul. His father had been a good man, unlike mine.
Probably why Rhys didn’t carry the kind of rage I lived with every day.
Instead, he waded through a deep pool of grief for his late father and his mother in long-term care.
“Ci?” he asked softly after we’d been silent for a good twenty minutes.
I didn’t like the shortened version of my name—Kee. Rhys rarely used it. I turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah?”
His dark eyes looked nearly black in the dim light. “You sure you’re good?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you studying me.”
“Don’t give me something to study.”
I sighed. “I’m not good, Rhys. That much is clear. Devlin has me all fucked up in the head.”
There. That was the truth. Just not… the entire truth.
I pulled out the gun from my nightstand. “Keep this safe for me. Can’t have the devil gnawing off his arm and shooting me in my sleep.”
He took it from me with his lips pursed. “I can tell he’s fucking you up.” His brows lowered. “And I know you think he’s your responsibility. But Patrick is dead, man. Revenge isn’t gonna do a damn thing.”
Oh. Devlin Walsh was definitely my responsibility. Maybe for a few less-than-pure reasons, sure. But that didn’t change the fact that he was a means to an end. If I didn’t avenge Patrick, I’d find myself a target.
“You know that’s not the world we live in.”
Rhys shrugged. “I know. Just in case you wanted to hear it from someone besides yourself.”
I ran a hand over my face and groaned before sliding off the stool. “I’m going to bed.”
I headed for the stairs, and Rhys’s voice drifted after me. “Do you think the devil snores?”
I smiled and shook my head as I made my way up to my apartment and let myself inside.
I moved quietly so I wouldn’t wake Devlin, which was so fucking stupid.
I should’ve been banging pots and pans over his damn head.
The devil was fast asleep on the dog bed where I’d left him, curled tightly into a ball.
He wasn’t snoring, but he had pulled all the sheets and pillows off my bed and shoved them underneath him.
I sank down onto the edge of my bed and watched him sleep.
I’d felt unsettled ever since I laid eyes on Devlin in that shed.
Or, more exactly, I’d been uncomfortable when I’d left him there alone.
When Mads and Hack delivered food, I’d even watched from a distance, imagining I was the one giving him what he needed.
Keeping Devlin locked in that shed had been the last thing holding the shreds of my sanity intact.
At least I’d been able to leave when I’d felt myself slipping.
But now I’d heard him laugh. I’d seen his eyes roll back when he came. I knew how good he was when I put him on his knees.
The beast inside me had claimed him.
I couldn’t forget how this all had to end—and one day it would. One day, I’d have to kill Devlin Walsh, lock the beast back in its cage, and pretend nothing had ever happened. Pretend he hadn’t changed something inside me, shown me a side of myself I hadn’t known existed.
But he was the villain, and so was I. We didn’t get a happy ending.