Killian
Before
Ifind Dad sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of whiskey in one hand and an empty pizza box nearby. His eyes are bloodshot, but his features brighten when he sees me.
His palm rasps against stubble when he rubs his face. “Good to see you, son.”
I remove his suit jacket from a nearby stool and take a seat. “Have you not been to bed yet?” It’s a rhetorical question. It’s seven in the morning and he looks beat. “Has there been trouble?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle without you,” Malachy says, entering the kitchen with perfect timing.
Lorcan is shadowing him and gives me a nod before heading for the coffee machine. Malachy helps himself to a whiskey from the bottle Dad left out and takes the seat opposite me. Always the fucking opposition.
"What’s been happening?” I ask, still addressing Dad.
“Just a wee bit of bother at the Prism,” he says, referring to one of our strip clubs. It’s closest to the Strip and is one of our most lucrative. “A gang of fucking motorcycle wankers were trying to move in on our patch.”
“They call themselves the Big Fish MC. Or they did,” Malachy says, laughing to himself as he rolls up his sleeves. His white button-down is sprayed with flecks of blood. “Pricks.”
“They’ve been harassing a few of our girls,” says Dad. “They just needed knocking down a peg or two.”
“And you had to be there to do it?”
Dad glares at me. “Are you saying I’m too old?”
“No.” Maybe. “But you are too valuable to risk getting injured in a brawl.”
“Worried he’ll be out of action and you’ll have to stop fucking around with the Russian bitch?” asks Malachy, eyeing me over his whiskey glass.
Lorcan sets down a cup of coffee in front of me and holds my gaze. Once he’s sure I’m not about to explode, he retreats to a corner of the kitchen where he can avoid entering the conversation.
“I need to show my face more, Killi,” Dad says. “I don’t like that people think I’ve lost my edge.”
He’s still sore after my comment about sitting back and letting the Barkovs invade our territory.
I’d said it in anger, but there was some truth in it.
He can’t be seen to give ground. There’ll be no sitting back and relaxing until the day he steps down as head of the family.
Malachy’s right, I’m in no rush to relieve him of that burden.
“You proved you’re still a force to be reckoned with when we killed Ilya,” I remind him.
“The Griffins did that,” he corrects.
“Only because we were there to back them up. And if I’d known how Ilya treated–” I snap my big gob shut. If I’d known how Katarina’s half-brother had killed her family and let other men in his command abuse her, I would have got to him first.
“How he treated Katarina…?” Malachy suggests. His ability to read my mind is getting on my fucking nerves. “What would you have done, Killian? Killed him yourself? Or would you have protected him now you’re in bed with the Russians?”
Tremors run through my body as I hold back my anger. If I lose my shit now, I’m definitely going to reveal things about Katarina I shouldn’t. “Where are the twins?” I ask, for once missing their inane interruptions.
“They got distracted back at the club. You know what that pair of idiots are like,” replies Dad. “But before we get any more distracted, tell me what’s happening in Chicago.” He holds up a hand in warning to Malachy without looking at him. “No fucking heckling from the back row.”
I swallow a slug of freshly brewed black coffee.
Thankfully, Lorcan knows I’m not averse to being an idiot myself and he’s added a splash of cold water so the coffee doesn’t burn my mouth.
“I’ve been able to persuade Katarina to put off setting the date for her wedding,” I explain, once again failing to mention that there never was and never will be a wedding.
As far as my family are concerned, I’m one corner of a genuine love triangle.
“I still want to know why the Moncriefs are letting this go ahead,” he replies. “And why aren’t the Griffins stepping in?”
“Ash is confident it’ll come to nothing.” Again, not a lie.
“Does he know you’re fucking her?”
I give Malachy a side eye. “No one outside our circle can know we’re seeing each other. Her protection has been upgraded and one of them, Danyl, is high up in Vasili’s command. If her uncle finds out she’s jeopardizing her latest engagement, she’ll face serious consequences.”
“So?” asks Malachy, not letting up with the smart remarks. He’s practically begging me to smash his face into the marble countertop. “The whole point of you being there is to make it known she’s cheating on Duke.”
“I know what I’m fucking doing.” No, I don’t. I really don’t. “We can’t rush things if we’re to hide our involvement, and if I get this right, it’ll look like Duke was the one to back out.”
“So you can protect Katarina?” adds Malachy.
“Yes,” I hiss. “To protect a woman who’s been tossed around from one man to another like a piece of property.”
Dad’s brow creases. “She’s not an innocent, Killian. This is the woman who almost trapped Ash. She’s clearly got something that has men losing their shit over, and I don’t want one of them to be you.”
“It won’t be, Da.”
The fuck it won’t. My hackles have risen just at the suggestion other men might lose their minds over her. No one else gets my woman.
I force my jaw to relax. “Look, Katarina is already complaining about how cold the Moncrief guy is.” I hate saying Duke’s name. “Their relationship will fall apart, I can guarantee it. Give me to the end of the summer.”
Dad drains his whiskey and heaves himself off his stool. “I don’t like that it’s dragging on so long. And I don’t like you being in Chicago on your own. You’re going to get noticed eventually.”
“Don’t you be worrying about me. I don’t go out without a disguise.”
I’ve become very attached to Patrick. The girls at the beauty salon say I look like some celebrity hairdresser or other. In fact, Katarina’s stored my number in her cell as ‘The hairdresser.’
“I must be doing something right,” I continue. “The Griffins still haven’t figured out I’m in town.”
“Speaking of Ash, I want you to have a face-to-face meeting with him. Soon. Let him know our concerns,” Dad says. “I like Ash, but that would change if he became connected to the Barkovs by association with the Moncriefs. I don’t want a day to come where we might have to consider him the enemy.”
“I’ll meet with him,” I assure him, not looking forward to another conversation where I’ll have to lie through my teeth.
When Dad’s gone, I see the deep breath Malachy takes as he prepares to set into me. “No heckling from the back row,” I remind him.
On cue, Malachy jumps out of his seat. “You think I’ve been stuck on the back row these past weeks? Are you trying to be funny?”
“I usually am,” I reply as I pick up my coffee and take a sip without looking at my brother.
“Yeah, well, you usually think with your head and not your dick. Dad might fall for the act, but I don’t. You’re falling for her, Killian. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I’m not falling for her,” I say, shrugging off the suggestion. “I like her is all. So what?”
“She’s a fucking Bratva princess! Which means she’s trained to reel in dickheads like you,” he hisses.
“She’s snapped up a Moncrief and now she’s leading you by the cock.
If her goal is to undermine this family, she’s doing a fucking good job so far.
You’re already lying to Dad.” He sucks in a breath.
“And I, for one, don’t trust you the way I should. ”
Shit that stung. Malachy and I have always argued, and Mam said we were like chalk and cheese, but our loyalty to each other was never in question. It shouldn’t be now. “I would never do anything to jeopardize this family, Mal.”
He blinks too many times. He wants to agree, but he shakes his head. “Not deliberately. Maybe. But what if you put us in danger unintentionally? Have you swept yourself for bugs lately?” He looks to Lorcan. “We should screen him.”
My jaw tics. “Not necessary. I trust her.”
“Sure, and I bet Duke Moncrief says the same thing too while eating her pussy.”
Malachy anticipates a reaction and when I fling my cup straight at his head, he smashes it back with his hand. As I’m dodging it, he leaps over the kitchen island to get to me.
I fall backwards onto the floor with Malachy on top of me.
The sound of my cup smashing on the tiles is drowned out by the growl in my chest and the roar of blood in my veins.
I grab Malachy by the scruff of his collar and haul him off me.
He pulls me with him and as we roll around the floor trading punches, shards of broken crockery dig into my back.
I see stars when Malachy lands a particularly well aimed punch to my jaw, and I repay him with a direct hit to his nose.
It’s not our first fist fight and won’t be the last. It’s definitely not the worst. The fights we had around the time our mother died were particularly vicious and cathartic.
We couldn’t take our anger out on the perpetrators so we took it out on each other.
I have a scar from a stab wound on my shoulder to prove it.
This particular fight fizzles out quickly.
I’m tired after my flight and Malachy’s been up all night.
Lorcan’s steps are slow and measured, and he waits until we both collapse on our backs to take a breath before planting one foot between our bodies and the other on Malachy’s chest. He trusts I won’t take advantage of his intervention.
Neither of us could say the same about Malachy.
“I’m calling it a draw,” he says. “You were both underwhelming.”
When he steps back, Malachy rolls one way and I roll the other. Our shirts are stained with blood and coffee, and I add another smear of blood to my cuff when I stand up and wipe my mouth. We glare at each other over Lorcan’s shoulder.
“You can’t see it,” Malachy says, clearly not done yet.
“See what?”
“You’re distancing yourself from us.”
I look at him dumbfounded. “I’m not.”
“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” he says, the venom having left his words. “You don’t like the old ways, you never have. It’s why you’ve put so much time and effort into working with Ash, too often without reward.”
“I build legitimate businesses that are sustainable, and yes, sometimes the Griffins’ ethos of giving back to communities rubs off on me. I make connections we wouldn’t otherwise have, garner respect from people we’d normally repulse. Our perceived charity is never completely selfless.”
“I don’t disagree, but in case you haven’t noticed, Dad’s getting tired of this game too,” Malachy says. “And with you ready to self-sabotage, who’ll be expected to step up? Who isn’t going to be allowed to watch from the fucking back row?”
I chew on my cut lip and swallow my anger.
“Firstly, I’m sorry for saying that, and Dad shouldn’t have said it either.
You lead as much as you do follow. You’re cooler under pressure than I am, maybe too cold occasionally but it’s no worse than how hot headed I can get.
” I heave out a sigh of resignation. “And for the record, I’m not self-sabotaging.
I’d never turn my back on the family. I like breaking necks too much to go completely soft. ”
Malachy probes his bloodied nose for breaks. “Dad’s never going to accept a Barkov into the family. Not ever,” he warns. “And what happens then? What happens if you fall for Katarina and you’re forced to choose? People like us don’t love quietly. It’s why we shouldn’t love at all.”
I want to deny every single point he’s made, but I can’t argue about Dad not accepting Katarina. And the ache I feel in my heart for every hour I’m away from her suggests I’m not just falling, I’m falling hard. What would happen if there was a choice to make?
“I would always choose my family, Mal.”
It shouldn’t be in doubt. So why do my words sound hollow?
Malachy sees the flicker of doubt in my pinched expression, but doesn’t call me out again. “I’m going to bed,” he says, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. “Will you still be here later?”
“I’ll stay a few days,” I promise, if only to prove to myself I can put family first. “But I do need to get back soon to arrange that meeting with Ash.”
My brother’s shaking his head as he turns away. “Still fucking lying to yourself,” he mutters.
Lorcan stays, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.
“What?” I demand, then immediately regret it. Lorcan’s considered verdict will be my damnation.
He shrugs. “Malachy’s not wrong.”