Ruthless: An Irish Mafia Romance (Wild Irish Book 2) Page 6

  “Don’t. Thanks so much for coming. But I’m fine now, just tired.” The exhaustion isn’t a lie. My body feels boneless.

  “Okay, if you need me for anything or if he returns, ring me.”

  “Of course I will,” I lie easily. His fingers touch my chin, the contact warm, and I lean into him. His lips brush mine. My body seems to gravitate to him. But the kiss ends sooner than I want it to.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Closing the door behind Connor leaves me with mix emotions. My fingers flutter to my lips. He can kiss. I’m smiling as I double check the locks, but that falters as I remember why I’m checking my locks. The reminder seems to ignite the pain in my cheek.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CONNOR

  I arrive at Neill’s house. I don’t even have to reach the front door to see the place has been trashed. Every window in his house is smashed. The door swings open with a touch of my foot. I try to look around the door.

  “Connor is that you?”

  “You alone?” I shout back before entering.

  “Yeah in the kitchen.” I move past the torn up hall. Pictures crunch under my boots as I push open the kitchen door. Something heavy is behind it.

  “Jesus, take it easy.” I duck my head around to see Neill sitting against the door. He’s holding his right hand. Each finger bent back at odd angles. Blood coats his white hoodie and still runs from his nose.

  I squeeze through the door, a towel on the counter is my next move. I hand it to Neill, and he has to release his broken fingers.

  “Who did this?” I ask him, kneeling down. Someone took a baseball bat to his kitchen. Everything is torn from the presses and smashed on the ground. It seemed personal.

  “I don’t know. There was a group of them.” His nose starts to bleed again, and I push the towel back closer to him.

  “You need a doctor.” He’s shaking his head like a broken nose and fingers will mend themselves.

  “Say someone jumped you, which is pretty much the truth.” I help him up.

  “I can’t leave the house like this.” He’s glancing around him.

  “I don’t think there’s anything left to take. I’ll ring a mate to come board it up.”

  I don’t enter the hospital with Neill but make a call to Russell who takes care of rental property around the area. I give him Neill’s address, and he promises to do it soon.

  I ring Ava only to get her voicemail. She had said she was tired. I send her a quick message in case she is awake. Waiting a few moments, I don’t get a response. The hospital is quiet, and I find Neill easily. He’s loud and has the nurses laughing.

  “Here is my friend I was telling you about.” The nurses turn to me, and I wonder what he’s been saying about me.

  “Very brave of you to scare off seven men,” one of them says, and I look to Neill, but he shrugs.

  “Seven? By the time we leave, it might be ten,” I say and get a quick laugh before they leave. Neill has a plaster across his face, and his fingers are in bandages too.

  “All broke?” I ask, and he nods.

  “Did they say anything?”

  “The nurses?” he questions, and I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Neill, the guys who smashed up your house?”

  He glances away, and I know he’s withholding.

  “Look, it’s no skin off my nose. But if you want help, you know I’m here.”

  “I knew the guys. They lost money at a fight and didn’t like it.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just say that?” I ask leaning against the wall.

  “Because it makes me look weak. Word gets out, everyone will be smashing up my house, because they didn’t win. I may as well quit.”

  “Retaliate,” I tell him, and he hops off the bed.

  “How, Connor?” He waves his injured arm in the air and pulls it back.

  “Fuck!” I glance around, seeing we have attracted the attention of an elderly couple. I apologize to them, but they look away.

  “Me. I’ll retaliate,” I tell him, and he stops petting himself and glances up at me. A slow grin tugging at his lips.

  “You’d do that?”

  “Why not?” I tell him. I leave before he starts hugging me. I’m in the hall only a few moments when my phone dings.

  In bed. How’s your friend? Oh and thanks so much for tonight. X

  I smile before firing back a text. He’s fine, nothing serious. I glance up from the phone as Neill, looking anything but fine, walks towards me.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Yep, just have a load of pain meds.” He yaps on as we head to the car. I finish typing the text. My pleasure, if you need me just ring x.

  I stuff the phone in my pocket as we climb into my car.

  “Have you a place to stay?” I ask. I don’t want to bring him back to mine, but if he has nowhere else, I will. He’s staying with his mother who lives in the next estate. I drop him off.

  “Send me the names and address of the guys,” I tell him, and he nods.

  “I don’t have them all but I’ll get them.” I smirk. I know he will.

  There aren’t any lights on when I arrive at Whitewood House. But that doesn’t say no one is awake. Someone is always hanging around. I enter my room downstairs. It’s always been my room. Everyone else stayed upstairs except for Liam who took over the basement area.

  My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my jeans pocket as I strip off my jacket.

  A word in the library

  I could ignore Liam’s message, but I don’t. He must have heard me arrive. He is sitting on one of the Queen Ann’s. It’s a rare thing, but he looks thoughtful. His brows furrowed, two fingers touching his chin thoughtfully.

  “You called,” I say, and he doesn’t startle. He looks up and beckons me to come over with two fingers. So very fucking Michael.

  “I’m tired,” I tell him.

  “It won’t take long,” is his response. “I’ll be blunt. Why did you cross into the north?”

  My heart thumps heavily. I blink knowing I should have some body reaction. I’m too still, so I lean back into the chair.

  “When?” I fire back, and he nods. As if to say two can play this game.

  “Father’s informant was tailing you.” This information doesn’t surprise me. But coming from Liam, it does.

  “Michael knew of my whereabouts at all times?” I clench my jaw. Why wait two years then? To see what I was doing? If he knew, I would be dead by now.

  “I was in Monaghan for work. That’s as far into the north as I went. Now I’m tired Liam.” I rise, and Liam doesn’t speak until I’m at the door.

  “So you never crossed into Belfast?” I’m glad my back is to him.

  “Michael’s informant is mistaken,” I say.

  “I don’t really care what you were doing in Belfast. Just don’t bring anything to our door.” I stare at Liam now.

  “This house is filled with secrets already, Liam. What could I possibly do?” I fire back.

  “It’s not a secret if it is known by three people.”

  I re-enter the room against my better judgement. Resting a hand on either side of Liam’s head, I lean into him.

  “I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not fucking stupid either. Say what you want to say.” His un-emotional response makes me want to plummet his face in, but I use my better judgement and lean out.

  “It is a secret if the three people are you Shane and Michael.” Because that’s the three people in the house that have the darkest secrets.

  “You’re hiding something,” he says calmly, and I smile, knowing that he must hate not knowing, and since he’s asking, he doesn’t know.

  I was hiding something. I was here to find out which one of these fuckers killed my mother. I wasn’t sure which one, but I would find out.

  “Goodnight, Liam,” I call over my shoulder.

  It’s four in the morning when my phone wakes me up. I’m lying over my blankets fully clothed. I
’m used to sleeping like this in case I have to run and move. Realising that Michael knew where I was the whole time, made every uncomfortable nights sleep for nothing.

  I rub my face before looking at the message on my phone. It’s from Neill. It’s the names and addresses of five men. It’s the list I’ve been waiting for. I’m pulling on my boots and jacket. Knowing this is the release I need.

  I’m standing in Darragh’s room, not really expecting him to be there, but he is. He’s strewn across his double bed, fully clothed. The smell of alcohol in the room has me thinking maybe I should go it alone. His floor is coated with clothes. Every drawer in his dresser is pulled open, wardrobe doors sit wide open as well. His room is a mess. It’s four times the size of mine, but I wouldn’t want this luxury. I would feel like I owed Michael something.

  “Wake up.” I kick his leg. Blue eyes flicker open as he glances up at me, squints and closes his eyes.

  “That really you, Connor?” he asks the grey striped quilt.

  “I need to go hurt some people. You in?” He’s up, and I’m grinning at his eagerness. He grabs a pair of beige boots and notices he already has runners on him. Dropping them on the floor, he pats down his white shirt and suit jacket.

  “Good to go,” he tells me slapping his face a few times.

  It’s four thirty in the morning when I reach the first house. They all live in Kells, but I’ll do them one night at a time. To build up their fear and panic, wondering when they will be next. The first house on the list is a small bungalow. Sitting on the ground floor will make it easy to break in to. The small garden out front is neatly trimmed, but there isn’t a flower or pot in sight. This I hope is a sign that David lives alone. I hate when women or kids are around. They over complicate things.

  The balaclava I tug over my face feels heavy, but the feeling will settle. Glancing at Darragh, he does the same. We’ve done this before, and Darragh’s presence adds excitement to the job. Bat in hand, I climb out of the car and creep along the sidewalk. Street lights cast pockets of light as we move slowly towards our target. Darragh follows suit. His bat has blue eyes with long lashes, and large, red lips painted onto the top of it. He named the bat Rochelle, and now he strokes it.

  We reach the back door easily. The back garden is a mirror version of the front. I’m kneeling down, screwdriver in hand as I pop the lock. The door opens easily, and a small dog stares at me.

  Fuck.

  “Kill it,” Darragh whispers behind me.

  “I’m not killing a dog,” I whisper back while rising and sliding the screwdriver into my pocket. The dog’s tail wags, and I’m just glad he hasn’t started barking yet. How much time we have left before he does start barking. It could be seconds. I hold my hands out towards the dog.

  “I’ll kill it.” Darragh moves in front of me and I side step to let him pass. Entering the small kitchen with its green eighties style cub-boards and fittings, I turn to Darragh.

  “Here doggy,” he says softly, and the dog moves back away from him and towards the hall door that sits open.

  “Don’t kill it, Darragh,” I warn him. He grabs the dog, the bark lodges in its throat as he holds it by the snout.

  “Darragh,” I warn, and he tilts his head, I can see the laughter in his eyes, so I sidestep him and the dog and walk into the hall. No lights are on, and I push open the sitting-room door carefully. The room is empty of anyone. A small two seater couch and TV take up most of the room.

  The space is smaller than the kitchen. I move back into the hall and I flicker a gaze up the stairs. A yelp sounds and then silence falls again around the house. Darragh appears a moment later. The dog isn’t in his hands. I’m shaking my head at him, and he shrugs. Stroking his bat has me moving up the stairs. I’m wondering half the time how stable Darragh really is.

  Upstairs has only three bedrooms, I check the front one, it holds a single bed and two lockers. The bed isn’t made up. The back bedroom is used as a gym. When Darragh pokes his head around the room, he points at the weights. I don’t understand what he’s asking. He picks one up, and I shake my head.

  “We are only scaring him,” I say as quietly as I dare. He rolls his eyes and lowers the weight to the floor. The master bedroom isn’t exactly master size, but compared to the rest of the house, the room is large. He’s lying in bed alone. That makes this so much easier. On his back, I move around his bed, and a snore rips from his throat. Darragh stands the other side of him, bat resting on his shoulder.

  “David, it’s time to wake up.” I nudge him with my bat, and he’s sitting up, moving back into the headboard. His head snapping from me to Darragh. Raising both hands, he starts to a plea.

  “I don’t have any money; you guys are hitting the wrong house.”

  Darragh moves, and David follows his movements as he makes his way to the curtains. I have no idea what Darragh is doing, but I stay focused on the message I need to deliver today.

  “I don’t want money,” I inform him and let it sink in. His eyes shoot back to me.

  “What do you want?” His breathing is growing heavy now.

  “You hurt a friend of mine. Neill.” He’s shaking his head.

  “Nah man, I swear to God, I don’t even know a Neill.” I’m nodding. Denial is always the first step.

  The crack of Darragh’s bat down on his leg has me grabbing his arms.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Darragh as he tries to take another swing.

  David’s cries are too loud. I force his head into the pillow.

  “I thought we were here to beat the shit out of him.” Darragh sounds confused, but I can’t deal with him right now.

  “David, shut the fuck up.” His cries grow muffled, and I let him up slowly. He whines, drool drips from the corner of his mouth.

  “This will go a lot easier if you admit what you did.”

  “I swear to God. I don’t know a Neill.” I push his face into the pillow before looking back at Darragh who has Rochelle slung up on his shoulder again.

  “Now you can hit him,” I tell Darragh. He swings wide, and his bat connects with David hip. The crack I’m not sure if it comes from the bat or David’s hip, but I’m going with his hip as he screams into the pillow.

  We let him up for air once his cries settle down. I’m surprised with how long he holds out. Five hits later, and he finally admits to knowing Neill.

  “Tell all your friends we are coming for them,” I tell David as I land the final blow to his face. I use my fist. His eyes close, and I push him over so he’s sprawled out his back.

  We leave the room, and I’m taking the stairs two at a time.

  “Fuck sake, Darragh,” I snarl as I pass the small body of the dog.

  “The fucker would have barked.” The fresh air feels nice, and I itch to rip off the balaclava, but wait until I’m in the darkness of my car.

  “What did you do to it?” I ask, and he pulls off his own balaclava.

  “You really want to know?” He’s smirking at me, and I start the car up in answer.

  “So when’s the next job?” His excitement has him sitting forward as he sparks up a fag.

  “Let’s give it a few nights,” I tell him, not sure if I’ll bring him the next time.

  “Don’t you fucking bail on me,” he says, and I can’t stop the grin.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I tell him as we leave the estate in the rear-view mirror.

  “Cross my heart, I’ll be better behaved the next time.” I take a quick look at him and know he’s lying. When I snigger, he just shrugs.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CONNOR

  “What time is it?” I check my phone.

  “Six,” I tell Darragh. He’s not looking like someone who wants to go to bed. His grin has me answering.

  “What do you have in mind?” He play punches me as we head for the bar.

  “Una, you looking for me?” Darragh teases. Una is staring into an empty fireplace. Her smile is tight. We’ve intruded on some
thing.

  “A drink?” He fires at her.

  “Why not?” Sitting down beside her on the couch, Darragh gets the drinks.

  “Are you guys just coming home?” She pulls her bare feet under her as she tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

  “Yeah, why are you up?” I ask shrugging out of my coat.

  “Couldn’t sleep.” She dips her head as she speaks.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Darragh teases while handing me a bud and one for Una, who snaps it from him.

  “No, everything is perfect.” The bite in her words tells me that it isn’t perfect.

  Darragh jumps across the arm of the chair, sloshing drink down his ugly brown cords.

  He wipes it off with his hand and sucks the excess drink from his fingers. When he looks up to find us watching, he winks at Una.

  “I thought you moved out?” he says to her.

  “I thought you were in rehab?” she fires back, and that wipes the smirk clean off his face.

  “I finished it,” Darragh says in his defence, and Una snorts, making me grin.

  “You mean you paid them off, because you’re not clean.” I don’t remember Una being this fiery. The idea that she knows that Darragh takes drugs makes me wonder what else she knows. She doesn’t look like the carefree sister I was used to.

  “Don’t take your mood out on me because Shane is being a dick.” She’s standing, and so am I.

  “He’s playing with you,” I tell Una, and she huffs before sitting back down. Any more than two members of our family in one room always turns into a referee match.

  “What’s this about you moving out?” I ask Una to divert the conversation to hopefully more mutual ground.

  “Shane bought Deerpark Stud.” My eyebrows rise, and Una smiles. “Yeah, I know,” she says while taking a sip of her drink. Glancing at Darragh, he rolls his head back and closes his eyes. Lifting his drink, he nearly misses his mouth.

  “Congratulations,” I tell Una, tipping my bottle against hers. She gives me a shy thank you. I had no idea that they even liked each other. To be moving in together was a big step. I hoped it worked out.