Kieran

by Kassanna

  A black sedan was parked outside the small house he lived in with his brothers. Old man O’Shea must be there, checking on his investments. That’s what the bastard called him and his siblings. Briefly, anger sizzled, twisting his gut. The SOB had him taken from his mother and dropped into a hellish existence for no other reason than the fact that he’d been born. Why were they being punished? Roscoe sat in the driver’s side with the door open and a cigarette drooping from between his lips. Smoke spiraled up from the tip where the thin paper burned.

  Kieran stopped. He’d been talking to the man whenever Paddy visited. It was Roscoe who offered to take him to his mother every once in a while. A secret meeting that only the three of them knew about. That was why he trusted the driver. Questions had been building in his mind, and he’d voiced them but Roscoe never answered. Luck was on his side today; maybe he would finally get the truths he was seeking.

  “Hey, Roscoe.” Kieran stared at the cig.

  Roscoe smiled, pulled it from his lips and dropped it on the ground. He twisted his foot, grinding it beneath his shoe. “Don’t get any ideas--this shit is bad for your health. You’re late today? Ain’t you worried about that ass whooping you gonna get?”

  “I knew what I was doing when I did it.” Kieran shrugged.

  “You a dumb shit.”

  “Sometimes.” Kieran leaned on the back door. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No one’s stopping you, but you may not like the answer.” Roscoe peered up at him. Under the sunlight his dark skin shined.

  “Who exactly is Paddy O’Shea and what is he to me and my brothers?” His heart sped up in anticipation of an answer. He held the dark gaze of the older driver.

  “Let me tell you a story.” Roscoe exhaled. “A river was over overflowing its banks and the lowlands were flooding. A scorpion came out its den and searched for a way to reach higher ground. A turtle passed him, going about his business, heading for the hills beyond the river. The scorpion stopped him and asked for a ride on his back. The turtle said no. You’re a scorpion--you might sting me. The scorpion shook his head. Never. You’re helping me. Why would I sting you? I can’t swim. If you’re stung we’ll both die. They went on like this for hours with the waters steadily rising. Finally the turtle gave in and allowed the scorpion to crawl onto his shell. Halfway across the water the scorpion stung him. The turtle glanced back at the scorpion and asked why with his last breath. The scorpion stared at him and never wavered in his answer. Because I am a scorpion, and it’s in my nature.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kieran shook his head, drawing his brows together.

  “Paddy O’Shea cannot be defined by words. Watch his actions. You should know his nature and understand what to expect.” Roscoe closed his mouth with an audible snap.

  He didn’t get the clear-cut answer he was hoping for. “I still don’t get it.”

  “You will one day. Since you’re already prepared for your punishment, want to go visit Fiona?”

  “Yeah.” Excitement replaced his confusion. His mom was the bright spot in his life, and visiting her was the secret he would take to the grave. The one confidence he kept from his brothers.

  “Get in. I gotta get back quick, so I’ll drop you off.”

  He jumped into the back seat, sinking below the window so he wouldn’t be seen. The pristine white leather was soft under his palm. No way could his punishment overshadow his day. He giggled to himself several times and slid back and forth across the seat, watching traffic speed by. The ride ended way too soon.

  Roscoe pulled in between the massive gates and parked close to the back door. He stretched an arm along the front seat and spun around. “Don’t stay too long. I don’t want your death on my hands.”

  “Danny Boy ain’t killed me yet.” He thrust the door open and scampered out, rushing to the back door.

  It was unlocked so he strolled in. “Mom…Fiona?” He checked the rooms as he hurried down the hallway. “Mom?” She usually answered him quickly when he was able to sneak away. The house was ominously quiet.

  He walked faster, running up the stairs. He’d never been to the second floor before and had no idea what room was what. Along the long hallway all the doors were closed. One after the other he opened them. Panic set in, making his chest hurt. His mom rarely left the house.

  She was a beautiful woman who’d emigrated from Ireland to be with his father. Her hair was dark as a raven’s wing, and she had eyes so blue, gazing into them was like staring up at a clear blue sky. She was pale and thin to the point of being gaunt. He always worried if she ate enough. Fiona spoke with soft voice that was sometimes hard to understand due to her Irish brogue. He never visited for long, happy most times just to see her. She’d promised to tell him who his da was when he was old enough.

  Kieran shoved open the last door. Closed shades created darkness, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. His mother was sprawled out on the floor, her light yellow nightgown spread around her. She was face down, and her long hair framed her head like a halo. He didn’t think--he acted, running to her and yanking her into his lap. She didn’t respond to his calls as he shook her. Her head lolled from one side to the other, and her skin was clammy to the touch. A sickening stench made him scrunch his nose. A putrid brown fluid with chunks of what looked like fruit was spread across the carpet where her head had been. He glanced at her hands. The brown goo was caked under her fingernails and smeared across her palms. Her eyes were closed; thick lashes shadowed her high cheekbones.

  She was gone. He knew what death looked like. He’d seen Danny Boy and a few other crewmembers beat a man until dead. Watched the men kill others who were in debt to them for one reason or another. Pain seized his chest, and he gulped air into his lungs. He had to call for help. Gently he lowered his mother to the floor and rose, running to the nightstand. Various-sized pill bottles littered the surface of the furniture, and all the caps were off. Some were on the floor. A few were stacked on top of each other. A couple of containers were lying on their side with white medicine scattered next to them. He shoved everything to the side, sending items flying off the furniture piece. There wasn’t a phone.

  After checking the other stand, he sprinted from the room. Maybe Roscoe was still there. Racing through the house, he arrived at the back door and snatched it open. Danny Boy blocked the exit, staring down at him.

  “This is where you run off to, you little shit.” Danny yanked him outside by the collar. “After everything I’ve done to raise you—you--you ungrateful bastard come crying home to Mama. A woman that didn’t want you!” He shook him, violently.

  Kieran tugged at Danny’s arms, struggling to look around. He caught a glimpse of Paddy’s sedan but he didn’t see Roscoe. “Please, Danny. My mom. Call the ambulance!” The toes of his shoes scraped the concrete as he swung his legs.

  “No one can help her now.” Paddy’s enforcer reared his arm back and punched Kieran in the nose.

  The crack of bone connecting with Danny’s fist reverberated through his head, and the sharp sting that followed brought tears to his eyes. His vision blurred, and he blinked several times to clear it. A metallic taste flowed across his tongue. He spit, and red dots splattered his tormentor’s face.

  “Are you stupid? You must have inherited it from your sorry-ass mother.” Danny dropped Kieran and wiped a hand down his face.

  Kieran peered up at the large man. Shadowed by the bright sunlight surrounding him, Danny was some demon rising up from hell. Fear skittered down his spine. He scampered back, bits of debris jabbing into his palm.

  “Answer me, retard. Of your brothers you’re the dumbest.” Danny kicked him. “Even they know when to retreat, but you? You have to keep pushing. I’m going to teach you, boy, when to give up.”

  The blow stung his ribs. He curled in on himself to protect his middle. Kieran was struck in the chest, arms and thighs. Balling up into the fetal position, he ducked his head just as Danny jumped and stomped.


  He passed out, and when he came to he was in the hospital emergency room. The antiseptic smell of ammonia was ripe in the air. Roscoe sat next to his bed with a swollen eye. The old man stared intently at him. “You don’t remember anything.” He scowled as he stood, clutching his ribs. “And I wasn’t here.” Roscoe hobbled out of the room.

  Three weeks he spent in the hospital with multiple fractures. He was told he was in a car accident. Someone went to great lengths to cover up his injuries. He did what Roscoe told him to do and returned to that house in Lowell. His mother’s death was ruled a suicide by overdose of narcotics. That was true but he had his doubts and knew--there was so much more to the story. Fiona took her life, or maybe the pills were forced down her throat. Either way He had an idea of who drove her to commit the desperate act if they in fact didn’t hold her down. If it took everything he had he would return that favor to those son of a bitch’s responsible. Kieran was thirteen years old when he started planning the demise of Paddy O’Shea and everyone loyal to him.

  ***

  Constant buzzing brought him back to the present. He gazed at the phone before grabbing the handset. “Yes?”

  “Your two o’clock is here,” the receptionist whispered with a nasal tone.

  He tapped his tablet and chuckled. “Please send Mr. O’Shea in.”

  Danny Sullivan escorted Paddy O’Shea into the room.

  Kieran leaned back and rested his elbows on the armrests. “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure seeing you.”

  “I came for business. Your happiness isn’t anything I give a damn about.” Paddy sat down heavily. Danny took the seat next to his father.

  “You’re billed by the hour. Take your time.” He could wait.

  “I’m the one who put you through school--this is part of your repayment.”

  “The money I earned in my youth more than covers the expense of my education. What do you want?” His da’s finances were dwindling. Extortion, prostitution, arms deals--name the entity and they--he and his brothers--had their fingers in it slowly driving their father out.

  “When will you complete the union deal?” Paddy leaned forward in his seat.

  “That’s none of your business, old man. My brothers and I considered our options and decided the detriment of including you in our dealings far outweighed the benefits.”

  “Boy, I will break you and your brothers.” Veins rose up along Paddy’s temple.

  “Feel free to try.” Kieran cocked his head. When Kieran was growing up, Paddy had been larger than life, a man to be feared. Now he was nothing more than a sorry old man. “What didn’t kill us only made us stronger.”

  “Do you think I taught you everything?” Paddy stood abruptly. “Watch and learn, son. I own this city.” He leaned toward Danny. “Make the call.”

  “Do your worst, Mr. O’Shea, and we will come at you ten times harder.” Kieran rolled his shoulders. “If there is nothing else?” With those few words, he dismissed his da. He could tell his brothers what he’d done. They would understand the joy he was experiencing, but the only person he wanted to talk to was Rica. Business first, though--his pretty girl wasn’t going anywhere.

  ***

  “Rica, I’m heading out to pick up the parts I ordered for the ice machine.” Roscoe stopped in front of her desk. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Just the ice machine to actually produce ice.” She pushed off the desk. “Are you really going to fix it this time, Roscoe? Big Bertha won’t even drop snowflakes now.”

  “I admit it took a moment to find the problem, but I have found the issue and ordered the parts. All that’s left is to pick them up and install them.” He did a quick two-step.

  “You’re not qualified. I told you to call somebody in to fix it.” She tapped her fingers on the blotter.

  “Why pay someone else when all you have to do is slip a little something extra in my paycheck?” He grinned big.

  “You ain’t nothing but a conman.” She chuckled.

  “Ahh, but my morals are still intact…somewhat.”

  “I don’t know why Kieran keeps you around.” She shook her head and pulled up to the desk. “What am I going to do with you?”

  The smile faded, and he sobered. “I need a favor.”

  “Okay.” This was a first. Usually she and Roscoe traded insults. It was fun matching wits with the old guy. In the blink of an eye he’d gone from gregarious to serious. “What you need?”

  “I made a promise a long time ago to watch a good friend’s sons… Never mind.” Half his face lifted in a rueful smile.

  “All right.” Where was this conversation going? “Say what’s on your mind, Roscoe. I need to finish payroll.”

  Martin stomped into the room out of breath. “Rica”

  “What?” She swiveled in her chair to face him.

  “Kieran asked me to come by and get you.”

  “That’s nice, but I got shit to do.” She faced Roscoe. “You were saying?”

  He stared at Martin through narrowed eyes. “We can talk later after I get back.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time, Rica. I was told to bring you the law firm now.” Urgency was in his tone. Martin rushed through the words.

  “I’m busy.” She exhaled. Did motherfuckers think money magically appeared in their bank accounts? Maintaining multiple records was a chore, but hell if she trusted anyone to do it for her. “Kieran knows what I do every Thursday. If he wants me bad enough he’ll find me.”

  “I’m off.” Roscoe ambled out of the storeroom. Pausing momentarily, he glanced back at her and offered a little smile.

  “I want that machine fixed tonight before we open, old man!” she called after Roscoe’s retreating back.

  “Kieran’s in a meeting with his brothers.” Martin clapped his hands together and shook them in front of his face. “I was told to bring you back and I can’t afford to fuck up again. He’s already mad at me. Please.” Shit was serious if Martin was begging her. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” She shook her head. “Given our relationship, I’m surprised he would send you.”

  “Goo was coming, but there were some questions about off-shore accounts. Everyone is busy so Keiran sent me.”

  She actually felt a little sorry for Martin. Kieran could be an asshole when he was pissed. Rica looked down at the multiple columns of numbers. Most of the work was done. She gazed up at Martin as he rocked on his toes. Kieran trusted him, and although Kieran never discussed his youth, occasionally he would let his guard down and she would catch a glimpse of his childhood. More than once he’d mentioned Martin from those days. This would give her an opportunity to find out what was really going on with the enforcers’ screwed-up drops before she discussed it with Kieran. “Fine.” She rode from her seat and snatched her coat from the chair back. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Six

  Fat flakes of snow drifted down from an overcast sky as she and Martin exited the building. Rica tugged her collar together and ducked her head beneath it. Martin took the keys from her fingers and locked up. He angled his head toward a car at the mouth of the alley.

  “Hey!” Roscoe yelled, hurrying down the brick-paved pathway.

  She stopped. “What’s up?”

  “I got a little situation, Rica. I lost my wallet and I’m not sure where to find it.” A deeper red tinge colored his cheeks.

  “Oh.” She stuffed her hands in her jeans pocket. “I got a couple twenties. Will that be enough? I think I got the business credit card.” She patted her jacket.

  “No, it’s a refrigeration part.” He gazed up at Martin. “I can take Rica to Kieran. You go on and let him know we are on our way.”

  “I was told to bring her.” Martin inched in close to her.

  She twisted between the two men. “Roscoe, I’ll go back in the club and pull some funds from petty cash.”

  “It would be quicker if you came with me. We get the part and I’ll drop you off at…” Roscoe spoke quickly

&
nbsp; “Kieran is at the law firm.” Martin grumbled.

  “Then it’s settled.” Roscoe gripped her by the arm and jerked her toward him. With a solid grasp on her elbow he started walking, leaving her no choice but to follow.

  She trotted behind him and wrenched her limb free at the car. “What was that about?”

  “I don’t trust that boy. Get in.” He pressed the key fob and the double clicks sounded.

  Rica pulled the door free and jumped in. “Martin is an idiot but a harmless one.”

  “Little girl, you learn in this business--you can’t trust no one.” He started the vehicle. “Kieran has you spoiled.”

  “Really? And how is that?” She stared out the windshield, watching the wiper blades dissolve the white flakes. Beams of sunlight broke through the cloudy sky, making the bit of the slushy snow on the road glisten.

  “Since he brought you to the club, he has protected you--and not just him. It’s like a law on the streets that you are guarded by the O’Shea brothers.” He snorted. “Making an enemy of those boys is like signing your own death warrant.”

  “You sound like you been hitting the club hooch, old man.” She leaned back in the seat.

  “I like a good shot of brandy like anyone else, but I have been watching. They are fighting their daddy for control of South Boston. Paddy has owned this area for years…I’ve been waiting for them to grow up.” The cars around them were thinning. He took a sudden right turn.

  She sat up and looked around. They were surrounded by older buildings. Rica peered over at Roscoe.

  A heavy sigh escaped him. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but I didn’t have any other choice.”

  Uneasiness scarped at the back of her mind. “What are you talking about, Roscoe?” Discreetly she patted her jacket for her phone. The familiar bulge wasn’t there. Rica openly skimmed her hands up and down her coat in dread as she remembered where she left the device.

  The older man continued. “Kieran wasn’t moving fast enough.” Roscoe stopped and put the car in park. He twisted in is seat and peered at her. His face was devoid of emotion. “I needed to force his hand.”