Nightshade

by Molly McAdams

  Beck’s stare and tone were full of disbelief. “Jesus fuck, dude.”

  Kieran made a noise of agreement, but there was heaviness about it that made me think there was more to it than just running out in the open. There had been something like shame laced between the words of his confession . . . and I couldn’t figure out what Kieran would have to be ashamed about.

  Beck gestured behind him when there was a knock on the door. “Looks like you’re up.”

  I tried to force my impenetrable exterior as I stood and walked to the door.

  Laughing eyes and twisted lips.

  But my body was curling in on itself, so I knew there was a possibility I looked as destroyed as I felt when I answered the door and stepped out onto the porch.

  Conor gave me a weak smile. “I, uh, went and got you something.” His eyes searched behind me, to where I was sure both Kieran and Beck were waiting unseen.

  I opened my mouth to say something . . . anything. But my throat was so tight I was sure the only thing that would come out was a strangled cry.

  I forced my mouth into what I hoped was a seductive grin and reached out to press the tips of my fingers to his chest.

  His brow pulled low and pinched, but he didn’t question what I was doing or shift away, even when I flattened my palm and ran it over his shoulder and down his arm, tangling my fingers with his to pull him into the house with me.

  As soon as he shut the door behind us, I dropped his hand and walked to Kieran, noting how his jaw was locked and his eyes were narrowed on Conor.

  “Stop,” I managed to whisper before falling into the chair I’d been occupying.

  Conor was shifting his weight from foot to foot where he stood next to Beck, and after clearing his throat, he said, “Dude, please don’t kill me. I don’t know what’s going on.” He gestured to me with the bag in his hand, his eyes on the man behind me. “She’s pretty, but there’s nothing going on. I’ve just been guarding the house, I swear to God. I already heard you last night. You made it clear she was yours.”

  “Might as well stop while you’re behind,” Beck mumbled to his brother.

  I lifted my hand to smack Kieran’s stomach. “Stop,” I repeated.

  Conor watched Kieran for a few more seconds before looking at the bag warily. “Uh, so this might be a bad idea now.” With a rush of air out, he walked over to the coffee table and set the bag down before taking a large Styrofoam bowl out of it. “A girl used to live here—”

  “She knows who Lily is,” Beck said as he snatched at the empty bag to look inside.

  Conor’s confused stare bounced from me to Kieran before he started talking again, unease coating his words. “All right. Well, she used to send me out for ice cream when she had bad days. When Beck came earlier, I figured you’d be okay if I left for a bit.”

  I took the bowl from his outstretched hand, my eyes filling with tears as a real smile spread across my face.

  “She said it made everything better.”

  A breath of a laugh tumbled from my lips. “I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream.”

  “Really?” Conor asked as he put more distance between us than was necessary.

  I spared a quick glance at Beck’s chagrined expression and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Money was tight.”

  Conor nodded slowly, like he understood.

  I didn’t bother to think of all the ways he couldn’t possibly understand what my life had been like, I just took the top off the bowl and stared at the priceless gift in my hands for a few moments. Curling myself into a ball on the chair, I dug my spoon in and took a bite, trying not to moan when the creaminess hit my tongue.

  I quickly took another bite and pointed at Conor with my spoon. “If there was anything in the world that could make everything better . . . it might be this.”

  He offered me another weak smile. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  The pain hit like a punch to my chest. I took another bite.

  Kieran settled himself on the arm of the chair so he was pressed against my shoulder, and exhaled slowly. “Everyone’s working. We need a couple of our guys to come back and take Jessica’s mom to the morgue.” He tapped on my arm and waited until I nodded in agreement before continuing. “Call a couple more and have them get rid of the ghost’s body.”

  “Body?” Conor asked, nearly choking on the word. “When did he die?”

  “When I killed him,” Kieran said unapologetically. “But just because he’s gone doesn’t mean we’re safe . . . there’s still Mickey. I want you to stay in here until he’s dead.”

  Conor’s face fell. “You want me to stay here . . . what, guarded? Like Lily and Jessica? I can defend myself, man. I can fight too. I don’t need to be fucking protected,” he said sternly, then held a hand out toward me in apology. “No offense.”

  I slowly removed the spoon from my mouth, looking from Conor to Beck then back again. “You think I was in here and you stood guard because I can’t defend myself? Because I need to be fucking protected?”

  He looked lost, but I could tell that was exactly what he’d thought.

  For a brief moment, I wondered what his expression would look like if I informed him men had to drug and sedate me in order to control me.

  I took another bite of ice cream instead.

  “It’s not his fault,” Kieran murmured so low his voice wouldn’t carry to the brothers. When he spoke again, his voice was louder and full of authority. “I wouldn’t have trusted their lives with you if I didn’t think you could defend yourself, Conor, but to keep you safe, there’s a lot you were never told. And right now, you’re still Mickey’s biggest target. We need to keep that target from him.”

  “How the hell do you call the shit I’ve been through keeping me safe?”

  Beck finally stepped forward. “It wasn’t, but it was the best we could do.” He jerked his head in Kieran’s and my direction and said, “I asked Kieran to give you the safest jobs. I never wanted this life for you.”

  “What are you talking about?” he yelled. “You’re the one who told me Holloway would save us.”

  Beck laughed miserably. “Yeah, well . . . back when we were on the streets and I was fighting, I fought a Holloway dealer and won what should’ve been Mickey’s cut. Mickey approached me a few days later before another fight, demanding I give the money back. I told him to fuck off and walked away. He was laughing like my response was the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard. The next fight, he was there again. He told me about Holloway and said he wanted both of us in, and to think really hard before I answered.” He jerked his chin toward Kieran and said, “I looked up and saw this fucking scary bastard standing next to you, eyes pinned on you like he was waiting for someone to unleash him.”

  Conor looked betrayed and stunned. He stumbled to one of the chairs and sat heavily in it, his wide stare on the floor.

  “I promised you when Mom and Dad died I’d take care of you. You were only thirteen, and we’d already been on the streets for almost two years. This was a place to live. Food. Money. And, shit, I didn’t want you to fucking die.” Beck raked his hands through his hair, his face exhausted. “As soon as we got here, Kieran and Aric pulled me aside to make sure I never fell for Mickey’s bullshit. And they promised to take care of us no matter what.”

  It was painfully silent in the seconds after Beck’s confession. It felt like a bomb was about to go off, but for once, my madness wasn’t craving it.

  I watched Conor for at least a minute before resting my feet on the floor and standing to go to him. Holding out the half-eaten ice cream, I said, “I’ve heard it makes everything better.”

  He huffed a laugh and took it from me, nodding in appreciation when I went back to my chair. With a deep sigh, he sat back in his seat and slanted a glare at his brother. “What else?”

  The next thirty minutes were spent with Beck and Kieran telling Conor everything he hadn’t known. Kieran’s jobs. The rebellion against Mickey between
Kieran, Aric, Beck, and Dare. Details about the years Lily spent running away to be with Dare. What had really happened when Dare screwed Kieran and Beck over in the end, and how they were now waiting to finish what they’d started years ago. And how I’d come into play. Who I was and what I meant to Kieran, Beck, and Mickey.

  That part had been fun.

  I’d fallen asleep clinging to Kieran’s hand when the conversation shifted into the plans for taking down Mickey, and was woken later to the sound of the front door shutting.

  I looked at the three guys standing in a circle, talking in hushed tones as I stretched from where I’d been curled up in the chair, and froze when Kieran suddenly looked over his shoulder at me. His stare was hard and unreadable.

  Before I could apologize for interrupting, he broke away from Beck and Conor and sank down to a crouch in front of me.

  “Did something happen with Mickey?”

  He shifted his head in the slightest denial. “I don’t have a way of tracking him from here. I have people who will contact me if they see him, but so far, there’s been nothing.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Wait until we have an idea where he is. Hope he comes back to Holloway.”

  “Welcome home,” I murmured with a wry grin.

  But Kieran wasn’t amused. His eyes searched mine for a few moments before he said, “They just came and got your mom.”

  That hole ripped wider and stole my breath.

  His expression morphed to concern. “Did you want to see her—?”

  “No. No, I just . . . I don’t know how to let this be real.” I rubbed at my aching eyes then ran my fingers through my hair, hating how it felt.

  Hating how I felt.

  Hating that last night, I’d been pressed against AJ, terrified of the nightmares he brought with him. And then this morning, I’d woken against my dead mother.

  A hazy vision tore through my mind, stilling my body.

  A beautiful, vicious man.

  My man.

  “I want to kill you for every time you ever touched her. Once will have to do.”

  “Did you . . .” I began uncertainly, my voice as soft as a whisper. “Did you kill AJ?”

  Kieran was so surprised his head jerked back. His pale eyes searched mine for long seconds before he finally asked, “You don’t remember?”

  “I just . . . I just got a flash of last night.”

  He curled his hands around my face and leaned close. “He’s gone, Chaos.”

  My shoulders slumped and tears raced heavily down my cheeks.

  “He’ll never touch you again,” he said gently. “He’s gone. The ghost is gone. And soon, Mickey will be too.”

  I let my forehead fall to his and sat there for long minutes. “Thank you,” I breathed, my voice wavering. I sat back and wiped at my face just as a phone chimed. And then again and again.

  Kieran glanced behind him at the sound, and it took a few seconds for me to notice the tension quickly filling the room or that he had gone still.

  I leaned forward to reach for Kieran, but he stood and shifted away. His head tilted like he was listening for something—waiting for it—while the guys eyed each other with varying looks of confusion and apprehension.

  None of them had phones in their hands.

  Before I could ask what was happening, Beck gave a slight shake of his head and lifted his empty hands, and Kieran ground out, “Find it.”

  I watched as all three started tearing apart the room. Within a minute, Conor made some kind of noise that got the others’ attention and tossed a phone in Kieran’s direction.

  “There’s a lock on it,” he murmured and held the phone out for Beck. “But look at the number the messages are from.”

  I jolted when I saw the case, standing and reaching for it from where I was across the room. “That’s mine.”

  I glanced from the phone to Conor, and wondered if my phone had been on the entry table since the night I’d been dragged in here.

  No, I would’ve seen it.

  The slowness in which they all turned to look at me had me immediately halting.

  “You have a phone?” Kieran asked, his tone cold.

  Something that could have been helpful to any of the guys when they were sure Mickey was watching their phones. Something that could’ve eased worries and fears for Kieran during these last days while I’d been trapped in the guesthouse.

  “No. I mean, I do.” I let out a frustrated groan and waved my hand toward the phone still in his hand. “I do, but I haven’t seen it in weeks. Mickey snatched it when I first agreed to help him. I was supposed to get it back when I got what he needed. Mickey never got the flash drive, so I never got my phone.”

  Kieran ground his jaw and held the phone toward me, his hand clenched around it. “He’s texting you.”

  I looked from Kieran to the phone as I walked cautiously toward him. Taking the phone from his grasp, I unlocked it and opened the messages.

  I stared, my mind unable to understand what I was seeing as time slowed to a standstill.

  And then everything was crumbling around me, rushing in as darkness consumed me.

  See nothing.

  Hear nothing.

  Be nothing.

  Make it go away.

  I shot forward the moment I saw Jessica’s eyes roll back and caught her just as her legs buckled. I barked orders at Beck and Conor to get cold towels and water and had her on the couch within seconds.

  “What the fuck was on her phone?” Beck yelled from the kitchen.

  I brushed my hands over her neck, feeling her rapid pulse and taking in her pale lips and clammy skin for a few moments before I hurried to snatch her phone off the floor.

  By the time I was sliding back to her side, Beck and Conor were both running into the room.

  I stared at the screen as Conor placed the towel on her forehead, rage burning deep within me.

  “What?” Beck bit out.

  I handed him the phone and felt myself slip into that dark, dark place.

  Not a sound. Not a trace.

  Feed the blade. Watch the light fade.

  Pull her closer. Keep her safe, safe, safe.

  “Who is that?” he asked.

  “Jessica’s brother and his wife.”

  Beck moved around the couch to look me in the eye. “Wait. She really has a brother?”

  I slanted him a glare and dropped my head into my hands, trying to figure out what I was going to do.

  Mickey had sent a picture of Jentry and his girl eating, with two messages below.

  You belong to me.

  I want you on your knees, begging me to give you one last chance.

  That monster inside snarled in response and beat on his chest.

  Mine, mine, mine.

  “Jesus fuck.” Beck’s usual curse was a pained wheeze. “Jesus fucking fuck,” he suddenly roared.

  My hands dropped and head snapped up, my body instantly tense.

  “Look where they are.” He shoved the phone at me, but didn’t give me a chance to look before he said, “That’s Brooks Street Café.”

  I relaxed and dropped the phone to the floor. With everything happening, Mickey following Jentry into Dare’s mom’s café was the least of my worries. Having Jentry in his crosshairs? That was fucked.

  “The Borellos own most of Wake Forest, Beck. Mickey doesn’t know Brooks Street is Borello owned . . . Dare made sure of that.”

  But Beck was pacing, hands fisted in his hair, chest heaving.

  “Beck—”

  “She’s there, man.” When my brow pulled together in confusion, he gritted his teeth and said, “Lily.”

  I ignored the residual ache in my chest and shook my head. “You don’t know that.”

  “She manages the café now. She’s there every morning.”

  I hissed out a curse and stood, my attention going to the girl on the couch.

  There was color returning to her face and her pulse was slowe
r and steadier, but I couldn’t wait for her to wake up. Besides, I needed her to stay here. I knew she’d try to come with me since it involved her brother.

  Looking to Conor, I opened my mouth but he beat me to it. “I know, man. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  I gave him a firm nod then turned to Beck. “Ready to finish this?”

  “Fuck yeah, man.” He hit me on the shoulder and stopped so he was directly in front of me. “See you in hell?”

  “See you there.”

  “Did you see that?” he asked as we stalked toward the door. “I just hit you, and you didn’t even try to stop me.”

  My chest moved with a silent laugh. “Shut up, Beck.”

  His loud laugh was still echoing through the house when he flung open the door and stepped onto the porch.

  With another look at my girl, who was starting to move on the couch, I grabbed the handle and softly shut the door behind us.

  “What happens if we make it to Brooks and they’re not there?” Beck asked as we hurried across the porch and onto the massive lawn stretching between the guesthouse and my car.

  “I don’t know. He’s too unpredictable.”

  I turned when I heard our names being called and mumbled a curse when Conor came running out of the guesthouse, holding Jessica’s phone. “I told you not to leave that house,” I bit out when he got closer to us. “Or that girl.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me that Mickey had Tommy killed?” he asked, ignoring me and holding out the phone.

  “Why?” I demanded, snatching the phone from him and immediately going still.

  Below the previous texts was a picture of Tommy.

  It wouldn’t have meant anything if he hadn’t been standing outside the tent I’d just cleared out that morning.

  Does your boyfriend think he’s the only one with secrets?

  “Get Jessica,” I demanded on a breath and turned to look everywhere as my heart rate slowed.

  Suddenly my palms were filled with the steel of my knives, comforting and calming me.

  Not a sound. Not a trace.

  Feed the blade. Watch the light fade.

  Conor had barely started back when a gunshot rang out and something hit my shoulder, forcing me backward just as Beck came barreling into me, sending me to the ground as another two shots tore through the air.