Nightshade

by Molly McAdams

  I locked on to a man who should have been a ghost as he took aim at Conor and rolled to my knees, throwing a knife into his chest and another into his outstretched forearm while I pushed to my feet. I ran in a dead sprint toward him, grabbing two more knives as he lethargically turned toward me, the gun in his hand drooping and then falling to the ground when one of my knives hit right between his eyes.

  Gripping the hilt, I used it to yank his head back and sneered, “You should’ve stayed dead, Tommy,” then drew my last blade across his throat and pushed him back.

  The monster raged inside as I bent to retrieve my blades.

  Keep her safe, safe, safe.

  My head whipped around to where Conor was standing halfway to the guesthouse, back toward it, gun in hand and face leeched of color.

  “Get Jessica,” I yelled, swiping at the last knife and turning to see what he was staring at.

  It was instant.

  The way the darkness receded.

  The way everything felt as if it dropped out from under me.

  The way I could no longer breathe for reasons that had nothing to do with a monster and everything to do with the hand squeezing and splintering my heart.

  No. No, no, no.

  “Beck . . .” I took an unsteady step forward, then stumbled a few steps before I was running to where he lay, the grass soaked in his blood. “No, no, no. Fuck, Beck. Come on, let’s get you—” I froze when he coughed, blood spraying and pooling out of his mouth when he tried to smile at me. “The fuck did you do?”

  “You weren’t looking.” He wheezed a wet-sounding laugh, tears streaming down his cheeks. “That’s my hit to take.”

  A mixture between a sob and a laugh burst from my chest. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Beck. You’re such an idiot. Why’d you get in the way?”

  “Hey . . . remember Aric’s funeral?” he asked. A pained breath worked up his throat, shaking his entire body before he was able to continue. “You lost it. Remember?”

  “Yeah, man. I remember.”

  “Don’t do that at mine. Don’t make someone . . . knock you out . . . to control you.”

  Another laugh ripped from somewhere deep within me, mixing with my sobs. I dropped my head when it became too hard to see him anymore, and somehow I managed a nod.

  “Jess . . .”

  I looked up to see his tears falling harder, his mouth working but no sound coming out. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Another wet cough wracked his body, but that damn smile was there as soon as he settled. “See you in hell?”

  I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out, but it somehow still escaped me. “See you in hell.”

  His head shook in a quick bounce of a nod and his chest heaved with a choked sob. His stare fell to something past me and tried to focus. “I’m dead. Or this is . . . my nightmare.” He sluggishly moved his hand to his chest, loosely holding one of the knives I’d dropped beside him.

  I tried to call back the darkness. I tried to focus on all the blood surrounding Beck and covering my hands to summon him. But there were only flickers as my grief crashed into me in waves.

  Jessica’s heart-wrenching cry slammed into me, threatened to knock me over, and making me lose the frail connection I’d made with the monster.

  Wiping my blood-soaked hand on my shirt, I took the knife from Beck and slowly looked over my shoulder.

  Like before . . . it was instant. Only now the monster came forward in an explosion of rage and need.

  Not a sound. Not a trace.

  Feed the blade. Watch the light fade.

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

  Jessica was bent, eyes locked on Beck as sobs wracked her body.

  Mickey had Jessica by her hair at his side, victorious smirk on his face and gun in hand.

  Pride surged through me, seeing the bloodied nail marks across his cheek and the blood swirling down his arm.

  She fought.

  “Your dad would be disappointed in what you’ve turned into,” Mickey said, like those words had the power to hurt me.

  “Because I’m not you?”

  “Because you’re weak,” he said, malice in his tone. “I’ve watched my friends die. I’ve buried my children. Do you think I ever cried?”

  My stare flashed to movement behind Mickey, and I slowly dropped my knife to pick up what lay between Beck and me. “Then he would be proud that I hated what the two of you created in me too much to cry over his death. Or yours.”

  His mouth pulled into that blinding smile as he raised his gun at me. “I’ll make sure we don’t cry over yours.”

  “You’re touching what’s mine,” I said in a grave tone and lifted Beck’s gun, taking aim at the man I’d fantasized of killing for most my life.

  Mickey laughed long and loud and jerked Jessica closer to him. “Oh, please pull that trigger. I’d love to watch you try to hit me seeing as you don’t know how to use a gun.”

  I nodded toward the house. “He does.”

  Mickey didn’t have time to turn before Conor fired, pulling the trigger again and again until he’d emptied his entire magazine into the boss of Holloway.

  I had already pushed to my feet and was running toward Jessica, grabbing her and pulling her away before Mickey could fall to the ground.

  I ran my hands over her tear-streaked face, looking for any sign that he’d hurt her before wrapping her in my arms. Her body shook with sobs, her fingers trembling as she gripped my shirt to pull me closer.

  My chest heaved with uneven, ragged breaths as I held her, trying to force myself to say something to her.

  Tell her it was over. Tell her it was okay.

  But Beck was somewhere behind me in a pool of blood. Nothing was okay.

  I twisted to find Conor already beside his brother, knees bent and head dropped low as he squeezed Beck’s hand. His agonized cries slaying me.

  I hissed and jerked away from Jessica’s touch, grabbing her hand before she could brush against my shoulder again.

  She looked up, her face falling when she saw the entry wound from Tommy’s bullet. She stammered for something to say then forced out, “What happ . . . Are you okay?”

  Dropping her hand, I tilted her head back and locked on to her red, swollen eyes. “If you want to talk to Beck, we need to go.”

  I didn’t want to think of the possibility that it was already too late.

  She tried to drop her head, her hands flattening on my chest just below where I’d been shot. “Kieran, are you—?”

  “I’m fine.” I tried to sound assuring, because physically, I was. Pulling her toward Conor’s cries, I whispered, “Beck needs you.”

  Her face crumpled and her shoulders sagged, but she nodded weakly.

  When we were a few feet from the brothers, Jessica slipped away from me and hurried to Beck’s side, dropping to her knees as a hard sob sounded in her chest.

  My splintered heart wrenched when he weakly lifted a hand to touch her arm.

  “No, you don’t get to die,” she cried out, her words coated with anger and grief. “I didn’t spend the last ten years protecting you for you to get yourself killed now.”

  Beck smiled weakly. “This is right. You yelling at me. That’s my Jess.”

  Her body trembled violently as she grabbed his hand in hers. “You can’t leave me too. You’re the only one who’s always been there, Beckham. Please don’t leave.”

  “I’d just ruin—” A gurgling noise sounded deep in his chest before he was choking and coughing up more blood.

  Jessica froze with her free hand hovering over him like she was going to try to make it stop.

  When he settled, he said, “Just ruin your life.”

  “Then stay and ruin it,” she whispered. “Stay and continue being the best and worst friend I’ve ever had.”

  An easy smile crossed his face. “Like being the best. At something.”

  A soggy laugh tumbled from Jessica’s lips. “I love you for alwa
ys being there.”

  Tears filled his eyes. “Always loved you.”

  My stomach dropped when his body relaxed. “Beck?” I hurried around him and dropped to the ground above his head, my hands going to his neck to check for a pulse that wasn’t there. “Beck?” I ground out, still searching even though he was looking up, unseeing, with an expression I’d seen more times in my life than I wanted to admit.

  My body bowed, my heart shattering under my grief.

  From the time he and Conor had been brought to Holloway eleven years ago, Beck had been trying to figure out how to get them out. I’d promised I would make it happen.

  Now we were steps away from being free of this life, and I’d lost another brother because I hadn’t been fast enough.

  I refused to lose anyone else. I refused to be chained to this world any longer.

  “I’m going to finish this. I’ll get them out of this life. I’ll make sure they have what you always wanted for them,” I vowed and moved my trembling fingers to close his eyes. “See you in hell, brother.”

  I watched the members of Holloway slowly filter into the meeting room that night from where I stood at the head of the table. Stood because the boss’s chair was gone. I refused to sit in it.

  Some of the members leaned toward others to murmur things they thought I couldn’t hear.

  Others looked at me with pride and excitement, as though they’d been waiting for this day for a long time.

  I had too, but for reasons they didn’t understand yet.

  The men were usually loud while waiting for meetings to take place, but the atmosphere in the room was tense and heavy. The few who spoke kept their voices low. Emergency meetings were almost never called.

  The few that had happened during my lifetime were for Mickey’s children’s deaths and when we’d all thought Lily had been kidnapped.

  Before that, the last had been when Mickey killed the previous boss.

  And once the last member arrived, this would be our final meeting.

  We’d spent the day disposing of Tommy’s and Mickey’s bodies and taking Beck’s to the morgue between trips to town. Everything was done quickly to keep word from spreading to the rest of Holloway. For members who didn’t work for Mickey during the day, odds were they were out of town spending time with their families since the boss was too busy to notice. Seeing as we’d worked through the middle of the day and Mickey was dead, there was no one to spread the word of their deaths.

  Until now.

  It made it easier to clean up what we needed kept silent for a few hours.

  Easier to do everything else we needed done by tonight without being seen.

  Conor helped with my gunshot wound, since hospitals were last-resort-only for our kind. And when he and Jessica crashed from their exhaustion and grief, I’d tracked down Jessica’s brother and his wife. Both were safe, and oblivious to any danger as they went about their days.

  Once I’d arrived at the estate, I’d gathered everything I’d needed for this meeting and what would follow after and sent out the emergency message.

  I dipped my head in Conor’s direction when the last member was seated and waited for him to close and lock the doors before hitting the send button on my phone.

  Mickey liked to perform. He drew things out and kept them wondering. I wasn’t going to do that.

  As soon as all the phones in the room went off, I said, “Mickey’s dead.”

  Every member scrambled for their phone, looking at the message containing the picture of Mickey I’d taken before we’d gotten rid of him.

  There were more murmurs and woops of excitement.

  But they all died down when I called out over them, “I’m not your new boss.” As soon as I had their attention, I continued. “I won’t rule over a life I’ve always hated. And I won’t let Holloway continue.”

  It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room before everyone erupted, shouting curses and questions.

  I let them yell for a minute before I started talking, letting them quiet while I did. “Most of you are only here because you’ve been trapped here by Mickey. Even more of you have families that live in different cities because you’re afraid for their lives. That’s not a life.”

  “Some of us chose this,” one of the guys in the back yelled.

  I shrugged unapologetically. “From what I’ve heard, some Borello members found new gangs up north after they disbanded. I’m sure you can too. But I promise you don’t want to stay here.”

  There were a few huffs of displeasure.

  I kept my hardened glare on the men they came from.

  “I know this has been a lifestyle and source of income for years, if not all of your adult lives. I know you’ve been secure in the money that Holloway and O’Sullivan Financial produces. But it’s about to be seized. Hopefully you can gather some of what’s yours before it is. You’ll have to find real jobs apart from Holloway and the firm, or again, find other gangs up north. You’ll have one hour after the meeting ends to take what you can and disappear before Holloway and the truth of O’Sullivan Financial goes public.”

  Dare might have kept all the information we’d gathered of Mickey’s plans for the human trafficking ring, but I still had what I needed to destroy his name and his company.

  His ties with Holloway, dating back to the beginning. Every time he blackmailed the government to do his bidding or sweep something under the rug. Every piece of proof needed to show his broker-dealer firm was a front and money source for the cocaine he bought, moved, and supplied.

  All of it.

  And everything would soon be sent to news stations and government officials.

  The collective shock from all the men in the room except for Conor hit me hard and fast, and I knew it wasn’t long before they exploded again.

  I brushed my hands across my legs, pulling two knives out of my pockets as I did. A cruel grin pulled at my mouth as my fingers curled and flexed around the handles.

  “Anyone have a problem?”

  When a minute passed and no one said anything or moved, I nodded to Conor to unlock the doors.

  “Meeting’s over.”

  One of the lifers immediately shoved from the table and stormed out, the door smacking against the wall and slamming shut behind him.

  After a few seconds, a handful of others followed.

  One of the members who had picked up Jessica’s mom that afternoon hurried over to me and threw his arms around me, despite the knives still in my hands or the way I was seconds from pushing him away.

  “Thank you,” he said, then clapped my back and hurried out.

  A line had formed behind him of men who had been loyal to Aric and me, and even some who had stayed loyal to Mickey. None of them tried to hug me again, but every one of them shook my hand, thanking me for setting them free.

  One of Mickey’s followers cleared his throat and said, “You would’ve made a good boss.” When I started to disagree, he continued over me, “They followed you even though you never wanted to lead. And I see why. Mickey wouldn’t have given us the warning you just did, he would’ve fed us to the dogs.”

  I tilted my head in appreciation and watched him go.

  When the last of them was gone, Conor and I left the meeting room and walked out of the Holloway mansion for the last time. We slid into my car and drove to town without so much as a glance back as we headed to where Jessica waited in the apartments.

  Beck and I had rented them when we’d been sure we were so close to this moment and would need a place to escape to before we made bigger plans. And then everything had gone south with Dare.

  We’d kept them mostly empty, only going to them when absolutely necessary. Like when I’d needed to track someone or hack into Mickey’s servers at his office.

  Today we’d worked on pure adrenaline, clearing out the guesthouse and our three rooms at the mansion so there wasn’t a trace of us, filling the apartments with everything until we figured out what we
were going to do.

  We had time and we had money, thanks to Mickey.

  Thanks to Beck.

  The smell of Chinese food hit me as soon as I opened the door to my apartment. A second later, Jessica was in my arms, her legs curling around my waist as she buried her head in my neck.

  I wrapped my arms around her tighter, savoring the feel of her against me. Savoring this moment that felt so surreal and so normal.

  I wanted a lifetime of moments like this.

  Pressing my mouth to the top of her head, I walked deeper into the apartment and over to the kitchen table where she had the food laid out next to my computer.

  Conor followed us in without a word, his shoulders and head hanging low.

  Other than telling Jessica how the meeting had gone, none of us spoke. It’d been that way the entire day. Our grief was too fresh and too heavy for conversation. But I kept her in my lap, needing her close to me as we ate and sat in our mournful silence.

  When the alarm sounded on Conor’s phone, signaling an hour had passed since the meeting ended, I looked at his pained expression and asked, “Are you ready?”

  He nodded, his eyes flicking up to mine. “Do it.”

  I shifted Jessica to the side and leaned forward to wake up my computer. And with a few brushes of the keys, the anonymous e-mail was sent.

  I’d thought this moment would feel different. More liberating.

  But the heaviness pressing down on the room robbed us of the gratification that came with finally being free.

  I looked at the two empty chairs, wishing more than anything that Aric and Beck were filling them. That we could celebrate this moment that had been years in the making. That we could spend the night imagining futures that consisted of freedom we’d only dreamt of.

  But the freedom was lacking.

  Those chairs would remain empty.

  And nothing would ever fill that void.

  I choked back the emotion tightening my throat and said, “It’s done.”

  Kieran lifted his hand, but paused, a breath of a laugh leaving him.

  I squeezed his other hand tighter and stepped closer to him. “What is it?”