Shrouded in Blackness

by Karlsson, Norma Jeanne

  Ian, Connor and Owen are standing behind Kieran who’s putting a cigar out on the cheek of a man’s who’s been tied to a chair. I’m horrified and mesmerized all at the same time. When Kieran’s done using the man’s face as an ashtray, he picks up a pair of sheers and begins pruning the man’s fingers slowly, making him feel every millimeter of pressure before the bone snaps.

  “I’m gonna cut off every piece of you that touched that kid,” Kieran seethes, and the picture before me becomes crystal clear. That’s the man that hurt Jack. He’s naked and tied to a chair. He’s been beaten to shit. Connor’s knuckles are dripping blood. Owen’s shoes are covered in blood. Ian’s holding something in his hand that looks a lot like a dildo. I’ll leave that one alone.

  Fury blinds me as I rush forward, slamming Kieran out of my way.

  “An raibh tú ag Gortaítear mo mhac?” I seethe, pressing the tip of my knife to his stomach. The man’s eyes bug out as I realize I just asked him if he hurt my son in Irish. I don’t give a fuck if he understands me or not.

  “Did he?!” I roar.

  “Quinn,” Kieran tries to soothe me.

  “Goddamn it, Kieran, fuckin’ tell me!”

  “Yes.”

  I raise my blade and slam it down, severing the pedophile’s dick from his body. I reach up and rip the duct tape from his mouth, taking a shit load of skin with it. He opens his mouth wide to release a scream, but I fill it with his dick. I lean in close to his ear whispering, “Féach tú i ifreann.” See you in hell.

  I plunge my knife into his stomach and drag it to his throat, watching the life seep from his red-rimmed grey eyes. He was soulless to begin with. I just helped the process along. I remove my knife from his throat and thrust it into each eye for good measure. Then I spit in his face. I could go on all night, but I have children to get back to.

  I spin on my heel and head to the sink without looking at any of the men around me and begin cleaning my weapon. I’ll be forever indebted to Ian for giving me his Yarborough knife. It’s a Special Forces knife that I’m sure I shouldn’t have, but right now I couldn’t be happier to have it my possession.

  As I wash the blood away, I feel the bile rising in my stomach. If there was one death I wish didn’t make me sick, it’s this one. No such luck. I drop the knife, run to a urinal and puke up the entire contents of my stomach, retching and dry heaving the last of it before strong arms lift me from the ground.

  Kieran carries me into another area of showers, away from the corpse. He cradles me to his naked chest as he turns on the taps. Searing hot water washes over me as he steps into its stream. Kieran lowers my feet to the ground and grabs the hem of my shirt pulling it off my body. He reaches around my back and unclasps my bra, pulling it roughly from my chest. His foggy blue eyes are boring into mine with pain and fury combined. He jams his thumbs into the waist of my sweats and drags them down my body along with my underwear.

  Once he has me naked he pulls me into his chest so viciously that my chin snaps shut causing a great deal of pain, but I remain silent. I hear him pumping the industrial combo and then he begins to vigorously scrub my head. I don’t move. I don’t speak. I barely breathe. I’m not afraid of Kieran, but I know he’s hanging on by the barest strings of a thread.

  He roughly fists my hair, wrenches my hair back and starts rubbing soap all over my face. I close my eyes to avoid the sting. When he’s done, he moves us further into the stream, rinsing me clean. The water is so hot I feel my skin blistering on my back, yet I remain silent and allow the pain. Kieran pulls out of the water again and fills his hand with the industrial combo. He scours my entire body other than my crotch, which he skirts around effortlessly. His hands are calloused and rough, sharply abrading my skin. When he’s content with his cleansing, he pushes us into the stream, washing the death from my body and my soul.

  I spin him around so he’s in the stream and fill my palm with the soap. I fiercely pull his head forward, lathering his entire head and neck before forcing his chin back up and into the flow of water. While he’s rinsing, I undo his jeans and remove them along with his boxer briefs. I’m beyond relieved that he’s not hard. What’s happening between us isn’t sexual, it’s primal.

  I fill my hand once again with soap and scrub his skin harshly, dragging my nails down his flesh, scraping the torture from him. I avoid his crotch with the same respect he showed me. When I’m exhausted from washing him I push him into the spray one last time.

  As the last of the murder disappears down the drain, Kieran cuts off the water. He scoops me up into his arms like a baby and carries me into the locker room. He sets me down, then pulls a towel around my body and dries every inch of my skin, again avoiding between my legs. He wraps one towel around my shoulders, another around my waist and finally one around my hair. Kieran quickly runs a towel over his own body before dropping it on the floor. He reaches in a duffle bag next to me and pulls out a pair of black of boxer briefs. Once he has them over his hips he swings me off the floor into his chest and stalks out of the locker room.

  He steps lightly into the bedroom and tags one of the bags with clothes in it, supporting my body with one arm. Kieran enters the bathroom and shuts the door with a faint click before flipping on the light. He sets me down and rips the towels from my body. Rummaging around in the bag on the floor, he holds out a pair of terry cloth shorts for me to step into. Once both my feet are in, he roughly drags them up my hips. When he stands up, he yanks the towel from my head and shoves a long sleeved T-shirt over me. I push my arms through on my own.

  Ignoring the mess on the floor, Kieran reaches behind us and flips off the light. He scoops me off the floor and walks us out of the bathroom. When we reach the edge of the bed he crawls in with me in his lap before laying down on his side, keeping my back pressed snugly to his front. Kieran reaches across my body and pulls Ashling into my chest, followed by Jack. I wrap my arm around both kids and Kieran lays his arm on top of mine. He threads his fingers with mine and squeezes them almost painfully. I squeeze back for a long while until he begins to release the pressure.

  He pulls the three of us even tighter into him and I drift off to sleep, feeling safe and protected for the first time in twenty-six years.

  I wake up to the sound of Ashling whimpering against my chest. None of us have moved from the sheltered embrace of Kieran. His body is relaxed and warm behind me and I’d love nothing more than to stay enveloped by him, but duty calls.

  I move to lift his arm off of the three of us and he snarls, clutching firmly onto my hand. Okay, the passive move is not going to work.

  “Kieran,” I whisper and nudge him a little with my elbow, getting absolutely no response.

  “Kieran, I need to feed the baby,” I say louder and rock my whole body against him. His grip strengthens on my hand again. What the hell is it going to take? Ashling screams out in frustration and Kieran’s entire body goes rigid before he sits straight up.

  “She’s hungry and I couldn’t get you to wake up,” I apologize. He scrubs his hands over his face, trying to wake up before he hoists me up, drags me across his lap and sets me on the floor. He reaches over and gently cradles the baby to his chest before offering her to me.

  I grab the diapers and wipes, quickly changing Ashling before heading to the kitchen. Before I’m out of the bedroom Kieran whispers, “Bring the bottle back in here to feed her.” He may be whispering, but his tone and gaze let me know that was an order. I nod and continue on my path.

  I’m not big on being told what to do, but I can see Kieran is battling with himself still. I can appease him for a while. I make quick work of the bottle and return to the bedroom. Kieran hasn’t moved a muscle since I left. I pass Ashling over to him and he lays her near the foot of the bed with the bottle next to her. He grabs me under my arms and sets me next to him, covering us with the duvet. Reaching down, he gathers Ashling in the crook of his arm and pops the bottle in her mouth. Kieran holds the bottle with the hand of the arm that’s cr
adling the baby and reaches across me with his free one, pulling Jack’s sleeping body into my lap. Once he’s happy with Jack’s position, Kieran pulls me under his arm securely and rests his hand on Jack’s head. I’m back asleep in minutes.

  Kieran

  I only thought I was a caveman before. I don’t have a fucking clue how to describe what I feel right now. I’m full of rage and pain in a way that I’ve only experienced once before in my life—seven weeks ago.

  Shannon was kidnapped by the Mancini Crime Family. When law enforcement couldn’t find her, my cousin, Brian (her roommate for the last thirteen years), called me to see if I could help. I worked an angle that had us to her in a matter of hours. Unfortunately, we were ambushed and Shannon was shot four times. I watched her seemingly lifeless body carried past me that morning as she was placed in a medical helicopter. I felt this way when that beautiful woman passed by me on the stretcher. Pain and rage that carries no name, only feelings.

  This time is worse. This time I caused it for myself. This time I feel like a monster.

  When Quinn shoved me out of her way, I swear I thought a Bears linebacker had entered the locker room. She knocked me flat on my ass. The ferocity in her eyes as she spoke to the pedophile was…petrifying. The Irish that dripped off her tongue was oozing with disdain. The Russian didn’t understand her and she knew I did. I couldn’t lie to her. These are her kids and the predator’s life was hers to take, but I didn’t want that for her.

  When she killed him, it was poetic. He deserved exactly what she gave him and I can honestly say I couldn’t have done it better. Quinn’s hand never trembled, her voice stayed clear and her vicious gaze never faltered. Then it was over and she crumbled. Quinn’s not Shannon. Shannon killed a man while she was held captive and it didn’t faze her, never will. She was trained to kill and remain emotionless. It’s a skill pretty much no one has, but she does. Quinn felt that murder and will carry it with her always. These are the things nightmares are made of.

  So I acted like a Neanderthal and stripped her naked to wash the blood and death from her skin. I couldn’t stand the sight of him on her. When she did the same for me I almost cracked. I was rough with her in a way that she didn’t deserve, but I had only so much control. It wasn’t until we were in this bed and I had all three of them in my arms that I could take a deep breath. I was smothering beneath the emotion and guilt until the warmth of their bodies offered me a pocket of air.

  We only got a few hours of sleep before Ash needed to be fed so that’s what I’m doing…feeding the baby with Quinn and Jack asleep, nestled into my side. I can breathe.

  Now that the baby’s back asleep I slide down the headboard, keeping her over my heart. I pull Quinn down next to me. I have to move Jack, so I sit back up a little and drag him onto my stomach before laying back and scooping Quinn onto my chest. Taking a deep breath, I fall back to sleep covered in everything that’s important to me.

  I wake up to the sounds of whispered voices.

  “He’ll let me go once he wakes up, Baby,” I hear Quinn coo.

  “He’s holdin’ you so tight. Doesn’t that hurt?” Jack asks from farther away than I want his voice to be.

  “I’m fine,” she reassures him.

  I realize I’m the topic of discussion as my hand is gripping Quinn’s shoulder firmly, too firmly. I quickly relax my hand and peer down at her.

  “You’re like wakin’ the dead,” she says through a small smile.

  “Yeah, I poked your booboo and you didn’t even move,” Jack says brightly.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “Jack’s hungry,” Quinn says, gazing into my eyes with her icy blues questioning if I’m okay, if I’m done being a caveman. I force a broad smile.

  “I’m hungry, too,” I lie. She spots the lie, but nods in understanding.

  Quinn crawls out of bed and Jack wraps himself around her like a monkey. They walk out of the room, giggling at something I don’t catch because I’m too busy waiting for them to come back. I realize I’m capable of movement and climb out of bed with Ash. She sleeps like the dead, too. Good girl.

  I tag a pair of shorts out of the storage unit in the therapy room and struggle to get them on one-handed but finally manage. Connor, Owen, Ian and Jack are sitting at the table when I walk in. They’re all laughing at something Quinn just did and she’s rolling her eyes. As I amble in, my men cut their eyes to me in knowing glances. We’re all struggling. Not because of what we did, because of what we saw. I could sleep like a baby after what we did, no problem. Sleeping after watching Quinn gut that animal, I would have had sweet dreams. Sleeping after watching Quinn heave into a urinal and the aching bleed coming from her eyes, that shit will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  I sit at the table in a trance, willing myself to pull my shit together. When Quinn sets a plate of pancakes in front of me, I snap out of it.

  “You want me to take her?” Quinn asks sweetly.

  “I’m good,” I respond in the first normal voice since last night.

  “What do you want on your pancakes?”

  “Peanut butter and syrup,” I say with a smile at Jack.

  “Ooh, me too, Mommy,” Jack says excitedly.

  She curls her cute little nose up at me, but slathers five pancakes with peanut butter and syrup for me and then does the same for Jack. He doesn’t get five like me, though. We all sit quietly, eating a really great breakfast.

  “Who died?” Jack asks quietly.

  Connor and Owen’s eyes bug out and Ian coughs up a lung as he chokes on his pancakes.

  “What do you mean, Baby?” Quinn asks, concern all over her face. I know Jack didn’t witness anything last night. Owen guarded the door after Quinn came in and stood watch at the therapy room until I brought Quinn back.

  “You’re all so sad and quiet. Usually means someone died,” he says with a shrug, stuffing a too-big bite in his mouth.

  “We’re just tired this morning. Ashling was up a lot last night,” Quinn lies convincingly.

  “Wanna watch The Avengers again?” Jack asks Connor, full of excitement, spitting a little food as he talks.

  “Nothin’ I’d rather be doin’, little man,” Connor says with a full mouth.

  “Do you think you could watch the kids so Quinn and I can do some shopping this afternoon?” I ask the guys.

  Jack shoots his eyes to Quinn and back to me.

  “Remember I told you I need to get Ash a crib? Need your momma’s help for that. I also need to get car seats for you two so we can go home tonight. You okay hangin’ out here with these boring guys for a while?”

  Jack’s blue eyes hold mine for a long while, searching for the lie, but they don’t find it.

  “Mommy?”

  “If you want me to stay with you, I will. Kieran can do the shoppin’ on his own. He’ll just buy ugly stuff,” she teases.

  “You won’t let anything bad happen?” Jack asks Ian.

  “Never,” Ian says sternly, leveling his honey eyes at the boy.

  “Okay, but I’m not changin’ Ash’s diapers,” Jack announces as he stands up from the table.

  “Aw, man,” Owen feigns disappointment. “No fair.”

  “Oh yes, it is. She’s my sister for life, but we’re leavin’ here tonight so you won’t see us anymore. Then we’ll leave Kieran’s and never see him anymore. Take the chance while you got it.”

  Jack finishes his gut-check and walks out to the gym, throwing a ball around without a care in the world.

  “Sorry about Jack. We’ve never stuck anywhere too long,” Quinn offers her apology to the men across the table.

  “Well, that’s done now. Right?” Ian growls.

  “Don’t know. What you guys did last night…I can’t thank you enough. When the time is right, I can tell Jack he’s safe now and that’s priceless to me. I’ll never be able to repay you for that. That was just the tip of the iceberg, I’m afraid. I have bigger demons haunting me than one pedophile. But you clea
red out Jack’s boogie man, so thank you,” Quinn whispers, her gaze on her hands.

  My heart clutches at the realization she’s still going to run. She’s not safe yet, not by a long shot, given her current state. Fuck! Okay, new plan. Find out what the threat to Quinn is so I can keep her. Jesus, I sound like a serial killer. After last night, I’m not letting her go without a fight. No goddamned way.

  I’ve been sneaking outside the whole time they’ve been here to grab cigarettes and I’m in desperate need right now.

  “Goin’ for a puff,” I say, handing Ash over to Quinn.

  “You smoke?” she asks with a furrowed brow and a bit of a scowl.

  “Yeah. Not in the house, though.”

  “’Kay.” She shrugs and turns her gaze back to the baby.

  I head to the locker room to grab some clothes. It’s been cleaned from top to bottom, no remnants of last night to be found. Connor and Owen dropped the body back in his neighborhood. It’ll send a message, but it shouldn’t get back to us.

  I strip out of the shorts and pull on grey sweat pants, a white V-neck, and a black Brogan’s hoodie like Ash is wearing. I put my black leather jacket on, then my sneakers and head out the back door into the alley. I tap a cigarette out of the package and spark my Zippo. That first drag is heaven. I take a few more before I let my mind wander.

  How can I keep Quinn safe if she won’t tell me what’s haunting her? I’ll have to manipulate her with the kids’ safety. She’ll do anything for them and I’ll convince her she’s putting them in harm’s way by allowing the threat to remain. It’s a dick move, but I’ve got limited options at this point. I finish the cigarette and light another off the butt. I could finish half a pack if I’m not careful.

  When I finish the second cigarette I make my way back into the gym. I’m stopped by a familiar face.