Survival & Revenge (Boston Latte Book 3)

by Fiona Keane

  “I’ll take her,” Liam declared through the palpable tension. “Give her to me.”

  I tried to avoid his eyes, my own piercing through the papery shell of our grandfather’s exterior. I’ll start with his throat.

  Liam snickered with a haughty bellow that frayed my nerves in agony. “I’ve heard she’s quite the pleasure. She’s sort of exotic, if you think about it. A little mouse from the other side of town with no big rat to protect her, caught in a trap and now surrounded by hungry wolves. I’d love a first taste.”

  My nostrils widened with painful, fiery breath that stormed through me with fury. I am going to feed him my loaded gun. The men around us laughed, including Malcolm and his slimy chortle that was enough to sear my nerves. I cocked my head toward Liam, receiving his wink in reply. A fucking wink. How the hell do I read that?

  “You think I wouldn’t take a taste before the pie’s tossed out, Julian?” Liam’s head fell back in a laughter so disgustingly arrogant that I instinctively jumped from my chair. Settle the hell down. If I move, I lose her. He smirked, the slimy bastard, and took one step closer to me.

  “After everything I’ve done to keep her alive, to keep you alive, and you don’t think I deserve it? Be careful not to lean too close to the water, Narcissus. You might drown.”

  Don’t. I deserve the torture, but Aideen doesn’t. I couldn’t budge; I couldn’t even look at her to reassure her. If they didn’t believe me, if Liam didn’t take her out of there, she was moments from death. I knew they wouldn’t let her live. The minions of my underworld had no heart, and the only choice they might give someone was the method of death. But Liam could at least buy her time, buy us time. Her whimpers silenced, and my pulse raged.

  “Fine. Malcolm?” Satan called, his hand flicking into the air. “Let the moron have her first.”

  I woefully stepped aside as Liam paced behind me to his prize, my girlfriend. Liam’s arm snaked around Aideen’s waist, its possession a warning that challenged my impulse to kill him. I watched him carefully, studying each part of her that he touched and precisely how he grazed her skin. It was too delicate for his toy, but just enough for them to believe. Her head flopped forward as Liam lifted Aideen to his chest and whispered something to her.

  “Over here,” Regan called to me, snapping me from my priorities. I spun to observe him next to my grandfather and their thug. Malcolm disappeared with Liam and Aideen.

  “Now that’s settled,” I snarled, eyeing my grandfather, “be honest with me.”

  “I don’t know the definition of that word, Julian Patrick,” he snickered, “but I bet your mother begged for the truth before we killed her, too.”

  How tormented with guilt she would be to know the world in which her children became intertwined. There was little to be proud of, but I knew in my heart that she would find something in my sacrifice, my disdain, and objection for the life holding me prisoner. Don’t react. Yet.

  “You have what you want. Aideen is gone. Liam’s going to do whatever the fuck he does with his women, and I’ll be dead within two months. What’s left of your game?”

  “I’m finished.”

  “You absolutely are,” I roared. “You’ve been consumed by maintaining your reputation, yet you permitted Edward’s daughter to keep her child.”

  “Because it’s yours,” my grandfather groaned. “That’s all the world needs to know. She won’t show beneath her wedding gown, and with an April wedding, there won’t be any question of your sins.”

  “My sins,” I scoffed, consumed with boisterous laughter. “My sins?”

  The taste of blood filled my mouth as my teeth pierced through my top lip, the only thing I could do to fight the primal urge to lunge forward and end their pathetic lives. I knew when I finally could, once a plan to keep Aideen safe was permanent, I would celebrate their deaths…even if it meant I died. I would do anything to protect her, and while the notion of Liam being her savior, the one warming her shoulders and containing her heart, destroyed me, I could only put my hope in his hands and know he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  “I do believe one must sin to prove one’s worth in our world,” Satan muttered, approaching me with a swift slap to my back. His palm seared a pain through my skin that radiated into Aideen’s initial, the monogram burning to life with resistance. I can do this. I’ll die for her. I’ll do whatever it takes.

  He was right. One must sin to prove their worth, and I was ready to commit treason and murder. Putting my faith in Liam, I released the bleeding lip and nodded at the men before me. Stay ahead of their game.

  “Fine,” I complied, blinking tightly to compose my thoughts. It was fine; it would be because Aideen was alive and that was all that mattered. I counted the men in my presence, comprehending the magnitude and reach of their incestuous corruption. Sheehan.

  “I think we’ll keep the ceremony small.” I raised my head while setting my glance upon the sleaze bag who stood behind my grandfather and Regan. “Immediate family only. I wouldn’t want my wedding to be tainted by scum who seem to run the sewers, looking for allegiance in all the wrong places, Duncan.”

  “I beg your pardon?” he inquired, feigning confusion. His brows met above eyes that flashed between the men in front of him, hoping I wouldn’t catch his unease. I smelled it, raw like a gaping wound.

  “I’m not questioning their use of Malcolm Young,” I seethed, the taste of that fool’s name on my lips a crime against Aideen’s heart, “but I am wondering what you were doing groping him during his cousin’s funeral. Care to explain that? And do tell me, Grandfather, how long you’ve kept a Young on your payroll. Of course, it isn’t my business what you do once you’re locked away at night, but—” He can’t kill me. The idea rattled in my mind, slinging back and forth until the notion settled in my blood; my death couldn’t be covered up, I was who the public wanted, and no matter what he did to prevent my happiness, he couldn’t kill me without backlash. He needs me. His reputation came first, no matter what, and there was no way to cover the death of the city’s chosen one; a title I despised, never admired, was now the only thing sparing my life. He needs me alive.

  “Actually,” I cleared my throat, lifting my head slightly higher with a newfound authority in their game, “why did you hire Malcolm Young? You knew he tried to kill Liam, mistaking me for him. What did he offer that could save your reputation?”

  “We shared a similar interest.”

  We all did. I tried to prevent the condescending grin from plastering my face. Aideen was the center of it all. Her existence was our threat, her presence in my heart was my doing, but they would see it no other way. My sweet girl had no idea how capable she was of undoing the corrupt empire from which I so desperately craved an escape. It all came back to her.

  “Past tense,” I uttered, nodding in acknowledgement. Shared. It’s almost over. “I thought we were too classy to seek allegiance with sludge, Grandfather. If anyone knew you hired Malcolm and Cedric Young to do your bidding—”

  “I never hired Cedric, you imbecile. He was too much work after he knocked up Duncan’s daughter and left her in the river,” he interrupted, his tone fierce while he stared at me in defiance. I observed his head tilt in question, briefly inviting me to continue my interrogation, until I noticed the twitch of his partner’s fists between the pair.

  “My mistake.”

  Who else would have hired Cedric? Not Malcolm, not Elliott; those two fuckers used their own hands. I observed Regan, watching his fists extend to a rigid stretch of his fingers in response to my words. He rolled his head to both shoulders, stretching and buying time while I watched him impassively, waiting for his display to subside. The person who hired Malcolm was the same person who groped my little sister, the same person twitching his fingers while staring down at me from the length of his crooked nose.

  Why didn’t I see it before? Why did I see it now? The pieces were all there, lodging into our puzzle, but it hadn’t displayed so p
erfectly to me until the moment I blinked and let it all fall together. Regan’s motive was for me to marry his daughter, clearly, and my grandfather’s intention of their alignment was to always keep enemies within your bedroom, where you could dominate their vulnerabilities. Malcolm. Cedric. More than guns…

  I cocked my head, biting my bottom lip while the correct passive aggressive threat bore fruit in my thoughts. “Had any difficulties with shipments lately, Edward? Nobody is giving you any trouble?”

  “As is expected, son,” he replied, eyes narrowed on mine. Coward.

  I smirked, knowing his hold on my sister’s body reached beyond the appropriate measure of a family friend. What the hell was that?

  “And your wife?” I stiffly crossed my arms, hoping to calm the rattle of erratic laughter threatening my chest at our mutual folly.

  Regan eyed me without reply while I absorbed each detail of his demeanor in hopes of catching the slightest betrayal. Ah, classic tensed jaw, his emotions were displayed in the simplest form.

  “I didn’t have much of a chance to speak with her at Grandfather’s banquet. Speaking of family reunions,” I muttered, looking around the dark room until I caught Sheehan’s eyes, “that brings me back to the Daly kid’s funeral. Sheehan’s groping Malcolm, Grandfather comes to pay his respects and threaten my paramour, and thank you for that…I’m glad it’s done.” Dismissing her aloud once more filled me with a potent disgust for myself, knowing my feet were already on the path to hell for using her in such a way to protect her. I wanted to think of her, but I knew giving my heart a moment to breathe would destroy my turn in their game, and I needed to stay ahead.

  “I go where I’m told,” Duncan huffed, but I didn’t miss the flicker of his eyes between the men who stood in front of him. Both of them.

  “Which one of you sent him?” I demanded, fixing my feet to the floor while I stared down at them, redeemed by the strength I felt as the puzzle aligned. Christ, I would die for Aideen to watch this and know everything we did to solve the mysteries was coming together. “It’s settled. The whore is gone.” I tried not to flinch at the insult to my beloved. “Let’s settle this.”

  “You’ve been nothing but a stubborn, selfish, insubordinate shit your entire life, Julian Patrick,” my grandfather seethed, his temper flaring behind narrowed eyes. His wrinkles exacerbated his age beneath his sneer. He walked past me, waving a hand dismissively in his descent from the dialogue. I bolted toward the door, not missing the lack of movement from Sheehan and Regan in response. They aren’t there to protect him.

  Barricading the door, my palms pressed firmly against the doorframe, I met my grandfather’s icy stare with a rival glance. “How long did you know about her?”

  “Your fiancée?” he mocked me, deliberately neglecting Aideen’s existence. His wrinkled lips twisted into a devious grin, his voice lowering to a whisper as the stench of scotch melted his breath against my face. “Since I learned her father was using the Youngs to steal my shipments into the harbor. Since I needed to claim my stake against his.” His voice elevated, aware our companions would hear his next words. “Keep your enemies close, Julian Patrick. Even in your bedroom. And never turn your back, for until you have them by their throats and blistering hearts, they always crave your blood.”

  “Is that what keeps you up at night?”

  His brows furrowed, devious irises searing into mine. “You think I lose sleep over you? I did once, but I knew you’d right your ways eventually because you’re just like me. I didn’t send Duncan to the Daly boy’s funeral. Wasn’t your whore his whore too? Tsk, tsk. It seems you need to check on who you’re allowing into your bedroom at night, Julian Patrick. You might be sleeping with the enemy.”

  “You know Malcolm was obsessed with her, and any association with a psychopath won’t shine well on your glorious halo,” I admonished. “Especially considering half of Boston is on my fiancée’s rolodex.”

  “That half of Boston won’t admit to it.” His laugh roared into the doorway. I relaxed my arms from the door frame, nodding as he attempted to pass through.

  “There’s one more thing.” I stopped him. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about the coincidence of your shared interests? I would worry that it was too convenient, but then again, I’m just an insubordinate shit. I shouldn’t worry about the fact Malcolm clearly worked with Edward Regan, who cared so little for you to lose your gun shipment…the same shipment you used as a cover to keep your enemies close. It seems to me that your enemies, and my father-in-law, might have fucked you over so much that it blinded you beyond belief. But,” I patted his shoulders, reveling in the tension beneath his shirt, “I’m nothing more than a twice Harvard-educated, stubborn insubordinate, so take my words with a grain of salt, Grandpa.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  AIDEEN

  Liam’s fingers knotted through my hair as he smashed my face into his chest. His warm mouth pressed against my forehead, quick and desperate, as we walked out of the building.

  “If you scream, they’ll kill you.” I ignored his threat, barely able to hear it through the eruption of my eardrums after the gun went off next to my face.

  “I’m an inch away from that!” Liam roared, tightening his hold around my head.

  “Boss said cat and mouse. Meow,” Malcolm challenged, belligerence and acid oozing from his face. I wanted to kill him, and I wasn’t a killer. I wasn’t, but I would be…for Julian. For me.

  “Not when she’s mine, you imbecile,” Liam scoffed. “My possession, my property, mine. Go ruin another drug deal or get another relative murdered, Malcolm. Hey, how’s Lucy? I heard from a friend you’re struggling to keep her satisfied no matter what you do.”

  Malcolm charged toward us, and I was shifted with Liam’s movement as he lifted a gun from his waistband and jabbed it against Malcolm’s heart before tucking me behind him.

  “Come at me again,” Liam’s threat was low, almost a growl, turning my heart inside out with its reminder of his brother, “and I will end you.” I will. Liam held power over Malcolm, and I knew with that we weren’t threatened. It was Liam’s power that gave Malcolm the false sense of ease with which he lowered his gun, but my demon taught me to observe and act. I slipped through Liam’s hold, not thinking beyond my motive, and lifted both of my hands around his, our skin bound against his gun. I didn’t give Liam time to flinch, to withdraw, and he didn’t even try…because he trusted me.

  I felt the heat of his gaze on me from the corner of his eyes as I pressed our index fingers together, tightening the pressure against his trigger until the gun resisted our action. The pop of Liam’s gun pierced the air as quickly as its bullet ended Malcolm’s life. I did it. The loud thump of his corpse falling to the ground filled me with a wave of warmth, a release. I looked at the gun, still elevated with our intertwined fingers warming the metal with mutual heat.

  “Holy fuck, bird,” Liam uttered with barely a breath. We stood together without urgency to move, a feeling that filled me with unease because I spent the last month always on the run, shielded and scattered. But Liam waited.

  “Where are you taking me?” I whispered, my lifeless gaze fixed on the barrel of his gun.

  “My place. It’s safe. It’s believable. They think I’m going to knock your brains out as a trophy in my bed, Aideen. I have men on a separate payroll guarding it right now.”

  “Okay.”

  He lowered the gun, and my hands fell limply to my sides before he lifted my face toward him with his right fist. “Okay? Aideen. You just killed Malcolm.”

  “One down,” I mumbled, finally looking into his troubled eyes. Dammit, they look like Julian. I scanned back and forth, hoping if I stared long enough Liam would change into Julian and it would all have been a nightmare.

  “It’s still me,” he chastely pressed his lips against my forehead, “but I’ll keep you safe.”

  I was in a daze, existing only by the involuntary function of my body. I killed Malcolm. Th
ere wasn’t time to think about it, to process and consider. I had just seen Julian, been denounced by him, and all the while I knew it was a farce. His ultimate sacrifice, the epitome of our career in the twisted and corrupt theatre that was our life.

  “He’s going to marry her?” I whispered my inquiry, my voice barely above the rattled breath struggling to escape my trembling lips. The image of Julian’s cold demeanor, how gloriously damaged he was, flashed through my mind as Liam squeezed my hand and pulled me from the haze. I followed without further question, guided by Liam’s affectionately restrictive hold around my fingers as he further pulled apart the seams binding Julian and me.

  I hadn’t imagined what Liam’s home would be like, never expecting to enter it, especially under the circumstances of Julian’s absence, or departure. It was as though we broke through his secrets from the past, but whatever just happened became the biggest of all. I didn’t know who to believe, and I wasn’t wholly certain about Liam, but he was all I had…all I had to get back to Julian. Once we arrived at his home, after a silent ride together, I could feel in my heart just how much distance cracked the binding of our souls, all of us.

  “You’re almost free,” Liam murmured, a heavy sigh following his words while we sat in the parking garage, both unable to move. I rolled my head to watch him, observing the cool mask over his blue eyes, while he stared out the windshield at the cement wall in front of us.

  He slipped out of his car and didn’t wait for me before he entered a code into the security system next to a metal door just feet away from our parking spot. I flicked my eyes to each side, anxiously anticipating death from all angles, until Liam’s words settled in. We had time; there wasn’t someone in our shadow because Julian was marrying Noelle. He was doing what they demanded of him, and I was no longer his; I was a nobody.