The sniveler started wailing. “W-We didn’t mean to piss off the Points. We swear we didn’t. We didn’t even fucking know, man. Why would we? Everyone knows Aidan Sr.’s fucking insane—”
“Then why did you? No one forced you to raid one of our storefronts.”
“Justin said—”
When the sniveling fucker’s voice waned, I arched a brow at him. “Treat me like your confessor, kid. It’s one way not to die in agony.”
“H-He had inside knowledge.”
Now, that was interesting. I narrowed my eyes at him. “From the jewelry stores?”
“N-No. From the Five Points. Someone told him that the store owners weren’t under your protection anymore.”
Carefully, I placed the cattle prod on the same table I’d picked it up from, and folded my arms against my chest. After my conversation with Da, and knowing we had more fucking rats than our sinking ship could hold, it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened.
“Who’d do an insane thing like that?” I rasped. “And I need a name, kid.”
The heavy and the sniveler shared a wary look, and surprisingly, it was the heavy who whispered, “Guy called Callum O’Reilly. He’s a drinking buddy of Justin’s.”
Reaching up, I rubbed my chin as I contemplated that particular news, trying not to show that this pair of bastards had just speared me in the belly with a verbal knife.
Da was not going to be pleased.
Neither was Mark O’Reilly—one of Da’s best friends.
Bowing my head to hide my expression, I felt the betrayal whip through me. I’d only just seen Callum at Conor’s last night. Which had me second guessing if I’d missed the word ‘nark’ carved into his forehead.
I’d known him since I was a fucking kid... I had to give the Sparrows some credit, though. They’d done their jobs. They’d done it too goddamn well.
Callum wasn’t just on one of Da’s son’s crews, he was like family to us.
Conor had gone to school with the bastard, they’d spent holidays at our home, and Ma and Callum’s ma were friends. From way back.
Any traitor hurt. That was the nature of the Five Points. We weren’t an army, even if we were set up like one. We had ties that bound us together, making the fuckfest of what we had to do on a daily basis that much more bearable because we had each other’s backs.
Even the new recruits that we’d been integrating into the ranks were personally known to my Da. Most of us brothers too. Only people who had a link to the Motherland were welcome among us, because being Irish bound us together, but the family was what made us strive for more.
When a runner died, a penny-ante no one who’d only worked for us for three weeks, no one important in the grand scheme of things—Da paid for their funeral, and every O’Donnelly had to turn up.
This was going to devastate the family in more ways than one.
Thinking about earlier, about him being so fucking psyched about Priestley... Jesus.
None of this was going to be pleasant. None.
The ramifications of what I’d just learned were enough to have me turning my back on the thieves. I was more generous than Da, not as ‘Old Testament’ in my nature, and because they didn’t want a cattle prod up their asses, I got the feeling they weren’t going to lie to me about this shit. That made me want to grant them leniency. If they’d been told by a fucking Five Pointer, a high-ranking cunt at that, that those stores weren’t under our protection, why wouldn’t they believe it? Why wouldn’t they take that as Gospel? But their survival depended on my next steps, steps which, unfortunately for them, might require their eternal silence.
This was a conundrum I hadn’t wanted the day after my fucking wedding and the morning of the initial meet between my family and my wife.
I’d have liked a distraction, something to take the heat off my getting married without telling any of the clan, but this was disastrous. So goddamn disastrous that, for a couple of minutes, I just stood there, staring at nothing, trying to figure out what to do, to say, and even worse, how to do it and say it.
Because I needed out of this fucking place, I stormed off. Tink had yet to make a reappearance, but I caught up with him heading out of his office on my way out.
He grabbed my arm when I didn’t stop, demanding, “What’s going on?”
I shook my head. “You don’t want to fucking know,” I rumbled.
“Bullshit. Course I do. Tell me.”
I’d have trusted Tink and Forrest and Bagpipes with my life... but if Callum could be gotten to, then so could any fucker. Even the men who were like brothers to me, who I treated like they were kin.
“Don’t kill them yet,” I rumbled. “Just leave them there. I’ll have further instructions before the day’s out.”
Tink frowned but nodded. “Sure thing, Bren.”
Because I didn’t know if he deserved my distrust, and because it was more than likely he hadn’t betrayed the Pointers, I clapped him on the shoulder and asked, “Did you pick a coin yet?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Not yet.”
If money was how the Sparrows got to our men, I’d take that as a sign of innocence. A sign that the man was trustworthy, but the NWS played dirty. They didn’t use money, the regular means of placing pressure on people. Nah, they played hardcore and used a man’s freedom against him.
I wasn’t even certain if I could blame the cunts who’d turned on us for that. When you were faced with life in prison for a crime you truly hadn’t committed, why wouldn’t you do anything in your power to avoid that fate?
“Well, make your choice. Did you tell the others to pick one as well?”
“Yeah, I think Bagpipes’s picked one. That bitch wife of his wants new curtains.”
Despite the situation and the yawning pit in my stomach where Callum’s betrayal was creating a new ulcer, I laughed. “God help him then. Who the fuck knows what kind of drapes Kerry-Louise will end up picking.”
Tink grimaced. “Puke on pink.”
We snickered because we both knew she was more than capable of decorating their apartment that way, and he was whipped enough to take it.
“See you later, Tink,” I told him mid-snicker.
“Okay, Bren. Just let me know what to do with the fuckers.”
“Will do.”
Heading out of the warehouse, I stared around my miserable domain.
The view wasn’t exactly picturesque but it sure as fuck fitted my mood.
A mood that was only going to get worse once I spoke with Da.
Because I’d never been the kind of guy who borrowed trouble, I opened the door to my Maybach and pulled out the device Conor used to scan for bugs and other monitoring tech. As clever as the Alphabets were getting at hiding that kind of gear, my brother was smarter.
Each of us had a sweeper, and we were supposed to use it every morning before we got into the car. It was a force of habit now, and I’d done it before I went to the warehouse today.
With what I’d just learned, however, I used it again, and was relieved to find that my car hadn’t been tampered with while I’d been dealing with the thieves.
The sweep now complete, I jumped into the Maybach, roared out of the yard, and the second I was on the right track for home, I called Da.
It wasn’t even seven AM yet, but I knew he kept early hours. I didn’t think he had nightmares, but if anyone deserved them, it was my father. I just knew that he didn’t sleep a lot, never had done.
“You canceling this early, son? Your ma will be disappointed.”
My hands tightened around the wheel before I murmured, “I’m not canceling. I just have news.”
“This early?”
“Yeah. I got a call... those jewelry heists, I picked up the bastards who pulled them.”
He clapped his hands together. “Well done, Bren. That was fast.”
“Yeah. I set Forrest onto it.”
“Good kid, Forrest. Smart.”
“He is
.” I stared at the shitty road ahead of me, wondering how I could make this easier to swallow, wondering if that was even fucking possible—
“Everything okay, Bren?”
Well, that was definitely a segue.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I rasped, “Not really, Da. No.”
His jovial tone disappeared, the one I was more accustomed to hearing bled into his voice as he demanded, “What’s going on?”
Hands back on the wheel, I tightened them to the point of pain as I did something only a fucking idiot would do—I lied to him.
The insane leader of the Irish Mob loathed liars, stacked them up in a special place in hell where he tormented them worse than the Devil himself could. But, and it was a massive but, I had to investigate this some more. Had to make sure what those dumbfucks back there had said was correct before I condemned Callum to a gruesome death that made perishing by being fried inside out seem like child’s play.
“Nothing, Da, nothing. Just been a long fucking night...”
I have to make sure Victoria remembers Mama before I die.
Twenty-Four
Camille
I woke up to find Brennan sitting beside me in bed.
He was fully dressed, wearing his shoes even, and he was staring straight ahead like the back wall held the Mona Lisa.
I peered at it to make sure that La Gioconda hadn’t made an appearance while I slept, before I murmured, “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t stir, didn’t even blink, just carried on staring straight ahead. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but it was like someone had died. Those moments of incredulity, when you didn’t know what the hell was happening, how the world could carry on turning while you were lost in the labyrinthine maze of grief.
I’d felt that way when Mama died. Like the hands of the clock should stop spinning, like everything should freeze when, in fact, the world seemed to move faster than ever before.
It made the difference between my response to my father’s death all the more acute.
I felt no grief, no shame, no distress—even though he’d died at my hand.
But I knew this kind of pain, had embraced it a long time ago, and I couldn’t just let him deal with whatever had happened alone.
I had no idea how he’d react to my touch, to my comfort, but I reached out nonetheless and placed my hand on his leg. It was easy considering I was on my side and he was just there—a few inches away.
Was his proximity on purpose?
The bed was massive. We could sleep on our sides of the mattress without ever having to touch if we didn’t want to, so for him to be there, within reach, had to be intentional. Surely?
He didn’t respond to my touch, but I let my fingers flatten out against his thigh. It was tense, the thick muscles bunched like every part of him was straining against whatever had happened, like he could deny it physically.
What kind of confidence, of self-assurance did he possess if he thought he could push grief away like it was a boulder in his path?
“Brennan?” I whispered, concerned when he didn’t make a move, when he just carried on sitting there. “What’s happened? Has someone died?”
“Someone will die soon enough,” he rumbled, his voice like chalk against a blackboard.
“Who?” I questioned, his ominous words prompting me to sit up.
“Someone you don’t know. Someone you’ll never know now,” he replied, his gaze drifting my way at long last. It danced down, over my face, touching me here and there with an intangible caress, before moving over my body, over the shirt I wore to cover me up, over the tangle of my hair around my shoulders. “You look like an angel,” he said gruffly.
My eyes flared wide at that. “Angels don’t usually have blood on their hands.”
He shrugged. “They do in my world. Angels avenge, don’t they?”
“I-I suppose. It depends on which religion you aspire to.”
His lips twisted. “True. Are you like Inessa? Russian Orthodox?”
“No. But I was going to the chapel today with her.” I cleared my throat. “She asked me to attend, and because it means something to her, I thought it would be a step forward for us both.”
His only reaction was to blink.
“I’m not really religious,” I tacked on awkwardly. “I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Me either.”
“Inessa said you go to church every Sunday.”
“Because Da insists. Says we have to repent or we’ll never end up in heaven.” His mouth twisted into a snarl. “Like that exists for any of us after what we’ve done.” He surprised me by moving his hand and covering mine with it. “Never thought about how strange it would be to marry and to have someone be in your home, in your bed. It’s quite...” He cleared his throat. “Pleasant.”
Because I thought he’d say the opposite, I hesitated over my next words. Still, curiosity drove me, and I just hoped it wouldn’t bite me in the butt. “You never lived with anyone before?” I asked warily.
He shook his head, the lines either side of his mouth tightening a second before he rasped, “Not since I moved out of the family home.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to be tied down.”
I winced and started to pull away but his fingers tangled with mine and kept me in place. “I’m sorry, Brennan.”
He pursed his lips. “Don’t be.”
“Don’t be?” I queried, bewildered. “I forced you—”
“You’ll learn fast enough, Camille, that no O’Donnelly is forced to do anything they don’t want to do already.” He stared at me, and I knew he saw my concern, because a smirk appeared, one that filled me with confusion.
I was the spider who trapped the fly.
So why was I feeling suddenly as if I was the one who’d grown wings?
“You were on my radar long before I was on yours.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think I forgot that promise to your ma? Do you know how many promises I’ve made in my life, Camille?” His hand snapped out, and though I flinched, he ignored it and settled his fingers around my chin. “Take a guess.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“Take a guess,” he repeated, and I tried not to shiver as his thumb whispered along the line of my jaw. He was capable of stirring something in me with the softest of touches, something that had never been stirred before.
Was that chemistry?
I knew we had it.
Had known when he’d pushed me up against the stables and, instead of crying or being filled with fear, I’d just felt his solid presence against me and had wanted more. Had wanted the heat of him to sink into my very bones.
After a lifetime of being cold, to feel the embers of banked fire was enough to draw sensations out of me I’d never experienced before.
“People make promises all the time,” I rasped. “And they break them as easily as they made them.”
He tutted. “And there you go again with your generalized assumptions, Camille. I’m not most people.”
“Neither am I,” I admitted. “Promises mean something to me.”
“That was why you thought you had leverage over me, I know. To you, you’d act to make sure a promise wasn’t broken, wouldn’t you?”
“I would,” I agreed, but shame filled me, and he saw it because his head tipped to the side. “I have broken one though.”
“To your sisters?”
It was a good guess, but he was right nonetheless.
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly. “What did you promise them?”
“To protect them from Father.”
“After Mariska died?”
“Yes.”
“You were a child,” he comforted softly, sorrowfully. The tone had me on edge, because I’d thought he’d condemn me, not defend me. “And your circumstances were different.”
“Not according to them. I know they’ll never forgive me.”<
br />
“Then they don’t deserve you,” he said simply, further surprising me. “You didn’t do it out of malice, just out of self-preservation.”
“At their expense,” I whispered.
“If you’d been there, if you’d been Abramovicz’s wife... would you have been able to stop Inessa having to marry Eoghan?”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
“Exactly. So what’s the point of punishing yourself, hating yourself over that?”
“Because I shouldn’t have left them, but even knowing what I do, I’d do it again. I meant what I said—I’d have killed myself before I married him.”
“I know. I saw your resolve. I like a woman who knows her own mind.” He tapped the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “I’ve made three promises in my life.”
My eyes widened. “Just three?”
“Just three,” he confirmed. “To my mother, to your mother, and to you.”
Mouth gaping, I whispered, “No way.”
“Yes way.” His smirk disappeared, fading as he stared at my still parted lips. “I never forgot what I promised Mariska. How could I? There wasn’t much I could do when we were on opposite sides, but when we were on the same, and when Inessa became family, I knew I had to monitor you.”
“Bagpipes said something yesterday...” My mind whispered back to the car ride home. “It made me wonder if you’d been having me followed for longer than I first thought.”
“I had. You’ve been under surveillance since you got back to the city.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “You were more at risk than Victoria. She was too young to be of any use to Vasov, and when Mariska wanted me to protect her daughters, I knew it was from Vasov.”
“Do you want to know something sad?”
“Why not? It’s a day for sad news.”
Though his words were dismissive, I knew he meant each and every one of them. Intending on asking him what had happened after, I replied, “I think, for a while, Inessa and Victoria thought Mama and Papa were happy together. I think they thought that was how a marriage should be.”
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 25