Holy Trinity

by Savannah Rose

  “Of course, Connor is not aware of this. If you so much as hint to him at Eleanor’s possible predicament, you’ll receive her head in a box. Am I making myself clear?” Kevin adds and I’m not quite connecting the dots.

  I slowly get up from my chair, working on my own breathing, as dread freezes my bones. My movements are sluggish, and my heart’s about to stop. This is the one thing I’ve been trying so relentlessly to avoid.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Gage says.

  “As you can see, I’m sitting here. You’re not,” Kevin replies, pointing at grandpa’s chair. “So, shut up, keep your heads down, and wait until it’s your turn to take over the business.”

  We all know that neither Kellan nor I will live to see twenty-one in these circumstances. This monster killed our father, and we have proof. He’s threatening Elly’s life just to keep us on a leash. I can’t go to the police with this—there are too many cops on the Flanagan payroll. And Brigitte’s not the only birdie singing in that fucking school.

  The spy we’ve been trying to find has finally fed Kevin with all the ammunition he needed against us. Now, I just have to figure out who it is that Elly talked to about this summer.

  “Have a good day, uncle,” I say, drawing a befuddled glance from Kellan and Gage. I nod at the door. We need to go.

  “Oh, I’m having a fantastic day already,” Kevin replies. “Also, you kids need to vacate the house within a fortnight. Brigitte and I are expecting. We’ll need more space for our little one on the way.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I sigh.

  “He’s not. I’m pregnant,” Brigitte says, grinning as she touches her belly. She’s not showing yet, but even so, Kevin’s kid will have a valid claim if Kellan and I kick the bucket. This is it. This is what he’s been working for, all these years. Gradually dismantling the family, getting rid of us and anyone else who would stand in his way, without losing the Flanagan associates—Connor included.

  I don’t even bother to reply anymore. I only know we’ve got two weeks to set things straight. For that, Kellan, Gage and I need to get out of this room, first. As we head out and get into the Range Rover, I can almost hear Kevin and Brigitte laughing and rooting for the day they bury us, too.

  Settling behind the wheel, everything starts to make sense again. Kellan and Gage quietly wait for me to say something, while I find my resolve. Everything we’ve tried to avoid is finally happening, and we cannot surrender. All we can do is adapt and become the predators. Kevin will get comfortable soon enough, thinking he’s got us under control for long enough for him to orchestrate our unfortunate and tragic deaths.

  What he doesn’t know is that we’ve got the real ME’s report.

  26

  Elly

  My mom and I are having dinner together for the first time in weeks. It’s been five days since I told her about my friendship with Rhett, Gage and Kellan, though I did leave all the hot and spicy details out. She knows about how well we got along, and about how quickly and abruptly the dynamic changed upon my enrollment at Trinity High.

  She’s heard rumors about the Flanagans, too, as well as the O’Donnells, but she swears that Connor has been nothing but kind and courteous towards her. Either way, she now understands my conundrum, as I’ve also explained some of my own suspicions about The Hotshots and their uncle. Understandably, she’s been adamant about driving me to and picking me up from school ever since.

  “Maybe we could move back to Barkston,” she says, out of the blue, pushing a piece of grilled meat around her plate. She’s been like this for five days now, randomly suggesting ways of getting as far from here as possible. So far, she has suggested Los Angeles twice, a European trip and moving to New York. Barkston is new, though I can’t blame her for feeling so worried.

  “Mom, nothing is going to happen to me. Remember, we still have police in this town.”

  She gives me a warm smile. “How sweet of you not to realize they’re probably in the mob’s pockets…”

  “You’re freaking out over nothing.”

  I’m lying to myself, I know… but if I admit we have a problem, then I’ll have to really consider moving out of here. That would mean I’ll never see The Hotshots again, and I simply can’t have that. I can’t even fathom such a prospect. How the hell did we get in this mess? I’d thought their bullying was the worst thing that could happen to me.

  Turns out I was barely scratching the surface. Why couldn’t I just fall in love with someone like, say Kyle, for example? Decent human being. Kind and well-meaning. Smart and with great ambitions for his future… How in the hell did I have my heart stolen by three Irish mob legacies? Not one. Not two. Three. Three!

  The more I anger myself about this, the more time I waste thinking about the wrong thing. I can’t turn back time on any of this. It happened, and I’m in love with them… So, how do I keep them, without getting myself or my mom hurt? Or worse, killed?

  “It’s not nothing,” she says. “Elly, you’ve never been around these kind of people before. They’re dangerous. Even being friends with them can land you in jail or in a concrete slab on the bottom of the ocean.”

  “You’ve never been around this kind of people before, either,” I reply, smiling. “How would you know?”

  “I could give you the age and experience speech, but I know it’ll go through one ear and out through the other,” mom sighs, pouring herself another glass of Chablis. “The point I’m trying to make, Elly, is that it’s not too late to move back to Barkston. There are good houses on the market there, and—”

  “Oh, my god, you actually checked, didn’t you?”

  She nods. “Your dad wouldn’t mind having you closer, either.”

  “Yes, because that’s what’s been keeping him from coming to see me. The fifty miles between us,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

  “Just consider it, okay?” She gives me a worried look, and I completely understand her. But if we let someone like Kevin Flanagan drive us out of town, then what does that say about us? About me, in particular? How am I ever going to serve a city or a district or an entire state, for that matter, if I can’t stand my ground when someone tries to intimidate me?

  Besides, without any clarifications from Rhett, Gage or Kellan, all we have to go on here are rumors and the few bits of information I’ve put together solely from my interactions with them. I’ve texted them. I’ve called, too. They’ve not responded. So, maybe there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe this is all just a storm in a teacup.

  My phone vibrates. It’s a text from an unknown number. “Meet you out back in 5? X Rhett.” This is odd. He never signs his messages with an X. Then again, he’s got so much to make up for… this could be his way of trying to get me to talk to him. He must be using another number. A burner cell. Like in the movies. Why do I find that so weirdly exciting?

  “I’m done eating,” I say, picking up my plate and carrying it over to the sink. I check the garbage bin and smile. “I’m gonna take out the trash.”

  Mom looks at me, her eyes reduced to two suspicious little slits. “Elly?”

  I pull the bag out and raise it for her to see. “What?!”

  “Nothing,” she chuckles softly. “It’s okay. Thanks. I was going to take it out later.”

  “Turns out I’m a model daughter after all,” I shoot back with a smirk, making my way out of the kitchen.

  “I couldn’t have gotten any luckier,” she calls out after me, and we both laugh.

  Outside, I go around the house and drop the bag in the large recycling bin, then rush through to the back. Our small garden faces a cul-de-sac, where the neighbors usually park their Sunday cars—the expensive coupe models they only keep for showing off on the weekends.

  It’s dark, and the magnolia trees do a good job of darkening everything even more. I’ve been waiting for this moment for days… some explanation about all this. Something to help me understand what’s going on and how we can stop it from ge
tting worse. I’ve got a feeling I’m in way over my head, but I’ve put too much of my heart and soul into this thing of mine with The Hotshots. I can’t just leave it all behind and pretend it didn’t happen.

  I can’t ignore my own feelings. My heart beats faster in anticipation of seeing Rhett again. Our last encounter was strained and complicated, to say the least. A tall figure emerges from the side street. I can’t see him very well, but the broad shoulders let me know it’s him.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

  “I’d be more worried about yourself, Elly,” the man says, and I immediately freeze. This isn’t Rhett. It’s Kyle.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice sounds wrong. My instincts are flaring. This isn’t right.

  “You should’ve left when they told you, Elly.”

  Danger looms, and I know Kyle isn’t here to apologize for telling my mom about summer camp. I bolt back through the garden, but something stings me in the back, and I gasp from the pain and the sudden flow of electricity bursting through me. My chest constricts, my veins burn, my muscles twitch incessantly as I lose control over my body.

  It hurts so much. Why the fuck would he do this?!

  Everything goes dark, as my consciousness escapes me.

  27

  Rhett

  We’re in Valley Springs, sneaking around the back of Valenti’s mansion. We’ve been here before with our parents and grandpa, for barbecues and Sunday dinners. I already know all the exits, what windows they leave open, thinking no one in this town or in this state, for that matter, will dare attack them while they’re under the Flanagans’ umbrella.

  Kellan and Gage keep a look out, while I work on the kitchen back door. It’s ten o’clock, and Luis Valenti is likely in his living room, sipping on cognac, smoking a cigar… maybe wondering if he did the smart thing poisoning my father.

  I’m in. We have gloves on. No fingerprints of ours anywhere. Valenti has his staff scrub the place clean every week, just in case.

  “You ready?” I whisper as Gage and Kellan join me inside, and I slowly close the door. The alarm system has already been disabled, courtesy of our paid friend over at the security company in charge of this property.

  Gage lifts a plastic bag filled with photos and folded papers, smiling. “Absolutely.”

  I look at Kellan. “You?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he replies, putting the silencer on his gun.

  This is a side of us I hoped we’d never have to use, but grandpa did make sure we were prepared for anything that might befall the family. In a way, he trained us for this very moment. I know it would break his heart to see what we’re about to do, but he’d definitely understand.

  The Flanagans will be destroyed if we let Kevin take over. His drug ties are too dangerous. We’ve gotten away clean because we’ve stayed away from the cartels. They’re messy. Such easy targets for the Feds. Kevin sees nothing but piles of money in distributing cocaine and heroin for the Columbians. As smart as he is, he’s yet to understand why grandpa was always adamant about keeping our distance from them.

  We find Luis Valenti in his living-room, just as I’d expected. His wife is with him. She jumps from her chair, ready to scream, when Kellan reaches her and knocks her lights out. Valenti is stunned, eyes wide and filled with horror, unable to get up. His glass falls onto the floor, amber liquid seeping into what looks like a very expensive carpet.

  Kellan points the gun at him. “I really don’t like hitting women, Luis. This is your fault.”

  “What… What are you talking about? What are you doing here?!” he croaks, struggling to find his outrage. The guilt is so obvious, it makes me wonder what grandpa saw in him in the first place, to trust him with our northern routes.

  “Come on, Luis. You know why we’re here,” I say, remarkably calm. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “I ain’t got shit—”

  Kellan cocks his gun. It’s enough to silence him.

  “Dad came here before he stopped at the diner where he collapsed and had the seizures. It took him another thirty minutes of convulsing and foaming at the mouth to actually die,” I say. “Did you know that’s what cyanide does, in certain doses, if ingested?”

  Valenti thinks about it for a moment. He knows he’s fucked. He knows we know. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, after all. I don’t know how much Kevin paid him, or what promises he made, but I’m going to make sure he and his whole family regret their decision. Finally, he shakes his head slowly.

  “I think you did know. I think you laced my dad’s coffee before you sent him on his way back to Trinity,” I continue, taking out a handful of plastic-capped vials from my shoulder bag. “Like, one of these is enough to do the job right, so you’re not immediately considered a suspect.”

  “You’re crazy, Rhett. I’m sorry for what happened to your father, but I had nothing to do with it,” Valenti replies. Beads of sweat trickle down his reddened face.

  “I assume our uncle promised you he’d pay the ME enough to make sure the tox screens never reveal the true cause of death,” I sigh. “I’d understand why you decided to do what you did, if you had such a reassurance. Only, Luis… You don’t fuck with my family without considering me as your greatest enemy as a consequence. Did you really think I’d buy all this bullshit about a severe allergic reaction combined with a terrible case of gastroenteritis? Because that’s what the official report was going with.”

  “But if you pay the ME double what Kevin gave him, you get all kinds of other, interesting results,” Gage adds with a half-smile.

  Valenti’s face drops. There it is. The truth. “Rhett, you need to understand. I… I had no choice!”

  “That’s what you’re going with, now?” Kellan mutters.

  “Not a good excuse, anyway,” I reply with a shrug, then give Gage a nod.

  Valenti watches as he heads over to the painting above the fireplace. “What… What are you—”

  “Doing?” I cut him off. “Oh, we’re just making sure the Feds have enough to go on when they find your body tonight.”

  Gage takes the painting down, revealing the safe. We’ve done our homework prior to coming here. “What’s the combination, Luis?” he asks.

  “Do you think I’m dumb enough to give it to you?!”

  “Well, you can give us the combination and be the only one to die here tonight, or you can not give us the combination, and there will be at least two bodies on display for the cops,” I say. “Your choice, Luis. Either way, we get what we came here for, anyway.”

  Valenti stares at his wife for a moment. Her temple is bruised and bleeding. She’s already had a hefty dose of Lorazepam infused in her tea since this morning. The Valentis have severely underestimated our reach. Combine the blow to the head with a benzodiazepine and voila! Mrs. Valenti won’t remember a thing, just a headache-inducing blackout for this evening. We’ve prepared for every possible scenario, knowing that we’re going against Kevin—the man who thinks ten steps ahead.

  “Four, six, eight, eight.”

  “There we go. Cooperation is key,” Gage chuckles, opening the safe. He discards the contents of the plastic bag inside, then closes the door.

  “How long do you think it’ll take them to open it?” I ask him.

  “With this make and model? Maybe a couple of hours, tops,” Gage replies. “They won’t risk using anything explosive, since he could clearly have important and sensitive materials inside. Evidence and shit…”

  I nod, deeply satisfied. “Okay, so, that takes care of that. When the Feds open that safe of yours, Luis, they’ll find everything they need to link you to the Madeira cartel, plus several instances of kiddie porn and tax fraud, leading you and your family as far away from the Flanagans as humanly possible. Obviously, as soon as word of your death gets out, our family will make sure there is nothing left to tie you to us. Because that’s how we operate.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, shaking
like a leaf.

  “Oh, but I do. You killed the new head of the Flanagan family. Did you really think you’d get away with it? Luis… You disappoint me,” I say, crossing the living room to reach him.

  He’s about to get up and try to reach for the gun he keeps under the coffee table, but Kellan joins me, pressing the muzzle against his forehead. It forces Valenti to sit back down, whimpering and sweating his ass off.

  “Please… Rhett, please… I’ll do anything. I’ll tell you all about Kevin, about how he had me do this… I’ll go to jail for life, I’ll do whatever you want me to do…”

  I can’t help but smile. “You think a prison sentence is enough, Luis?”

  Kellan puts the gun in the back of his jeans, then quickly gets behind Luis and catches him in a lion choke. Valenti struggles to breathe, as Kellan tightens his grip, forcing him to open his mouth. I open one of the cyanide vials and empty it down his throat.

  It all goes in, and Kellan lets go. Valenti coughs and tries to put his fingers down his throat, but Kellan grabs his hair and yanks his head back. I pin his hands against the armrests, smiling as I watch him realize that there’s no way out for him.

  “It’s too late,” I say. “I gave you a slightly different dose.”

  Moving back, I watch as the seizures take over him. His heart rate is skyrocketing. He’s losing his breath. His skin turns blotchy and crimson, as the cyanide starts to work on him. Gage puts the painting back on the wall but leaves it crooked—a hint for law enforcement to wonder what’s behind it.

  Valenti will be dead in less than five minutes. I leave him choking and convulsing, as he falls onto the floor, croaking and gasping for air. Our work is done here. I’ve just killed a man, and I know I won’t be able to sleep properly again… but my dad deserved better than what Valenti did to him. Justice has been served. At least, somewhat.

  My phone buzzes.

  “We need to go,” Kellan says, his breathing ragged as he watches Valenti in the throes of agony. I can’t even look anymore. Hearing him is enough to make my stomach turn.