He knew that. Still, he had to wade through the bullshit to get the answers he needed. “I suspected that. My brothers and I will handle our father.”
“Fucker needs to die.” Roscoe mumbled the words. “All she ever wanted was for me to protect you and your brothers. Losing you and
Conall
tore her apart. I couldn’t save her life, but I can avenge her death.”
“Help me out here…connect the dots for me.” He was holding on to his temper by a thread. Kieran thought through how Paddy was fucking with them.
Shannon was having issues with competitors,
Conall
and
Fionn
were having issue with drug dealers, and Kieran had a snitch. Knowing the way his father did things he’d been meticulous about the folks he kept around
himThe
father had built layers of bullshit utilizing the worst traits in people to create the best outcome for his businesses. How the hell did Roscoe slip under his radar? He’d been so busy planning and executing the dissection his
da’s
organization. A short bark of laughter escaped him. Paddy was doing the same thing to him. “You’ve been feeding information to Paddy, haven’t you, Roscoe?”
“They needed to think I was helping them.”
An ache developed in his chest. “Where did you drop off Rica?” His dad would have her killed just to spite him.
“You’re in a position with your brothers to claim that old fucker’s throne and own this city, but you were taking too long to make a move.” Roscoe paused. A garbled voice sounded in the background.
Group
A
seating
. “I know Danny murdered your mother. I left Rica with him and his crew.”
“Roscoe?” Kieran’s grip tightened on the slim device. He threw it across the room. A crack resounded when it hit the wall and fell to the carpet. Roscoe had made a bitch-ass move there would be no coming back from. He gazed at Martin. “I want to know where the hell Danny Boy Sullivan is right fucking now.” First he would get his woman back then he would find Roscoe and put the bastard down personally.
Streetlights flickered on, and the temperature dropped with the onset of night. Kieran stared at the neon-yellow beer sign that brightened the picture window. Rica was somewhere beyond the walls of the building. He would break that bitch down brick by fucking brick--whatever it took to get his pretty girl back. He reached into his
coat’s
inside pocket and pulled his gloves free, slipping his hands into the warm leather.
He’d contacted his brothers and called in his crew. Shannon,
Fionn
and
Conall
would meet up with him later. It was time to tie up loose ends.
Krank
glanced over at him. Gone was the jovial personality. His expression was cold, with his lips forming an angry slash across his face. “Say the word, boss.”
Goo rocked his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “Ready whenever you are.”
Martin released the clip to his gun, looked at it and popped it back in before holstering it and pulling the other one free from the other side and repeating the process. He nodded at Kieran.
Esteban trotted across the street. “Man, looking at that place is like taking a glance back in time. That place is old. Red-haired older guy is playing pool, last table in the back. I counted twelve men, three more in the back, the bartender, five at the bar and two at a table in the corner--almost missed them. No sign of Rica.”
Kieran stroked his jaw. “If it’s twelve you see there are probably another eight to ten that you don’t. Get in, get out and leave no witnesses.” He reached in his pocket and pressed the key fob. His trunk popped open. His men leaned over, looking behind him. Five three-gallon containers filled with gasoline were lined up and strapped down in the interior. “Make sure this motherfucker burns to the ground.”
They nodded. He took the lead, walking ahead of them, his tweed coat flapping around his thighs as he moved. Kieran eased the heavy steel door open and stepped over the threshold. A few men looked his way. The guys at the table stood. He stalked farther, passing them. Kieran grabbed the eight ball from the antique pool table as he moved. A player stepped in front of him. He raised his arm and slammed the ball into the man’s jaw. The guy stumbled back.
“Get the hell out of my way.” Danny was ahead of him, and he had a score to settle. Grunts, the crash of glass breaking and a few shots popped off behind him.
Danny Boy clutched the pool cue tightly and raised it like a bat. “Finally ready to meet your maker? Your daddy
ain’t
here to protect you.
Kieran threw the hard ball into the air. “When has Paddy ever done a damn thing for me?” Kieran rushed Danny. With the wooden ball tight in his fist, he swung up as his nemesis brought the stick down across his shoulders.
It snapped, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. The hit didn’t register. His blow connected with the older man’s chest. He reared his hand back and slammed it into Danny’s temple. The big guy lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Kieran in a tight bear hug. His arms pinned to his side, he dropped the eight ball. Danny’s fetid breath washed over his face, a mix of stale nuts and hard liquor.
He gazed into the green eyes of the fella who’d raised him. There was nothing there. The old enforcer had given up his soul a long time ago when he was beating the shit out of children. In that moment Kieran’s rage welled up inside him, and he felt every lick of the razor strap that cut across his back growing up. He bowed back and flung his head forward to ram it into Danny’s, then did it again.
The asshole’s grip loosened, and Kieran kneed him in the ribs. Sharp groans escaped through Danny’s lips with each strike. Someone fell into Kieran, thrusting them against the wall. He spun around, throwing his fist first. Goo streaked past him, planting a foot in the chest of the
guy’s
who slammed into Kieran
to
send the man sprawling across the dirty floor. With no hesitation,
Krank
stomped on the fella’s chest as he passed him and grabbed another man in front of him by the throat.
Kieran stomped forward and was suddenly snatched back. The collar of his shirt tightened around his neck. He reached for the gun secured at the small of his back and yanked it free of the holster. Material cut into his throat as he struggled to look down. His eyes watered, and he inhaled in shallow pants. Kieran fired into the booted foot lined up next to his. His attacker hopped back. Kieran momentarily lurched, grabbing his knees and sucking in deep gulps of air. He straightened and swiveled to face his assailant.
Danny Boy Sullivan stood with his leg partially bent as he tried to gingerly stand on his injured foot. Pure hate was evident in his scowl. His nose flared, and his brows came together in one bushy line over narrowed eyes. He held the pool table’s edge in a white-knuckled grip. Kieran lifted his arm and walked up to Danny, pressing the muzzle of the gun to the center of Dany’s forehead.
“You can’t kill me, boy. I own you.” Danny sneered. “Your da should have strangled you at birth.”
Kieran pulled the trigger. The recoil reverberated through his arm. His nemesis’s eyes widened as his head snapped back and droplets of blood rolled down his face from the hole. He opened his mouth but he didn’t say a word.
“Fuck you.” Kieran spat on the supine body, lying with its eyes open.
He glanced up and took in the chaos happening through the room. Bodies were strewn across the floor. They needed to move before some nosy neighbor decided to investigate and call the police.
Krank
had a guy in a headlock and twisted hard, snapping his neck. The man dropped in place and
Krank
kept moving. A cracked door behind the bar caught Kieran’s attention. Esteban smoothly slid a knife across another guy’s throat and laughed before winking at Kieran.
Kieran used the chest of a body to leap on to the counter and hopped down. He eased the door wider. A storeroom. Crates of liquor were stacked in waist-high columns. Carefully, he moved through the room and turned a corner.
Rica was strapped to a chair, her head bowed. Some of her braids hung forward, hiding her face. Another one of Danny’s crew paced nervously behind her. Kieran raised his arm, stomping forward, he pulled the trigger. The guard touched his chest as a crimson outline bloomed beneath his hand and stumbled to the side into a pile of crates. The small wooden towers crumbled beneath his weight.
Kieran crouched and tipped Rica’s face up. A slight moan escaped her. The corner of her mouth was a putrid shade of purple, and one eye was swollen shut. He didn’t trust himself to talk--it was all he could do to breathe as his rage slowly reignited.
She slowly opened one eye. The corner of her mouth lifted. “You should see the other guy.”
“He’s already dead.” He stroked her face with his thumb. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Kieran rose and placed the semi-automatic nine-millimeter in its holster.
“You shouldn’t have come.” Her voice cracked.
Fucking bastard dared to touch what was his. He would use the asshole’s body to start the fire. “No matter where you are, pretty girl, I told you I will always find you.” He reached for her hands tied to the straight-backed chair.
“But…” She tilted her head to gaze up at him.
He yanked the cords loose and dipped again to free her feet. Rica toppled out of her seat. Kieran caught her and hefted her up. She rested her head on his shoulder, her breathing labored. “You did good, pretty girl. Leave the rest to me.”
“Can’t be trusted.” Her words were a whisper.
“I’ve already taken care of it.” He cradled her close to his chest.
“
Gotta
keep you clean.” She inched over, and her lips brushed his neck. “Roscoe.”
“Motherfuckers are about to meet a version of Kieran O’Shea they aren’t ready for.” He entered the bar.
, The
room was deathly quiet.
“That was not a fair fight.” Goo chuckled. “Hell, it wasn’t even a good workout.”
“Martin is getting the gasoline.” Esteban dropped into a stool.
“Open every damn bottle in this bitch and use Danny’s body as the wick to light this place up.” He hiked Rica up and stared down at her face. Beyond the bruises he could see the beauty. She needed a doctor. He wasn’t sure just how bad her internal damage was. “I want a fire so hot the devil will come up to play in it.” He moved around the obstacles in his path and carried her away from the building. Bastards were going to learn tonight.
***
The ringing in her ears wouldn’t stop. Rica grabbed a pillow to cover her head, and an intense, throbbing ache spread through her side. She cracked one of her lids, but the vision from her left eye was blurry. Carefully, she eased onto her back. The walls were the same as her home. She glided her palms over the bedding. Thick, downy softness filled her hand. She listened intently. The faint, vibrating beat of music bled up through the floors. She was home, three floors above Irish.
“Make the necessary arrangements for you, me and Esteban. Rica will enjoy visiting Costa Rica.” Kieran paused. “Text me the flight information.”
Kieran was in the apartment. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the pain before sitting up. “Oh, that smarts.”
“You have broken ribs. Lie down. You’re lucky they didn’t pierce your lung.”
She glanced up. Kieran stood beside the bed with his cell in hand. “Thank you.” He’d come for her, and although she hadn’t witnessed her attacker’s death, she had no doubts he was dead. That was just the way Kieran handled things. Breathing made her ribs hurt.
“For what?” He cocked his head.
“Forget it. How long have I been out?” She planted her hands in the mattress to scoot back.
He set his phone on the nightstand and scooped her up, placing her against the headboard. “Stop moving so much. You’ve been out of it for a few days. The doc taped your ribs, but not much more can be done. Your vision should get better as the blood dissipates from your eye.”
“Who’s running Irish?” Roscoe was usually her backup but with his betrayal, if she couldn’t trust Roscoe, who could she trust? The knowledge of what Roscoe did cut deep; she could only imagine how Kieran was feeling. He’d had known the man growing up. . The old man’s words rang through her head. There was only one explanation and she voiced her thoughts. “Roscoe snapped, I think. He was talking all kinds of crazy.”
“When a dog goes rabid, it’s put down.” Kieran’s expression showed no emotion. His mouth didn’t move other than to talk, and his eyes were blank. “Goo tracked him down, and I am going to pay the asshole a little visit. Until you’re able, Martin is running the bar and
Krank
is backing him up. I want you to take a vacation and heal before you resume management of Irish.”
Martin was running her bar? “Flip it.” She picked at the sheet.
“What and why?”
“Roscoe got me to go with him because he knew I didn’t trust Martin.” Kieran had so much already going on she could hold off on telling him that one of his crew was stealing from him. “Forget it. I’ll handle things later.”
“Tell me.” He cupped her cheek and leaned in, kissing her nose. “You and I are going to be gone. If that’s a problem, I want to know why. When we get back I have some things to catch up on so I won’t be around to settle any bullshit.”
There was more to that story. Kieran was a multitasker. A little downtime wasn’t all they would have, she was sure of it. “Your dad?” Her man like to keep things bottled up, but she wouldn’t let him off so easy.
“On my to-do list. There is nowhere he can hide.” He picked up the cell. “You were telling me what I am flipping and why?”
“Martin’s drops are short.”
He leaned back. “You’re telling me this now?”
“I wanted to take care of it myself,” she grumbled. “With everything you have to do…”
“Don’t I always make time for you?” He swiped his finger across the cell screen.