Twenty minutes later, I’m in the car on the way to the restaurant the Sullivans agreed to meet me at. During the drive, I review the intelligence I’ve gathered. Mrs. Sullivan lost her sister to the Keans' violence five years ago. No charges were ever filed. That's my angle, justice for those the Keans have hurt.
I enter with Marco and Thomas while two other men stand by the door, and I know others are outside. Six men seem like overkill, but then again, I’d had four when I was attacked.
As I approach the table, Mr. Sullivan rises and shakes my hand. His eyes don’t meet mine as he says, “Hello, Mrs. Ifrinn.”
I remember at dinner the other night, his wife had insisted on calling me Hannah in a way I knew she meant to be disrespectful.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, thank you for agreeing to see me.” I take a seat. “I wanted to personally apologize for dinner the other night. I know you left feeling offended and that was the last thing I wanted. I just… well, I wasn’t feeling myself. I’d like an opportunity to make it up to you.”
Mrs. Sullivan shifts. “That’s very kind of you, but not necessary.” She glances toward the kitchen.
I look too, and that’s when I notice there aren’t very many people here. A few men dressed in business suits sit at a few tables. A shiver slides down my spine as I get the sense they’re not businessmen in the traditional sense. They remind me more of Marco and Thomas.
“I… ah…” I shake my head, needing to be on top of things today. “We’ve all been victims of Hampton Kean’s cruelty and violence. I was so sorry to hear about your sister.”
“Thank you,” she says tightly, looking down at her plate. Something is off here. I glance at Marco, who is looking at hisphone. Thomas is scanning something outside the window. The other two men at the door are chatting about something.
The kitchen door opens and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Hampton Kean himself, his cold eyes locked on me, strolls into the restaurant like he owns it.
My guards move to intercept him, but in a blur of motion, Kean's men rise from the tables, and shots ring out. My guards crumple to the ground before they can draw their weapons. The front door opens, and more of my guards pour in, but they’re on the floor before they can assess what’s going on.
I start to rise, but Kean levels his pistol at my chest. "Sit down, Mrs. Ifrinn." His voice drips with contempt. "We need to have a chat about your recent… social activities."
My hands shake as I lower back into my chair.
"I warned you through my messenger," he says, pulling out the chair across from me. "But it seems you needed a more personal reminder of what happens to those who oppose me."
My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. One hand instinctively moves to shield my stomach.
"Your father made the mistake of choosing the wrong side," Kean continues, keeping the gun trained on me. "And now you're following in his footsteps, arranging these little dinner parties, trying to turn my allies against me."
I glance at the Sullivans, who look as terrified as I feel. Somehow, Hampton used them to set this up, but it doesn’t appear they wanted to.
“We’ve done our part,” Mr. Sullivan says, his voice quavering. “Surely, my wife and I are free to go.”
Hampton looks up at him. A sinister smile spreads on his face. He likes seeing their fear. “Just remember this, Carl.”
“Of course. Come on, dear.”
Mrs. Sullivan rises and for the first time since I entered, she glances at me. Her expression is apologetic. I get it. Her life is onthe line and she chose hers over mine. I can hardly blame her. If Ash and his brothers ever succeed at taking down Hampton, they might not forget this. It’s clear I won’t live to find out.
Moments later, I’m zip-tied and in the back of an SUV. The tinted windows hide me from the world as we speed through Boston's streets. I suspect we’re heading to the Kean estate.
I want to beg for my life. For my child’s life. For Ash and my family’s life, but I know it would be futile. Hampton Kean had his son burn a house down with a dozen people inside, including the Ifrinns and Ash’s true love, Meghan. This is not a man who is moved by pleading.
The car turns onto a long driveway lined with security cameras. Through the windshield, I catch glimpses of the Kean mansion. I remember the house before. The Ifrinn home. It had seemed just that, a home. Now it’s a fortress of wickedness.
The car stops and rough hands drag me out. As they march me toward the mansion's heavy doors, guilt crashes over me in waves. I shouldn’t have arranged this luncheon without Ash’s knowledge. I should have been more understanding of his love for Meghan. I should have considered that while he doesn’t love me like he loves her, Hampton’s killing me will trigger all that loss for him again. Any hope that Ash will ever find the light will be gone. Maybe it’s wrong, but I’m glad he doesn’t know about the baby. Knowing a child was killed too would make it even worse for him.
I’m dragged down a set of stairs and into a room. My legs shake as they force me into a chair. My wrists burn from the zip ties as I shift on the cold metal chair.
The basement door creaks open and Hampton Kean enters looking all too pleased with himself.
"Such a waste." Kean circles me like a shark. "A pretty young thing like you, throwing your life away for that broken Ifrinn boy."
I lift my chin. "You're the one who broke him. You murdered his parents, killed the woman he loved."
"He couldn’t have loved her that much. After all, he’s fucking you." He stops in front of me, eyes glinting. "Did you really think hosting dinner parties would bring me down? That you could turn my allies against me?"
