I’m not really sure why he’s looking at me like that’s my problem. He tells me to go kill; I go kill. Sometimes I entertain myself with it, sometimes it’s just quick and messy. I’ve never been the one to plan the who or the when. I’m just the messenger.
“My plan? My plan is to carry out whatever you tell me to.”
“You’ve gotta learn some more responsibility at some point, boy. I need ‘ye to get ‘yer head in the game. Start takin’ some initiative. We need to collect. Does Robert have family?”
I have absolutely no interest in that. It’s bad enough that I was raised to feed off slaughter, and smile at the thought of murder. Even worse that I made my first kill, a bloody one at that, at the wee age of sixteen. Let’s start tacking on things like making plans to kill off innocent family members that don’t deserve it or delving into money and collections. I’m not good with numbers and I’ve got much better things to do than try to expand my knowledge in it. Especially now that a certain someone is occupying my ginger head. I’ll gladly let her take up all that extra space.
“He don’t. Single and miserable. Kinda like me.” I shot him a knowing look, making sure he understood that yes…thatwasa dig at the fact that you were no help in making sure Shavonn stayed on my arm. “Why don’t you send a few of the boys to go through all his shit and see if we can hock anything he owns?”
Finn jumped in. Always the voice of fucking reason. “If he had anything that was worth that much, Mal, then he might still be alive. With all his digits. Andteeth.”
“Not my problem. You need a planner? Hire one. I never signed up for the shit.”
My father looked like he was about to explode.
“‘Yer my son. ‘Ye didn’thaveto sign up for it, Malek. Stop bein’ difficult and ‘figger it out.”
I dropped my boots from the table and sat up in my chair, having quite enough of the conversation. “We don’t have as much pourin’ in as we used to, but we’re not hurtin’ for money, Pop. Don’t sit there and try to pressure me with shit I have no experience in, nor do I want, when you just dropped a healthy amount on acleaner.”
“It’s less about the money, Malek, and more about the fact that ‘ye don’t have any ambition to be part of this family.”
Enough. I’ve had enough.
“Yeah? When’s that ever meant anything to you, Pop? Aren’t we just as expendable as the fuckin’ money?” There were a few mumbles from the people I forgot were even sitting at the table and Finn’s eyebrows lowered when he looked first at me, then to my father. “Oh, do tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Finn asked. Pop just looked at me like he’d flay me alive. I stood, pocketing my phone and straightening the collar of my shirt.
“Figure your own shit out. If there’s no ‘honey-do’ list, then I’ve got other things on my agenda today.” I turned to walk out, making it a point not to meet anyone’s eyes as I headed for the door.
“‘Ya keep this shite up, Malek Byrne, and whatever it is you keep runnin’ off to? It’ll find itself on some otheragendas.”
Seven…
I tipped my head over my shoulder. “That a threat?”
“Should it be?”
“Okay. Tread carefully. Just remember you were the one that made me a killer. You already know what I’m capable of.” I glanced around the table, definitely meeting eyes with all of them now. “If any of you feel the need to insert yourself into my personal business…you’llbecomemy personal business. And you all know my trade. Slán.”
I left that room with a very damning realization.
If he goes that far, it won’t be just the O’Dell’s I’m taking down. I’ll crumble all our empires. Every last one. And suddenly, it doesn’t really matter to me which one I end up starting with.
I’m the shittiest stalker in the history of ever.
It’s taken everything in my wee Irish heart to keep from texting or calling her today. I wanted to prove myself, and show her I am indeed a ‘good boy’…but what even is that? Seven doesn’t strike me as the type that wants a good lad, anyway. How boring. But all this do-gooder shit has landed me at the cafe, drinking my milkshake by myself and wondering where the hell she is. She’s not at the apartment, either. I checked there first. Granted…I know she has a life and could easily be just about anywhere, but the reality of knowing that I’m absolutely obsessed with a woman I truly don’t know…is kind of embarrassing. I don’t know her favorite color, her favorite book…favoriteposition? None of that. What kind of biggest fan does it make me if I can’t even figure out where her usual hangout is when she’s not working or trying to shove her tongue down another man’s throat?
Fuck…what if that’s where she’s at?
The end of my straw got the brunt of that crappy inkling. I rang Declan.
“Yo.”
“Hey, Dec. Gotta quick trace for ya.”
“You’re startin’ to build a nice little tab, brother. I accept payment in expensive scotch, video games and pussy.”
“Would you grow up?”
