Firefly (Redemption Book 2), Page 2

  “One of the other rooms?”

  “No. He said it was in here somewhere.”

  “Lil?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Beck’s brow pinched as he studied my position. “You sure you don’t want me to get him?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He nodded slowly, and I knew he was trying to decide whether or not to listen to me. “See you in a few hours.”

  I lifted the corners of my mouth in a faint smile before looking back to the windows of my old room, replaying the memory over and over.

  Every time, wondering who he was.

  Every time, getting caught on the fact that my brother hadn’t looked surprised to see the Borello men there.

  And every time, wondering why I had never noticed that before.

  Walking into that room hours later was the worst homecoming I’d ever experienced. I hadn’t set foot in there since the night I’d woken up to find members of the Borello family standing inside it.

  I’d stayed in different rooms for a while . . . Kieran’s. The library. If Beck or Conor were working, I snuck into their rooms in Soldier’s Row on the other side of the property to sleep. Anywhere so long as I didn’t have to be in the room that had been the source of my nightmares until Kieran, Beck, and I had moved into the guesthouse.

  Nothing had changed except for the carpet, and an odd sense of nostalgia filled my chest before I began trembling violently.

  Because not three feet from where I was standing was where Aric had fallen to the floor.

  And just across the room was where I had been. A man dragging me away before Kieran had ended his life.

  All of it played out on a twisted loop as I watched from the doorway. And I couldn’t stop it.

  “One of the other rooms?”

  “No. He said it was in here somewhere.”

  I swallowed thickly, forcing down the bile that rose in my throat, and shut my eyes as I tried to remember those words over and over again.

  So many places something could be hidden, and I had no idea what they’d been looking for.

  Half an hour later, I was sitting on the floor of my closet, somewhat relieved that I hadn’t found anything in my room for the Borellos to find, despite wishing I had.

  I’d wanted to find a reason for that night to have happened at all. To know they hadn’t been there by mistake, and he’d died for absolutely nothing.

  Their words had felt so crucial when I’d woken to them early this morning, like I’d needed to hear them. But I was starting to wonder if that little piece I’d been given had been real at all. If any of the new pieces during my nightmares were real, or just what my subconscious created over time.

  I climbed to my feet and took one last look inside the empty closet, then turned to leave.

  My gaze shifted to my feet as I shut the closet door, desperately trying not to linger on places that triggered a cold sweat and images I saw far too often.

  I took quick steps away from the closet and had just reached the dresser when something caught my eye, and I slowed.

  Backing up a few steps, I looked behind the dresser from my new angle, studying the way the baseboard seemed to be hugging the wall instead of attached to it.

  I pushed the dresser a few inches away so I could drop to my knees behind it, and quickly reached for the piece of baseboard.

  My heart thundered when the wood easily fell away at my touch, and I forced myself to take steadying breaths when I saw the sheetrock had been cut out from behind it.

  I knew from the chill that gripped at my spine this was what they’d been looking for that night.

  And I hated him—whoever he was. For putting me in danger by using my room. For leaving something there for those men to find. For letting Aric die.

  I hated all of them.

  “One of the other rooms?”

  “No. He said it was in here somewhere.”

  My hand shook as I reached inside, but my hope died and heart sank as I searched and searched and came up empty.

  I sat back on my heels and stared at the empty hole in my wall as that night continued to torture me—silently begging for something to appear. When minutes passed and nothing in the room changed, I placed the baseboard back and stood. After shoving the dresser back into its place, I quickly left the room, my eyes closed tight in a vain attempt to shut out the never-ending nightmares playing in my mind.

  I’d only made it down a few halls when I heard my name called out, and I reluctantly stopped. Forcing all of my hatred for the man who belonged to that voice away from my expression, I turned to face my dad.

  Mick O’Sullivan. Mickey to those closest to him—to those who used the darkness of the world to conceal their sins.

  CEO of an empire.

  Boss of the Holloway Gang.

  Heartless bastard.

  “What are you doing coming from the rooms?” Before I could respond, he stalked toward me. “Let’s go. Meeting is starting.”

  “But I—”

  “Come on, Princess,” he said as he passed me. He turned, his million-dollar smile on display.

  A smile that could charm almost anyone. Almost.

  He was in his early forties—my parents had been teenagers when they’d had the twins, and then me—but you wouldn’t know it looking at him. Men Mickey’s age only looked the way he did when they were on the silver screen.

  Or if they’d sold their souls to the devil.

  With his looks and smooth words, he could lure the purest hearts to do the darkest deeds, all with that smile on his face.

  It was why no one had batted an eye when he’d killed the old boss and taken his place twenty years ago. People fell over themselves to work for him.

  “This is all going to be yours one day,” he continued, his deep voice booming throughout the large hall, as if he was trying to sell me on the idea. “You need to sit in on as many of these as you can. You can’t expect Kieran to run it all by himself.”

  But Kieran wasn’t supposed to run this world.

  Then again . . . neither was I.

  We’d had plans and made promises—promises he’d broken years ago.

  My dad’s smile abruptly vanished when I didn’t move or respond, and a look entered the ice-blue eyes identical to mine. “Lily,” he demanded in a low, even tone.

  He was done being nice. Done pretending to care.

  I walked in his direction without a word, then followed him to the meeting.

  Of the dozen or so men that worked for Dad and Kieran and still spoke to me, only a few mumbled quiet hellos as I walked into the room behind my dad, still unsure how to handle being near me on this day even after four years.

  If I was allowed to come and go around the property, I was sure it would be different.

  There wouldn’t be weighted silences that fell over rooms when I walked into them, or the worried stares that accompanied it. Wondering if I was okay but too afraid to ask.

  There wouldn’t be the uncomfortable waves of tension from the rest of the men—the ones who would rather I’d actually been in the ground than locked away on the back of the property. Some because they felt my presence was a risk to their lives. Others because they would’ve followed Aric to their deaths, and they blamed me for living just as my mom had.

  There wouldn’t be the slanted glares as their anger boiled just beneath the surface, waiting for a time when they could repay me for the unfair card they felt had been dealt to them.

  But to touch me would evoke a wrath not one of them could survive.

  And they respected Kieran as much as they feared him.

  I took a seat between Beck and his younger brother, Conor, as they spoke to the guys next to them, and looked blankly ahead waiting for the meeting to start.

  “No girls allowed,” someone jeered from the other end of the room.

  A few of the other guys laughed mockingly, but not nearly as many as usual when I sat in on the meetings.

  Even the ones who had
come to hate or fear my presence couldn’t forget what today was. Couldn’t forget they’d lost the man they’d readily followed—some even above my dad.

  Both Conor and Beck tensed beside me but didn’t say anything. They knew not to after all these years.

  I gave no indication that I’d heard them at all. They liked it when I responded, and I didn’t want to give them anything to like.

  “Ah, give it a rest. That got old years ago,” one of my dad’s men said with a groan. “She doesn’t know where she is anyway. Lily.” He exaggerated my name, smacking the table in time with the syllables. “Look at her . . . Nightshade’s fucked her stupid. Her pretty little head is so full of air she doesn’t even know her own name anymore.”

  Beck’s chair shot back as he stood, his hands fisted as he slammed them on the table. But before he could say a word, my dad laughed long and loud.

  “Well, fuck me. I’m gonna have a hell of a time replacing you when Kieran catches wind of that comment.”

  I let my eyes flit in the man’s direction for only a second to see him pale and sink into his chair before I looked blankly at the wall again.

  Bailey. He’d been with Holloway nearly as long as Mickey, and was just as devoted to the gang and what they stood for.

  But Aric’s death had changed so much more than some would ever understand.

  With Mom turning into a shell of herself after the death of Aric’s twin, Aiden, and then leaving to live with her family about a year ago, a couple of the families who had been in the mob for generations thought Mickey was losing his hold on the gang. Now Bailey and his son Finn were just waiting for one more thing to go wrong. One more thing to loosen the grip my dad had on Holloway before they could slip in and try to take it from him.

  Their greed had grown too great over the years for them to realize that Mickey was three steps ahead, just waiting for Bailey and Finn to present the perfect opportunity to be taken out.

  And with that one comment, Bailey had started a ripple effect that couldn’t be stopped. Now he was being held above open water, dripping blood, and Mickey was going to let him bleed before he attacked.

  “Anyone have a problem with Lily being here?” Mickey called out.

  His tone rang with false concern. Something about the sincerity called out to them, begging them to tell him their problems. It was one of the reasons he was such a good leader. His ability to be anyone they needed him to be. But there was a razor edge to his voice that warned what would happen if they ever gave him the wrong answer, ever disappointed him.

  When he spoke again, that razor was all that was left, and it sliced through the room like a threat. “That’s what I thought.”

  I could feel every one of the men’s stares as my dad began the meeting, but I forced myself to maintain my façade. Forced myself not to show any hint I’d been paying attention or knew their eyes were on me.

  Truth was, my mom and I were the only women allowed in this room. But she’d been so lost in bottles of whiskey even before Aric died that she’d stopped coming long before I was old enough to sit in on the meetings.

  As it was, I only came when I wasn’t given an option, and I did the same thing every time.

  Maintained a blank stare. Never let a word leave my lips.

  Dad had called me out a few times afterward, telling me I needed to start paying attention and participating if I wanted to gain the men’s respect before I took over.

  Beck often elbowed me to make sure I was awake.

  And whispers floated around the room whenever Kieran was out—which was most meetings.

  “You think they drug her?”

  “Fucking zombie.”

  “How much you wanna bet she’ll drool?”

  “Why’s she here at all?”

  “She should go back to her fucking sanctuary.”

  But it didn’t matter what they said. It didn’t matter what they thought. Because people often said things they normally wouldn’t when they thought you weren’t listening, and I knew I’d heard more than I was ever supposed to.

  Like Bailey and Finn’s plan.

  Every bit of information kept tucked away for when I would need it.

  “Be strong and relentless,” my mom had always said. “Look fragile, but never act it. Be a viper disguised as a lamb, and you’ll never lose their loyalty.”

  If only she were around to see me now.

  Mom had trained me from a young age . . . not just how to be the princess of the mob, but how to rule it. Because I hadn’t just grown up in this life, I’d been groomed to stay in it.

  Kieran and I had been inseparable for as long as I could remember, and everyone had known we would remain that way. To them, it couldn’t have been a more perfect match.

  Before his death, Kieran’s dad, Georgie, had been Mickey’s advisor long before Kieran became the hired assassin, and earned a revered reputation all on his own. And it had never been a secret that Kieran would be Aric’s advisor when he finally took over.

  When Aric died, Mickey had forced Kieran to take his place as Underboss.

  With his title and mine, we were supposed to be the unstoppable couple.

  Except I’d always hated this life and had wanted to get far from it. Something only Kieran had known.

  Late at night over the years, he’d slid soundlessly into my bed and pulled me close, his lips at my ear as he built our future with words and dreams, promising a life away from this place—far from the mob.

  But those promises to run kept getting delayed until they were broken, and I watched as I slowly lost Kieran to the same world that had stolen my brothers from me.

  Ever since, all I’d wanted was to take this world and watch as it was destroyed.

  So I’d ignored every piece of advice my mom had given me, and I waited for my chance.

  Blank stare. Lips closed.

  The air in the room grew heavy seconds before my dad laughed, low and threatening. “Well, if my day wasn’t just made because you walked in. Wasn’t sure if you’d make it. Wasn’t sure if some people wanted you to.”

  I didn’t need my dad’s words. I didn’t need to look. I’d already known he’d walked into the room.

  He was silent as the night, but I knew the man who had just slipped into that room.

  I’d spent most of my life trying to match my heartbeat to his, trying to memorize the way the room felt when he was in it, all so I would know when he was near.

  He settled himself against the wall opposite me, and I fought back the surprise and heartache that threatened my bored expression at seeing him there.

  At seeing him at all . . .

  But his light green eyes never once met me, and they were so, so cold as he stared down at the man sitting just two feet in front of him.

  Kieran folded his arms across his chest, the picture of ease. But the heaviness in the room and the look on his destructively handsome face gave away everything he was feeling, everything he was thinking, as he glowered at Bailey.

  He dipped his chin, his tone lethal when he ground out, “Continue.”

  I allowed myself a quick glance at Beck to see him fight back a smile just before my dad burst out laughing.

  “Someone had your days numbered,” Mickey taunted. “Pray Nightshade doesn’t find you . . .” He let the haunting threat trail off, not attempting to hide his enjoyment watching the man squirm.

  I forced myself to stare at the wall, but I could hear the nervousness in Bailey’s voice when he stuttered, “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Kieran.”

  Mickey feigned a sigh. “Like I said . . . gonna have a hell of a time replacing you. Let’s finish this so we can enjoy the show that’s sure to follow.”

  I stood still as I studied the man tied to the chair, watching his every move.

  Every twitch.

  Every hitched breath.

  Every jerk of his gaze around the warehouse.

  With a drawn-out sigh, I rolled up the papers he’d slipped my sister the n
ight before, hitting my palm with them as I started walking in a slow circle around him. “Lie.”

  His head snapped up and tried to follow me. “No! N-no, I did-I didn’t. Swear to God, Demitri. I wouldn’t.”

  I waited until I was in front of him and bent to eye level before I spoke again. Lifting the papers slightly, I asked, “You expect me to believe that Holloway’s now selling to law enforcement? That they’re getting their supply into prisons now?”

  I knew for a fact that Mickey O’Sullivan had drugs going to people in the government, but not law enforcement.

  He was stupid—just not that stupid.

  The paperwork this guy had sent my way had all been fabricated, and I knew Mickey was behind it. Knew the Holloway snitch in front of me had probably let slip to Mickey that we were watching every move and he was trying to lead us in false directions.

  I wasn’t so easily led.

  “Swear to God. I’ve been taking it myself. Every week I make the drop off.” Sweat ran from the man’s brow and dripped down his nose, and his voice grew shallow as he continued to ramble and bullshit.

  Lie.

  I held out the papers until Johnny took them from me, slanting my eyes at him in a look that had his mouth twisting into a crazed smirk as he backed slowly away.

  Johnny and I had grown up together. Been best friends for as long as I could remember, and worked together for most that time. We worked together well. He knew what I would do as soon as I decided on it, and I knew how to calm his homicidal tendencies.

  Unfortunately, I’d just unleashed that manic need inside him to watch someone’s life slip from their eyes because people couldn’t be allowed to live when they threatened everything.

  And a snitch who started playing both sides undeniably threatened everything.

  I slid my arm around my back, curling my hand around the grip of my gun and pulling it out of my waistband.

  The man thrashed in the chair as understanding and fear filled his eyes. “It’s the truth, I swear! I swear to God—I’ll do anything. I’ll—”

  “Truth or dare,” I said in a calm, dark tone, and waited for his answer when he started sobbing.