Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
He’s always been hard on me, but I don’t care about that, not really. It’s made me who I am. What I fucking hate are the mind games, the power moves, the threats.
When nothing but silence greets me, I know I’ve pissed him off and I’m teetering on the edge here. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“If you can’t handle it—”
“I can handle it.”
“You better be able to. I must be able to trust you, Tiernan, to believe in you. This family is supposed to belong to you one day. If I can’t depend on you, what use are you to me?”
I don’t even flinch at the threat. I’ve heard too many of them too many times. He pretends to love me, but he doesn’t love me the way a father is supposed to love a son—not even in our world. Family is everything to everyone I know except for Sloan O’Shea. He plays the part well, shows others what they want to see, but I know the truth. Mom and Aislin know the truth.
I bite my tongue not to tell him he’s creating a problem where there isn’t one just to harass me and hold my education over my head. He wants me to say something like that so he can take something away from me, but I won’t fall into his trap.
“We’ll work harder. A lot of our regulars graduated, but I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“You better.” He ends the call without another word. That was…useless and so like my father. He just wants to throw around his weight, and he did. The smile I’d been wearing is gone, not that I have any right to be happy right now anyway. There’s always shit to be done, so I text Rory.
Me: Find anything out?
Rory: His dorm, his roommate, and his name. Michael Jensen. I’ll follow him through the weekend, or until we decide what to do.
Me: Good. Thanks. Cil can relieve you tomorrow.
Rory: You good?
Shit. Rory, Aislin, and Cillian know me better than almost anyone. Mom too. Still, I’m surprised he can tell just from my messages that I’m pissed, but then, I’m always pissed, so I guess that’s nothing new.
Me: Just want him fucking gone.
Which is true but not all that’s going on.
Rory: It’ll be done. Your boy…that was a good catch.
Yeah, it was.
Me: He’s not my fuckin’ boy.
My cell almost falls to the ground before I can get it pushed into my pocket. My head is filled with Michael fucking Jensen’s face, which sometimes morphs into my father’s as I walk to our place.
As expected, Cillian is still up when I get there.
“You with the new kid?” he asks, handing me a joint.
I take a drag, hold the smoke in my lungs, then exhale and hand it back. “Yeah.”
“He’s different…pays attention.”
“He’s nothing.” It’s not the first time I’ve lied about Dean, and it won’t be the last. He is different and pays attention. He has a sixth sense and no fucking fear in this way I can’t work out.
“Still…we should be careful. We don’t know him.”
“Fuck off, Cillian. I don’t need you to tell me that.”
He sighs. “How’s Ash?”
“Sleeping, I hope. I’m gonna check on her, but tomorrow we need to talk about how to push more product.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling that was coming. We got this.”
I nod, bump fists with him, then head upstairs. The room is quiet, my sister still asleep in my bed. I change into a pair of shorts, then get into bed with her. She immediately cuddles close the way she used to do when she was a kid. If our parents were fighting, she had a nightmare, or Dad came home bloody, she would sneak into my bed like she always knew I would do anything to protect her.
And now, though she’s strong as shit and doesn’t want to need me, there are still moments like this where she lets go.
“I’ll fucking kill him for trying to hurt you.”
“No,” she whispers sleepily. “I will.”
As much as I don’t want that for her, as much as I want to keep her hands clean and want her to have choices I didn’t, I won’t be able to deny her the revenge she deserves.
*
I sit in the living room of the suite in New York, my hands balled into fists. I can hear what they’re doing in the next room. I can hear her shouting his name, can hear the bed creaking, and all the names he calls her as he takes her.
And I’m standing here doing nothing.
We came to the city for business. Dad’s getting a shipment of guns. I’d been so excited because this was the first time Dad brought me. That has to mean he trusts me, right? That he believes in me and thinks I’m worthy of being his son.