Page 34 of Vengeful Vows

“That’s not the reason, and you know it.”

“It’s part of the reason,” Gray drawls, and I nudge him playfully with my shoulder.

“Maybe so. But the real reason is this—you've been going around town doing whatever the fuck you want for too many years, Murphy. It stops now.”

“What stops?” He smirks, the snake, as if he doesn’t know.

“Stealing our shipments, for one. For another, and the most important–Trafficking. Especially minors. You stop taking girls off the street.”

“Or what?” he sneers.

“Or maybe your pretty little daughter doesn’t have such a good time.”

“You wouldn’t.” He looks right at me, his brows knitted together.

“I don’t have to hurt a hair on her little head. But I can. And I will. If you don’t stop.”

Niall doesn’t say a word, his cheeks growing redder and redder.

“We’ll be in touch, Murphy.” I walk toward the front door, the rest of the guys following me.

Gray whoops, slamming his fists down on the dashboard when we get into the car. “That was so much fun! But he did get you pretty good.”

As he pulls away, I sniffle, tasting blood in the back of my throat. “Worth it.”

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up and then go out for drinks.”

I blink at him.

Gray isn’t one for partying. In fact, he is the farthest away from a party person as can be. Usually all business. But I guess we do deserve a night out after all this.

“All right.” I nod. “Where are we going?”

Gray grins. “Where else? Paddy’s Pub.”

I snort.

Paddy’s is a local place, run by Irish guys just like us, first generation immigrants. The only people who ever go there are gangsters and thugs, but I suppose that is what we are too. Those are our people, and Gray likes to be around our people.

“But you still need to change shirts. I’ve got an extra shirt in the trunk if you prefer,” he says.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m sure Paddy won’t mind if I come in with a little blood on my face.”

Gray laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. “Hell, he’ll probably buy you a drink.”

I park in the back at Paddy’s, going in through the emergency exit which is supposed to have an alarm but doesn’t.

I head straight to the bathroom and strip off my shirt, looking in the mirror at the damage.

My nose doesn’t appear to be broken when I move it around with a wince. It’s just sore.

I splash water on my face and use some paper towels to clean the blood off, sliding on Gray’s shirt and just depositing mine in the trash. This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this at Paddy’s, but it’s been a long time.

And it’s been years since I’ve done it with Gray.

I’m so tired of shit like this. I’m tired of violence, of blood, of getting punched in the face or splitting my knuckles doing it to someone else.

Sure, my beef with Murphy is as personal as it gets, but at the same time, I’m just ready for this stalemate to be over. If it has to end in war and blood, so be it. At least it’ll be over.

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