Page 13 of The Eraser

I just wish I didn't have to do this at all.

ChapterFour

STEPHEN

"What's going on?"Freddie asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as we leave the pub.

It's been two hours since the burial of Patricia Grace and I've spent that time in the pub listening to that cunt of a husband of hers talk about how he's all alone and how no one will replace his beloved Patty, all the while not once mentioning his teenage daughter, who's alone and without a mother.

"I needed to get the fuck out of there."

He nods. "Thomas Grace has always been a fucking twat," he spits. "I've no idea what someone as sweet as Patricia saw in him, or how she managed to stay married to him for so fucking long. I'd have drowned the bastard a long time ago."

I shake my head. He's not wrong. Thomas Grace is a fucking asshole who has no fucking idea how to behave like a man. Instead, he acts like a child. I've hated the man since the moment I met him when I was fourteen, but as Jer's right-hand man, he's someone I've given a wide berth to. But Christ, it's fucking hard.

"Where the fuck is his daughter?" Freddie asks.

"Dunno," I reply, but the fact of the matter is, I'm curious. That sweet, innocent girl was devastated when I saw her at the church. I watched her barely acknowledge anyone who offered her their condolences. At fourteen and losing her ma, she's had her world rocked and is barely holding it together.

"Alright, man, I've got to go. I've a job to do, but I'll probably see you later."

I nod. "Try not to get caught," I tell him, and he grins.

He's come close the last few jobs he's done for Jer. All of them have been bigger than the last. The last one was robbing a fucking bank. Thankfully, he managed to escape—narrowly—otherwise he'd be sitting in a cell right now. I know he'll do whatever it takes not to get caught. If he does, well, Jer has so many people in his back pocket that it won't take long for the charges to be dismissed. Still, it's a pain in the ass to wait around in holding.

It takes me fifteen minutes to get to the pub Jerry owns. I'm here to meet with Emmanuel. He's Maverick's best friend and is also one of Jer's men. He likes to kill just as much as I do. The urge to kill never left me. In fact, the bloodlust grew. It's embedded inside of me, urging me to do whatever it takes to quench that thirst. I've killed more men and women than I can count. I don't give a fuck what they've done or haven't; I have my orders and I'll take them out. Jerry Houlihan is the reason I'm able to continue to kill without getting caught. The man has helped me find a way that works best—not only me, but Mav and Emmanuel too. I kill using the wood chipper. I think it's fitting. It’s the way I killed my father—even though it was an accident. It started me on my journey and because of that, I've kept to it. I've honed my skills as a killer. I'm a fucking myth among men and women in Ireland—hell, the fucking world. They've heard of the Eraser. They've all been told the tales. Most don't believe them to be true, some believe they're exaggerated. If only they knew the truth.

I'm even worse than they realize. I enjoy the scent of blood, I love the thrill of death, and I live for the screams of my victims as they feel the pain of the metal as it crushes their bodies. I may be a story they tell one another as a way to scare each other, but if they knew I was real, they'd fear for their lives, because I don't discriminate. I don't give a fuck who I kill as long as I kill them.

The day I killed my father, it changed the course of my life—not only mine; but Ma’s too. Being away from the beatings and the anger, I was able to thrive. I began working for Jer and earned money. That money was used to help Ma. She needed it. I got her into a recovery programme, and while she relapsed a few times, she’s over six years sober now. She’s no longer living in Dublin, but in Tramore, Waterford. She loves the slower pace and being by the sea. She’s happy and healthy.

I glance along the street, my gaze scanning the people around me. I'm always on edge, always alert. A man in my position can't take chances. While I'm known as the Eraser, it wouldn't take a genius to work out just who the Eraser is if people dug deep enough, and one day the truth will come out. My eyes narrow and my gut clenches as I spot Jessica Grace walking quickly, her head down, a duffle bag on her shoulder. She's changed out of the dress she wore to her ma's funeral. Now she's in pink leggings and an oversized hoodie. I keep my gaze on her, watching to see where she goes.

"You good?" Emmanuel asks as he steps beside me.

"Yep," I reply, not taking my gaze off of her. "You got what you need?"

"I do. Jer said you'd know the best way to get to Carlow without being seen."

I grin, noting Jessica entering the dance studio at the end of the street. "You need to get a car," I tell him. Emmanuel is newer than the rest of the guys who work for Jer, but he's quickly grown a name for himself. Emmanuel is known as the Silencer. Unlike me, who likes to get close to my prey, Emmanuel is the one who will shoot them without needing to be near them. He's a crack shot and has yet to be caught offing someone.

"You want me to steal a car?" he asks, dumbfounded.

My lips twitch. God, he’s so fucking green. "You're going to off someone," I say low. "But you draw the line at stealing a car?"

I hear his deep sigh. "That's not the point," he says thickly. He's from the north side of Dublin and has a thick accent. "It's easier to be seen stealing a car."

"Then call Jason and have him steal you one and leave it in a remote location. You can swing by later and get it."

"Thanks, man. Today's been a clusterfuck altogether."

He's been friends with Maverick since they were babies. His ma was best friends with Patricia Grace. Losing the woman was a blow to everyone involved, including Emmanuel, who was close to Patricia himself, but Jer has him working on this job.

"Let me know if you need anything," I tell him, but he shakes his head, pulling his cell from his pocket and turning away from me. The second he's out of sight, I make a beeline for the dance studio Jessica entered not long ago.

It doesn't take me long to find the room Jessica's in. I shouldn't be here. She's just lost her ma, just buried her today. She needs to grieve. And yet there's something about those deep green eyes of hers that pulled at something deep within me. The second our gazes collided at the church, I felt something within me shift, and I have no fucking idea what the hell it was.

I enter the dance room and stand against the door, watching her. She's dressed in her pink leggings and a matching sports bra. I shouldn't be watching. I shouldn't be staring. But fuck, I'm entranced. I've never seen anything so graceful in my life. Never felt I was in the presence of such innocence. The music is soft, and Jessica almost floats along the floor as she moves. She's not seen me yet. She's so engrossed in dancing that she hasn’t noticed I've entered the room.

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