Page 46 of Twisted Princess

Chatting up the bartender, Lev texts. Looks like we’ll be here awhile. I’ve got fish ’n chips on the way.

Cheeky git. I snort, my shoulders relaxing minutely. I text him back, telling him I’m moving the car closer. Then, when Vinny leaves, we’ll have an easier time following him regardless of how far he’s going.

I pull the Escalade into the alley behind Fitzpatrick’s, and I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Early in the Irishman’s afternoon bender, Lev updates me with the fact that three friends join them—Irishmen as well, by the sound of their accents. Eventually, they adjourn into a private room upstairs.

By the time they come back down, the sun has set. And it sounds like they’re ready for a good time. Lev gives me a twenty-second warning to be out front, and I pull into traffic, flipping off the man behind me, who blasts his horn at my intrusion.

I stop abruptly behind the car that stops to pick up Vinny and his friends—all of who look decently blitzed and like they might have been freebasing cocaine. The passenger door flies open as I keep my eyes locked on the scene before me, and Lev slips inside.

“They’re heading to one of the guy’s houses, it sounds like,” Lev says as I ease back into traffic this time, keeping one car ahead of us as I follow the black Lincoln.

“Perfect.” A house is private—no unnecessary witnesses to see what I intend to do to Vinny.

Within minutes, we’re out of the denser city traffic as we hit the posh neighborhood of Brookline. So whoever’s house they’re going to, it’s no grunt in the Kelly hierarchy. It might even be Vinny’s house.

When the car pulls up onto the driveway of a colonial-style house, Lev and I keep rolling. We drive around the block, giving the guys time to settle in before we kill the headlights and pull up right outside.

“You ready?” I ask as we open the trunk of the Escalade.

Lev nods, and together, we hoist Miko’s hulking form out of the back and onto Lev’s shoulder.

“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Lev grunts, staggering.

“You don’t have far to carry him.” Pulling my knives out, I flick them open, leading the way to the front door.

And while I’m usually all about getting in and out before anyone notices, tonight, this is about delivering a message. So when I reach the front door, I don’t hesitate.

I slam my foot against the joint just below the bolt. Wood snaps, and the door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it.

“The fuck!” one of Vinny’s friends yells as I stride in first, Lev two steps behind me.

They’re all around a fine glass coffee table, and for the second time in a matter of hours, Miko lands flat on his back across the white powder-coated surface, shattering it.

With a flick of my wrist, I cut the cords keeping the tarp wrapping closed, and my brother’s pale, lifeless face comes into view. I grind my teeth, ignoring the unpleasant feelings that threaten to rise inside me.

And I point my knife at Vinny. “You fucking come after me or Mel again, and this will be you next time,” I state flatly. “You hear me, mudak?”

Vinny’s eyes are locked on the gaping red smile in Miko’s throat, his expression seeming to be stuck somewhere between confusion and disbelief. But when his eyes flick up to meet mine, they’re cold and filled with malice.

“You’ll pay for that,” he says. And he signals his three friends to take me.

“You really think that’s a good plan?” I taunt as Lev settles into a fighting stance behind me.

Revved up on coke, Vinny’s men don’t really seem interested in the logic of their decision. They come at me all at once, bare-fisted and snarling. And because the more men I kill, the less likely Keoghan will be to let this go, I use the blunt end of my knives on them.

Two are out cold before they even know what hit them. And when the third realizes his mistake and turns to run, Lev sweeps his feet out from under him. Then he pulls him into a chokehold until the man passes out from lack of oxygen.

The fight’s over before it’s even really begun. And Vinny’s expression now is far less confident.

“I’ll only repeat this once. And the next time you piss me off, I won’t be so nice,” I warn. “Mel is mine. I fucking won, asshole, because she married me. So, if you want to live, you’ll back the fuck off.”

Vinny scrambles backward as I stalk closer, but he’s not getting away. Grasping his tie, I yank him forward until I’m right up in his face.

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