Page 100 of Líadan's Code

“Yes,” she says, waiting until I have my clothes situated again. Opening the door, she continues to speak as we walk into the hallway and she pulls her dark locks up into a high bun to get her hair out of the way.

“Did you see all the pretty toys Rory brought for us?”

That’s one way to look at it.

He strung each member of the family that we invited up, none of them knowing what’s coming for them as they struggled. I immediately notice the hooks are perfectly level for the project as well.

I wonder if he’s done this sort of thing before, because he’s never seemed to be the squeamish type. As a mafia man, I know parts of his business aren’t legal with the kind of top bids that he pulls from the city.

His sons helped him string them up, since Mickey is still clearing out the warehouse for us. He didn’t mention there being any kids there though, and Joe hasn’t reached out about how things are going with the retrieval of Trila O’Malley.

A long table filled with construction tools that can be used for torture are only some of the items he brought us. A few of the things I saw were a jack hammer, bolt cutter, band saw, drill, hammers, and nails. Electrical stun poles, pliers, and sturdy metal poles do nothing to calm down my erection as we walk back into the room.

“Mickey said that he found something,” Rory says, brows turned down in a way that makes me frown.

“Fuck, goddamn it, it’s kids, isn’t it?” I groan, surprising him.

“How did you know?” he asks.

“I just got a text message saying that I may need to look at the possibility that the menageries and auctions may cater toward people who buy children,” I sigh. “You just confirmed it. Thank Mickey for me. Ah, this may be a bit bloodier.”

“Eh, go for it. We can blame another fire if necessary. I’m not even worried about the insurance money, though between my sons and I, we can make it look like an electrical fire later in the night,” he says with a shrug. “Go wild.”

“Any word on Trila?” I ask softly. Rory has been the point man for Mickey and Joe, so I may as well ask.

“He’s on his way here with her,” he grunts. “May as well knock them out like pins.”

Nodding, Lía turns to face the ten men and women who are hanging in front of her.

“You are the worst scum of the earth,” she says, raising her voice as she comes closer. There’s a brand I asked Rory to bring in, one where Lía can change out the letters to say whatever she wants.

Shrugging off her sweater, she lays it over a chair, away from any possible blood splatter. Her scarf and mittens are next, she pulls a pair of latex gloves and booties for her shoes from the boxes on the table. There’s also a clear raincoat, which Lía shrugs on for the sake of her clothing. Rory really is the perfect host.

“Why are you doing this,” Ciara asks, eyes wide as she watches her. “We aren’t doing anything to you. Our little hobbies don’t hurt you.”

“You don’t remember my seventeenth birthday?” Lía asks, looking over the room. Shane O’Brien pales as her eyes land on him. “Daddy threw a big party and Shane won the honor of taking my virginity. Was I that unmemorable? I can fix that.”

Finger running over the lighter weight jack hammer longingly, she sighs.

“Can I help?” Nathan asks, pushing off the wall to walk over. Lía doesn’t usually need help, but new toys mean proper instruction on how to use it.

“Can I get a crash course on how to use it?” she asks.

“Yep, this model is light enough for you to lift it, and I can plug it in for you,” he says. “Here is where you turn it on, lean your weight down on the surface you want to hammer, and then let her go.”

“Thanks,” she says with a happy smile.

Nathan gives her a stern look, handing her safety glasses. “You’ll only look silly for a little while, and they’re meeting the devil soon enough,” he says.

Lía doesn’t say a word about how she doesn’t care what people think of her, but takes the glasses and puts them on. She looks beautiful in them, and I watch as she lifts the jack hammer with a slight grunt, moving it over to where she wants.

“I see you remember me, Shane,” she croons. “I couldn’t remember faces or names because I blocked them all out, but Daddy kept fantastic records. You had a son as well, right? Brendan, I think I may need Shane moved a bit. Can you help?”

“You got it,” I murmur, moving to help her as I ignore the cry of outrage as Shane glances at his son who looks on in horror.

“You want him laid out on the ground, Lía?”

“Yes, please,” she says, moving back to view the room. “Oh, these eye plates are perfectly placed, Rory.”

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