Page 43 of Líadan's Code

The thoughts force me to concentrate on keeping my face blank because the idea of it is really fucking funny.

“Mr. O’Brien doesn’t like to get his hands dirty,” he says, folding his arms over his wide chest. “He wanted to make sure to remind you to keep your hands off his daughter.”

Oh well this is fun.

“My hands are on my computer and nowhere else,” I state. I don’t know what Bruin does or doesn’t know, and I’m not going to mouth off about things that could hurt her. I’ll keep her secrets, even if I don’t understand all of the implications.

“With a cunt so tight, I highly doubt it,” he snarls. I’m barely able to process the words before he punches me so hard my chair begins to flip over. “I’m not done yet!”

The roar echoes through the room as he catches the seat of the chair, yanking me back onto all four legs.

“Líadan is being trained to take over, which means difficult lessons need to be taught,” he continues.

“How do you know what her cunt feels like?” I snark. “As the precious daughter, why would the hired help have anything to do with her?”

I really hope I’m dealing with his delusions and not the truth right now. A part of me knows she’s been hurt, she’s said as much, though I don’t have the details.

“He sold her to me to teach her the way of this world, dickhead,” Bruin says, punching me in the face. “She whimpered and screamed so prettily. But shh, that’s a secret.”

Over and over, Bruin punches my torso until I’m gasping for air.

“You’re a goddamn monster,” I yell as Seán chooses that moment to walk inside.

“Yes, but he’s one of the best pet monsters a man can have,” he says. “Bruin was systematically made into what he is now, though with the help of a doctor. He doesn’t feel pain, isn’t scared of anything, and follows directions without question.”

This reminds me unsettlingly of the doctor who had a hold of Lennon for months, making me shiver. Fuck, the universe has a way of shitting on you in times you least expect it.

“Off you go now, boyo,” Seán says, making a shooing motion with his hands. “You have a man to torture, remember?”

Bruin’s eyes widen as he nods, and I realize he must be wired to follow all of his commands. That’s nifty… if you’re related to Frankenstein. Removing any kind of free will from a person isn’t something that I support.

The only thing I can find comfort in is the fact that the bastard who did this to Bruin isn’t around anymore to perform these experiments. There’s only one person I know who would be capable of it.

Bruin scurries off as fast as a man as large as he is capable of, and Seán folds his body into the other chair across from me as I turn to face him.

“Tell me about the information you’ve found so far,” he demands. “Who is most likely to be a problem for me, you think?”

“I don’t know your family the way you do,” I begin as I ease my laptop out of the computer bag. It was nice of Bruin to wait for me to put it down before using me as a punching bag. Fucking wonderful.

“But, my analysis of the situation and possible threats are these.”

Opening it up, I show him the spreadsheet I created. I got a business degree online so I could work while on the road. I took a minor in risks and balances because that’s what so much of the music industry is.

There are people who are wild, their music often finding inspiration while they’re high or doing incredibly stupid shit. Over time, I’ve found that I’m very adept at deciding who is worth taking the risk on and who to cut loose.

The exec board looks to me when it’s time to make those decisions, because my gut and mind are rarely wrong.

My scouting trips became less frequent when Layla was born and her father refused to stay tethered to one place, making it impossible for me to do anything else but step up to take care of her.

I don’t regret it for a moment. Helping to raise her has been one of my greatest joys. But now, I’m desperate to keep her away from this mess.

Explaining everything to Seán takes the better part of the next hour, and I can see him processing who is going to be the greatest threat amongst them all. The issue is that they all want to oust him out of power, or at least announce who his successor will be. The sharks are waiting for blood to hit the water, and everyone is getting antsy.

“You found all of this out with your spy shit skills?” he asks, waving his hand toward the laptop. “You figured out shit I’ve been trying to prove but didn’t have the evidence to.”

“Hacking into people’s video feeds, bank accounts, and private spaces will tell you a lot about them. I don’t do this unless I have a good reason to,” I explain. “The rest is just running an analysis to decide who has the most to lose and for what reasons.”

The look in his eyes tells me he’s trying to decide just how much he needs me, finally seeing my intelligence as an issue.

---