Page 67 of Líadan's Code

It was easier to hone my poker face that way.

Taking a deep, quiet breath, I begin walking to my room with Brendan and Jordan. The itching between my shoulder blades is beginning to increase, but I know there’s no one behind us. I checked.

“I’m covering you, Lía,” Brendan murmurs. Some people would think it’s odd that he’s having me go first. I prefer it. I want the first crack at whatever is on the other side of this door.

Pulling out my keycard, I notice the maid’s cart who is working in a room four doors down. It’s almost seven at night. They should be done by now. It’s definitely time to get the fuck out.

Handing the bags in my hand to Jordan, I ensure that my hands are free. Scanning the card, I push it open slowly, listening hard to see if anyone else is inside.

Dammit, I can’t fucking tell. Bending over as if I dropped something, I pull my blade from my boot, entering the room completely. A heavy body tackles me immediately, shoving me into the wall.

This man is built like a shit house, large and blocky. His cologne is non-existent, and he somehow smells like nothing. He’s also incredibly quiet as he thrashes me over and over into the wall, which explains why I didn’t hear the fucker.

The breath is knocked out of me, but thankfully I don’t need to breathe in order to kill someone.

Brendan follows me in, but gives me time to open my knife and shove it into the man’s side. If he’s going to treat me like a rag doll, I’m not going to waste time figuring out who he is or what he wants.

It’s obvious that he’s someone’s hired muscle. As soon as I have, Brendan pushes the man away from me, pulling his firearm as Jordan calmly follows us in and shuts the door behind us.

“Wait, could you not kill him? Good help is hard to find,” a woman says quickly from her chair by the window. She calls attention to herself, again showing how easily they managed to get into the room.

Sneering at her, I watch as Brendan makes her goon kneel at his feet with the gun trained on him. My breath is still not back completely, and I hate showing my cards as I force the air into my lungs. Fuck, this hurts.

“And you are?” Jordan asks fluidly, stepping up next to me in perfect sync, easily covering for me.

“Aine O’Clery,” she says. “I’m your aunt, Líadan.”

Finally able to breathe, I shake my head in denial as Jordan takes my knife to wash it off in the bathroom. It would suck if we left blood splatter everywhere, I guess.

“I don’t have an aunt,” I tell her. “Daddy had two brothers. No offense, but you’re not my aunt.”

“He met your mother in Ireland,” she says. “Your mother had three brothers and two sisters. I’m one of them. After he killed her, he cut off all communication with us.”

“Sounds like something he would do,” I mutter as Jordan comes back into the living room with a dry knife. Taking it back, I hold it loosely in my hand. I make sure to test the balance of all my blades, and this one is perfect to throw as well. It’s why I prefer them over guns. “Why are you in my hotel room? Your goon enjoyed tossing me around way too much.”

“I’ll be dealing with him later over that,” Aine growls. “Are you alright?”

“It’s not even close to the worst thing that’s happened this week to me,” I say with a shrug. I don't mention that I’m a bit dizzy, because I don’t make it a habit to tell someone my weaknesses.

“That’s kind of fucked,” she mutters. “You’re the new leader of your father’s empire. It’s filled with people who are dangerous, insane, and quite honestly, evil. Your grandfather wants to know what your plans are.”

“I have a grandfather?” I ask before shaking myself off the small pieces of information I’m being given. “I don't understand why he’s interested at all.”

“He is part of the Irish Mob,” Brendan says softly, dropping his hand to his side. “I didn’t really think it mattered at the time, but I heard bits and pieces about him when I was in Ireland during that summer of hell. The O’Clery was spoken about a few times. I didn’t meet him or anything, though.”

“So, this is legit?” I ask, reminding myself to breathe. Aine has bright red hair that’s back in a sleek bun. She doesn’t look like mom or myself at all, until I gaze at her eyes. They’re the same forest-green eyes I see every day in the mirror.

Holy shit, she’s for real. It would have been nice to be able to have a piece of my mother to remember, but it’s been too long, so I can’t recall much about her anymore. I don’t know what she smelled like, her favorite color, or anything else.

She’s this shadowy person, someone else who couldn’t stay around to protect me from my father.

“I have a feeling you have good instincts, Líadan. You’d know if I was full of shite. What do you think?” she asks.

“Tell my grandfather I’m burning my father’s organization to the ground. I don’t want to be involved in selling people, so those who do are as good as dead. Anyone who doesn’t come when I call is also dead,” I tell her. “They just don’t know it yet.”

“You’re a slip of a girl. How the hell are you going to accomplish all that?” Aine asks, making me roll my eyes.

“I see sexism manages to travel across the pond, too. I’m the Banshee, Auntie,” I say, grinning widely when her lips part in surprise. There’s no amusement, though. It’s more a bearing of teeth. I had this entire family that fucking left me with a monster.

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