Page 81 of Vengeful Secret

“Shaun O’Brien. Gabe Bryne.”

“None of your cousins?” I narrow my eyes. “No Murphys?”

“Gabe is my cousin,” he says quickly, clearly not wanting to upset me. “But Shaun’s a new clan member from South Beach.”

I think about it for a moment.

He could be lying to me, but he’s still sweating and trembling from how I hurt him only slightly.

Murphy hires some real pussies.

“If you’re lying to me—” I warn, and he holds his tied hands up.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he says breathlessly. “I’m at your mercy.”

His lip trembles. “I don’t wanna die.”

If he thinks he’s appealing to something in me, he’s wrong. The Murphys aren’t people. They’re all snakes, and I want them eradicated from my city.

“Should have thought of that before you took a job stalking my girl. A single mother.” My voice gets lower, and I approach him, putting my hands on his shoulders as he sobs low in his throat.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her again. Murphy said we couldn’t lay a hand on them, just to get them in the car and take them to him.”

“Take them where?”

Darragh looks up at me with swimming, terrified eyes. “Warehouse on fifth. Big one, right behind the?—”

“The deli.”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, that‘s the one.”

“Gabe and Shaun—what are their orders?”

“Gabe is supposed to watch Paige, the younger one. Supposed to watch out for Sullivan. Shaun is supposed to keep an eye on Bree and Lara, but with orders not to take Bree.”

I tilt my head, confused.

I would have thought Murphy might want his daughter most of all, but I guess she’s been disowned at this point.

“Where are they now?”

He shrugs. “I-I don’t know. Hotels, probably.”

I sigh. “Darragh. Which ones?”

I squeeze his shoulders until he winces.

“Not the fancy ones. No Ritz or Four Seasons. Motels. Shitty roach motels.”

I nod slowly. “What else can you tell me about Murphy? About his plans?”

He looks at me almost mournfully. “All I know is that he’s declared an all-out war on the Burkes. He wants scorched earth.”

“He’ll get it,” I say in a soft voice before I put my hands around Darragh’s neck and squeeze, popping his windpipe like a balloon as his legs uselessly kick out and he writhes around.

It takes longer than I would have thought. Figured he’d give up after a bit, but it’s a good ten, fifteen minutes before he finally stills, the life going out of him.

I don’t feel guilty when I kill, because it‘s always someone who deserves it, but it's distasteful.

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