Page 11 of Bozo

"Done for me?" I interrupt, my voice rising. "You mean dragging me into your illegal schemes? Using me to fuel your gambling addiction? Yeah, thanks a lot, Dad."

His face contorts with rage, and for a moment, I think he might hit me. But then he just shakes his head, disgust clear in his eyes. “Unless you want Lorcan to come after us. After all, we owe him twenty grand.”

I bite back a curse. Fucking Dad. He’s so fucking useless. He’s leveled up from Blackjack to playing poker. Something he knows I’m good at. I learned by watching the games while he was gambling our money away. I actually watched good players play, learning their tells and how to play the game the right way.

The games are run by an organization called Na Cártaí Dubha, which means The Black Cards in English. Lorcan Black runs the organization and does so with an iron fist. No one messes with his games. If they do, they’ll pay the price.

"The fuck have you done?" I hiss. "Seriously? What the fuck are you playing at?"

Dad's face twists into a sneer. "Watch your mouth, boy. I did what I had to do to keep us afloat. You think it's easy to provide for this family?"

"Providing?" I scoff. "You mean gambling away every cent we have and then some? Christ, Dad, twenty grand to Lorcan Black? Do you have a death wish? And you didn’t provide jack shit for this family. That’s me. I’m the one who’s ensuring that we have a roof over our heads. I’m the one who’s earning the money. Not you."

"Semantics," Dad mutters, not meeting my eyes. "I know what the fuck I’m doing. I just hit a bit of bad luck."

I run my hands through my hair, fighting the urge to scream. "Bad luck? Dad, there’s no fucking way you’ve lost twenty grand playing just poker." He’s stupid, fucking useless, but he’s not that fucking bad. “What else?”

"Blackjack,” he grunts. “We’ll get that money back."

“We?” I hiss. “I’m not doing shit. You’re the idiot who got us into this mess.”

“You fucking are!” Dad roars, slamming his fist on the table. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Could've fooled me," I mutter.

Dad's eyes flash dangerously. "You watch yourself, boy. I'm still your father."

"Yeah? Then start acting like it!" I shout back. "A real father wouldn't put his family in danger like this. A real father wouldn't send an abused girl back to her tormentor. A real father?—"

The punch comes out of nowhere, the sound echoing in the small kitchen. My cheek stings, and I taste blood where my teeth cut into my lip.

"That's enough," Dad growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know the first thing about being a man, let alone a father. Now, you're going to help me get this money, or so help me God, I'll tell Lorcan exactly who's been helping me count cards all these years. How do you think he'd feel about that, huh? You’ve taken a good bit from his casino."

I stare at him, my blood running cold. He wouldn't. He couldn't. But the look in his eyes tells me he absolutely would. If he spills to Lorcan, there’s no fucking way either of us would survive the night.

"You're bluffing," I say, but my voice wavers.

Dad smirks, knowing he's got me. "Want to test that theory? Go ahead, call my bluff. See what happens to you. To your precious Gráinne."

At the mention of Grá's name, something inside me snaps. Before I know what I'm doing, I've got Dad by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

"You leave her out of this," I snarl. "You hear me? You so much as breathe her name again, and I'll?—"

"You'll what?" Dad challenges, his breath hot on my face. "Kill me? Go ahead. See how far that gets you with Lorcan."

I release him, stepping back. My hands are shaking. I clench them into fists to stop the trembling.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "I'll help you, but fuck, you’re no longer blood.”

He grins, and it’s triumphant and sadistic. “Never thought of you as such anyway,” he grunts. “Fucking freak.”

I’ll kill him. If he dares touch Gráinne, or even set into motion something happening to her, I’m going to kill him.

FIVE

BOZO

Nine Years Ago

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