Page 50 of My Irish Mafia King

The man beside Killian snaps, “Fuck, Killian.”

“What?”

“Frank’s coming… with backup.”

I try not to show any fear, but it’s difficult with the gun pressed against me, with the tension in Owen’s body. I can sense how badly he wants to pull the trigger.

“I knew you were up to something,” Frank says, voice slurred, out of view beyond the doorway.

Killian keeps his gun trained on Owen, but he turns his head. “Stay out of this, Frank.”

“Frank,” Owen calls. “Your nephew knows. The bitch tricked me.”

“He knows?” Franks says, confused.

“Heknows, Frank,” Owen grits out pointedly.

“Wait… Uncle Frank, you’reinon this?”

“We’re not having a fucking shootout here,” Frank bellows. “Are you insane? That’ll mean the Feds for all of us.”

“I’m not letting Owen leave after what he just confessed.”

“Then I hope you’re okay picking a bullet out of this bitch’s brains,” Owen snaps. “How many years do you think I’ve got left, young prince? Five? Ten? I’ll gladly end my time prematurely if that’s what it takes to finally show you how helpless you are.”

Killian grinds his teeth. The man beside him – I think his name is Colm if I’m remembering correctly – quietly says, “Shit, Killian, I hate to say it, but Frank’s got a point. A shootout here won’t help anybody. We need to fight another day.”

“Put the gun down, Owen,” Killian snarls.

“What’s stopping you from shooting me if I do that? I’ll have my driver pull a car up. Frank will keep his gun on you. I’ll keep the woman close by until the last moment.”

“It’s okay,” I tell Killian. “Do what you need to do.”

“I mean it,” Owen snaps, pressing the gun harder into my temple. “I’ll end it right here.”

“Fuck.” Killian glares. “Pull the car up, Frank.”

For the next few minutes, everything is on a knife-edge.

“So much for needing a walking stick,” Colm mutters as Owen walks out of the room, using me as a human shield. He takes me out a side entrance, then, right before darting into a car with Frank, I shove Owen, breaking his hold on me.

Killian catches me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight as the car screeches away. I try to stay strong, to keep my shield up, but the moment I feel his arms around me, I break down into a torrent of tears.

“It’s okay,” Killian whispers, kissing the top of my head. “You did well,a stór. You played him perfectly.”

Twenty

KILLIAN

For two days, I sleep maybe three or four hours as Colm and I search the city for Frank and Owen. I have Ronan moved to a private medical facility, and I put guards on my penthouse twenty-four hours a day. I also release the audio of Owen admitting to what he did to my grandfather, my father, to the entire goddamn Family.

Toward the end of the second day, Colm and I sit outside my apartment, light snow falling. “We’ll find them,” Colm says with certainty. “They can’t hide forever, and after that recording, almost everyone is on our side.”

I sigh darkly. “You’re right.”

“You need some rest, brother. You’re running on fumes. We both are.”

I look up at the penthouse.

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