Page 4 of It Will Always Be You
“How about you take a hint? Now, why are you plaguing my office today?” I snap, trying to get him off this insane crusade. Just because he’s got himself a ball and chain doesn’t mean I want or need one. Life as the heir to the Four Points is chaotic enough without throwing in a woman who expects me home in time for dinner and demands my undivided attention.
As he crosses his foot over his knee, his gaze grows serious as he ponders, “Any update from Senior?”
“No. He’s rejecting my calls again,” I grunt, distaste coating my tone. Seamus is one of the few I dare be so candid around. There’s no one I trust more than this bastard, all jokes and teasing aside.
He clicks his tongue, a thoughtful look on his face. “We’re going to have to do something about that. There’s unease amongst the ranks. No one has laid eyes on him in months.”
“I’m working on it,” I snap before changing the subject to more urgent matters. “Any more updates on Graham?”
“It’s suspiciously quiet down there. Word is, he’s getting married soon, so maybe that’s why they’ve been quiet. Though it does beg the question: how the hell are they keeping the cash flowing?” he muses, voicing my thoughts. Normally, Angus is the first to leap at any cash flow opportunity, but the last few drug and gun runs haven’t drawn any kind of response out of him. It makes me wonder if Da was rightin thinking there’s more than meets the eye going on with him.
“Keep your ear to the ground. Something’s not right with that fucker,” I mutter before my phone rings, cutting off his response. Unease sinks in. Brenda knows better than to interrupt me unless it’s urgent.
“Yes?” I clip, picking up on the second ring.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir. There’s someone on the line, a housekeeper? She says your father needs you—urgently.” Her rushed words send a jolt of dread through me. With a curse, I thank her and hang up, my jacket already half on as I gather my things.
Seamus is hot on my heels as he asks, “What can I do?”
Meeting his dark gaze, I fill him in as we leave the office with little more than a barked command at Brenda to clear my schedule and hold my calls.
“Make sure this doesn’t leak. If anyone asks, I had an urgent appointment I forgot about. If they keep pressing, make up an excuse that keeps the focus on me,” I instruct him as we make our way to the underground car park. With a clipped nod, he dips into his car as I get into mine. Letting out a breath to centre myself, I peel out of the car park, heading for Da’s house. Sheila, his housekeeper, wouldn’t call the office looking for me if it wasn’t urgent. He wouldn’t let her. That, coupled with his disappearing act lately, worries me. Who the hell knows what I’m about to walk into.
Pulling into his driveway, I abandon my car and have the front door open before Sheila can even move. She’s been our housekeeper since I was a kid. She is by no means a stranger to the violence and horrors that go hand in hand with being Irish mafia, so the frantic look in her eyes as she ushers me in has a rock wedging its way in my rib cage.
“He’s in his room,” she explains as she leads the way, only to stop outside his splintered doorway. Turning her hazel eyes on me, she places her hand on my arm. Motherly concern radiates from her as she warns me to brace myself. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I dip my chin and ease the door open.
Jonathan O’Neill Sr has always been a force to be reckoned with, but the man in front of me is a shadow of the man I idolised growing up. Gaunt, dishevelled, bed bound in the late afternoon—words I never thought I would use to describe the man who taught me how to dismember a body on my thirteenth birthday. His wheezing breaths have me freezing at the foot of his bed as he struggles to open his glazed eyes.
Frail is not a word I ever thought I’d use in conjunction with Da, but as I take him in, it’s the only word that comes to mind. Guilt slams into me. I should have demanded to see him before now. Whatever plagues him should never have gone unchecked for so long.
“Son? Is that you, Junior?” he rasps, eyes looking through me rather than at me.
“I’m here, Da. Why didn’t you tell me things weren’t going so well? Let me phone Doc.” Before I can pull my phone out, he’s already shaking his head, his hands trembling.
“No. The men can’t know. They’d oust me. We can’t risk it, not now. Not with Angus spiralling out of control. We can’t let that son of a bitch know. He’d use it to his advantage. Bastard is already up to no good,” he spits.
“Trust me, okay?” I plead. The thought of letting whatever’s wrong with him go unchecked a moment longer has me grinding my teeth. No fucking way am I risking his health over his pride. Rather than answering me, he just rests his head back against the pillows and lets sleep pull him under. Slipping out of the room, I catch Sheila’s eye, indicating for her to follow me further down the hall.
“What the hell is going on?!” I demand in a hushed whisper.
“He barricaded himself in his room a few weeks ago, but he accepted his meals and left the trays outside his door. I just assumed he was attending to urgent business and didn’t want to be disturbed. Then, this morning, I knocked but got no answer. When I came back up to collect the tray, it hadn’t been touched, so I tried again. Still no answer. That’s when I forced my way in,” she confesses, heat risingto her cheeks as she explains why the door to his room is damaged, though that’s the least of my concerns.
“Your niece is a nurse, isn’t she?” I frown, mentally flicking through our limited options. Normally, everything medical is dealt with by Doc, and then we go from there, but news of us calling him will travel through the ranks like wildfire.
“Yes…but only just. This might be a bit complex for her. She only graduated last year,” she rushes to explain, but I’ve already made up my mind. This is the way we’ll get him outside help without alerting the masses.
“Then get her to bring a doctor she trusts. They’ll be heavily compensated for their time.” As I raise an eyebrow at her, she catches my drift and scampers down the hall to make her call. Slumping against the wall, I let out a sigh before pulling my phone out.
Time to call in reinforcements.
Chapter 4
“Run that by me again, this time like I’m some pimple faced teenager fresh from St Theresa’s,” Ciaran drawls, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees. His slightly less psychotic but way more neurotic twin, Brennan, hovers behind the sofa, looking equal parts confused and intrigued.
“Jesus Christ. Did you hit your head? What’s so fucking hard to understand? It’s the same shit we’ve been doing, just to a higher degree. Johnny needs our help picking up the slack while Senior’s busy. If we can find out what the hell Graham is up to at the same time? Even better.” Seamus’ blind trust is both a curse and a blessing. There are days the weight of it threatens to pull me under, but then the next day, it’ll have me feeling higher than an addict after their latest fix. Responsibility may be my birthright as much as the Four Points empire, but that doesn’t make it a comfortable skin to wear.
“Where the hell will Senior be while we run the show?” Bren drawls, eyes narrowed in on me. Fucker always was too suspicions for his own good. Or, inthis case,myown good.
