Page 54 of Bittersweet Revenge
Rory came home before I left because Michael Jensen has a full day of classes, so we figured there’s not too much damage he can do in the middle of the daytime when he’s busy there.
It’s important we do our best to act normal. Even though the rules everyone else has to live by aren’t the same for us, we don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves right now. We have connections, of course. Dirty cops and politicians who keep shit from coming our way, but we all have to play our part.
Dean is going to be a problem this weekend. I shouldn’t be keeping him at our house. Really, he has no business being there, but I want him, and I’m not good at not having what I want.
The problem is he’s smart and pays attention. He won’t like being pushed on Cil Saturday night. I don’t know if it’s likely the cops will talk to him after the fight, but I want him to have an alibi. I want to protect the cocky motherfucker, which is a wild thought. Him being out with Cillian, though, is a message to anyone who wants to fuck with him—cops included—that Dean is connected.
When class is out, I return to the house. It’s empty when I get there, and before I do anything else, I text Aislin.
Me: All good?
Aislin: Yes, my babysitter hasn’t left my side, though I’m sure my professors don’t like it.
Me: The benefit of being us is that they don’t have to like it, they just have to accept it. Let me know if he gives you any shit about coming back to the house.
Aislin: You really like him, don’t you?
I do. Clearly, I fucking do, and I don’t like that. I’m also not getting into it with her right now, or you know, ever.
Me: Bad connection. Can’t talk.
Aislin: We’re not talking, asshole.
I laugh and ignore her, going to my contacts and pressing Conan’s name. He won’t answer if he’s not alone. I know why he’s so good to me, though I’d never bring it up to him. He works for my father, he’s a loyal soldier and would do anything for the O’Shea family, but he’s also in love with my mother. It took me a long time to figure it out, but I see the way he watches her, the way his body stiffens when my father treats her like shit. He’s different from the others—still ruthless as fuck, of course, and he does what needs to be done, but he doesn’t fuck the same way others do, and he’s never married like my father or Uncle Rian.
Cil’s mom died when we were thirteen, and though Uncle Rian has never gotten serious about anyone else, even he hooks up. Not Conan, though. I would assume he does occasionally, but if he does, no one knows about it. I remember once when my father taunted him with the whores at my family’s club. A lot of our money-laundering activities go through the club. My father made this woman strip and grind against Conan, but he never touched her. My father likes to put people in situations that make them uncomfortable. He’s done it to me too many times to count. But when it comes to Conan, I think he loves me and Aislin so much because he loves our mom, which is more than I can say for my father.
“Hey, kid,” he answers. “Everything good?”
“Yeah. You got a minute?”
“Always.”
I smile, wondering what it would feel like to have my father speak to me this way, but thankful that I have it from Conan.
“I’m not sharing all the details, but we’re taking someone out. I need it to fly under the radar.”
“So…he’s gonna disappear?”
“Exactly. He comes from money, so some heat could come down on us, but I’m hoping that won’t be the case. Can you keep an ear to the ground for me?” Conan’s father was a cop. He’s retired now and disowned Conan a long fucking time ago—before I was born—because he’s been nothing but trouble since he was a teenager. He was drawn to power, and not the kind you get being one of Boston’s finest; the kind organized crime could get you. Our family is his family because he lost his, but those connections we have, the dirty cops working with us, all that shit goes through Conan.
“Yeah, you got it. You want me to come help? If I need to get away, I will.”
“We’re killing him. This is personal.” Conan is a lot of things, but I don’t think he would like me allowing Aislin to be there. “I’m using the Pit Stop.” It’s a house about an hour away, between Ashford and Boston, owned by our family. The tracks are well covered on most of our properties, so they can be used as hideouts, safe houses, or places to torture and kill. “Can I call you afterward and you can make him disappear?”
“Yes. Done. I gotta go.” The call ends, telling me someone must have come around who couldn’t hear what we were talking about, or who he was talking to. A better man than me wouldn’t get Conan in these situations. My father would kill him if he found out, but I’ve never claimed to be a good man.
I check in with my father next, pretending everything is business as usual. His call is quick because apparently there’s a problem at the docks, where the drugs we push come in.
There are a million things I should be doing right now, but instead, I go upstairs, pick upThe Count, and lie in bed, enjoying a few moments of peace.
The security camera app on my phone alerts me when Aislin and Dean get home, and I watch them as she unlocks the door. They’re speaking, and when Dean laughs at something she says, jealousy gnaws at me again. It’s so fucked up, but I don’t care. I like that I want to possess him, that he feels like he belongs to me—one of the few choices I’ve ever had.
When I hear footsteps on the stairs, I set my phone down and pick up the book again. My lips automatically try to curl into a smile when there’s a knock at my bedroom door, but I don’t allow myself to do that. “Come in.”
Dean opens the door with two bags in his hand.
I feign surprise. “Oh, you’re back.”
