Page 53 of The Chief
She turned her sleepy smile to me. “I am. It might be short-lived, but I am happy.”
“Good.”
She opened her mouth to say something more but was interrupted by a quick rap on the door. Molly pulled it open, and from over her shoulder I could see her mother. Nora had changed into a short dress that would do nothing to ward off the chill of the evening. Her hair was unbound, and her make-up was smoky and overdone.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Molly asked, “What’s going on? It’s late.”
“A regular,” her mum replied. “I have to go. Might not see you before you leave in the morning.”
From the set of Molly’s shoulders, I could see that she didn’t like this information. “What about Orla?”
“She’s used to taking care of herself,” Nora replied. “I have to go, baby, but it was so good to see you. You too, Keir,” she added.
“Nice to meet you too, Nora.” I pasted on a smile that hid my true feelings for this woman who was choosing a fuck overher daughter, who had appeared after god knew how many years away.
Molly shut the door with a decisive click, her head bowing for a second before she turned to face me. A single tear streaked down her face, which she wiped away, then her expression shifted to indifference a moment later.
“Jynx—”
“Leave it, Keir,” she snapped. “It’s not your business.”
The muscle in my jaw clenched. The fuck it wasn’t my business. “I take it by your reaction, this isn’t new.”
“No, it’s not new,” she replied in a hollow voice, moving to the other side of the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress. “My mam worked the streets when my stepfather was around too. He pimped her out. Even after Orla was born, she was expected to be back out there making money for him.”
That fucking piece of shit. “Where is the bastard now?”
She stared at me, her eyes devoid of any feeling. “He’s dead.”
Her words echoed around me; the confession settling into my bones with startling finality.
“Were you the one to kill him, Jynx?” I asked without a hint of disapproval—just pure curiosity—because everything about this woman fascinated me.
Molly fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, avoiding answering my question.
“My little murderess,” I laughed with a huff.
We weren’t too different after all. When I’d called Gael earlier, it was to do some digging about a break-and-enter gone wrong, in which a man had ended up beaten to death. Gael had told me he remembered that case. The daughter had fled, which implied her guilt. A daughter named Caitria.
“He had it coming,” she murmured. Then, as she lifted her eyes to my face, I saw the hatred she still bore for the man whose life she took. “He deserved his fate.”
“No doubt he did.” Stretching out on the bed, I rested my hands behind my head and crossed my legs at the ankle. “Tell me everything.”
The whole time I was getting settled, she stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “You don’t think I’m a terrible person for killing him?”
I snorted. “Why would I? Since I’ve killed more people than I can count. Do you think any different of me?”
“No. But you’re a clan member, it’s expected.”
I shrugged. “Did you enjoy killing him?”
She blinked, considering my question. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, I don’t enjoy killing either. It’s a necessary evil in my line of work.”
“This wasn’t in the line of work, though. It was me meting out justice.”
“What did he do to you?”
