Message fucking received, old man. I, his son and VP of our club, would be kept in the dark. He was choosing some random girl over his own son. He told club secrets to a non-member, and he had the balls to be pissed at me for going against his order? The only people who knew about our crusade against the skin trade were sworn and patched-in members of Los Cuervos, and even then, not all of them knew. It was strictly need to know, and some of our brothers didn’t need to know.
I tried to trust that Duke knew what he was doing by bringing this wildcard into the fold, but fuck was it hard. He knew that not having all the information would kill me, leaving me unsettled and ill at ease until I knew all the facts. My main function in the club was to procure information, and he was deliberately leaving me out of the loop. I hoped he knew what he was doing because the fate of our family, our brotherhood, and countless people we’d yet to save from being trafficked now rested on the small, scarred shoulders of the girl who had wormed her way into the heart of who we were. I hoped the risk was worth it.
Chapter 16
Indigo
“That’s a really nice story, President Duke…except for what happened to Maria. That part was sad. I’m just not sure why you’re telling me all this.” Duke slowly placed his hand on mine, his somber eyes offering understanding without a trace of pity.
“I’m sharing our family’s story with you because I’m thinkin’ that maybe you might understand it better than most. I’m hoping you might feel comfortable enough to share some of your own story with us. Who knows, maybe we could help each other?”
I licked my lips, suddenly feeling nervous. I glanced at Bones. “Who can hear us right now? Is this being recorded?”
Bones shook his head. “Cricket is playing a live feed for Priest, but it isn’t being recorded. We three can hear you, but no one else can.”
I bit my lip and considered once again if confiding in the Crows, even if only in part, was wise. My gut told me that Duke wouldn’t sell me out. Knowing that they were actively working to help people who neededhelp the most, people who had been hurt and used in some of the ways I had been hurt and used, reassured me that trusting them wasn’t the worst thing I could do. Maybe. It definitely couldn’t be worse than getting bangs, which was a universal cry for help that no one could ignore. I just needed one more reassurance.
“I’ll tell you some of my story, the parts that will probably matter to you anyway. I can’t tell you everything, but you’ll get the gist. I just need you to pinky promise me something first, President Duke.” Duke tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed, and nodded in understanding. He waited patiently for me to elaborate. I made grabby hands toward his flask, which he handed over so I could take another shot of whiskey. “I…” I huffed out a breath and passed his flask back. “I need you to swear that after I tell you, you won’t try to use me as a bargaining chip against the family. I need to know I’m my own woman, no matter what. I’ve had every choice that ever mattered taken away from me by one tyrant. I absolutely refuse to live that life again.”
Seconds ticked by as Duke and Bones regarded me, and I stared into the blue depths of Duke’s eyes. Images of Priest’s tortured ones flashed through my mind, and I shoved them away. I wasn’t in the mood to unpack what had happened in the confessional yet. Silently, Duke put his elbow on the conference table and extended his pinky in my direction. I linked mine with his. “I swear,” Duke’s voice rumbled, “on the grave of my mother that Los Cuervos will not use you against your will.” Bones nodded at me in agreement and as a witness to this most solemn vow. Everyone knew you couldn’t break a pinky promise. I licked my lips nervously, praying to Bob that I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.
“Long story short, I was raised to be two things: a tool for the Callahan family and Roark Callahan’s personal stress toy. Uncle Roark wants me back so he can continue to play his games.” I didn’t want to go into unnecessary details. Duke wasn’t looking for a sob story. Duke’s eyes widened, and Bones let out a low whistle. “I take it you’ve heard of the Callahans?”
Bones chuckled, and Duke replied dryly, “We may be on opposite ends of the country, but yeah, we’ve heard of the most powerful family in the Irish mob. Roark is known as the Beast of Boston, isn’t he?”
I nodded and averted my eyes, but Duke and Bones kept staring at me like they were waiting for me to elaborate, which sounded about as fun as slamming my hand in Sheila’s door. So, I cleared my throat and said, “Um, I guess I’ll open the floor to questions.”
“You call him Uncle Roark, chica loca. Are you related to the Callahan family?” Bones asked.
“I don’t know who my parents are. My earliest memories are of being kept in the basement. I called him Uncle Roark because he told me to call him that, and I wasn’t really in a position to argue.” I shrugged. “As far as I’m aware, there’s no relation.”
“You said you were a tool for them. What does that mean, exactly?” Duke questioned.
“A tool,” I repeated with a shrug, “a weapon. A plaything.”
“What would you do as their weapon?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but where I come from, weapons are used to inflict harm.”
“Right,” Duke argued, “a pistol is a weapon and so is a hydrogen bomb. I wouldn’t use a nuke on someone who owed me money, and I wouldn’t use a pistol to enforce peace on a global scale. Every weapon has a place and purpose, so how’s about you stop beating around the bush and just spit it out.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I killed for them. They took me where I needed to go, and let me do my thing. It was a game for Uncle Roark, but I was an asset for the family because I was good at my job and was expendable. If I died, no one would miss me or look for me. They also owned me, so it’s not like they had to pay me for my services. Other than Seamus Callahan, Uncle Roark, and the guards on Roark’s estate, I don’t think anyone else knew I existed.”
Duke sat back in his chair, stretching out his long legs and giving me an appraising look.
“Now, don’t take this the wrong way, darlin’, because I’ve seen you whoop some ass…but all this seems like it may be blown out of proportion.” I raised my sassy Scarlett O’Hara eyebrow at Duke. I opened my mouth to tell him where he could shove his proportion, but he held his hands up before I could and quickly explained. “Assassins ain’t hard to come by is all I’m sayin’. A family like the Callahans or, hell, any mob family will have several fixers and mercs on the payroll. They can even go outside their organization if they want to clean house. You’re sayin’ they’re putting time, resources, and effort into hunting you when they could hire other killers and find some other poor soul to abuse. Why do they want you, specifically, so bad?”
I rolled my eyes. Fucking men. “Thank you, milord Duke, for mansplaining murder for hire within the mob to me. I guess there isn’t anything for me to worry about, after all. Gosh, what a load off my poor little shoulders.”
I guess my sass wasn’t as cute as it usually was when aimed in Duke’s direction because his eyes did that thing that Priest’s did when I annoyed him. They squinted a bit, and their eyebrows pulled toward each other, and the inner edges shifted downward toward the bridge of their noses.The family resemblance was strong, even if Priest wasn’t rockin’ Duke’s silvery locks. I’d gotten this glare from Priest numerous times, but it was the first time Duke’s used it in my direction. I heave a deep, dramatic sigh and throw my hands up.
“I don’t know, man! I can’t think of any specific reason Seamus would be hunting for me unless it was for his brother’s sake. Uncle Roark, on the other hand…”
“You took away one of his toys, and he wants it back?” Bones supplied.
I snorted a laugh. “If you’ve heard of the Beast of Boston, you know he doesn’t lack for playthings. I wasn’t just a toy. I was his mostfavoritetoy ever. He manipulated and abused me for years…allowed others to hurt me. Seamus may only see me as a valuable, if ultimately replaceable, tool to use. Uncle Roark wants me back, bad. And I’m afraid of what he’ll do to get me. If he does get me…” I shuddered and didn’t even bother trying to hide it. I licked my lips, tasting traces of the whiskey there, and took a deep breath.
Ever since I woke up in the confessional, some of the ghosts that lived in the crawlspace of my mind had been rattling their chains and banging on the door to be let out. Those assholes really knew how to make a racket. The house in my mind, the one I used to hide in when reality got to be too much, shook on its foundation as what was buried below threatened to break free and shatter the funhouse mirror my jaggedpieces now resembled. I worked too hard, for too long, to learn how to keep the darkness below my feet instead of consuming me. One conversation was all it took for the fuckers to start a metaphorical mosh pit and threaten to undo all of my Audrey Hepburn-like poise and stability. We couldn’t have that. I physically held myself together, wrapping my arms around my middle in case I failed and everything came exploding out of me. My phantoms were strong. Who knows, maybe they could actually do it.
