1
LEGEND SWEENEY
Box jellyfish weren’tbeautiful creatures to most people, but they were to me.
The power behind their tentacles made them stunning, and if there was anything I—LegendfuckingSweeney, Irish-Australian mob boss—could appreciate, it was power. When someone thought about dangerous animals, they brought up lions or snakes, but never the jellyfish, which was a big old mistake because the ocean beauties were among the most venomous creatures in the world.
I stared at the huge aquarium in my office, big enough for a human to fit inside. I had five box jellyfish, their clear bodies almost invisible to the human eye—a trait that made them unintentionally dangerous. There were many different species of jellyfish that ranged in size, but these babies were one of the bigger type, with a body about a foot wide and tentacles that could grow as long as ten feet.
“Do you know what I love about my pets?” I murmured, mesmerized by the way the jellies bobbed gently in the tank, lazily swirled by a fake current.
There was a scuffle behind me, and a groan echoed around the otherwise quiet room. My brothers and a couple of our men watched, their attention trained on me while waiting for my next order, but I never killed a man before I gave a little speech aboutwhyhe was swimming with the fishes, or in this case, the jellyfishes.
“They seem harmless. Nothing but translucent bodies with tentacles that sway. Sweet as flowers bobbing in the wind.” I turned on my heel and stared at the man struggling on his knees. My younger brothers, Hero and Danger, held him in place, gripping each of his shoulders tightly. “But theyaredangerous, among the most venomous creatures on the planet.” I stepped forward, my shiny black shoes barely making a noise on the deep reddish-brown, jarrah floors.
Everything in my house cost me a lot of money. I wasn’t the type of bloke who liked his maids cleaning up blood, especially when the boards beneath my feet cost a fortune, since they were only available from Western Australia. The forest the wood came from was partially harvested each year, making it rare.
One of my alternative—and fun—ways to murder traitors was to use my jelly babies.
I stared at the man on his knees, his dirty blond hair drenched from being dunked into a large bucket of ice water until he couldn’t breathe. It was Hero’s beloved way of torturing someone for information. “Tell me what I want to know.”
Peter Salling’s head drooped, water dripping from the locks of his hair onto the floor. He slumped and my brothers heaved him up so he stayed on his knees. His face was paler than what it’d been when he’d first arrived at my home on Castle Hill, but I suspected it was from the hours of being half drowned in icy water. “I.... I’m sorry, Boss.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. He wasn’t the first to apologize after he’d been caught. “I’ve heard that before.” I strode closer to him and crouched. Hooking a finger under his chin, I lifted it so I could stare into his regretful brown eyes. His nose was bloody and bruises marred the skin on his cheek and jaw from where Danger, the Sweeney who enjoyed roughing people up with his fists, had his fun. “Tell me, Sallo, what made you do it? What made you think stealing from me was a good idea?”
A shiver racked his body and he whimpered. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t?” I glanced at Hero and his naturally downturned mouth curved into a mean smirk. In this light, the grays in his messy brown hair were obvious, but the ones at his temple were stark and looked almost silver. Unlike me, who’d gone almost fully gray at thirty, my brothers were able to hold on to the natural brown for longer. His ruggedness worked in his favor with the women and men, who swooned over him. His grip on Peter tightened.
Peter tried to wince away from Hero’s hold, but Hero didn’t let him go anywhere.
“Try again, because if you don’t tell me, my brothers are going to have more fun with you, and it’ll be worse than before. And what you tell us will determine how you die. See those fellas there?” I pointed at the box jellyfish that floated peacefully in the large aquarium in front of us. “They will kill you within four minutes. Sharp pain for that short amount of time. You can die a quick death with them or a long one with my Irukandji. The agony that comes from those little buggers is worse, and it’s a slower death. You’ll be in excruciating pain for longer. Choose your words wisely.”
Peter whimpered and his bottom lip jutted, tears flooding his eyes and streaking down his pale cheeks. His sobs were too fucking loud and annoying. I sighed and stood, waving my hand at Danger, who grinned in excitement.
He straightened up, releasing the side of Peter’s shoulder, and drove his fist across Peter’s jaw. Peter’s head whipped to the side, and he slumped against Hero, whimpering. Danger punched him again and again until I held up my hand, signaling him to stop. He rubbed his knuckles, amusement flickering across his bearded face before he retook his spot at Peter’s right side.
Danger was the youngest of us, and unlike the rest of my siblings, he was covered in an array of tattoos. He loved to wear clothes to show off his ink, like the black singlet he had on right now that highlighted the designs that covered his muscular arms. The lucky bastard also didn’t have a touch of gray in his dark curly hair, though he’d shaved the sides of his head, so maybe they were taken off with the rest.
“What do you say, Sallo? Had enough yet?” I crossed my arms and stared, watching the argument play out in his head with the expressions that passed across his tortured face.Fuck, this was taking too long. “Fine. The Irukandji it is.”
My brothers hauled Peter to his feet, and he struggled, yelling gibberish as he fought against them. He kicked and screamed. “No, no, Boss! Stop! Stop!”
They began to drag him toward the door of my office.
“Wait! Wait!” He dug his feet in against the hardwood floor. “It wasn’t me!”
Danger and Hero stopped manhandling Sallo, and he fell to his knees again, sinking to the floor like he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up. He sobbed harder, his shoulders shaking.
“That’s not what you said a few hours ago. You admitted to it.” I crouched in front of him again and grabbed his bruised and battered face between my fingers to make him look at me. “Which is it?”
He choked on his tears and scrunched his eyes shut. “It wasn’t my idea. Boss, please.”
“Whose idea was it then?” I’d had a feeling Peter wasn’t the mastermind. He wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and he didn’t have the balls to steal off me unless he had someone else to follow. I stood, towering over him once again.
He shook harder but finally opened his eyes. “B-Ben.”
“Watts or Gordo?” I nudged his knee with my shoe, and his gaze slid up to me, bottom lip wobbling.
