I get out of the car and walk toward them, their guns immediately pointing at me.
“Look who it is. I hear you grew a pair of balls since you left Houston,” Tommy, one of Jagger’s highest-ranking men, says.
“Hopefully one day you will too,” I throw back at him, only for him to cock his gun in response.
“Chill the fuck out,” the other guy says, but I don’t recognize him. “Lift up your shirt.”
I do as he says, and like I figured he would, he takes the gun from my pants. I’ve got another one strapped to my ankle and a knife in my other boot. I can only hope they don’t get those too.
“Search him,” the guy says to Tommy, which surprises me. He’s a big guy, probably at least two hundred and twenty pounds, with a strangely flat face and a permanent scowl. Whoever this is, he clearly holds more authority than Tommy.
Tommy pats me down, finding my second gun but not the knife. “I can’t believe you found them both,” I tell him, trying to alert the guys I’m going in with nothing but a knife.
“Shut the fuck up.” Tommy shoves me toward the door. I almost trip but catch myself. Flat Face twists the knob and lets me in.
There are a few tables inside, a couch and a chair, my eyes casing the room, skipping over the men until they land on my mom. She’s in a corner on the floor, in nothing but her bra and panties, arms and ankles tied, face and body bruised and bloody.
I see red, my skin feeling like it’s burning off my bones as anger engulfs me. I take a step toward her before I hear, “I wouldn’t get any closer,” in my father’s cold, cocky voice.
He’s not holding a gun, but then, there are at least ten others pointed at me, making me conclude that he definitely knows who Rory is and took so long because he was calling in reinforcements.
My mom starts crying, mumbling, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll fix this.” Then, giving my attention to my father, the smarmy-looking man with a pointed nose and dead eyes, I add, “I didn’t know you were throwing a party for me.” I turn so they have a good idea who’s around me, hoping Finan is relaying this information.
“This isn’t for you. It’s just insurance. Rory Fitzpatrick? I didn’t think you had it in you, son.”
Well, there’s the answer to that. He didn’t know who Rory was, but he does now, and he’s a big enough idiot to think he can take on the O’Sheas.
“You’re not even worthy enough to say his fucking name.” My hands fist, itch to grab a gun, for my finger to be pressing against a trigger.
My father frowns, approaches me, and swings his fist. It connects with my face with a loudcrack. I stumble backward, bell rung, eyes blurry, and know, that even if he hadn’t already, he just signed his own death certificate.
I wipe the blood off my mouth and smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Rory
Cillian’s arms wrapforcefully around me, holding me in place.
“That motherfuckerhitShai.”
“I know, and we’ll fucking kill him, but you’ve got to be patient.”
He’s right. I know he is. Taking off through the woods on my own won’t solve anything, but it’s torture just standing here.
“He’ll be okay, Ror. I promise you. Nothing will happen to our boy. We won’t let it.”
His words soothe something inside me, the way they always do. I understand what Cillian is saying, what his use of the wordsourandwemeans. It’s the same thing his actions have been saying all night, and the same thing I’ve felt changing and growing within the past few weeks, but right now I can’t concentrate on anything but Shai. “They have his guns. He’s in there alone. Why are we waiting?”
“Because he hasn’t given us the sign that he can get to Kat yet.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to sayfuck Kat. I don’t give a shit about her. Only him. But I know what it will do to Shai if he can’t save her, if he can’t be the hero he’s always been for her—the hero she better fucking learn to appreciate. “We haveto give him this,” Cillian continues. “He needs it.”
“I know, God, I fucking know, and it’s killing me.” I pull away from Cil.
“But you’re doing it. When it counts you’re doing it, all of it—letting him go in there alone, listening to Rian, waiting for the sign. The control you need is in you. It always has been.”
Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Shai helped me find it. Shai, Cillian, and Ollie. The fact that I’m not in that fucking house already is more than I ever thought I could accomplish.
