I doubted that, but Sloan could deal with him when he finally left the hellscape of Rikers.
He stared at me, gaze thoughtful. “I heard Lor’s being considered Fionn’s heir. My boy’s not good with that kind of thing.”
“You might be an advisor, and a poor one at that, but you don’t get to make decisions. What Sloan does for the business is none of your concern.” I smiled sweetly again, ignoring the throbbing in my head. This wasn’t anger anymore, but an ache that beat right behind my eyes. I rubbed my temple to relieve the pressure.
“Lor’s weak. It’s why I never officially claimed him as my son, you know.” Lorcan rubbed his scruffy cheek. He was far from put together, the complete opposite of Sloan in so many ways. “But I have the blood. My legal father was an enforcer to Niall, Sloan’s father. But there are rumors.” He eyed me carefully. Intently. Like he was watching for a reaction. “That Niall fucked my mother and I’mhisson.”
I ground my teeth. Of course, they were more than rumors. Sloan had told me that Lorcanwashis half brother. He’d taken a piece of hair from his father all those years ago, on his deathbed, and kept it for a time when he was ready to test it. He’d done it with stolen DNA from Lorcan, and the result came back positive. Sloan had no intentions of anyone finding out, especially not Lorcan fucking Lee.
“Careful, Lorcan. Rumors are just that. Rumors. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” I pressed a finger into his chest. “You’re no Killough and never will be. Get the fuck out.”
Lorcan didn’t hesitate. My voice left no room for argument. He escaped out of the greenhouse, but not before I called for O’Nunan.
“Make sure Mr. Lee leaves the premises. All the way out.”
O’Nunan bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
I was left in silence again and as I took my seat at the bench, the world tilted for a short, few seconds. I closed my eyes, cursed, and rubbed my forehead again. Fucking headache. Time for some meds and more sulking, at least until Sloan called and made his excuses.
4
SLOAN
Rikers Island. I should’ve expected them to put me here. This place wasn’t called Torture Island for no reason. Some of our men had been here before, and while I didn’t have personal experiences with it, I’d heard the stories. To top off being in this hellhole, they’d given me a cell next to Thiago Reyes.
Someone thought they were funny.
We were standing outside our cells while the guards did their count.
“Ay dios mío.” Reyes chuckled as he leaned back against the brick wall. His grin was wide. “Te ves como una mierda.”
I crossed my arms as I watched the guards below, tapping on their tally counters as they passed each prisoner. I ignored Reyes even though I understood him.
“You hear me, Killough?”
“Unfortunately,” I drawled. “You’re a thorn in my arse and I can’t escape you.”
He laughed louder, which earned him a sharp glare from the guard Bensen, who paused a few prisoners away from us. He pointed at Reyes and didn’t need to say a thing because Reyesheld up his palms in understanding and made a gesture of zipping his mouth.
After Bensen passed us in his count, Reyes looked at me. A fresh scar slashed across his forehead from ourrecentfight. “I said you look like shit.”
“And I understood you.” I shot him a smirk, not allowing him to see how irritated he made me. “Yet, you’re still talking like I care what you have to say. You’re the reason we’re both in here. You know that, right?”
“Like you had nothing to do with it. You wanted a fight, too. Not often you can have a good fist to fist these days.” He rolled his shoulders, and I took a moment to look at him properly. His vibe was more laid-back now that he wasn’t wearing designer clothes. The white shirt stretched out across his shoulders and chest, and even though the light brown pants were baggy, they looked good. He pulled off the jail uniform. “But I’m serious. You look like shit. Your roots are growing out.” He grinned, pleased with himself. “I heard there’s a hairdresser in here. Maybe someone who can help you with that bleaching of yours.”
I made a sound of disgust as I turned to him. “I’m not letting a prison junkie touch my hair.”
“Why? You afraid he’s one of mine and he’ll slit your throat when you’re not expecting it?” He raised his dark eyebrows at me.
That wasn’t the issue, but now I had to wonder if this hairdresserwasa cartel member. I ignored Reyes instead of answering him. When the guards shouted the count was over, I headed back into my cell. I was lucky to get a space of my own, though the area was still rundown with peeling paint and stank like shit. It was better to be in a place like this than in a dormitory with who knows how many other guys. But that also meant I had to be Reyes’s neighbor.
I sat on the thin mattress of my bed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Two weeks of this shithole and I was more than ready to go home. Other than not having my luxuries, I missed my pet more than anything.
His body.
His kisses.
His everything.
