Colm isn’t admitting it, but I think he’s getting stressed out by the whole big city thing. I know he comes from a city originally, but he’s always seemed much happier when we’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s possible it brings back shitty memories for him.
I understand. We all have places in our past we don’t want to return to. I’d rather lose an arm than live in any of the places Ellery and I grew up in, before our parents died and our new life started in Ireland. I honestly thought it would bother me more just being back in America. It’s why I distracted myself with the bloodbath I left on my way to Missouri.
Now I have a less objectionable distraction, although Colm’s cock hasn’t permanently slaked my bloodlust. It—and the manattached to it—has done more for my wellbeing than I ever expected, though. I feel settled. Even now when I’m bubbling with apprehension at the thought of seeing Ellery for the first time in so long, there’s a warm little part of me that’s settled by his presence.
There wasn’t much time, but before we parted ways for the trip, I learned a little more about Georgiy, Bane, and the others. They work for the Costellos—a major player in the Los Angeles/SoCal organized crime scene. The Banna don’t have any footholds on the West Coast, it’s just not our area, and that combined with my pathological lack of interest in Murphy’s business means I’d never heard of them. Colm hadn’t either, although he, like me I guess, is fundamentally a small-time criminal.
He shepherds a small group of morons as they run guns and drugs through middle America. I kill who and when I’m told. Neither of us cares about the big picture.
But they seem pretty nice guys, all things considered. Especially Kit, who is too genuine and has absolutely no business being a gangster. They were focused on getting Bane and Georgiy home for medical care, but I secured an invite for us both to stay at the compound and meet Ellery, if they’re willing.
I’m not clear on whether Ellery is also working for them, or just a guest, but I suppose I’ll find out. The drive is only six hours, give or take, so we decide to go straight through the night and avoid potential trouble on the road.
Colm and I are both tired, but not unaccustomed to running on fumes, so I think we look pretty presentable when we get in. The only thing I regret is that Colm and I haven’t really had a minute to just be. Together. There’ll be time for that later, though.
Getting into the compound isn’t as difficult as I’d feared. Various guards make their calls and confirm things, and thenwe’re escorted to a room and told that Ellery will be in to meet us soon. We get apologized to that Mr. Costello—the patriarch of the family who sounds more interesting by the minute—is too busy with Bane to meet us, but all in all, it’s a pretty pleasant experience.
I’ve never been the guest of other gangsters before. It feels a bit like a Jane Austen novel, being hosted out of mutual respect with everyone being tense, but overly polite. I can’t say I hate it.
“Are you nervous?” Colm asks me, standing on the other side of the large, well-appointed bedroom with his hands in his pockets.
“Pfft,” I say. “I don’t get nervous.”
He clearly doesn’t buy it.
“Fine, fine. Yes. I can’t lose Ellery. If she—they—are really genuinely angry with me, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”
Colm’s eyes widen like he wasn’t expecting me to give him a real answer. After a second of hesitation, he moves towards me and slowly reaches out, stopping his hand an inch from my waist.
His eyebrows raise again, this time a question, and I nod. As soon as I do, he fits that warm paw of his around my side and gives me a little squeeze through my t-shirt.
It’s pretty nice. Mostly because it feels so specifically like him.
I’m leaning in towards him, caught up in the moment and considering kissing him on the mouth when the door opens and we both swing to look at it.
“Well, this isn’t what I expected to walk in on.”
My knees almost buckle at the sound of that familiar voice. Finally. Fucking finally.
Even if they’re still speaking in an American accent.
I let myself truly look them up and down, taking a minute to convince myself that they’re real, and here, and in one piece.
“It looks like my sister and talks like my sister, but that accent seems awfully fake.”
“We were born in Boston, asshole,” they snap, before picking up a random decorative something and hurling it at my head.
I duck, because I was expecting it. I know what Ellery’s like, and they have a temper. If Ellery wanted to survive growing up in our world, they either needed to get very violent or very wily, and they went with violence. Murphy never let them use it in a productive way like I was encouraged to, so all that pent up aggression combined with a razor sharp need to isolate themselves makes for a tempestuous individual.
Colm, however, looks like he just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for, and it takes him a moment to react. He doesn’t make a move for Ellery, thankfully, but does step in front of me like I’m a damsel and we’re in a Western or something.
Ellery immediately notices, of course, and cocks their head in curiosity.
“And who are you? Defending my brother with all that misplaced chivalry.”
“I’m Colm. I uh, I guess I work for your father. Adoptive father,” he adds when Ellery visibly bristles. Colm clears his voice before he continues but looks firm when he finally speaks. “And me and Fallow are together.”
I’m not sure who looks more surprised at that, me or Ellery, but once the words are out there in the universe I try them on for size.
