I’m in a cock of a mood and can admit it’s because I’m frustrated. She’s under my skin, her thick syrupy peach scent staying with me the rest of the day.
I sit on a stool, staring at Des Kelly’s face. The fucker isn’t looking half as cocky as he supposedly was last night.
When I nod, Keegan uncaps the smelling salts and waves it under Des’s nose.
He doesn’t move.
Keegan glares. I get it. Des is really starting to piss me off too.
“He’s not dead. I think he’s playing possum,” Keegan says, shaking his head in disappointment, as if I hadn’t seen how frustrated he was with our prisoner.
“Aye.”
“Might be best you move slightly to the side, boss.” Keegan speaks like we’ve got a room of men awaiting instructions.Mostly respectful. “Considering you’ve got your pretty shirt on.” He grins like the fucking joker, undressing out of his own suit jacket and passing it over.
I do have my suit on, though. We’re working. Plus, I’m picking Tally up after her shift.
Keegan’s eyes are on me, and he’s being an absolute fucking dick tease when he watches me, hungrily rolling his sleeves up like he’s a fucking hooker. Perhaps if Des wasn’t here, I’d be giving him what he wants. Ah, who am I kidding? Even with Des here, there’s a high chance I’ll be filling Keegan’s throat.
With his sleeves rolled up, Keegan grabs the smelling salts again and tips Des’s head back, pouring the vial down his nostrils.
“Well, that’s new,” I comment as I watch with interest.
“Aye. Not sure how it’s going to go, if I’m honest,” he says, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face.
At first, nothing happens, and then Des’s eyes and mouth simultaneously burst open. He starts coughing and spluttering. I’m pretty sure he’s got no idea what’s going on or where he is. All his focus is on getting air into his lungs.
Keegan moves fast, gripping him by the throat, restricting just how much air our prisoner gets. He hisses in Des’s ear. “Answer our questions, and I’ll let you have another breath. How’s that sound?”
At Keegan’s voice, it’s like Des’s consciousness snaps back into place. He panics but tries to appear calm, too, and the result is nearly comical. The fuckwit is too proud to concede defeat.
“Who else you working with, conspiring against us?” he yells in his face.
“Don’t harm Dessy Junior,” the stubborn fucker insists, bloody spittle dribbling down his chin.
Keegan uses his other fist, shutting the pleading down, then gets in his face. “You won’t be telling us what we can and can’t bedoing, Des. That’s the whole reason we’re here. You seem to have forgotten who’s in charge.”
I move into view again, resting my foot against his groin. His dick would have to be fucking hurting. I did give him options; answer our questions, or I keep on tightening the wire strangling his knot. I don’t feel any guilt at his pain or plight, considering Des chose his own path by not confessing secrets.
“You could be walking out of here,” I say to Des, but my eyes shift to Keegan when he starts tapping his nose, calling me a fucking liar. But hope is important, even when you’re minutes from likely death.
There is always a chance he could walk out of here. All he has to do is give us some names. “Who’s been in your ear, Des, telling you you got a chance in hell of taking my place? My da’s not looking at anyone to take his place. But you seem to have a different take on who’s going to be head of the Irish? And you know what, we haven’t even talked about my wife. You touching her, giving her shit, letting your wee cunt of a kid rough her up—well, for any of those reasons, I should have shot you right away.”
Keegan lets our captive’s throat go, and we both wait in anticipation for him to speak. For a while, nothing comes out of Des’s mouth but labored, wet wheezing. His lips start moving, and I have to lean in close to hear him telling me to fuck off.
I grab both my new guns, since my darling wife has my other ones, and walk to a safe distance. And then wait for Keegan to do the same.
“Fuck you, too, Des. I’ll make your son’s life is fucking hell for nothing more but your disrespect.”
He goes to argue, but he’s had enough chances. I shoot him between the eyes.
“Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine.”
Keegan bows his head and is straight faced, nearly solemn, for a full ten seconds before he looks my way. Even before he speaks, I know his words are going to be heavily dipped in sarcasm. “Ronin, you’re too kind with your blessings.”
“Ack, I know. It’s why I went with that one. In the shelter of each other, people survive. Seems especially poignant, given I’ll be going on to look after my people, and well, Des didn’t survive. You see where I’m coming from?”
“Aye. I always see where you’re coming from. It scares me how much some times.”
