Do I want to continue being a disappointment? No. It’s not like I set out to be one but somehow, it’s what I’ve become.
Six weeks was a long time to think, and I had little else to do. My cousins and the rest of the crew were giving me a wide berth. It’s not like I didn’t deserve it; I did. I put their lives and livelihood in jeopardy by behaving like an arse.
The only ones that treated me the same were my uncle and aunt, and for that I was grateful.
When my six weeks were up, I worked my arse off to show that I could be trusted. I took all the shite jobs, the ones that nobody else wanted, the dangerous ones and I did them with a smile on my face.
I’d watched my brothers over the years. They may not have known it, but I watched, and I learned. I grew my contacts until I knew everyone that would be of use to us. I learned to fight, and to come out on top. I learned how to clean a scene so that you’d never know that a drop of blood had been spilled.
There was nothing I couldn’t do if I put my mind to it.
You needed a cleaner—I volunteered.
You needed a driver for a risky delivery—I was first in line.
You needed an enforcer to break some skulls—I was your man.
You needed someone to broker a deal in our area—you called me.
It took me years, but eventually I worked my way to the top and gained the respect from not just my cousins, but our men too. Not that I’d allow any of my family to tell my brothers or my Da that.
This was for me, not for them.
We were a stubborn bunch, us O’Shea’s.
I’d slipped into my side hustle by accident but once I started, I found I couldn’t stop. If I did, who else would take out the trash?
Killing people doesn’t make you a bad guy.
Not if they deserve it.
And they all did deserve it. I made sure of that before I took the job.
One of those jobs took me to a bad part of town, and that’s where I saw her.
The one who would change me, who’d make me a better man, if only she wasn’t already with another motherfucker.
I’d have kept my distance if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew he was bad news. I’d wait and I’d watch, because men like him always got cocky. He’d eventually piss off the wrong man.
I was a patient man.
I’d learned to be.
Eventually she’d be mine.
CHAPTER 1
BUTCHER
KILLING PEOPLE DOESN’T MAKE ME A BAD GUY
“You need to stop watching her lad,” Uncle Sean whispers in my ear.
I smirk, because I know that’s one thing I’ll never stop doing. He knew that, which is why he knew where I’d be since I wasn’t working today.
I smelled him coming before I heard him, the menthol from whatever muscle relaxing cream he always used was pungent. My uncle was getting older and was slowing down more than I liked. It had me thinking of my dad, who was at least nine years older than him.
“And I’ll keep watching until that motherfucker is out of her life,” I turn my head a little to better see my uncle but could still keep an eye on my obsession. And there was no sugar-coating it, I was obsessed with her. She’d be free of the fecker she was with soon enough. I’d heard rumours about him… okay... maybe I’d started those rumours when I’d whispered a few things in the right ears. Ears that were not happy to find out that he was skimming their drugs and selling it on the side.
