“For the love of God, Trent. Spit it out!” Jack’s patience wears even thinner.
“Okay…okay. So we’ve established O’Grady knows you took Lennon and skipped town. Well, what I didn’t mention was that after I got my ass kicked, he had them bring me into the club. He worked me over, questioned me, and when he couldn’t prove anything, he gave me an ultimatum.” Trent shifts, looking from Jack to me. “He gave me till St. Patrick’s Day to bring you both in. Said if I didn’t, he’d make an example out of me.”
I cross my arms, trying to keep the fear from showing. Jack’s jaw is tight, and his muscles are bunched, ready to snap. “So does he know where we are?”
Trent shakes his head, frustration flickering across his battered face. “No. Hell no. Why would I risk my own ass, or yours, by leading anyone out here? Come on, Jack. Give me a little credit. After all these years, when did you stop trusting me?”
Jack doesn’t respond, just glances at me, making sure I’m alright. I want to reach for him, tell him it’s okay, but I can only stand there, barely breathing, waiting for whatever comes next.
Trent shifts, hesitating like he’s weighing each word he’s about to say next.
“O’Grady… wants to make a deal.”
Jack’s already stuffing things into bags, jaw clenched. “Yeah, I bet he does.” He tosses a look over his shoulder at Trent. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“Jack, wait.” Trent raises a hand, “Just let me explain the terms. You need to hear this.”
Jack’s eyes narrow. “Not interested. Lennon, get your stuff.”
I step between them before Jack can storm out, my heart pounding. “Let’s just hear what he’s got to say. Please.”
Jack’s mouth is a hard line, but he doesn’t argue. Trent meets my gaze, eyes bruised, voice rough. “He doesn’t want the girl anymore,” he says carefully.
Jack goes rigid, his body blocking mine. “She has a name, asshole.”
Trent nods, quick and apologetic. “Yeah. Sorry. Lennon, he doesn’t want you anymore.” He rubs his face, eyes flicking between us. “'O’Grady wants you, Jack. He says the debt is now yours, and I have until St. Patrick’s Day to deliver you to him. That’s the only way he lets any of this go. This isn’t business or just mob shit anymore. I get the feeling it’s personal now.”
My mouth drops open. Shock and anger twist in my chest. “That’s not fair. Jack didn’t borrow the money.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it,” Jack says, his voice tight.
But I can’t stop replaying Trent’s words. “It’s personal now.”What the hell did he mean by that?Mob guys don’t just change the rules for a grudge.There’s something in Jack’s face that almost looks like old pain or shame. My mind races.Is there some history between him and O’Grady? Is this more than just business gone bad?
Suddenly, it feels like there’s a whole different game about to be played.
9
JACK
Sleep never comes. I spent all night tossing and turning. Now I’m lying here, staring at the ceiling, gun on the nightstand, listening for anything and everything that sounds out of place. Lennon is sound asleep, softly breathing beside me, her body curled into the blankets, but I can’t relax. There’s too much noise in my head, from Trent’s warning to the bad memories I keep trying to drown out. And underneath it all, there’s the simple truth: I’m running on borrowed time.
The sky outside is starting to change as the morning sun begins to bleed through the trees. I keep hearing Trent’s words. “It’spersonal now.”
Lennon shifts, and I feel her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re wound tight,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
I keep my eyes on the ceiling. “Too much on my mind.”
She sits up, brushing her hair out of her face. “Jack, what did Trent mean? About it being personal? I didn’t want to say anything, but I feel like there’s something you’re not saying, and it’s starting to scare me.”
I clench my fists because I don’t want to look at her when I say it. “O’Grady… he’s not just my boss. He’s my biological father.”
The words hang between us, thick and ugly.
She doesn’t say a word, taking it in. I force myself to keep talking. “My mom was young when he knocked her up. He never claimed me. Never wanted to. I was a tool for him. A fist. A gun. When I was a kid, he’d show up with cash and disappear for months. But he always made sure to remind me who I belonged to.”
“But…you don’t even have the same last name,” Lennon says, confused.
“And I’m grateful every day that my mother didn’t put that on me. But unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. Family is a fucked-up word in our world, Lennon. Blood means leverage, not love.”
