She looks terrified, and I hate myself for scaring her, but she asked for the truth. “So that’s why?” she whispers. “The reason he won’t let us go?”
I nod, jaw clenched. “He doesn’t care about you. Not really. This is about punishing me, breaking me. I went against him, and now he’s going to make sure I never forget where I came from or who I belong to.”
Her eyes glisten as tears start to pool. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
I laugh, but it’s rough, bitter. “I didn’t see the point. I didn’t want you to have to carry my shit, too. Besides, I don’t claim him as my father. But now, after everything, you deserve the truth. If he gets his way, he’ll kill me just to make a point. Or worse, he’ll keep you as a trophy, a reminder that I never escaped.”
She crawls into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck, her tears hot on my skin. “We’ll find a way out, Jack. Together.”
I hold her tight, breathing her in, wishing I could believe it was that easy.
A knock on the bedroom door. Trent’s voice is muffled and tired. “Rise and shine, lovebirds. We got a problem.”
I untangle from Lennon, my body already moving before my mind has time to catch up. Trent stands in the hall, face still beaten to hell, holding a phone in one hand and his gun in the other. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
“He just called,” Trent says, voice flat. “I think he’s getting closer to finding out where we are. Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, the deadline. If we wait, we’re dead. He’ll torch the woods and dig up the bones to have as trophies.”
My blood goes cold.
Trent leans against the wall, wincing. “I say we go to him. Today. We walk in together and hear what he has to say. We can take whatever deal he’s offering or make a new one. Hell, he may just go ahead and off all of us right there. Be done. But hiding isn’t an option anymore.”
It’s not really a choice. It’s fucking suicide, is what it is. But it’s better than waiting to get picked off like animals. I grab my shirt and pull it on. “Fine. We end this our way.”
Lennon is already dressing. I can see her hands shake, but her spine is straight. She’s tougher than anyone I’ve ever known. I love her for it, and I hate that I’m dragging her into this.
We pack light. Just the essentials…guns, burner phones, a stack of cash. Trent moves slow, favoring his right side, but he doesn’t complain. The three of us pile into his sedan, the morning thick with fog and the smell of rain. No one talks. The sound of the engine and the tires crunching gravel fills the silence.
Before we know it, the city creeps up on us. We take the backstreets, avoiding the main roads, eyes watching, making sure someone’s not tailing us. But it doesn’t keep my heart from skipping every time a black car passes, every time I see someone looming on a corner.
We park two blocks from The Emerald Room, O’Grady’s den. Trent kills the engine, then checks his gun while frequently glancing in the rearview. “Are we good?” Lennon squeezes my hand.
I squeeze back, pulse racing. “We’re good.”
Lie.
We get out and start walking the rest of the way. The smell of yesterday’s garbage and wet pavement makes me realize just how much I haven’t missed this place.
The Emerald Roomis all brass and stained glass, with green lights flickering over polished wood. Inside, it’s empty except for O’Grady and two of his men. Both double my size and stone-faced.
O’Grady sits at the bar, wearing a charcoal suit and a green silk tie, his hair silver under the lights. For a second, I see my own reflection in him. The jaw, the set of his mouth, the way anger simmers under the surface.
“Well, well,” he greets, voice sounding dangerous. “If it isn’t the prodigal son, dragging his baggage behind him.”
He doesn’t bother standing up. Instead, he leans forward, with a Cuban cigar clenched between stained teeth, smoke coming from the corners of his mouth. When he gestures to the seats, it’s not an offer, but a test. We stay standing, and his eyes fill with amusement.
O’Grady snaps his lighter shut, “You always liked to do things your own way, didn’t you, Jack? Thought you could rewrite the rules because you’ve got my blood running through your veins.” He takes a long drag and holds it, before blowing smoke right in my face. “But we both know how this ends.”
He lets the silence hang, trying to intimidate me. But it doesn’t work.
“You’re not here because of the girl. You’re here because you’re dumb enough to think there’s another way out.”
I grind my teeth, fighting every instinct inside me that wants to lunge across this bar and rip that smug look off his face. “Get to the point. What’s your price?”
He flicks ash on the floor, not caring. “You want her safe? You want this little mess wiped away? Then you do this my way.”
“Which is?”
“You marry her. Take on that old bastard’s debt. You tie yourself to her, you sign your name to every filthy dollar he ever owes me, and maybe then I let you walk. But only if we do this my way.”
