Her trashy stiletto nails claw at the suffocating layers, but it’s puncture proof to ensure packages are nice and secure.
Good luck breathing. I don’t know how long I’ve been wrapping her, but I hear the hollow tube spin as I reach the end of the roll. I can’t help but glance back at the shop owner. There’s blood everywhere. I grasp the clingy wrap on either side of her head and push downward, so it’s flush with her skin. Tiny rivers of blood flow down my arm as I press with all my might. Her body bucks and arms flail, but it's no use. I have her pinned to the ground. A fragment of the microSD card sits next to us. It was the last thing I had of my brother! The only way to prove he didn’t take his own life! I inch upward, onto her chest with my full weight.
“AHHHHHH!” I scream, and it becomes my battle cry.
I scream at her, at my family, I scream for Theo. They’re supposed to be my family. Why? Why all the lies?! I strain, fantasizing how I’m able to extract all the answers from those who have wronged me. Finally reaching retribution. Drops of my blood eventually make it onto the green plastic, just as the fight leaves her body and her arms fall to the sides. Everything is still. Mouth fully open, her eyes seemed to bore into me, despite the egregious layers of translucent emerald film.
I reach for the counter and pull myself up. Another dispenser catches my eye. Peeling off a sticker from the reel, I slap a“Fragile”sticker over her creepy stare. I chuckle to myself, “Who’s breakable now?” My hands shake, clearly adrenaline still surges through me, and the room wobbles. I lower myself to the floor and crawl over to the shop owner. Remarkably, his chest is still moving.
The bell above the door jingles.
Oh fuck! Someone’s here! What if it’s Nicholas? Or worse… Mairead and her father!
I curl up in a ball. I’m going to jail. Shit. I can’t just sit here. I crawl closer, peeking through a small crack in the partisan, where I find a wild-eyed Dax, taking in the scene, just past the counter. He takes out his phone, appearing to be typing something, then puts it back in his pocket. By the time I realize I can’t see him through the seam any longer, he is next to me.
Extending a hand, he helps me to stand, taking in my bloodied arm. His eyes darken, looking murderous over my minor injuries, heedless of the carnage around us. Leading me through a back door, we exit into an alley where I find his car. He doesn’t stop, as if not allowing me to overthink what just happened. Ripping from Dax’s hold, I try to make it to one of the trash cans, only to come up short, emptying my stomach onto the cracked concrete beside. A hand gently presses to my back. Small circles soothe me as the other holds back my hair, just ahead of another wave of sickness pouring from me. This time, bile speckles my shoes. I must be a sight. Gross and disheveled, however Dax handles me like I’m something precious.
Carefully, he escorts me to his vehicle, helps me in, and buckles my belt. Next, he rounds the Camaro and turns on the car. We drive smoothly away from the scene, although my body still quakes. His hand rests on my thigh, as if saying, “it’s going to be okay,” all without a word. Multiple blocks fromMail Haven, an ambulance rushes by as we head toward the interstate. Did he call for an ambulance?
I’m glad the store owner was still alive, but can he survive such an injury? Too rattled to actually speak… I close my eyes, only to visualize a body surrounded by a growing ruby puddle. My eyelids pop open.
“Where are we going?” I ask, voice hoarse.
He removes his hand from my thigh to bring his fingers and thumb together, to form a flat “O” shape. Pressing his hand beside his mouth, then moving slightly upward toward his ear, touching again at the top of his jawbone, with the same closed hand.Home,he signs.
CHAPTER
FORTY
NICHOLAS
“Sir, there’s a lot of activity over here on the Murray’s side of town. I think your little problem is going to take care of itself.” I rub my thumb across my chin feeling a spot of stubble, I neglected to shave this morning. “Ouch! Be careful, woman!”
The manicurist fumbles with the nail trimmers, apologizing profusely while tending to my feet. This is just one of the many ways I have to care for my health, at this stage in life. Another burden I must bear.
“Next time you call me, make sure you have actual confirmation and Kent, keep watch! It seems my son’s loyalty has switched sides as of recently.” I hit the red button on my phone, watching as the nervous girl tries to shape my nails exactly as I instructed. My usual nail tech is unavailable. Kids these days, no work ethic.
I alternate between watching people rush past the salon window on the busy streets and playing Candy Crush on my phone. This shitty little game is extremely addicting. Ironic how just a handful of sweets like these could put me in an early grave,but it passes the time, nonetheless. Maybe I indulged in too many delicious things at a young age and this is my retribution… a cunning spawn of a child and bouts of neuropathy from the knee down.
I only made the new girl cry on three occasions, by the time I left. Amy said it was on the house this week. Why is it that people only try to do better, after you threaten them?
Even though I have eyes on the streets and informants where I need them, I need to confirm that my secrets are buried, along with the ones who carry them. I’ve worked too hard to watch all my plans go to shit over my illegitimate niece, happening upon information she has no business learning. You know how many breakfasts I’ve had to sit through, just to ensure she was every bit in the dark as I’ve orchestrated for her to be?
As oblivious as she may have been, it was only a matter of time before she found anything her brother left behind. The problem is, I don’t know how much was recorded. I knew he was tailing me for a few weeks before I finally confronted Theo in his apartment. Such a shame. He had so much potential with his skill set. It was all too easy, making his murder look like a drug overdose. There wasn’t a dry eye at the funeral. I may have implied to dear old mom and dad that the Murrays were behind the death of their beloved son. They never said yes… but they didn’t say no, either. I made the hard decision because I’m a good big brother like that.
That was a very happy New Year indeed, because I got rid of not one, but two problems within a few days' time. Mary’s slender neck fit so beautifully between my hands. She was just as fiery as she was thirty years ago. I couldn’t take all the credit though. I had to keep the reputation squeaky clean and all. Who else would be around to finish off the entire Murray family? Years ago, I planted one of my top guys in the Irish gang. He quickly worked his way up to ‘protection detail’ of the immediatefamily. It’s a shame he had to take the fall, but he was in the right place at the right time. When he told me about Mary recognizing her son, I had to quiet her. Patrick, the hot head, popped my guy in the back of the head before he could even ask him a single question. Everything wrapped up so nicely. This city was as good as mine…
Chess is rather simple. Now… you would think it’s ideal to have all your best pieces closest to you, protecting the king…. but the trick is to disperse your force across the board. It's harder for your adversary to anticipate what's coming next.
My brother was always a shit chess player and a sore sport. Even as a child my end game was never winning, but seeing him lose. Seeing the look of defeat on his face, was like igniting a flame in the depths of my darkened soul. There was a brief time that I tried to be good. Play by the rules. Yet, no matter how hard I tried… attempting to prove to my father that I was born for this role, Charles still came out on top. The son they always wanted.
When my father decided to leave the family legacy to him, I promised myself that one day… I would squeeze every last ounce of joy, from my bastardo brother. I’m a patient man, so I started small. Growing the list of names in my own book and beginning a side business, so to speak. While my brother was busy playing devoted husband, I extended my reach to office officials in the city, including the Boston PD. He may have thought he ran the family business from his position but I was the one operating the levers.
There came a point when I had to drive a wedge between the Lombardis and Murrays. The two families were growing close.Enjoying weekly dinners. It made me sick. An alliance so strong could ruin my carefully laid plans. Be my undoing. I needed some kind of leverage. My people advised me that Mary Murray, the girl I had a quick romp with as a young man, wound up running off to Ireland. Allegedly, she delivered a secret child while away. Our child. That was many years ago, but when she went back to visit, news found its way to me.
Thereafter, I paid a quick visit to one of my brother’s weekly ‘Sunday gravy’s’ with their dear friends the Murrays. I kindly explained to Mary what I could do, how I was very capable of still ruining her life. She eventually came to her senses and I had a name for our bouncing boy. That week, I hopped a plane to Ireland so I could bring home the kid. To this day, Daxton still believes his mother was some whore I picked up in a bar. Told him I didn’t even know about him, but once I did I came straight to Ireland to get him. Which is still a half-truth. I didn’t know for sure.
He had my eyes. There was no doubt the spawn was mine and I was going to use him to my full advantage. Keeping the boy mostly out of sight, until he was ready. Homeschooling and private lessons helped him grow, while I had the freedom to continue coming and going as I pleased. When my idiot brother started confiding in Patrick Murray more than me, I decided it was time to take away the most precious thing in the world to him. His children.Business should stay ‘in the family.’
