Page 69 of Craving Sin

Flynn and Finan both take photos—proof of what happens when you try to come after an O’Shea.

It’s the middle of the night, and we’ve been at this for close to eight hours when I’m finally over it.

“Take off the gags again,” I say, and Finan does. They’re unrecognizable—nothing but spit, puke, blood, bruises, and torn-up flesh.

“Do you see what happens when you try to come for me?” I ask, walking in a slow circle around them.

“Didn’t…do…it…” Pete says.

“Can’t even admit to it now? Fucking weak,” Flynn says.

“Doc…” Frankie grits out, and my back stiffens like someone shoved a metal rod down my spine.

“What did you say?” I ask, his head dropping as he starts to pass out again. “What the fuck did you say?” I shake him.

“The doc,” Donny says for him. “Word…on the street…someone looking to have him killed…”

I turn and look at Conan, who’s paying really close fucking attention, moving toward us.

“Why?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” Pete mumbles. “Not us.”

“Why were you in hiding?” Conan asks.

“Heard you were looking for us…didn’t want to take chances.” This is from Donny.

I’m surprised when Frankie lifts his head and gives a slow smile, mouth bloody and gummy. “We would have gotten…the job done…if it had been us…would have killed the doc…then did you just for fun.”

All I see is red. It’s like I’m not even in my body anymore, like the whole thing is burning up from the inside out. My brain shuts off, all logical thought gone as I rip my gun from the holster, spraying their bodies with bullets, watching their brains splatter from the backs of their heads.

It wasn’t them? The hit wasn’t on me?

That’s him, but who the hell is the other guy? That’s what they’d said. I assumed it meant they wondered who Abbott was, not me.

The brothers could have been lying…but they weren’t, somehow I know they weren’t. It felt…messy, different. Not what I would have expected. Plus, whoever it was would have had to follow me to the hospital that day, which is obviously a possibility, but so is the fact that they were waiting for Abbott to get off work…in the same row where his vehicle was, as if they’d been staking it out.

Nowhere near my car…

“Fuck!” I shove my gun back into the holster and grab my jacket.

“Should you clean up before you go wherever you’re going?” Flynn asks.

“Who is the doc?” Torin adds.

When we were in bed together, he said he felt like people were watching him. He thought it was me. I just believed it was his imagination. What if it wasn’t?

“Have you been to his place since he’s been home? Followed him anywhere?”

“No,” Conan answers.

“Motherfucker!” None of this has been about me. It was about Abbott all along.

Someone wants Abbott to die.

“I’m going to get him,” I say.

“Need me to come?” Conan asks.