Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“If he’s alive.” Saviour walks up to us and hands me a small memento from the rubble. A gold Rolex that, when I turn it over, bears the inscription — Loyalty or Death — and below it are the initials — P.B. — Patrick Bragan.
“C-Can I leave now?” A soft voice comes from behind me, and I can’t deny hearing it makes my cock ache. It’s been a while since I’ve allowed myself the pleasure of a woman. Perhaps that’s why, when I turn around, I find myself staring at the girl who was with Donahue.
The priest looks at me, his eyes locked on mine, and I can tell he’s wanting to ask me something. And I’ve a feelin’ that what he’s about to ask me I won’t like one bit.
“What?”
“I was wondering if Miren here can stay with you at the clubhouse for a short time. She needs protectin’ because Bragan’s men will be comin’ after her. She knows too much. Now that he’s dead…”
He allows his words to trail off, and I can’t deny the old bastard is good. He wants to play on my empathy, and as I look at him, I know there’s no way to refuse his request.
I run the club with an iron fist. My vow is not to allow innocents to get hurt. I want Ma to be proud of me, for the most part, as she looks down from heaven. Even if I don’t believe in it, I know she did. So, in my mind, I see her up there.
“Aye,” I say with a nod. “She can stay, but nothin’ comes for free,” I tell the old man as I glance at the pretty girl.
From head to toe, she looks like a feckin’ temptress. The brothers are going to try their luck with her, I can see it now. But even as I think it, an unknown emotion twists in my gut. I don’t like it.
I’m going to have to tell them they’re not allowed to touch. I’ve done it before, but never because of jealousy. For a long moment, I take her in. She is stunnin’. A classic beauty with flowing dark hair and full pink lips that look like they shimmer. Her eyes, though, they capture me for too feckin’ long. The colour changing between blue and silver. It’s as if they’re magic.
“You know how to clean?” I ask her, keeping my voice low, filled with anger and frustration.
She nods. “Yes, I can. I’m happy to do any job you have for me.”
Her words may be innocent, but the thoughts runnin’ through my mind are far from it. Feck. I can’t afford to get distracted. But she could hold a fountain of information on Bragan. And that’s one of the main reasons I’m agreein’ to this stupid feckin’ idea.
“Right then,” I tell her before glancing at Rebel. “Take her in the van. Find an empty room and set her up. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Aye, will do.” He gestures with his head, and the pretty girl follows him to the van.
“Thank you,” Donahue says to me. “She’s a good girl, just needs to find her feet. I’m sure she won’t be a bother for too long.”
“She won’t be. I don’t keep strays,” I inform him. “You say she was kidnapped by Bragan?”
He nods. “I don’t know the extent of it. But I arrived today to talk to him, having overheard there was a girl here,” he tells me, and I know if I were to ask about where he heard the news from, he won’t tell me. Any confessions made to a priest are meant to be confidential. I can’t ask him to break his vow.
“She must be someone important if he wanted her here.” My remark has him nodding slowly. “You know I ain’t goin’ ta go easy on her. I want information, and if she’s been in that house,” I say as I gesture towards what’s now a disaster zone, “she will be questioned.”
The peelers pull up with sirens blaring. I expected them sooner, but it seems the feckers are late. I never once thought I’d come to need them, but they’re on the payroll, and they need to keep me informed just as much as I do them. They turn a blind eye to some of our operations, which I’m thankful for. I don’t need these feckers breathin’ down my neck when I’m tryin’ to make money for the club.
Sergeant O’Malley saunters up to where we’re standing and removes his helmet. The fact that he owns a Harley makes him slightly less of a twat than the rest of his force.
“You have anything to do with this, O’Connor?” he asks as he looks over the scene while using my last name. None of the brothers acknowledge the name. Not because they don’t respect me, but when Ma died, I let it go. I became Monster, and that’s the only version of me they’ve come to know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no longer Cathal O’Connor. He died along with the woman who reared him.