I grinned widely, enjoying that admission to no end and deciding to go easy on him in payment for it.
I shifted my blade just a little before sawing through the dirty blond hair I still held in my fist and giving him a monk’s cut right down to the skin, showing my skill by not so much as giving him a scratch.
I shoved him away from me with a bark of laugher, dropping both the blade and the ruins of his hair onto the drive beside him and turning aside dismissively as I began to head up the steps to the house.
“Be thankful I didn’t go the whole hog and scalp you, dear brother,” I called back over my shoulder as I went. “Next time I won’t be so merciful.”
“Your brothers and I have a matter to finish up before we start with the real business of the day,” Liam said as I stalked towards him and I said nothing, the two of us knowing I had no interest in his so-called businesses whatsoever. I was a man made for bloody work, not money laundering and racketeering. “Kyan and some of his friends are staying in the house if you feel like amusing yourself with their company. I won’t be needing you until after lunch.”
I bit my tongue on the angry retort I wanted to give, pointing out the fact that he had insisted upon me being here this early and that I wouldn’t have shown up for hours if I hadn’t been required - which he damn well knew.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you at lunch then,” I said, stepping between my two other brothers as if they weren’t aiming their guns at me. “Oh, and Ronan? You left the safety on, so I’m about as terrified as a cat on a sun lounger right now.”
Ronan turned his gun to check my claim and I snatched Dougal’s revolver from his grip so fast that he didn’t even get a chance to try and fight it away from me. Before Ronan could aim at me again, I’d already hurled the revolver into his sneering face and he yelled in horror as the thing slit his forehead open and sent blood pissing down his nose, his own gun falling from his hand with a clatter.
“Amateurs,” I muttered, striding away into the house.
“That’s my boy,” Liam said proudly as I walked away from them, and the saddest part about that was the way my pathetic heart lifted at those words, like some sad, lonely little part of me still gave a fuck if his daddy was proud of him or not.
Jesus, I needed to get my head looked at.
I sighed, mentally chastising myself while replaying my brothers’ humiliation over and over in my head until my amusement banished a few of my demons.
I wondered whether I should track down my favourite nephew or stuff my face first…
I decided to grab a couple of bagels from Martha in the kitchen and eat them on the go, uncertain where Kyan was at anyway and figuring I’d do a quick restock of a few of the things I’d lost when my dear Jeep had gone boom on that bridge.
I headed through the stupidly big house, chewing my buttery bagels thoughtfully as I tried to think of the tools I was in need of and saying a silent farewell to those I’d lost. Gerald had been a good knife. And poor Evangeline had only just been starting out – she’d been broken in by that savage, el burro, and now she lay shattered at the bottom of the river somewhere after he’d ridden her hard and discarded her easily.
My mind shifted to Brooklyn as I thought those words and a growl formed in my chest. A real growl. Like a dog or a bear or a beast from some fancy story about Dragons and lost princesses who fought for a throne made for one and coveted by all while falling in love and saving the world only to find themselves doomed in the end. One of those. I woulda done well in a fancy story. Instead, I was locked in an endless nightmare and that girl had become the treasure I was never destined to claim.
But I’d be damned if that fucking ex cartel prick would claim her either.
With my mood souring more with every step, I pushed out of the back door and started across the yard to the little maintenance shed I called the ‘Bloodshed’。 I’d taken it for my own when I was a teenager. I’d tortured my first few victims in there, my pa watching on with hungry, proud eyes as I cut them apart and I had to admit that it was one of the few places in this monstrosity of a mansion which I had truly fond memories of from my childhood.
I’d found my calling between those four walls. Found peace for the voices in my skull within the sanctity of carnage. When the teacher from my school had first suggested to my pa that there was something wrong with me and that my violent streak needed addressing, I doubted she’d ever expected him to nurture it. But he had. It was one of the few things he’d encouraged in me which I could ever be truly grateful for.
He’d elevated me from beating the shit out of pricks at my school to cutting up men who deserved the very worst of me and letting my demons feast to their hearts’ content.
I strolled down the path to my den, pursing my lips in anticipation of a whistle before pausing as a throaty female moan coloured the air in what was undoubtably an expression of deepest sin-filled pleasure. The moans got louder and I realised I recognised the girl’s voice as my nephew’s wife, who had very clearly had an orgasm which blew her damn mind.
I chuckled to myself, pausing a moment as I waited for them to finish up, then falling endlessly still as the sound of two male groans answered her cries. Male groans I did not recognise.
Ice trickled through my veins in a deadly kind of way which set the hairs along the back of my neck rising to attention, my muscles prickling and coiling in anticipation of the kill yet again. And there was me thinking I was going to have a nice quiet visit home. Well, not nice. I hated this fucking place and every bastard in it, so there was no chance of that. But quiet.
I slipped towards the den on silent feet, the little stone structure making it all too easy with its drawn blinds and closed door. I doubted anyone inside that place had a clue that their death was stalking closer, but it was.
I loved precisely one member of my family, and that was Kyan. So if I found someone else fucking his woman, you could believe that I was going to be offering him their heads on spikes before tossing her at his feet and letting him decide if I was to sever hers too.
The door wasn’t even locked and I swung it open, my gaze taking in the sight of two of Kyan’s best friends, the men he’d referred to as brothers on more than one occasion, sandwiching his woman between them.
Lucky for them, they were still mostly dressed. Tatum was wearing a man’s shirt which fell down to her bare thighs, while the la-dee-da one, Saint, kissed her and pushed her back against the football player, who I was pretty sure was called Snake or Jake or something equally forgettable.
The space was fairly big, one side of it dedicated to my work, a bench there alongside a whole array of tools which I supposed could be mistaken for a plain old work shed considering how meticulously all of the blood had been removed from the place. On the other side of the space was a couch, TV, mini fridge, all things I’d added to the place in my youth so that I could avoid the house as often as possible.
I didn’t waste time on announcing myself, seeing more than clearly with my own eyes the state of infidelity my nephew’s woman was in and having no further need for bullshit excuses or lies to reach my ears.
I darted forward, snatching a crowbar by the name of Herbert from the workbench beside me, then grabbed the back of Saint’s shirt and ripped him away from Tatum and threw him to the floor. I whipped around with a snarl of anger, swinging the crowbar to finish the conniving bastard off.