All Hail Page 19

  I ignore her entirely and look back over to Holden. “I watched the Butcher carve a man to pieces last week. I watched the best shooter in the Bay lose his fingers thanks to my family, and I took delivery of the Wolf’s enemies’ heads during the warfare of the Jackal’s lost campaign to be the biggest name in the Bay. If you think some naked women will scare me… well that just speaks to just how little you really know, Crawford.”

  Holden straightens abruptly and I mentally give myself a point for that jab hitting the mark. It might be a teeny-weeny lie but he doesn’t need to know that I’ve done everything in my power not to watch any of the gruesome shit that my family is involved in.

  Amanda watches the reactions on each and every one of the men, including Atticus and Luca. I wonder if that’s what I look like to everyone around me, robotic and assessing as I take in all of the data and run calculations on the risks.

  The door into this sadist’s playground opens again and a slew of men walk in, all of them holding cigars and whiskey glasses as they laugh and joke amongst themselves. None of them are worried about the girls, not the one crying at the door or the others who have already been hollowed out to nothing but pretty, broken shells.

  I memorize each and every one of their faces, searing the names I do know into my memory forever because even if they don’t fall in whatever warfare is about to break out, I’ll be coming after them and leaving nothing behind.

  The Butcher doesn’t let rapists live.

  Neither does the Wolf or Ash Beaumont, hell, the entire family has a ’no forgiveness’ policy.

  Randall flicks a hand at us both. “I don’t care for speaking to children who don’t know their place. Show them out, Amanda.”

  She smiles and waves a hand at us. I’m about to tell her exactly what she can do with that hand because I’m done with this farce when Atticus gets ahold of my elbow again and steers me out.

  When we get back into the elevator Amanda turns to me and says, “How close are you to the Wolf? I’ve been meaning to arrange a meeting with her but she’s notoriously difficult to see.”

  I would rather throw myself into a vat of rotting corpses than make that introduction. No, I’d rather arrange for Lips to climb through this bitch’s window and slit her throat while she slept but I play it coy, always extracting information, “Atticus could have brought you the Wolf if you wanted him to, why go through me?”

  Amanda’s head cocks to one side. “Could he? He always told his father that she sided with the Jackal. If he lied, well… Randy would be most displeased.”

  I glance over my shoulder at her, covering for him because I always will. My loyalty has always been unshakable. “Alliances change and evolve. When did you last ask him? She might be more favorable now that the Jackal’s been dealt with.”

  She tilts her head and nods, staring at Atticus as we all step out of the elevator with a hunger that pisses me off even if he ignores it entirely. Why is she looking at him like that if she’s very clearly in bed with his disgusting father and, very possibly, his brother too?

  Finally, she moves away from us both and back through the front door, smiling at Luca even while he stares her down in that very Mounty way he has.

  I wonder where he came from?

  Atticus grabs my arm while I’m distracted and walks me down the front steps, cursing under his breath about the entire night but I personally thought it went well.

  I have a lot of leads to chase up now.

  "Why did the girl at the front door upset you?"

  He frowns when Aodhan pulls my Bentley up to the curb. "She was new. They usually keep the girls in the back rooms until they've been broken in. I wasn't expecting someone still terrified at what's going on to be right there at the front door.”

  I open my mouth to reply but he leans down to open the door for me, snarling at Aodhan, “Take Avery home and make sure she stays there. This is no fucking place for someone like her.”

  When he shuts the door behind me, I watch him get smaller in the mirror and wonder exactly when we stopped respecting each other at the very least.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Atticus

  The Mounts Bay Juvenile Detention Facility is highly overcrowded and underfunded.

  It makes my job for the day much easier, not that I would ever tell Avery that, she looks at me like I’ve hung the moon when I pick her and Ash up to head over to meet this mobster cousin of hers.

  I’ve known about him all along.

  Alice had told Mother about him. Just once, she slipped up and mentioned him without meaning to and the horror on her face when she realized her mistake is still so clear in my mind that I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Mother hadn’t ever told Father about it, she enjoyed having that little card up her sleeve, but I know exactly why Alice was so horrified.

  There were too many monsters in her world, lying in wait for an opportunity to strike, and the little O’Cronin boy was born with a target on his back.

  Avery is calm and steady when she climbs into the back of the limousine but Ash is in a foul mood. He barely spares me a glance, sitting close to her side and ignoring me the entire trip over. To anyone else he would look like an entitled rich brat but I know everything that goes on in the Beaumont manor.

  I notice the stiff way he’s moving and I’d bet every last dollar of the fortune I’ve amassed so far that he’s covered in bruises.

  The weight of the timeline I’m being forced into lies heavy over my shoulders but to strike too soon is to risk everything. If I pull them out of that house and Joseph Beaumont starts using his resources to come after us? He’s old money, older than the Crawfords and even older than this country. His reach goes beyond that of the institution of the Twelve and I can’t just rush into it.

  If Ash dies at his brother’s hands, I will bear some of the responsibility.

  Avery would never forgive me and I know I’d never forgive myself.

  “Can he leave with us today?”

  I look over at Avery and find her with her phone out, like always. She’s cunning and calculating, all of the intellect of her father but none of the psychopathic tendencies. “You can meet him and see if he’s open to your help. If everything goes well, we can get him out by the end of the week.”

  Ash scoffs and Avery tenses, her eyes sharp as she shoots him a look. He ignores me still as he speaks only to his twin. “What are you going to do when we see him and he’s nothing but a mobster Mounty? You really want to take on a charity case from the Bay? This isn’t a smart idea, Floss. We should have just gone to Morrison’s and been done with it.”

  Floss.

  The name I gave her all those years ago stuck.

  My father’s obsession with Roman gods and ancient warfare had filtered down to me until I knew the mythology well enough that even as a child, I recognized the little girl I spent so much time around had to be a goddess reborn.

  Not that I’d tell her that’s where it came from.

  Ash has been careful to never be in my company, not ever alone and he never speaks around me so I haven’t heard him call her that before. It’s hard because I wish I could speak to him more openly and find more ways to help him but he trusts no one.

  No one but his one friend, the Morrison’s unloved heir, and his beloved sister.

  Avery shrugs at him and gives me a little smile, one she only ever sends my way. “I’m not going to leave him behind, not without meeting him first. I’m doing this for Mom as much as I’m doing it for us. If she wrote him into her will then obviously, she felt something for him… even if it was just obligation.”

  Ash looks ready to argue with her so I cut in. “I’ve arranged for him to be taken into an interrogation room, the type with a two-way mirror. You can see him first and then decide if you want to talk to him. There’s no expectations here, if you decide you don’t want to speak to him then we can just leave.”

  Avery nods and then slips her hand in Ash’s. It’s just a little move
ment, something I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t watching her so carefully, but it settles him down enough that he’s silent for the rest of the drive in.

  When the car finally stops Ash climbs out and holds out a hand to help Avery out, all of the old world courtesy and charm that isn’t readily found anymore but it’s not just an act. He handles her like she’s made out of glass when I’m sure he’s the one covered in cracks.

  He stays close to her side, like a guard expecting an attack, and I stay a full step away from them as if that will help settle him down a bit. He waits until Avery is busy signing into the visitors log before he speaks again.

  “I don’t know why you’re helping us but I’d rather you fucking didn’t,” he hisses and I straighten my tie, acting as though I didn’t hear him. He doesn’t like having his own tricks used against him but, again, my hands are tied.

  Thanks to my connections we don’t have to wait, one of the guards takes us straight through to the observation room with a curious glance. It makes sense. We’re in the worse institution in the country, the place all of the worst child offenders end up, and Avery has a Birkin bag in the crook of her arm.

  She’s definitely out of place here.

  The guard leaves us in there alone and Ash looks around the room like he’s waiting for the explosion to happen, all irritation and agitation.

  “This is a bad idea, Floss,” he murmurs, and she shrugs.

  “I don’t care. I have to know.”

  The moment the door to the interview room opens his face falls, the change in him so abrupt I almost get whiplash.

  We all watch in silence as the one of the guards bring their cousin into the room.

  “He looks just like Mom,” Ash says, swallowing a little at the rasp in his tone.

  Avery looks close to tears but her eyes are still sharp as they roam over his figure. “He’s been fighting, the black eye and messed up knuckles give it away.”

  I shrug at her. “It’s a juvie in the worst city in the country, I’m sure he’s been in a lot of fights.”

  Avery nods and steps closer to the glass, her gaze never moving away from the O’Cronin boy. It doesn’t matter that he’s big for his age or the sour look on his face, he looks too fucking young sitting there in an orange jumpsuit on.

  The tattoo on his jaw is grotesque.

  The guard in there with him snaps, “Sit your ass down, O’Cronin.”

  The kid turns his head and smirks back at him, bravado he wears with ease. “You know how this goes, I’m not answering to that name.”

  The guard grimaces and snaps again, “Fine, Arbour, sit your ass down.”

  Avery jolts away from the glass.

  I know the decision but I’m still shocked that Ash is the one to voice it out loud.

  “Get him out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Aodhan spends the night with me after the failed attempt to add to my roster. I barely sleep, the pent-up rage and disgust at the entire Crawford family and that bitch Donnelley eats away at me until I end up down in my basement looking at the murder wall again.

  I should really stop calling it that but after Illi had declared his intentions to wipe half of them from the face of the earth to clear up our schedules a little the name had stuck.

  I’m completely on board with killing the Crawfords.

  Holden always was a creep but seeing him last night confirmed that he needs to die whether Atticus likes it or not. He’d always told me how much he hated his family… well, he hinted at it. He was never vocal about them enough to actually say that he despised them but his disapproval of their… lifestyle was always clear.

  Maybe I read that wrong.

  He wasn’t happy about me being in that room but Senior always lied to my mother about what he spent his days doing as well. She found out about his true depravity the day she died and tried to leave.

  Has my love and obsession with Atticus blinded me in the same way?

  Sometime after the sun comes up, Aodhan finds me in the kitchen, baking out my rage and frustration with French Patisserie goods. He wisely doesn’t comment, just takes the freshly brewed cup of coffee from me and takes a seat at the breakfast bar to dig into the fruits of my insanity.

  “I’m gonna get fat spending all this time around here. How the fuck is Harley jacked up and not a fucking beach ball?”

  I scoff at him and push the tray of jams in his direction. “Maybe because he spends half his life either working out or chasing his Mounty around like a little lost and very horny puppy? I’m sure that in itself burns a lot of calories, he could probably afford to ease up on the weights.”

  Aodhan chuckles at me and I try not to preen under his predatory gaze. He watches me like he’s coveting me, planning out everything that he’s going to do to me the moment he can, and after the pleasures I’ve had with him I’m not going to stop him.

  Except if he tries anything in my kitchen.

  I’m not a savage.

  I’m rolling out pastry for three dozen croissants when he gets a call from Jack about a job they’re doing for the Boar and he has to head out for the day. He doesn’t look happy about it but honestly, I’m expecting a quiet day of planning and assessing before I call Lips and discuss what the hell we’re going to do about everything.

  She’s on her way to Texas to kill a biker for her half-brother.

  I don’t want to distract her from that job but I’m also very aware that she works best under pressure and with all of the facts. There are too many blank spaces on that wall of mine and if I want to fill them in, I’m going to have to talk it through with both her and Illi. I need to know what they’ve heard of the Crawford family. Lips has other contacts, I’m sure we’ll find out more of their story and know how best to strike them.

  She could call Nate and ask him to look into it.

  I brush that idea off the moment it enters my head. If Atticus is looking into Nate and what it is that he does when he’s not killing for his sisters, then we don’t want the self-aware psychopath coming back to the Bay or digging around in our delicate politics.

  Aodhan presses me into the kitchen counter to kiss me senseless before he leaves, my head cradled in one of his big hands and the other on my hip to draw me in closer.

  “Call me if anything happens. If Crawford shows up here, I wanna know about it. I have a few things to say to him.”

  I roll my eyes at him but he doesn’t back down, holding my gaze until I give him a halfhearted nod. I’ll call him but I highly doubt Atticus will be back here.

  He didn’t even attempt to call me after the gala, why would he bother now?

  If it weren’t for Aodhan, the idea to give up on men altogether would be too tempting right now.

  After I’ve filled my freezer with my baked goods and scrubbed my kitchen completely, I spend an hour on the phone with Ash to talk him down from running after Lips while she’s on a recon trip at the Chaos Demon MC.

  Harley went with her, leaving Ash to babysit Blaise because of the groupie problem he’s been having, but my brother is not a man to sit around while the love of his life is in danger. If I were there with them it would be different, he could convince himself that watching me was a greater priority and Harley is more than capable to watch after Lips, but Blaise can take care of his own… we all know it.

  Then I spend a few hours working on my dancing again because now that I stepped over that threshold with Aodhan’s prodding, I’m craving the burn again.

  I go to bed that night with a text from Aodhan that he’s still working the shipment and not to wait up. I’m grumpy about it, who wouldn’t be when orgasms that good are on the line, but the fact that he’s letting me know where he is without ignoring me or making me feel guilty about wanting to know is another big point for him.

  I’m woken by a phone call from Aodhan at stupid-o-clock. I haven’t been woken up at this time since school finished and I’ll admit I’m not in the best mood about it, especially because I
went to bed alone.

  “Someone had better be dying. If this is a booty call, I swear I will never touch your dick again.”

  He huffs at my comment and then there’s a little pause before he speaks, just long enough that I sit up in my bed as I prepare myself for the worst. “Listen to me, Queenie, I don’t wanna do this. I really fucking don’t, but I need you to go with the Crow back to his place for a few days.”

  I freeze and my tone goes icy cold without thought, “And why exactly would I want to do that? You know—“

  He interrupts me, “I know exactly what that asshole did and I promise you, I’m not fucking happy about this. Something happened over here and I just need you safe for a few days while Illi and I sort it out. I called him before I called you but only because… fuck.”

  There’s a beeping noise down the line and when I check my phone, I find Illi trying to call me too. My insecurities might make me doubt Aodhan’s intentions but I know Illi would rather bleed Atticus out than send me over there without backup so whatever is happening, it’s serious.

  “Tell me everything while I pack a bag. You’d better promise me you’ll be back to pick me up the second you can, O’Cronin, or I’ll send the Wolf after you with a knife in the dark. We both know she’d do it for me.”

  He huffs and I can hear talking in the background of the call, lots of female voices, young and old. He’s home, I can catch a few Gaelic words but I have no idea what they mean, I only recognize the intonation.

  “I know she would and if it were for you, Queenie, I’d let her but… my house was shot up while I was working down at the docks. A spray of bullets over half the compound and no one saw a thing. The security cameras were cut so I have no fucking clue who was behind it. I assumed it was payback for Diarmuid because he did have a lot of friends but when I made it home to check out the damage, I found a photo tacked to my front door from your little stalker… you and me with our eyes crossed out.”