The Ruthless Read online

  The men at the gate let us straight through with barely a glance inside the car, and we’re directed by the groundsmen on where to park. Aodhan grimaces and mumbles unhappily about the entire process but follows me up into the house without complaint.

  I take the world’s quickest shower in one of the downstairs guest rooms.

  Okay, it’s five minutes but considering how freaking disgusting I feel, it’s life-changing. Utterly freaking life-changing. I wash my hair twice in that time and scrub every inch of myself with a loofa. Aodhan offers to come in and scrub my back for me, but I feel far too disgusting for that. I know he’s offering to help me rush through this and taking his eyes off of me right now is proving to be very difficult, but the moment I peel the clothing away from me, the stench of my sweat truly hits me and I gag.

  I can’t believe Aodhan has insisted on being so close to me while I’ve freaking reeked.

  Aodhan rolls his eyes at my very obvious panic from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown over his face. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Queenie, like I’d ever give a fuck about that shit.”

  I duck back into my room here to choose clothing and go with a white dress with a thigh slit so high I can wear a set of thigh holsters underneath it without any worries of being able to access them. It has a long sleeve and a high neckline, so once I do a full face of makeup and slick my straightened hair back, the entire look is regal and deadly.

  The exact combination I’m going for here.

  Aodhan walks me in, obviously very aware that the Butcher isn’t here to watch my back and shed blood for me. I’m not worried. I have the knives and more than enough of the Crow’s men to protect me.

  When we take our seats, Luca stands directly behind my seat. Every one of the members sees it and knows exactly what it means.

  Jackson walks in looking subdued and gives me a very open and respectful nod of greeting, sitting beside Aodhan without a word. All of the other seats fill up quickly but with five missing members it looks very empty at the table.

  Everyone looks uncomfortable as hell.

  I have no real clue on how to start so I go with polite for now, taking a leaf out of Atticus’ book. “Good evening. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

  The Viper scoffs, looking a little bit drunk and maybe high. “Like we had a fucking choice. Four suits show up to my fight and say I have to leave to come up here: it’s fucking bullshit. So the Crow is half dead, who fucking cares? Call me when he’s cold and then maybe I’ll give a shit.”

  I turn to him and eye him slowly, choosing all of the best places to stab him if it comes down to that.

  I’d really like it to come down to that.

  “I just wanted to make a few things clear to you all—”

  He interrupts me, his words slurring a little. “You mean the part where your little fucking ‘family’ is killing off members of the Twelve faster than we can replace them? How long until you come after us too, huh? Fuck, I thought the Crow was safe since he was bending you over but you really are just a cold-hearted piece of pussy, aren’t you?”

  I’m done.

  I’m done with this conversation and with the complete and utter bullshit that is the Twelve.

  Faster than any of them imagine, I’m sure, I unsheathe my knife from the thigh holster and impale it through the Viper’s hand and into the table below.

  He lets out a roar, and Luca inserts himself between the two of us before the Viper can take a swing at me.

  “Lips told me all about how you lost your fingers. I’ve seen them, you know? The Butcher has them pickled in a jar down in his workshop. I recognized the stupid fucking knuckle tats straight away. Where I’m going with this is that you’d think a man like you would learn your lesson about who not to fuck with, but… you really haven’t learned, have you? There isn’t an opening for power here, no gaps to be filled or businesses to take over. There’s just the Wolf of Mounts Bay and the Family who back her. The Crow was voted in and while he’s indisposed, he’s named me to speak for him.”

  I look around the room and not a word is spoken between them. Only Jackson and Aodhan will meet my eyes, the rest are looking around like they’re a little too aware that this might be it for them. That I’ve lost all ability to play by their rules and if they don’t toe the line, I’ll destroy them.

  Slowly and with great pleasure.

  I lean around Luca to grab the handle of the knife and yank it out, the Viper grunting and clutching his hand to his chest as blood drips freaking everywhere.

  “You are either a member of the Twelve who respects the rules, minds their own business, and lives a happy life… or you’re dead. No one is attempting to take your cage fights away. I don’t give a shit about the Ox’s protection racket or the Boar’s imports. The parties are a great night out for us, and the Tiger is helpful when things get messy around here. We’re not trying to change what you’re all doing, we’re just letting you know that everything else going on in the Bay? It belongs to us. I don’t want a skin market so there won’t be one. End of discussion. You want to buy, go live somewhere else. I’m not asking for a lot from you people, this is all very basic shit.”

  The Boar looks up at me and says, “Are we done here? Some of us have real work to do and I have no fucking interest in this little lecture. You already know where I stand when it comes to the Wolf.”

  Huh.

  I don’t like him.

  I’ve never liked the Boar because he stood by and watched his niece live through absolute fucking hell for years, all while patting himself on the back for looking out for her.

  Piece of shit.

  “Sure. Get the fuck out of my house, the lot of you, and don’t start anything you can’t see through to the end. We’ll see you all at the next stage of the Game.”

  They all stand up and file out. The Tiger hangs back for a second and looks as though he’s going to vomit but approaches me anyway.

  “If, ah, if the Crow doesn’t pull through, you need to call me. I’ve done all of his estate planning, and there’s a very sizable estate to pass along to you. He was very clear to me about what was going to be happening and where it’s all going.”

  I nod and wave him on because now isn’t at all the time for that discussion.

  I’m not thinking about it until I absolutely have to.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Atticus’s mansion had always been a quiet place, all of the men and women who worked here kept to themselves, but it had never been this morbid before.

  Aodhan hates it. “Honestly, Queenie, I’d rather have my toenails pulled out with a set of pliers than stay here. What the fuck are we going to do, sleep in his bed? I would’ve been fine fucking you where he sleeps a few days ago but after he took a bullet to save you, I feel like an asshole even bringing it up.”

  I roll my eyes at him, still hollowed out at the thought of the gaping hole in Atticus’ chest. “I have my own bed here, obviously. You can sleep in there with me tonight, and in the morning we can figure out how much of this empire I can run from my house and how much requires me to be here.”

  He nods, a little distracted, and tucks me under his arm as we walk. I direct him the entire way down the hall until we tuck ourselves into the lavish room that Atticus had put aside for me. I know for sure it isn’t just a guest room because the soaps, hair products, and skin care brands are all exactly what I use at home. The sheets are the same as mine, all of the colors are what I would pick out for myself, and there’s no less than eight pillows on the bed which I’m sure isn’t a standard number but is my own preference.

  “So do all super fucking rich people like the same shit or did you do the decorating in here? Jesus. It even has the fucking bed-couch thing like yours.”

  I giggle at his description of the chaise longue as I strip off my blazer, grabbing my phone out from my pocket. There’s a couple of missed calls from Lips, but I need a shower and a few hours in Aodhan’s ar
ms before I let the real world touch me again.

  I don’t think I can handle Lips comforting me about Atticus right now. I’ll break wide open and I don’t have the time for that sort of breakdown; I need a clear head to do what’s right for him and his people.

  “A chaise longue is vital to any well-designed bedroom. Where else will Lips sit and hate every minute of helping me plan out my wardrobe for the season? Or where else would Harley have sat and moped to me that he wants to fuck the new scholarship Mounty girl, but she has a knife and knows how to use it? I have a hundred more examples for you.”

  He tugs his shirt over his head and stalks over to the offending piece of furniture, dropping down onto it and getting comfortable. “It could work as a sex bench. Climb up and sit that pretty pussy on me, Queenie.”

  I huff at him and saunter into the bathroom, swinging my hips as I go and smirking at his answering groan. “I need to freshen up first. Give me a minute.”

  He doesn’t say a word about it, mostly because he’s aware of the five minute shower I took when we first left the hospital and there’s no way that will be enough for me to relax now and enjoy being with him. My hands sting when the water hits them and I’m sure I’m ruining the glue, but my OCD wins out for now. I’ll have to fix them later.

  I also need five minutes to process the guilt and loathing at myself for being here in Atticus’ house, fucking my other lover, while he’s in a hospital dying.

  Atticus has always, always done things for the greater good.

  Being here and taking over his business for him while he’s out of the picture is, without a doubt, the greater good, but the guilt may still eat me alive.

  “Stop fucking thinking about it. There’s nothing we can do for him up at that hospital and you left enough men up there guarding him to take out a fucking president if they have to. We’re here because he would want you here.”

  He’s right, I know he’s right, but I still feel the crushing weight of the evening bearing down on me. “I always thought we’d figure our problems out and find our way back to each other. I… I had just decided to talk to him properly about making this work. About having you both and feeling whole again and then I was taken. He gave me his vest, Aodhan. If he hadn’t, if he had’ve just waited—“

  Aodhan cuts me off with a savage snarl, “If he hadn’t, it would be you in that fucking hospital bed and I don’t feel an ounce of guilt saying I’m glad it’s him and not you. Crawford is glad it’s him and not you, I can say that without even thinking about it. He’s a fucking asshole of a man, but he’s been nothing but consistent when it comes to you. Whatever the cost, he was going to get you home safe. Why the hell do you think I’m okay sharing you with him? I couldn’t give a fuck about history or any of that shit, I can share with him because I want you happy, healthy, and whole. He was a fucking big part of that.”

  I take a deep breath, the tears streaming out of me and spilling all over the freaking place but I can’t acknowledge them. I need to stop. I need to pull myself together and be the woman in charge.

  Luca had called me the Queen Crow, but I feel like a freaking imposter right now.

  “Baby, stop. Stop crying, we’re going to go to bed. We’re going to be done with this fucked night and we’re going to get back up tomorrow swinging. No one touches the Family and lives.”

  I choke on a sob, stepping out of the shower and into the towel he’s holding out to me. He wraps me up and bundles me into his arms.

  “He’s not family, he said so himself.”

  Aodhan shakes his head. “He’s got my vote. Lips’ and Harley’s, yours. Illi and Odie will vote for him after they hear the story… fuck, Illi might vote for him just for what he did to the Bear. Six to two means he’s in.”

  I clear my throat. “That makes it a six-all tie. There’s still Jackson, Viola, and… two of Lips’ siblings. I think Jackson would vote for him though.”

  He nods slowly, not asking any questions. “Put the call out. Get the official vote and get him in. No more tip-toeing around this shit. If your brother has issues, he can come talk to me about them.”

  As I follow him back out into the bedroom to get dressed, I snort at him, the most un-Avery sound he’s probably ever heard, but really? “You’re going to face off with Ash over Atticus? I’ve officially heard it all.”

  He shakes his head at me like I’m freaking dense. “You’re mine. I’ll face off with Ash for you and for any reason you might have. He’s your brother and I respect that but you’re mine and we make our decisions about how our life goes, not him.”

  I’ve never heard anything sexier or more terrifying in my life.

  Then the lights go out, the entire room plunges into darkness.

  “Fuck. Get your ass over here, Queenie,” Aodhan says, bending back down to rummage through his clothing for his gun. I use the light on my phone to get back around the bed without bumping into the furniture.

  I message Luca quickly.

  What’s going on?

  Once he has his gun, Aodhan shoves his legs back into his jeans and buttons them back up, foregoing a shirt but at least he’s not going to be facing… whatever this is in his boxers.

  “Grab some pants and your gun. Fuck, where’s your vest? Put that on too.”

  I quickly pull on yoga pants and the Kevlar, strapping my knife onto my thigh and grabbing my gun. I take a deep breath and quickly look it over, exactly the way Illi taught me. The safety is on, and I position my finger ready to take it off the moment I need to.

  Aodhan watches me closely and when I meet his eyes, he says, “You good? I’ll take point and you can just watch our backs until we find Veltori.”

  It takes me a second to remember that he means Luca, my brain still sluggish after the trauma of the last few days, and I nod. My phone buzzes in my hand again, but after a glance I ignore it. I can call Lips back the moment we know what the hell is going on here.

  I walk with Aodhan, shining the light to lead us both and we pause at the door, just long enough for him to listen out but there’s nothing out there, no sound to tell us a thing of what’s happening.

  My phone buzzes again and this time it’s Luca.

  Donnelley has sent men for you. Stay where you are, we’re handling it.

  Jesus.

  I turn the phone for Aodhan to see it right as the door rips open and someone grabs his arm, pulling him away from me even as he opens fire.

  I’m going to lose them both.

  Aodhan is jerked away from me and out of the room, but with the spotlight on my phone I can see them well enough to shoot. I don’t recognize them and I pray Luca didn’t send them up here to come retrieve us.

  Aodhan takes two out and I take care of the other three, simple and effective shots to the chest. I shine the light down onto each of them and make sure there’s blood coming out of the bullet holes, that they’re not wearing bulletproof vests.

  There’s the sound of more gunfire, and I want to freaking scream.

  “We’re sitting fucking ducks up here, Queenie. Can you get us to the tunnel? The one you use to sneak out?” Aodhan breathes the words to me, barely loud enough for me to hear over the pounding of my heart.

  I nod because at this point I could do it in my sleep. Two flights of stairs, a long hallway, and the dining room to go through though, so a lot of places to be caught in.

  Aodhan starts to move, turning when I tap him on the shoulder as we slowly, quietly, and carefully make our way downstairs. We make it all the way down to the ground floor before we run into more suits, and this time I don’t hesitate to start shooting.

  Aodhan takes four of them out before he throws himself at a fifth, his knife in his hand as he grapples with the man. He’s a natural brawler and kills the man with ease. Then five more suits come around the corner and I open fire, taking down four of them while Aodhan takes the fifth on at hand-to-hand.

  I’m out of bullets, the gun completely useless to me now, but I have the hol
ster with knives still strapped to me, if anyone gets that close.

  “Get out, Avery. Go, I’ll meet you there.”

  He doesn’t say where exactly, just in case, but I wait until I see him get the upper hand before I scramble away from them both. There’s no way I’m going to leave him behind but I need to find more guns for us both to go the rest of the way, and one of the guys I just took out would have to have been armed.

  I step into the dining room and come to an abrupt halt.

  The panel to the tunnel is already wide open, and a living skeleton is climbing through the hidden doorway.

  Bing.

  He looks up at me and his eyes flare with recognition, his body turning toward me and every little bit of his focus is now pointed in my direction.

  His hair is overgrown and he’s more bones than body, but the feral look in his eye is an echo of the manic energy Joey used to give off, and I know there’s no way I can underestimate him.

  Think, Avery, think!

  There’s no time to think though, because he rushes at me, swinging his fists with no sort of coordination. He looks like a caveman dragging his knuckles along the ground, and I watch in horror for a second too long, trapped by the shock of seeing him like this.

  I get my hand around the handle of my knife a second too late, and his hands wrap around my throat at the same time as my knife sinks into his gut.

  His eyes widen and a surprised look takes over his features. He fucking stinks up this close and his fingers are brittle and boney around my neck. When his lip curls, I slide the knife out and plunge it in again, praying I’m hitting organs inside him that will kill him quickly.

  His fingers loosen a little more, slipping on my neck until he almost lets go. I give the knife one last yank and then I feel something more than blood come out of his stomach and land on my feet.

  He collapses.

  I vomit.

  When I get the heaving to stop, I shake my foot off without looking and then I step around Bing’s prone form until I can reach his neck. I’m not going to leave any chance of survival for him.