Page 1 of Poison and Wine

Chapter One: Callum

Ear splitting cries of terror and agony echoed through the empty warehouse. Kneeling down onto the blood-splattered floor, I eyed the man tied to the chair. A pinkish hue stained my hands from battering his face. “I want a name, Bobby. All this can end if you just give me a name.”

With disgust glittering in his brown eyes, Bobby spit out of a stream of blood onto my shoes. “Never.”

Tsking at him, I shook my head. “You disappoint me.”

“Fuck you, Kavanaugh.”

“Since I like blondes with big tits, you’re not my type,” I mused. After rising to my feet, I nodded at my brothers, Quinn and Dare. “Maybe you two can get our friend talking.”

As they started pummeling Bobby’s chest and abdomen, I stood back, admiring their handiwork. While some children inherit the family business of banking or medicine, my brothers and I were born and baptized in the blood of the Irish mafia. My grandfather had risen through the ranks to become a clan leader in Belfast. He’d been blessed to actually pass on his power, rather than having it ripped from his hands through assassination or mutiny. At his death, the ornery bastard had bestowed it on his firstborn son, my father. It had been my father’s dream to bring the Kavanaugh empire to the states.

Ten years ago, Hugh Kavanaugh had brought me, Quinn, and Dare to Boston while the rest of our family remained protected back in Belfast. At barely twenty, it’d been hard leaving everything I’d ever known, especially my mam. But any tears I tried to shed at her loss were beaten out of me by my father. I could still smell his harsh, whiskey-laced breath against my face. “An Irish clan member must never show weakness, and your love for your mam is a fucking weakness.” His fist pummeling against my cheek sent blood spurting from my mouth and nose. “The love for any woman is a bloody weakness!”

My lips curled in a sneer at the memory. Fucking ironic that his disgust for the love of women was what led to his demise. Some days when I stared down at my hands long enough, I could see his brain matter and blood sprayed across my skin. I was thirty when I pulled the trigger, but when I stood beside him, I became that heart-broken twenty-year-old kid again.

Over a year had passed since that day, but his spirit still haunted us. His murder at my hands was why we currently found ourselves grappling for power. Old alliances had been burned by my act of patricide. But in spite of all we had lost, I would do it again; and all for the love of a woman.

If anyone could restore and elevate the Kavanaugh name, it would be my brothers and me. As the oldest son, I’d been the obvious choice to take my father’s place. I’d spent my entire life preparing to take over. Because of our wealth, I’d attended the finest schools in Belfast, and I’d graduated with a business degree from Trinity College. Despite all my talents, I was nothing without my brothers.

With his brute strength and towering size, Quinn made a natural enforcer. When you threw in the rippled scars that ran from his temple down the length of his left side, he oozed menace. As a true phoenix risen, Quinn had survived a car bomb that had been meant for my father.

Darragh, or Dare as we called him, was the opposite of Quinn in both appearance and personality. He was shorter, leaner, and where Quinn had been broody even before the bomb, Dare excelled at being the life of the party. Even now a cruel smile was curved on the bastard’s lips as blood splattered along his hands and arms.

Glancing over my shoulder, I eyed the exit of the building where my brother, Kellan, stood guard. Unlike the three of us with our dark hair and blue eyes, Kellan possessed strawberry blond hair and green eyes like our mam.

I jerked my chin up at Kellan. “Want me to take watch and let you have a go at him, boyo?”

After clearing his throat, he called, “I’m grand.”

At twenty, Kellan remained wet behind the ears when it came to the grittier side of our work. Dad had brought him over from Belfast three years ago while our youngest siblings, Maeve and Eamon, remained with our mam. While I felt he’d never truly possess a heart for the harsher side of our business, Kellan was a whizz with numbers and served a purpose within the organization.

When my phone buzzed in my pants pocket, I ignored it. After it continued to go off, I grunted and dug it out. “This better be fucking good to interrupt a perfectly good torture session.”

My father’s younger brother, Seamus, chuckled. “It is. I need to speak to you and your brothers.”

“When?”

“As soon as you finish with whatever poor fucker I imagine you have strung up.”

“Meet me at the house in an hour.”

“See you then.”

At my brother’s expectant faces, I tucked my phone back into my pocket. “We need to wrap this up. Seamus needs to talk to us.”

I knelt down once again in front of Bobby. His head lolled forward as blood dripped out of his mouth. “Last chance,” I said.

“End me.” A shudder went through his body. “If you don’t, they will.”

“While I normally don’t take commands from traitors, I’ll oblige you just this once.” After grabbing my knife from my holster, I unsheathed it. With a quick flick, I sliced Bobby’s throat from ear to ear. Jabbing my knife at Quinn, I said, “Arrange a clean-up, and then meet us at the house.”

As he nodded, I started over to the door with Dare on my heels. When we reached Kellan, his face paled slightly at the sight of our blood-stained clothes and hands. He recovered and handed us a bag with a change of clothes.

After stripping down to his briefs, Dare groaned. “Man, I’m starving.”

Kellan shot him a look of disgust. “How can you possibly be hungry after what you just did?”

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