Page 14 of Cillian

He came to a stand, pinching my chin in his hand to look him in the eye again. “More than anything, family is most important to me. It could be a sister. An uncle. A wife I can’t stand—hell it could even be a cousin three times fucking removed. Long as they got Sullivan at the end of their name, I’m gonna protect them. I hope your question about what would drive a man like me to kill a man of God, cold blood, on an open street. Protecting family. Three years. For protecting family,” he ended in a low hitch.

Tucking his pistol in the back of his belt, he strutted over to the chair he once sat and grabbed his suit jacket from the couch’s arm. “I’ve got business to take care of. If you need anything, Seamus and Finn are at the door. I can’t predict how long things will go, but don’t wait up for me. Just because we’re stuck together don’t mean we gotta be around each other.” His last words before he disappeared from the penthouse and into the lobby.

Before shutting the door, I did get that confirming image that two well-dressed thugs were indeed manning the door. Probably trying to prevent me from having a way out.

Now that Cillian was gone, I became more conscious of the lack of breaths I took in his presence. He’d been calm, but so far unpredictable. But I could admit some of my fear dissipated hearing his side of story, assuming it was true. I still didn't think any man deserved to die in a manner fit for a rabid animal. Yet after knowing, all I could think about was his cousin. What that information would do to her reputation if her secret had ever gotten out. What would have happened to me if my secret ever got out.

Woman never outran the things people said about us. Once you were considered fast, that's all you were seen as. Honestly, women contributed to this narrative almost as much men did.

Did he really care about what happened to his cousin enough to protect her son? I’d probably never know for sure. Every man in my life did so little to protect me. When you were a Black woman, you were on your own. Forced to take abuse from white men, Black men, any man really.

Having to look Cillian in the eye, I was ashamed to admit it was the first time I saw a person. Mentally preparing myself for a black eye or any other cruel way a husband kept his wife in line, to my surprise he did neither.

My mama always said it took more than a man not beating you to be a good one. And I was still sure Cillian wasn’t a good man. But maybe he wasn't a bad one either.

Relieved I wouldn’t have to hold my breath or anticipate running into Cillian for as long as business hours would allow, I decided high time to get proper rest. The only question was, what was I going to do when he came back?

Six

Cillian

Settling into the family business was the only thing keeping me from going mental. I dreaded every second I spent at home. And I feared what I’d do to her if I had to spend another minute in her company. I was worse off here than when I was on the inside, at least there, I could crush someone’s face in with little consequences.

Running one of the clubs was what I was handling before I went in, but the boys had invested in a movie theater, so during the day, I found myself indulging in a picture before checking into the pub. Juggling more than one business wasn't what I'd call it easy. The numbers, the paperwork, the payroll and the people were always a shit ton to remember. But the point was to clean the money from the real work being done. The upside was that it kept me out the house and busy. Most of all, away from my witch of a wife back home.

As I entered the club, all my brothers were at the bar, a drink in each hand, and a cigar in the other.

“How's the first day back at work on the outside? You keeping up, Cilly?” Bellamy asked, as I gestured to the bar maid to pour me a long one, and found a seat between Paddy and Tadhg.

“Honestly, this is the only thing keeping my head on straight. After the night I’ve had, I’d rather stay busy at work.” Paddy laughed, lowering his cigar butt in a metal ashtray.

“What's wrong, baby brother? Married life not as easy as you made it out to be?” With a wave of my hand I shooed him away, drowning myself in whiskey.

“Fuck off.” An arrogant smile lit up his face, as he passed Bellamy what looked like a tenner. It was clear they were placing bets on me.

“That bad, huh?” I slammed the glass against the table, anger streaking my cheeks red.

“Why didn't anyone tell me the woman you arranged me to marry, was the fucking key bloody witness in my murder case?” It came out like a shout, all their gazes floating between each other, wearing shock on their expressions that I knew the truth.

“She told you?” Paddy asked.

“Fuck yes, she told me! But why didn't any of you? You're supposed to be my brothers. You're supposed to be looking out for me. And you leave out that the woman you got me fucking married to, is one who put me away. We can't even look at each other. How the fuck are we supposed to stay married long enough to work out your fucking business arrangements?” Tadhg laid his hand on my shoulder, something that should have been an act of comfort, but felt more like a violation.

“We were going to tell you when you got more settled in. Truth is, we didn't feel like it mattered that she was the witness. When the offer came our way to get you a second chance, suddenly everything moved quickly. All due to her recanting. It was like a miracle got thrown in our laps and from what we were told, she was a nice girl. We figured, she would just want to do the right thing to help her family.”

“Yeah, Cill. I was the one who didn't even want to tell you knowing how damn impulsive you can be. But the boys had me two against one. Don't tell me some petite bloody church girl has you pissing your pants the first night free. Maybe the bucket has got you a little rusty on how to put your wife in check.”

And like that, something inside of me shattered. Paddy was always toeing the line going too far with his sharp tongue and dumb mouth. Putting my gun to his head I released the safety, I was so angry I could fuckin kill him, even if it was just to shut him up.

“I spent three bloody years in prison. Yesterday was the first time since then I’ve had a decent meal and I come out to a wife who’s a snitch and afraid of me. And to top it off, here you all are, taunting me. I'm not just angry. I want to hurt someone and with you being the closest, I’m real fuckin tempted to blow your head clean off.”

Paddy straightened his waistcoat and clasped his arms in front of him, wearing a look of arrogance in his silver screen good looks, unfazed by the gun pointed to his temple.

“Cill, if you point that gun at me, you better be ready to fire it. Because if I get it out of your hands, and the others aren’t fast enough to pull me off of you, you’ll be spending a night in the hospital like Pa used to send us. You're a daft motherfucker if you think me looking down the barrel of a gun is gonna keep me quiet.” Bellamy approached me easing the gun down from my hand to lay down on a table.

“Easy now, cowboy. We just got you back, mate. We don't need you going back for something childish.”

“You all should have left me in there,” I said with a tap to my temple. “I ain't gonna make it out here.”

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