Page 103 of Sweet Vengeance
Cillian has ahold of my left hand, so I lift my right and clasp it with his. “Ollie.”
“The future lawyer from Michigan,” he says.
“Jesus, you fucking looked into him!” Cillian shouts.
“It’s my job to protect this family,” Rian answers simply.
“I don’t have anything to hide. Yes, that’s my goal. It’s always been my dream, but we’ll make it work. I would never betray Cillian or any of you.”
Rian watches me for a moment, the wheels clearly spinning in his head. I have no doubt he knows I’m afraid, that he can see it, smell it, but I do my best to stand my ground.
“Good. Now, should we do normal family shit or what?” Rian smirks.
I have no idea what to think of this man. In some ways, I hate him, but in others, I see there’s more to him than he wants to show. That he’s hurting and hiding in similar ways as his son.
“Normal family shit? Jesus, Uncle Rian, you’re an idiot.” Aislin works her way through us and gives him a hug.
“Be nice, brat.” He presses the tip of his finger to her nose in this loving way that he has yet to show his own son. Fear of rejection, maybe?
“Let’s go inside,” Aislin says, and we follow. She gives Cillian a small smile, then takes his free hand and squeezes it in support.
It’s not long before Fia—Tiernan and Aislin’s mom—shows up. A man named Conan too. I’ve heard Cillian and the guys mention him often. More come and go—Flynn, Blain, Finan, Torin, and a few others whose names I won’t remember.
The house is busy, and if I thought the mini mob saidfuckevery other word, it’s quadrupled here. These violent, murderous, drug-and-arms-dealing men who laugh and joke with each other. Who tease each other and trip over furniture and talk about people they love. They’re human, just like the rest of us.
Cillian talks a lot with Conan, with his aunt and theothers, his body less tense and his heart more open with them than it is with his dad.
There are eyes on me often. I’m the outsider, the one they aren’t sure of, but no one watches me more than Rian. He watches both me and Cillian almost constantly. Even when he has discussions with others, his gaze often darts toward us, studying, curious…sad. Rian O’Shea is an asshole, yes, one who hasn’t been a good father to Cillian, but he’s living with a broken heart.
I pull my gaze away from Rian and give it back to Cillian, Rory, Tiernan, Conan, and Finan as they speak.
“How are things going at Paradise?” Tiernan asks.
“Good as always. Sex will always sell.” Conan takes a drink of his bourbon, watching me over the glass, judging, testing.
They’re into the business of prostitution? It makes sense, I guess. That’s what organizations like this do, I assume, but…is everything consensual? Do the people who sell their bodies choose that? I have to believe they do. Cillian wouldn’t be involved in trafficking humans against their will, would he?
“We’ve been pushing a lot of money through the club the past few months,” Conan adds. “We need to be careful, maybe work through another venue.”
“Hey. Do we have to talk about that shit right now?” Cillian asks, which only results in Conan and Finan looking at me. It’s clear they all know why he doesn’t want to speak about it. Maybe it should be scary that they’re talking so freely around me. The more I know, the more of a danger I am to them and the bigger chance they can try to hurt me.
Not that I plan to betray them. I would never do that, but it’s scary knowing they’d kill me if I did.
“It’s fine,” I say, and the truth is, it must be. I tell Cillian I don’t want to hear what he does, and in the grand scheme ofthings, I don’t, but if we’re going to be together, I can’t pretend none of this is happening. “And you should…find another legal avenue. Making it all go through the club will cause suspicion, especially if you’re pushing more money through than usual.”
Finan laughs. “We know what we’re doing, kid. The club isn’t the only place.”
“But apparently it’s the biggest. I’m only confirming what Conan already said.”
Cillian’s hand tightens on me, and I wonder if that’s his way of telling me I’m teetering too close to the edge.
“What would you suggest?” Conan asks. He’s probably just indulging me, but I want to answer anyway.
“Real estate maybe? I figure that would work well. Obviously, more clubs or any kind of business like that…restaurants?”
Conan grins, and again, I feel like I passed some kind of test.
“Okay, that’s enough, Mister Mob Business Advisor.” Cillian lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my waist from behind.
