Page 26 of Sweet Vengeance
I knew it, knew that deep down, Tiernan wouldn’t let this go either. We might be the bad guys, but we take care of those we care about. “Thanks, T. See you later.” I end the call.
Almost immediately after hanging up with Tiernan, my cell rings again. I assume it’s Rory, but Conan’s name pops up.
“Hey, you’re up early.”
“Never went to bed,” he replies, voice deep and rough. “I put some feelers out for you, and then Rian and I had some business to attend to. It lasted longer than we thought, but we got him to speak.”
I’m surprised Finan, another man from our organization, didn’t join them. He’s usually the one who likes that kind of stuff. “Nothing like a little torture,” I say softly.
“Something like that. About your issue, though, it was surprisingly easy to figure out. They’re new to the area, wannabe thugs. Steal cars, sell them or break them down for parts. The police are aware of their little organization but can’t seem to find them. Looks like a few of them go a bit rogue—I think those are your boys. Violent but with no control. I’ll text you some names. Still trying to nail down their known locations.”
“Thanks, man. You’re the best.”
“Yes,” he replies simply, making me laugh. “I told your father last night what I was looking into for you.”
“Shit,” I curse.
“He wants you to be careful,” Conan says.
My brain scrambles slightly at that, my body twitchy. “He said that?”
The silence on the other end is the only answer I need.
“It doesn’t count if you have to make shit up for him.”
“I’m not. He might not have said it in those words, but it’s what he meant.”
I roll my eyes. That’s the most bullshit answer I’ve ever heard. I glance up just as they’re bringing Ollie back. “Gotta go. They’re bringing my boy back. Send me those names.”
I end the call before Conan can get another word out.
*
It takes afew hours before Ollie is discharged, and my mind is distracted by both him and my father the whole time. I don’t fucking know why I let that shit get to me, why I obsess about a man who is in my life but doesn’t want to be a father. My brain doesn’t get that.
They give us a list of things Ollie needs to do for his head and his ribs. They also reiterate the signs to look for, and if any of them happen, we’re supposed to return to the hospital. I ask a few questions, and then we’re on our way, the nurse taking him downstairs in a wheelchair.
“I can walk,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. Ollie’s behavior tells me he isn’t used to being taken care of this way; either that or he just doesn’t like it.
“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” I tease.
The nurse squeezes Ollie’s shoulder with a smile. “He’s a keeper.”
I grin.
Ollie rolls his eyes.
It’s not until we’re in the car by ourselves that I tell him what’s going on. “I’ll bring you to your dorm to get your stuff before we head to my house. You’ll need to stay with us for a little while.”
“No. I’m not.”
Jesus. I knew this would happen. “Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m absolutely not. You don’t get to tell me what to do, Cillian. I don’t subscribe to your weird mini-mob hierarchy.”
I rub a hand over my face. I’m fucking exhausted, have a million things on my mind, and now I’ll have to argue with him. “You really need to stop calling us the mini mob.”
“Fine. As soon as you stop calling me kitten.”
