Page 83 of The Apprentice
“Thank you for the date and for sharing this with me.” I waved at the books, then frowned at the pile scattered across the wooden floor. I bent to pick them up, but he grabbed my elbow and drew me into his strong embrace.
“We’ll handle it tomorrow, boy. I only want you in my arms right now and for always.”
I shivered. That’s exactly what I’d wanted to hear for the last eight years.
16
FIONN
The ride to Sloan’s house was filled with silence, thickened by the tension that stifled the air between us. Aodhan didn’t say anything to us, and by the concerned expression on Daire’s face, he thought it was strange. It was weird for Aodhan to be quiet based on our short acquaintance. He’d always been mouthy and confident. Daire didn’t bother to ask if he was all right, and neither did I.
When we arrived at the house in Southampton, Aodhan finally smirked at Daire.
“Give your brother a hug for good luck?”
Daire rolled his eyes and slipped out of his Mercedes, and I followed him from where I sat in the back. Aodhan was right behind us as we stalked up the front stairs of Sloan’s house. Mr. Hopper opened the door and bowed his head slightly as we entered.
“Mr. Killough has asked the Reardons to wait outside his office. Young Mr. Killough, your uncle wishes to see you in the basement,” Mr. Hopper drawled. The elderly butler always looked blasé; his stoicism wasn’t anything new.
I gave him a sharp nod and turned to Daire. With a smile, I reached out for his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be right back.”
Daire swooped down to kiss me, and I froze. I hadn’t expected him to do that so casually in front of Company men. I wasn’t going to complain. I returned his kiss and held back a whine when he pulled away.
“Remember who you are, boy. You’re a Killough. This company is your birthright.” He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone.
I closed my eyes, reveling in the tender moment while in his strong arms, before I gave him another smile. “Yes, Daddy.”
Mr. Hopper coughed, his eyebrows jumping just enough that I could hardly recognize the usually foreboding man. The moment may have been fleeting, but it was enough that I considered it a win. It was rare for anyone to catch him by surprise. Grinning wider, I winked at Daire and left him and Aodhan there as I walked down the hallway toward the stairs that led to our special torture room in the basement.
I descended the stairs and paused at the bottom. In the middle of the torture room a man hung naked by his ankles. Blood flowed from various cuts down the length of his body until it trailed over his arms and dripped off his fingers like waterfalls pooling onto the cement floor below.
A few of our men stood to the right side of the room, quiet and waiting, while Sloan sat in a chair on the left. His elbows were on his knees, hands covered in blood that dripped onto the floor with the rest of it. His white dress shirt was splattered in blood and the stains were stark against the pale material. The sight of him was sinister, a reminder of his power.
Sloan’s cold stare tracked me as I stepped farther into the room. “Fionn.”
A queasy sensation bombarded my stomach, twisting and knotting until I thought I was going to puke. Bile burned mythroat. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen a dead body—even one so mutilated. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it. It was rare for my uncle to be so hands-on with.... When he did there was usually a point to prove.
“Uncle. Mr. Hopper said you wanted to see me. Aodhan’s here.”
Sloan hummed and held out his hand to one of the men on the other side of the room. The man handed Sloan a damp towel. “Good,” Sloan murmured as he took his time to carefully clean his hands of blood. “Do you know who this man was?”
I glanced at the body. His face wasn’t familiar—though, that meant little with how torn apart he was. “No, Uncle.”
Sloan smiled, a menacing quirk of his lips that sent a shiver up my spine. “His name was Markus Gill. His wife was Rina, the sister of Reed Olsson.”
Oh—Reed Olsson was a man we’d recently captured. He’d stolen drugs from Sloan and hidden them. Four of our men—Cillian, Rowen, Aspen, and Fallon—had taken turns in torturing Reed for information. In the end, it was our specialized thief, Oisín Kelly, who managed to get it from Reed. Oisín discovered that Reed placed the drugs in the most obvious place—his sister’s house. As payment, Oisín got to keep Reed as his own.
I nodded.
“Hm. Some of our men questioned me about leaving Reed alive. They wanted him dead.” Sloan crossed a leg over his knee and held out his hand. The man who’d given him the towel opened his suit jacket to pull out a sheathed cigar. Sloan popped the end of the cigar in his mouth and our man lit it up for him. “They complained I was weak to let Reed live.”
I waited. My fingers twitched as Sloan took a puff of his cigar before blowing out a stream of smoke. The sweet aroma of tobacco and cherries tickled my nose.
“The thing about being the boss, Fionn, is that we get to decide when it’s beneficial to kill someone and when it’s not. I could’ve killed Reed, yes, but he was still useful. By giving him to Oisín, I fulfilled a favor and kept one of my most important men happy—ensuring the strict loyalty of a valued asset. Reed is Oisín’s toy now, but also his responsibility. Any trouble he causes, Oisín will have to pay for.” Sloan took another puff and stood, rolling his shoulders, before he filled the air with more smoke. “I killed Reed’s sister to prove a point. Her husband, this coward—” He waved at the hanging body. “—ran away before we could get there. Left his wife behind. It took a while to find him, but we did.”
I swallowed and fought to keep my attention on my uncle—I could taste the metallic tang of blood on the air.
Sloan walked toward me and stopped right in front of me. “This waste of space wasn’t useful, so he died. If someone talks to the cops, they aren’t useful. They die. Do you understand?”
