Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Alfie Scott

W est was gonna kill me, and maybe I was asking for it.

As I drove the kids out toward Ardmore, I had about a dozen voices yelling at me in my head. Go to Villanova instead! Emilia will happily watch them! Don’t give West another reason to look at you the way he did earlier! Take the next motherfucking exit! But I didn’t. I didn’t text Emilia—or Finn, for that matter.

Kellan and I were handling this, and we didn’t involve the boss.

I eyed the kids in the rearview, both decked out in new PJs we’d bought after the festival today, and both tuckered out. But ready for this late-night adventure to Daddy’s.

Ellie’s new pajamas had a bunch of bunnies on them. She’d picked them at the store and shot me her best Veruca Salt look, along with, “I want a bunny, Daddy.”

Her confident, half-spoiled approach didn’t work with me. She didn’t get that way often, so I wasn’t too worried. But every now and then, she tried to demand things, and fuck that. I’d laughed and patted her on the head.

She’d been pissy for half an hour, before retreating back to her usual negotiator personality. Trust, I’d shot that down too, but at least it was cute and bearable.

She wasn’t getting no fucking bunny.

If Trip wanted something, West and I at least considered it. With Ellie, we had another strategy. She changed her hobbies and passions so often that West and I didn’t buy her Christmas presents until right before Christmas. That girl updated her wish list a minimum of twenty times in between Thanksgiving and December 15th.

Something like a pet, a living thing…? She’d need to ask for it for at least four or five months.

We all knew what’d happened with the hamster.

“Daddy?” Ellie yawned. “Are we sleeping at Daddy’s?”

“That’s up to you, baby girl,” I replied. “It might be easier if I come pick you up in the morning, but if you want me to swing by in a few hours, I can do that too. It’ll be in the middle of the night, though.”

Every now and then, she did look to Trip for his input. Like now.

“I think you should swing by,” he said thoughtfully. “Then we can see.”

Then we can see.

That would be quite the fucking detour, but no matter. If they wanted me to come back just to see if they’d made up their minds, so be it.

“You got it, buddy,” I said.

When we reached West’s street, I brought out my work phone and rested it on my thigh. No message from Kellan yet, which meant he hadn’t left home.

I pulled in next to West’s car, and the kids unbuckled their seat belts and climbed out with their stuffed animals.

I followed them to the door and rang the doorbell.

Ellie tested the door. “Poop, it’s locked.”

“As it’s supposed to be, am I right?” I combed down her hair a little with my fingers.

They’d been ready to doze off on the couch when I’d gotten the text from Kellan about a problem in Camden. Three low-men were scheduled to accept a shipment in roughly an hour, and Colm had forwarded a report to Kellan about one of the three saying the other two were shit-faced. Now, none of them was answering their phone.

West opened the door in his fancy dark-blue pajamas, and the look of surprise was no surprise. The pajamas were the surprise, to be honest. He’d had bottoms and a shirt when we’d first started going out, though they’d quickly disappeared when I’d let him know I slept naked.

“Hi, Daddy! We’re on an adventure!” Ellie rushed forward to hug West’s middle, whereas Trip was busy playing a game on his phone. He walked forward too, gave West an absent-minded hug, then walked inside the house.

“What, uh—what kind of adventure?” West looked to me.

I cleared my throat, mildly nervous. But I’d chosen this. “Yeah, I understand this won’t help my case in tryna look like a good parent, but can you watch them for a few hours?”

Ellie peered up at me and scrunched her nose. “What’s a case? Like the bag for my doll clothes?”

I chuckled under my breath and dipped down to kiss the top of her head. “Just a joke between Daddy and me. Go inside and get cozy for a movie you can fall asleep to.”

“ Okaaay .” She trailed inside.

I had no plans to linger, so I was just gonna give West the barest amount of information. “I had a work thing come up. Shouldn’t be more than three hours, tops.”

“A work thing.” He folded his arms across his chest, clearly not believing me. “A work thing at almost midnight. Sounds very legit.”

“You should meet people who work on call,” I said. “We can fight about this later, though. Trip asked me to come back when I’m done, but chances are they’ll be dead to the world by then. Can you tell them I stopped by, and then I’ll be here bright and early in the morning? I can bring bagels.”

He frowned and straightened a little, and he gave my clothes a brief once-over. Nothing much to look at, just jeans and a hoodie.

“What’re you going to do?” he demanded.

I gave him a look. Like I was gonna give him specifics?

As Finn was quick to point out—certain details could be shared with your wife. Or husband. Whatever. If you trusted them with your life, if it was a gesture of goodwill to someone who could keep a secret. You gave a spouse a hand, never an arm.

West wasn’t my spouse, and I honestly wasn’t sure he wouldn’t use some information against me.

He sighed, impatient and frustrated. “Will you be in danger?”

Aw. Was he worried?

“I’ll be fine. But I appreciate your concern.” I smiled, because I was a dick.

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Alfie.” He stepped back and grabbed the door, so I guessed our moment was over. “If you end up in prison, I’ll tell our children you died.” With that said, he shut the door in my face, and I was no longer smiling.

Thanks, honey.

I swallowed my unease and went back to my car.

I received two messages on my way back to the city. One from Kellan, letting me know where to pick him up before we went across the river, and one from West.

You will come back here if that’s what you told Trip. You can lie all you want to me, but you won’t break the promise you made to our son.

He really did view me as a shitty dad, didn’t he?

I could cry in my ice cream about that later.

By the time I picked up Kellan outside his building at Rittenhouse Square, I was blasting Irish punk rock, and—what the fuck? I did a double take at the baseball bat he threw in the back.

He turned down the volume a little, then lit up a smoke and rolled down the window. “Don’t swallow your tongue. Drive.”

I pulled away from the curb on autopilot and tightened my grip on the wheel. This was normal, I reminded myself. I had no reason to react to a baseball bat. Hell, he was already carrying a gun. A bat was nothing in comparison. Right? Unless he had plans on using it.

“Anything you wanna tell me about tonight?” I asked.

He nodded and adjusted his suspenders. Always dressed for a catwalk, that one. Nice charcoal pants, a burgundy button-down that fit him like a glove, expensive leather shoes, and suspenders.

“Little bit of background info—you know of JJ Doyle,” he said.

“Yeah. Crew boss.” Part of the younger generation. Our generation.

Kellan inclined his head. “There are no problems with him and his kid brother—but their cousins? JJ recruited them last year, and we’ve about had it with them. JJ’s gonna kick up to Finn for the headache. It’s already settled. No drama.”

Okay, so Tony and Colby were Doyle’s cousins, and they were the ones currently—allegedly—drunk while waiting on a shipment with one of our many Mikeys. Got it.

“What kind of headaches are we talking about?” I wondered.

He puffed out a breath and flicked ashes out the window. “Constantly late, drink too much, refuse to grow up, can’t shoulder responsibility for shit, and, to add to Finn’s list, they never show up at Mass.”

The last one was hardly a deal-breaker, but fine, as the tiny cherry on top…

“Is it wise to let them handle shipments?” I asked.

He grinned to himself. “Clearly not. JJ’s gonna think twice about who he approves in the future. But it worked out for us—we turned it into a test. Red Mikey’s gonna handle the shipment while we handle the cousins.”

Handle the cousins…

I cleared my throat and checked the rearview. “Are you using the bat?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said pensively. “We try not to use violence on guys under eighteen.”

Fuck me. I was gonna need a smoke myself.

But how gracious of them…

I dug out my pack from the glovebox and lit it up, and for whatever reason, Kellan was amused.

“You nervous?” he asked.

I scoffed. “No.”

God yes.

It struck suddenly and forcefully, settling within me like a blade embedded in my rib cage. At the same time as I… I mean, I’d known this was coming, right? If I wanted to belong to this family, I was going to witness violence at some point. It wasn’t all about murder and guns.

“I can wrap the bat in a security blanket if you want,” he offered.

I reached over and punched his shoulder.

He cracked up.

Trapping the smoke at the corner of my mouth, I checked the side-view mirror before I made a U-turn, and Kellan cranked up the volume again.

I kinda needed it. The music pumped through me, giving me a much-needed boost of energy, and I just steeled myself. I’d chosen this life. I was all in. With my stipulations. I wasn’t killing anyone.

Then I winced internally, remembering telling West just today that I wasn’t gonna hurt anyone either.

That wasn’t a promise I could make, was it?

I couldn’t guarantee that I’d never find myself in a situation where violence was required.

Although, I couldn’t guarantee that as a regular, upstanding citizen either.

Kellan and I made our way across the river, and he gave me a new address that made me frown.

“But they’re at the?—”

“Tonight’s a test for you too, Alfie.”

What the fuck?

“Colm already picked up the cousins,” he finished. “They’re at a safehouse now.”

I clenched my jaw, immediately irritated and on edge. “I don’t appreciate being fucking blindsided, mate.”

“Then you’re in the wrong business,” he told me. “And get off your high horse. Everyone’s gotta prove themselves somehow. You think we’re gonna give you all the ins and outs without making sure you can get your hands dirty? This is something you’re gonna have to get used to. We put low-men on shipments to create a distance between them and us, but someone’s gotta manage those low-men when they step outta line.”

I did my best to swallow my annoyance. I wasn’t sitting on a high horse—fuck him for saying that—but…maybe I could concede to being na?ve.

This was the gig I had accepted. Aside from scheduling sit-downs, it was my job now to work the logistics of some shipments coming up from Florida. According to Kellan—and Finn, for that matter—nine times outta ten, shit went smooth and I wouldn’t have to leave my house. I just had to orchestrate the location, make sure those coordinates reached the drivers, and check in with the low-men who redistributed the merchandise. Each shipment required three guys for unloading, with Colm providing someone for security too, and then the contents of one truck disappeared into three vans going to separate warehouses.

The merchandise was a mixed bag of coke from Colombia, smuggled prescription drugs from Mexico, amphetamines from Asia, stolen goods like art, jewelry, and car parts—a shit-ton of car parts—knock-off branded cigarettes and booze.

Nine times outta ten, shit went smooth…

Was this the tenth time, then?

“Any more surprises tonight?” I asked. “Don’t bullshit me, Ford.”

“Depends if you consider the boss’s presence a surprise.”

I whipped my head his way and gave him a quick, incredulous stare. “He’s gonna be there?”

He nodded once and shrugged. “He gets bored sometimes and shows up like a surprise piss test—and you better not pop hot.”

Jesus Christ.

“In addition,” he said, lighting another smoke, “don’t ever tell me what to do. You’re already being fast-tracked into the syndicate because of your DNA. You better take whatever bullshit we throw at you with a smile on your face.”

I pressed my lips shut and didn’t respond. He…had a point, and it pissed me off. I knew my position was good. Better than most. New members with their usual low ranks never even saw Finn, unless it was from a distance in church. I’d declined countless sit-downs with crew bosses because they wanted to discuss insignificant drama they should handle on their own, most often involving new recruits.

Filling the crews with fresh blood was a job for crew bosses, whether they became full-fledged Sons at some point or they were freelancers taking on gigs for the time being. If you didn’t run your own crew or carry some other important position, you didn’t get a sit-down with Kellan. Period. And here I was, attending barbecues and exchanging pleasantries with Emilia on Instagram.

Goddammit.

I cleared my throat and stopped at a red light. “Can you check my ass later? I think your whip left a mark.”

He barked out a laugh and leaned over, and he smacked a loud kiss to my cheek. “Good answer, you crazy motherfucker. It’s what makes you family.”

I exhaled a chuckle. I’d thought it was my DNA that made me family.

But this was better. You just had to take the reaming, and then the pain was over.

“West put me in my place in the bedroom all the time,” I said. “I’ve had practice.”

“That’s the sweet spot right there,” he replied. “Only reason I rile up my man sometimes.”

Fuck, same. West and I had been equals in every aspect outside the bedroom, no power dynamic or anything like that, until the second we switched over to sex. My bossy beast would take over, grab me by the throat, and level me with a look that said he was about to own my ass.

Shite. I shouldn’t go there now. I didn’t need more misery in my life.

“How’s that going, by the way? With the ex.”

“It’s not.” I made a turn and drove past some slow cunt. “I reckon I put the final nail in the coffin today when I sorta—in a deniable in court kind of way—confirmed that the syndicate was my future.”

“Fuck, did you really?” Kellan was surprised.

I nodded.

“Damn. I’m impressed.”

I quirked a brow and made another turn. We were getting closer. “Why?”

He shrugged and exhaled some smoke. “It bodes well. Members who try to hide their affiliations completely usually fuck up sooner or later, which brings spousal drama to our doorstep.”

I guessed that made sense.

“How much do members tell spouses?” I asked, curious. “Finn, for instance. Or another high-ranking Son like yourself. Or Colm or Liam.”

Kellan weighed his answer for a few seconds. “It depends entirely on the relationship. Shan and I can share a lot since we’re both in, but we keep secrets too. It’s part of the job. We just know it’s always work-related. You’re gonna have to ask Finn about what he tells her. But you know what he says—give a hand.” Never an arm. “It’s not just about protecting the syndicate, though. It’s about protecting partners and keeping the peace. The rest is up to you. Do you trust your partner enough to divulge anything that can land you in prison?”

Not that West was my partner, but no. I didn’t trust him. I had no right or reason to, and he had no reason to protect me either.

“The more you divulge, the more you put the syndicate at risk too,” he went on. “Plus, ain’t a fuckin’ chance you’ll see a promotion or a bonus if we think you’re running your mouth to your man about your woes. A Son’s gotta be able to keep his mouth shut.”

It wasn’t going to be an issue for me. I was just curious.

I could already picture my future. West was gonna meet a man or two, possibly a rebound who lasted a year or so, and then he’d be single for a while before he met the next love of his life and got married. By then, I’d just be Trip and Ellie’s dad. He’d have no memory of me as a husband.

When West got attached, it was near impossible for him to move on. He went all in so completely, so faithfully, and so overwhelmingly, that there was nothing beyond the love he gave someone. Didn’t matter if it was a husband, like me, or the dog he’d had when he grew up. He didn’t want another dog, to this day. He’d had one, and that was enough. But of course, partners were different. He didn’t wanna spend the rest of his life on his own, so he was trying. And he was going to succeed after some ups and downs.

Me, on the other hand? Christ. I was gonna compare every future guy to West, which would result in them remaining casual. I’d have a string of hookups and arrangements to waste weekends with—never a holiday, never a birthday.

“I won’t say shit to nobody,” I muttered. “I’mma die alone.”

“Yeah, that sucks, mate. Last turn up ahead,” he responded. “Park to the left of the building. We’re entering through the back.”

I really appreciated his unwavering support.

As I pulled into a parking lot between two apartment buildings, Kellan called someone.

It was a short call. “We’ll meet up in thirty, ’cause I’m going to Baltimore later.” That was all he said before he ended it, and then he turned to me. “Thirty indicates seconds, three hours means three minutes. Baltimore is our code for something that takes less than five minutes, and me going anywhere—I can use drive, fly, and run too, depending on the distance… That means we’re requesting interference,” he told me. “In short, what I just told Eric is that we need him to run interference on the surveillance in thirty seconds, and it only needs to last a few minutes.”

What the fresh fuck?

“You need to remember this for safehouses in apartment buildings,” he went on. “Your car can only be visible at an address with CCTV a single time. After that, the location’s considered hot until you change cars.”

So that was why I was on a permanent three-month lease? I was going to replace the work car every three months.

“Got it,” I replied automatically. Baltimore, understood. Short was under five minutes. Any kind of trip, interference with CCTV. Thirty without specification meant seconds. Hours became minutes. Right. “What if I need interference to last longer?”

“Learn flight and driving times,” he answered. “Baltimore is the only one with a fixed time of five minutes because it’s the one we use the most. Otherwise, you specify the city and how you’re getting there. If you need interference for, fuck, I don’t know, forty-five minutes to an hour, say you’re flying to DC or driving to AC.”

Okay, that made sense. “Understood. And I can switch it up? Like, I could say we’ll meet up in a couple hours because I’m going out on a run first?”

He nodded. “As long as you find a natural-sounding way to include how long the run is.”

Oh right. Hence why they used locations to determine the time it took to get there.

“I’ll remember that,” I replied.

“Good.” With that, he opened the door and got out, and I followed and— “Grab the bat.”

Oh. Yeah, sure.

“You’ll only need a safehouse for the times you can’t handle a problem on-site,” he added. “You gotta decide for yourself how big the infraction is and what punishment is fitting. If someone shows up two minutes late for a shipment, it’s a come-to-Jesus talk and a wise up or else . If they do it again…? Escalate—take ’em off the job and talk to their crew boss. If they’re ten minutes late…? Now we’re talking compromising the delivery altogether. When a truck rolls into one of our bays, it’s a heavy prison sentence sitting in the cargo. We need the shit redistributed within the hour.”

I nodded in understanding.

“This is why management never goes near the drop-off points.” He paused on the little path leading to one of the buildings, and he leveled me with a serious look. “You never go down to a warehouse in the middle of a delivery, Alfie. You stay back—stay in the condo or whatever—and you keep a plan B and C at the ready if something goes wrong. Frequent communication with your top dog. Today, it was Mikey Sheridan. You can have a second crew waiting in the wings if you’d like, but—fair warning, few low-men will accept the job because there’s very little money and zero recognition in being on standby.”

I nodded once more and chewed on the corner of my lip. It was a lot to remember, but I got it. This was a business that depended on structure and efficiency as much as we needed to switch things up in order to never establish a pattern for authorities to track.

Tomorrow, I’d find some time to think of a plan C for shipments, because Kellan had already recommended using Colm as my plan B. As in, if something went wrong, call Colm, because he always had a crew ready for emergencies during shipments.

The shipment tonight had been under Kellan’s command, so that he could show me the ropes, and I reckoned that was a good thing. Even when nothing went wrong, there were a shit-ton of cues and details to remember.

Philly—and nearby towns—suddenly popped up in my head as a map of warehouses, safehouses, and red zones. I knew where most of them were. I’d studied addresses for days. Red zones meant an area was too close to where a high-ranking member lived, and we didn’t fuck around there.

I followed Kellan to the back entrance of the building, and we took the stairs down to the basement.

He grabbed the bat from me.

“Schedule a sit-down with Richard O’Brien,” he ordered. “He runs Liberty Six Property Group, and they own all the buildings we keep safehouses in—in residential areas only. Youse need to have a line of communication for when you deem a safehouse too hot permanently. He’ll help you find a new place.”

Damn. Nice. “Is he a Son or just an associate?”

“Even better. He’s in our debt and has eternal gratitude toward Finn.” He took a turn down a hallway of…fuck if I knew. It read Bike Garage on one door, Maintenance Only on another. “We helped him settle a gambling debt a few years ago, and this was how Finn collected his favor. Sweet deal, if you ask me.”

I’d say so. Being able to jump between safehouses had to be convenient.

We came to a stop outside a door that had a Storage Unit sign and the number 4. And…just a simple padlock?

“How’s that for security?” I muttered.

Kellan chuckled. “Easier this way. Tighter security would attract more attention, and we don’t keep anything in here anyway.” He knocked twice. “No matter what happens inside, you call a cleaner when you’re done. Understood?”

“I know.” I’d heard that before, and I knew who to call. There was another set of codes to that language.

The door opened, and someone I didn’t recognize poked his head out. He looked like a linebacker with that frame and menacing face—though, the instant he laid eyes on Kellan, he changed his tune.

“Ford.” The guy nodded and opened the door wider. “That’s my cue. Boss, I’ll be right outside.”

There he was. Finn stood at the center of the room, facing two guys who were kneeling on the floor with their hands restrained behind their backs.

Holy fuck, this was real.

Kellan was right in that the room was empty of furniture and stuff that usually ended up in a storage unit, but the walls were covered in panels that suppressed sound.

I entered the room after Kellan, and that was when I noticed Colm leaning casually against the wall that the door had blocked from my view. Even he was dressed kinda nicely. Not the suit or high-end clothes that Finn and Kellan wore, but still. A pair of nice slacks, leather shoes, and a formfitting shirt.

Should I buy clothes like that?

Despite making a face at the notion, Kellan had assured me I had no dress code to follow. I could stick to jeans, tees, and hoodies except for Sundays, which went without saying.

I hated suits, but I had to admit, Colm and Kellan looked damn good. They weren’t uncomfortable, and they brought a pinch of Peaky Blinders to their modern twist on traditional British fashion.

Back in my modeling days, I’d had a gig for a British fashion house once, and I knew I could pull off that style.

I’d think about it.

Colm’s ass was worth a thought too. It was a nice one.

“So you wanted to work tonight, boss?” Kellan walked over to Finn, while I exchanged a quick nod with Colm.

Finn tilted his head enough to face Kellan. “It was either this or coming up with an excuse for why I don’t wanna go running with the wife. And this is— Where’s Alfie?” He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, and he spotted me and narrowed his eyes. “ You . This is your fault, mate. You got Emilia hooked on some fuckin’ fitness trend where you run around and take pictures of Philly. You know who already knows what Philly looks like? Me.”

I grinned and felt a rush of relief wash over me at the mood he set. “It’s not a trend, boss. I just told her that’s what I do.”

“Semantics.” He brought out his smokes and lit one up. “I have a gym in my basement for a reason. I don’t fucking go running outside when it’s ninety degrees.”

I chuckled and folded my arms over my chest. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was here, so I figured it was best to stay back until I had an order to follow.

“Next time we talk on Insta, I’ll tell her long walks to the fridge also work,” I said.

Kellan laughed at that, and so did Colm.

Finn smirked and motioned for me to come closer.

It was all banter. I wasn’t worried. Much. No, I wasn’t.

I joined him at his side, and he draped an arm around my shoulders. “Who knew my cousin was a comedian?”

“The cousin did.” I smiled.

He exhaled smoke through his nose and grinned a little. “We’ll have to work out together sometime.” He jerked his chin at the two guys kneeling on the floor. “We can start tonight with a punching bag or two.”

Very funny.

“Did Ford tell you tonight’s a test for you?”

“Aye.” I folded my arms over my chest again, and he let his arm fall. “He also told me these two are fuckups.”

“Mm.” Finn nodded once and stubbed out his smoke on the concrete floor.

I eyed the guys. Tony and Colby Connor. They didn’t look nervous, so I didn’t know if that made them brave or dumb as fuck. I’d be nervous in their position.

They might be bound or cuffed behind their backs, but they weren’t gagged or anything. They could talk if they wanted to. They looked…sober enough. They’d definitely been drinking earlier, though. That hadn’t been a lie.

“Every now and then, we have low-men who don’t know how to take orders,” Finn said. “It’s partly JJ’s fault in this case. He’s been too lenient.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged it off. Kellan accepted it, and Finn rolled up his sleeves.

So this was it, wasn’t it? The more violent aspects of being part of the syndicate. I was about to witness it. Finn was serious.

He stopped in front of Tony, the elder of the two. His brother was significantly younger at seventeen.

“Oi. Look alive. I wanna know if you have something to say for yourself.”

Tony lifted his head and clenched his jaw. “We fucked up. Won’t happen again.”

I sucked my teeth. He was gonna have to do better than that, especially if the leniency train had already left the station.

“No, fuck up is what you do the second time,” Finn replied. “The first one can be a mistake. But we’re on what, fourth or fifth now? And I’m not even counting the times you’ve shown up hungover and five minutes late.”

Colby shifted on his knees and eyed his brother. At least he was uncomfortable and worried now.

“I have no excuse, sir,” Tony said. “I’ve been a dumbass—but I really wanna make up for it. I want a spot in the syndicate.”

That was marginally better.

Finn turned his attention to Colby instead. “How old are you?”

“Just turned sixteen, sir,” Colby answered.

Sixteen?! JJ had said seventeen.

I exchanged a look with Kellan, and I couldn’t help but feel alarmed. He was a kid!

“And that one?”

“He’s twenty-five,” Colby said.

Finn nodded once and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Lemme guess. Your big brother wants to get shit-faced every day, and you’re too weak to resist.”

Colby swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. “I won’t throw anyone under the bus, sir. But I’ll be 100% sober from now on if I’m given a last chance. I haven’t taken shit seriously—and I should’ve. I’m-I’m very sorry.”

“Jesus, bro,” Tony muttered. “You gonna offer to suck his dick too?”

Oh, Tony.

Finn found that funny but said nothing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Colby snapped under his breath. “I told you from the get—I wanna climb in JJ’s crew.”

“See, that’s good to know,” Finn noted. “What other ambitions do you have?”

Colby cleared his throat and let out an unsteady breath. “I wanna work in tech. I had an interview with Eric Bell last month, and I blew it by not showing up. B-but in my weak-ass defense, it wasn’t because I was drunk or nothin’. I was too chickenshit.”

Kellan brought out his phone and looked to be texting someone. Maybe Eric?

“It’s good to have ambitions,” Finn said. “Less good to be chickenshit.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You got anything to say, Alfie?” Before I could respond, he was looking at the brothers once more. “Alfie’s taking over part of our shipment operations, and if you want in on that money, do yourself a favor and be on his good side. He keeps a short list of people he calls.”

I didn’t, but maybe I should.

I cleared my throat and took a couple steps forward. I wasn’t sure I… Actually, I did have something to say. If Colby was being honest, I wanted to keep an eye on him.

“Separate ’em,” I said quietly. “If they wanna become Sons, we can’t have Tony dragging Colby down, and Colby needs to focus on growing balls.”

“That’s a good start,” Finn agreed. He glanced back at Kellan. “You reckon our boys in Dublin can help the drunk wise up before he finds himself with a bullet in his head?”

“They once straightened out Colm,” Kellan replied. “They can straighten out anybody. I’ll make some calls.”

“I resent that, mate,” Colm protested.

My mouth twitched.

It was nice to feel a bit of humor in a basement where the death of a drunk was being discussed in front of said drunk’s kid brother . Fuck, it was messing with my head. Colby was an actual child. He shouldn’t be here.

“It’s settled.” Finn walked over to Tony, fisted the guy’s hair, and yanked his head back. “But I’mma let you in on a little secret. The only reason you’ll walk outta here alive is because your brother is showing enough remorse to persuade us to give him another chance. And his…loyalties…might shift if we kill you.”

Tony gnashed his teeth and refused to make eye contact.

“Maybe some fucking gratitude is in order?” Finn pressed. “No? All right.” With that said, he pulled back and punched Tony hard across the face, and I sucked in a breath. “How about now?” Finn continued. Then promptly delivered another fist to Tony’s face, and this one had a muted crunch to it.

Tony swore through a pained groan as blood started gushing out from his nose.

“Show him respect, Tony,” Colby gritted out.

“For what?” Tony spat out. “For not killin’ me? He can suck my?—”

Finn cut him off with another punch, one more, then a third and a fourth.

By then, Tony fell to the floor and couldn’t stop groaning—but that wasn’t enough. Finn muttered something about never beating a man when he was lying down, so he hauled Tony up to continue his assault.

“What am I saying? You’re not a fucking man,” Finn seethed. Then he used both hands to grab hold of Tony’s head, and he rammed his knee up the guy’s face.

“Motherfucker!” Tony yelled.

Colm strode forward, and he positioned himself behind Tony so he could hold him up. Tony’s face looked like roadkill. He had blood everywhere, from his nose, a busted lip, and a cut eyebrow. And he was swelling up.

Finn pulled out an actual handkerchief and wiped off the blood, and he turned to me. “Time to see if you’re with us, Alfie. Give them a good warning.”

Wait, what?

He wanted me to… And both of them? He’d said them . I wasn’t hitting a fucking kid.

I swallowed hard, and my ears started ringing.

Time to see if you’re with us…

The bullshit promise I’d made West came back to haunt me, about my not hurting anyone, and I scratched the side of my head.

I could hurt Tony. In fact, he was fucking idiot for not showing his gratitude. If he’d fucked up that much, it meant he’d put operations in jeopardy, and Finn had already shown mercy.

I caught Kellan’s stare, and he extended the baseball bat.

Fuck me, so this was happening.

I swallowed again, and I closed the distance to grab the bat.

Once upon a time, I’d actually considered studying medicine. It’d been a stupid, na?ve idea, not to mention outrageously expensive, and one look into how long it took to become a doctor had made me back down. I wasn’t studying for fucking years to become anything. But even so… Kellan had come to my dorm one night, and he’d chuckled at the books on anatomy I’d kept on my shelf.

I’d found it interesting to read about our skeleton, the tissue, all the muscles and the millions of nerves…

I cleared my throat and tightened my grip on the bat, and I switched places with Finn.

You dumb son of a bitch, you should’ve apologized.

“Pick a rib,” I told Tony.

He spat blood on the floor. Maybe he’d bitten his tongue or something. Maybe the cat got it.

“Are you seriously this goddamn stupid?” I couldn’t help it; I laughed and shook my head. Because if my ass was on the line, I’d beg for forgiveness. I’d beg for my life. It was worth it.

The best things in life were worth swallowing your pride and begging for.

“Fine. I’ll choose for you,” I said.

I didn’t drag things out further. I eased back and raised the bat before I rammed it into his side with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.

He screamed out a hoarse cry, and he choked when he tried to catch his breath.

“For fuck’s sake, Tony!” Colby yelled. “Say you’re sorry and thank O’Shea for sparing you!”

I beat Tony again, in the same spot, fairly confident I’d fractured at least two ribs.

The pain seemed to change Tony’s mind a little.

“Won’t happen again,” he wheezed out. “Fuck—I c-can’t…”

“You can’t what?” I swung the bat once more and hoped with every fiber of my being that it was the last.

He choked out the pain, and Colm let him fall to the floor in a heap.

I squatted down in front of Tony. “Use your last two remaining brain cells and beg the boss for mercy.”

As I stared down at this bloody fucking mess, literally, I felt completely detached from my own body. I felt nothing . My mind was…maybe a little frazzled—thoughts and images flashed like static, but that was it. My pulse was barely elevated. The ringing in my ears—okay, that was still there.

I swallowed dryly. My heart wasn’t pounding. I wasn’t nervous.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whimpered.

I scratched my nose and peered back at the boss and Kellan.

Finn lit up a new smoke and took a deep drag. Then he tilted his head a fraction toward Kellan. “He ain’t worth keeping alive. I’ll give him one month with the Caldwells in Dublin. If he hasn’t turned shit around and made enough money to put a smile on my face, he’s gone.”

Kellan nodded in understanding. “I’ll give Shan a call. He can make sure the shit’s ready to hop on a plane in the next two days.”

Well, nothing screamed comfort like sitting in a plane for eight hours with fractured ribs.

At least he was alive.

But part of me wondered if Finn was right. What if Tony took this time to become a rat? Regardless of how clean our hands were on paper—and sure, he’d have no proof—he could make the cops look into things. It would be another sheet in the already thick case file for the O’Sheas.

Finn blew out some smoke and faced me. “Now the other one.”

What?

I rose to my feet and glanced at Colby, and all my apathy flew out the fucking window. No—I refused. The kid was shaking, and at some point during the assault on his brother, he’d pissed himself.

Discomfort settled like a rock in my stomach, and I clenched my jaw.

Not fucking happening. You had to be another level of twisted to push him down further.

I walked over to Finn, ready to plead my case, and I dropped the bat on the floor. It clanked with a muted thud before rolling over to Kellan’s feet.

Colm returned to his spot by the door.

Finn lifted a brow at me.

“It’s enough, boss,” I said quietly. “He’s a kid.”

“He’s doin’ grown-up shit,” he told me. “If you do that, you better take the grown-up heat for it too.”

I…I saw his point, but I was undeterred.

“ Look at him,” I said, still keeping my voice low. “He’s sixteen years old. He’s shaking like a leaf, he’s crying, he’s remorseful, and he’s pissed himself. I’m with you, Finn—I swear I am—and I will keep proving myself. But he’s been warned enough.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he glanced over at Colby, and Finn appeared to be considering my words at least. So that meant I had to keep pushing. I had to sweeten the deal somehow to win him over.

“He’s already scared, and now, he won’t be anywhere near his brother anymore,” I went on. “Tony won’t drag him down with his bullshit.”

Kellan cleared his throat. “Eric got back to me. Said the kid had a promising online presence under his username as a hacker.”

“So he might have a prosperous future with the Sons. He has potential,” I finished.

Finn shifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes at me. “Congratulations, Alfie. He just became your responsibility. If he fucks up a single time in the next six months, it’s on you.”

Uh…fine. So fucking be it.

“All right.” My stomach tightened, and I suddenly had warning bells going off in my head, but fuck it.

Finn took a step closer and jabbed his finger at my chest. “That means full responsibility, cousin. You make sure he gets to work on time, that he becomes an earner, and that he cleans himself up. Six months. You got it?”

I nodded. “Loud and clear. I’ll keep him with me. He’ll work hard to earn my trust.” I swallowed and felt the need to say something else too. “Also, I love it when you call me cousin. It gives me the warm fuzzies.”

He stared at me with an intense expression, kinda blank, yet full of no-nonsense attitude and gravity, the one that said he was either one second away from killing me or cracking a smirk, and it was very confusing.

In the end, he looked to Kellan and said, “He’s as batshit fucking crazy as you are.”

Kellan grinned. “And you love me.”

I smiled, even though I wasn’t ready to relax yet.

Finn shook his head and tossed his bloodied handkerchief on the floor. “Get T here.”

“He’s on his way already,” Kellan replied. “You go home and take a walk to the fridge. Let Emilia calm you down. Shan and I will deal with Tony.”

“I’m fucking calm,” he bitched. “Christ.” He turned away and aimed for the door, but he spoke to Colm first. “You stick around until cleanup’s finished.”

“Aye, boss.”

Finn walked out after that, taking his personal security guard and driver with him.

“Did I pass the test, cousin?” I hollered.

No response.

Right.

I’d get it another time.

I released a heavy breath, and— “Ouch!” I received a smack upside the head from Kellan. Real fucking nice.

“You’re crazy,” he told me. “Do you realize how this changes things? Tony and Colby have been staying at a motel because they drink up most of their money, and JJ won’t take them in when he’s got a baby at home and another on the way.”

I scratched the side of my head. It wasn’t like I’d been allowed time to think things through.

Not that I regretted my decision.

“So I’ll have him work for room and board,” I said.

I’d figure something out. Maybe he could?—

“He’s not staying in the condo,” Kellan told me.

Well, fuck.

“That’s not what I was thinking.” I scowled and left his ass there. Now I had to take a sixteen-year-old kid somewhere.

I wasn’t precisely strapped for cash, so I could put him up in a nicer hotel while I made better arrangements. I walked behind Colby and brought out my pocketknife upon seeing he’d been restrained with zip ties.

“You’re comin’ with me, kid,” I said.

“Wh-where are we going?” he stammered. “Are you g-going to kill me?”

For fuck’s sake! I understood Finn and the others had to be hard-asses, but how could they look at a kid and consider punching him to pieces?

“Nobody’s killing you, Colby.” I removed the zip ties and helped him up to his feet.

The kid winced and sniffled, and he cast a brief glance at his brother on the floor.

“I told him to be more respectful,” he croaked. “I didn’t wanna be late for work.”

That was good news. “And what about the drinking? Do you have a problem?”

He swallowed and hesitated, though I suspected he was more overwhelmed by everything else tonight than unsure about his response.

“I-I don’t think so.” He sniffled again. “I just… It’s easier to handle things when I’m wasted. And he’s all I have.”

I nodded with a dip of my chin. “I buy that. But he’s not all you have anymore. Are you gonna be okay knowing he’s getting his final shot in Ireland?”

He let out an unsteady breath. “Yessir. I’m honestly surprised Mr. O’Shea let him live.”

“So am I,” Kellan said as he walked past.

I reluctantly understood that Finn showed mercy in his own way—by letting Tony live, at least for the moment, for Colby’s sake. Now it was up to Tony. Finn had spared Colby from watching his brother die. That was something.

“Alfie, youse get outta hea,” Kellan told me. “Eric’s running interference in a few seconds.”

“Okay, cheers.” I assumed he’d get a ride with his hubby later. So I gestured for Colby to follow me, and he grimaced, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. We’d find something he could sit on in the car until he got cleaned up.