Chapter 1

One

C illian

"Lift up your tongue," the medical examiner demanded, looking around the pockets of my mouth. The last examination had to do with the fight I'd been in yesterday. But given my time locked up, they'd seemed less concerned that I got my arse kicked and more concerned to whether I had started the fight.

They weren't lying when they said inmates would do everything in their power to sabotage your release. Three or four wouldn't have been a challenge for me, but getting jumped by that many at once, I endured it because my family told me not to do anything dumb enough to force another charge on me.

My family were my everything and I thought it'd be a long time before I saw them again, but with God as my witness, it would be the last beating I ever took. Pa gave me enough practice for a lifetime with that.

"Inmate 29B0119, all clear." The medical examiner dismissed, passing me back to the CO meant to lead me to receiving and discharge. It was to my understanding, over a year ago my family had left clothes for me to change into, but since I'd asked them to stop coming, they weren't aware of how tall I'd gotten.

Since none of it fit, I was encouraged to wear a white t-shirt, plain trousers and boots a half size too small. Cashing out my commissary, the last thing before I was released was to retrieve the belongings that had been taken from me upon my arrest.

Verifying my identification didn't take long, as I was handed a small box and bag of clothes. The box didn't hold much, so it was easy to see what I'd been looking for was nowhere in sight. "There's supposed to be a pocket watch in here," I challenged the attendee at the desk.

"That's all that was signed off on during your intake."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I mumbled under my breath until I couldn't hold in my frustration anymore. "That was my father's watch— Jesus Fucking Christ, the man gave it to me before—you know what? Fuck it." I snatched the rest of my shit and took it as a loss. Keepsakes didn't matter. What mattered was getting the hell out of here.

Running back to receiving and discharge, I joined two inmates to verify our identification, signing paperwork necessary for our release.

"Name?"

"Sullivan, Cillian."

Each of us were instructed to the final checkpoint. I wasn't one for detail, but it resembled a small gate house with travel information on each side. Since my family name ended in S, I was the last one called before I could exit, placing me into a driveway where I hoped to meet my brothers and sister.

The CO guiding me to the parking lot must have been on a power trip because the second my brothers came into view, he deemed it necessary to give me an unwarranted pat down.

Gathering myself together, there was no missing my eldest brother Tadhg. Growing up, everyone called him ‘Big Red' on the count that he was six-foot-five by the time he was twelve. Despite us being both the gingers of the family, his signature coif favored more a traditional red, where depending on the part of year it was and how the sun hit it, mine was cross between that and strawberry blond.

"Tadhg," I said, in the respectful tone I'd come to use addressing the head of the family.

"Cillian." He fixed his coat closed, giving a nod of approval. With Tadhg, that was the most you were going to get from him. He'd always been stoic and real particular, and over time we just learned that he didn't mean anything by it.

Tadhg grabbed my face inspecting the residual bruises left from the fight from yesterday. "They fucking with you in there?"

"It's nothing," I said, dismissing his concern. I was always the runt of the family, and since I wasn't anymore, I didn't need anyone babying me.

"C'mere you fucking eejit!" Paddy—my older brother by three years—clasped me in a neck lock before swallowing me in an embrace. "The little shit got tall!" he said, pointing me out to my other brothers as if they didn't have eyes.

"No wonder he's wearing hand me downs." Paddy never missed an opportunity to humble me.

"You look good kid," Bellamy said, my older brother right below Tadhg. He was subtle, but was never too good to show his younger brother love, as he hugged me and assessed my look.

"Looks like you need new clothes," he said, tossing through my copper strands. "And a haircut, Jesus .

It only took a second to notice who was absent amongst the group. "Where's órfhlaith?" Half thinking the sound of her name would summon her.

"órfhlaith's a fucking mother now," Paddy grimaced, pulling his hat to his chest.

"No fucking way. I'm a fucking uncle?" The weight of my absence was sinking in. "How come no one came to tell me?"

"You told us to stop coming, Cilly. We just assumed you didn't want to know," Bellamy defended, well within his right to do so.

My sentence had originally been ten years. Seeing them the first two months had been nice at first, but just gave me a sense of hope I didn't think I was worthy of holding onto anymore. Prison was hard. And I went through a state of depression at the thought of my entire youth being spent behind bars. I hadn't wanted them to see my optimism chip away with each passing year. After the first six months, I asked them to stop coming all together.

I couldn't have predicted I would only spend three out of those ten years I was meant to serve. "Where are they?" I nearly stammered, nervous at the thought of having a possible niece or nephew. "I want to see them."

"You're out, you'll have plenty of time for that," Tadhg interrupted. "What would do you good your first day out?"

My stomach grumbled. Having not wanting to ruin my appetite before my discharge, I was greatly regretting not having some bread or milk to calm my hunger pangs. "Maybe a pint. A decent meal for a change," as I rubbed my stomach. Heaven only knew I hadn't had one in three years.

"That's it?" Paddy challenged. "You got a night to do whatever you want, you dumb fuck. Tell us there's something more than that," he said, aggressively pulling me in.

"Shit, if it's up for discussion, I could use some pussy. Three years with no women. I feel like I'm about to lose my fucking mind." Only thing keeping my sexual discipline at bay was being surrounded by an institution full of cocks. My libido was so high, I could be locked in a room with six hookers and still have more energy to go around when I'm done with them.

"You'll have plenty of time for that, Cilly boy. We ain't seen you in ages. Why don't you pick shit we can all do?" Bellamy shot down on the spot, which was rich coming from him.

That was the hardest thing about being the youngest; any opinion my siblings didn't agree with, was always met with pushback.

"I guess I don't fit the old shit you sent me. Barely fit what I've got on now," tugging at my t-shirt.

"We'll get you fitted real nice, I reckon you're due. These rags don't do you justice," Bellamy added, with a flick of the collar to my shirt. It wasn't fancy, but I knew if I'd done something to piss a CO off, I would've been in worse.

Tadhg opened the backseat of his Mercedes-Benz, gesturing for me to get in. It'd been a long three years, but before I went in that backseat, I had to know one thing. "Before I get in, anybody got any snow?"

"Does anybody have any snow?" Paddy condescendingly taunted, wearing a sinister grin stretched along his face. "Is water fucking wet?" As he pulled out an eight ball of cocaine and slammed it into my chest.

"You don't fucking have to tell me twice!"

***

"This ain't like the old shit we used to move," I said, inspecting the cocaine with my new heightened awareness.

"We had to outsource to new suppliers. This coke comes from at a cheaper price than the last connect but they take most of the risk, so we take thirty-five instead of the original fifty," Tadhg explained. Most our revenue came from distributing whiskey all over Boston—as well as racketeering, so thirty-five was still a decent cut. But the Callahans had always been our major connections. It made me wonder what was worth taking a fifteen percent pay cut.

"Here we are, fellas. Store's closing down—nothing less for our baby brother," Bellamy boasted, once we reached the tailor. It was one of the legit businesses the family used to clean the money, so it wasn't that big of a gesture.

After wearing a grey uniform for three years, I couldn't wait to wear something decent. Being one of the top three Irish organized crime families in Boston sure had its perks. Couldn't be a gangster without style.

"So?" outstretching one arm, bringing a cigar to my lips with my free hand. "How do I look?"

"Like a motherfucking scoundrel," Bellamy boasted, before suggesting all the places we could eat. Our area of Boston was dubbed New Dublin on the count that it was nearly ninety percent Irish, so there was a pub at every corner. But being back home, only one place would do it for me.

Darragh's—a place co-owned by an uncle on my mother's side and Oisín—my late father, was the best place to make my time back feel official. Unbeknownst to me, the entire neighborhood had planned for my release, as a big welcome was waiting for me by the time we'd even walked into the pub.

"Rounds for Cillian on me!" various voices around me, some familiar, some new to me roared all over the pub.

"Is that Cilly? Littly Cilly?" A middle-aged woman with a heavy Old Country accent, emphasized my growth spurt. When I went in, I was only five-foot-five. In the time my family stopped coming, I'd grown well over six-feet.

"Not so little anymore," I shrugged, reaching for a hug. It was hard not noticing all the pretty lasses sitting nearby at several booths in walking distance.

Leaning on the back of one of the booths, I flashed a smile and proceeded with, "Ladies," met with coyness and the type of giggles a man like me went wild for, especially after a three-year bid.

My eyes went from the dark-haired lass to the blonde one. I wasn't as attracted to her but she was a safer choice, as Oisín's words were still stuck in my head after all this time. Go for them blonde and dumb . Which was odd given his forty-year marriage to our mum, a ginger.

"So which one of you ladies want to give me a?—"

"Cilly, come on. Get some food in you, there'll be plenty of time for that type of thing." Tadhg forcibly plucked me from my seat.

"Why you trying to ruin my play? A man's got needs, you know?"

Paddy sat opposite of me, leaning in to intervene. "Trust us. We're doing you a favor. The blonde may look innocent, but last time I heard, she's got the clap. Or at least that's what the last man that's been with her would say."

"Let me guess. You're that last man?"

"I never said I was perfect," Paddy joked. Without a moment's notice, Darragh laid a jug down at our table, dipping each mug inside to fill them generously.

"Welcome, lad. Can't say how good it is to see you on the outside."

"Good to be on the outside," as one swig of my stout made me instantly want to fall back and finish the whole jug on my own.

"We got something cooked up real nice for you."

"Aw, you shouldn't have," Paddy interrupted, like he'd been talking to him.

"I'm fucking starving. I want my energy up for when I drain my balls in a lucky lass tonight," I joked, which was met with an immediate silence and uncomfortable shift in posture from my brothers. Why were they acting so strange?

"We got you set up in a penthouse suite," Bellamy changed the subject. "Figured you'd want privacy after three years away."

If I hadn't already been suspicious of my brothers that should have given me pause. My brothers had never trusted me to live alone. I'd always either lived at home with Mum and Pa. When things got tense—when I became Oisín's personal punching bag—I'd stay with Bellamy just to heal up.

"Oh yeah? Where at?" I asked, letting my hunger hide my suspicions.

"Stormridge," Paddy answered.

"Stormridge? But that's close to Black territory."

"But it ain't Black territory. Its…diverse," Bellamy dismissed. "We think you'll like it," he insisted.

Before I could blink, plates of traditional Irish food were put before me, forcing any foreboding signs away. Tearing my teeth into soda bread for the first time in years, was as sweet as making love to a new woman for the first time. Shit, maybe even a second time.

Warm, savory mixtures of carrot and mutton forced me back home in our birth city of Cork where I had been lucky enough to reside until I was six.

"The food must be good, huh?" Bellamy taunted.

"I've been fucking craving it," I said, washing it down with a gulp of Guinness. "Only thing that could top it is bringing a lass back to this so-called place of mine?—"

"What is with you and pussy today? You can't enjoy a day out with your brothers?" Paddy wasn't the oldest, but he sure did hold whatever privilege he had over me.

"You'd have a one-track mind if the only thing you've been fucking was your hand for three years."

"You don't want anything or anyone here, Cilly," Tadhg interrupted, ripping off a piece of the lamb of the plate in front of him. "Just eat your food and take the day, one moment at a time."

"That and Paddy's fucked half the lasses here," Bellamy joked under his breath.

"Don't act all holier than thou, Bell. We all know what you spend your disposable income on. Restraint and you ain't the best of mates," Paddy challenged.

"Well." Bellamy looked around the room. "Around these parts, I do." Bellamy had come out the womb a lady's man. But because he had a type, he'd find no comfort here. Of all of us, he was the one who looked the most like Pa outside of órfhlaith.

The only brother with dark hair, he took full advantage that he could pass for Italian, Greek or Jewish. You'd think being Irish was enough, but it was a not-so-secret that he preferred lasses anything but white. But because Pa would have never allowed him to be with one, he had a weakness for prostitutes.

No one could fight like him either. It was why he moved out so much sooner than we all had, as no one had ever lifted a fist to Pa before Bellamy. Pa still controlled him through the family business, but he'd always been who I looked up to when it came to learning how to fight.

"Don't get too drunk, Cilly," Tadhg advised. "You're gonna want to be sober for where we end up next.

I fucking knew my brothers wouldn't let me down. Probably never ate so fast in my life. Next thing on the list had to be a whorehouse.

***

"Not exactly what I had in mind," I said, admiring and inspecting the firearm. "But can't say I haven't missed the weight of one of these in my hand." There was something about shooting that made my cock hard. First round always reminded me of that initial thrust during a good fuck.

It wouldn't have been what I choose to do, but it was at least in the top three of my favorite things, so my brothers knew me well. "Where did you get these?"

"New connect," Tadhg answered in a way I knew I wouldn't receive a follow up.

"Let's see how these babies hold up," I said, and all four of us took our positions and proceeded to shoot our intended targets. It'd been a while since I fired a gun. It surprised me that my brothers trusted me so soon with one, given why I was in the pen. I was in a good space, letting the collective sound of rounds put me at peace.

"You're getting rusty, Cilly boy," Paddy teased, but coming from him wasn't much of an insult. He was the only one of us who'd gotten drafted, making him the only one of us to serve the country.

It was a strange thing to say, but he came back…different. He don't feel like he used to. War turned his nerves into literal steel. Time overseas made him bold enough to challenge you to a game of Russian roulette, knowing it'd blow his brains out just to show prove he wasn't afraid to lose.

Serving made him an expert marksman, and he definitely took the jobs that your hands got a little dirty for. Which was such a contrast to his looks. He was definitely one of them pretty boys who didn't act like it. Real Hollywood type, blond hair and movie star looks. Had it not been for his murky eye, to the opposite sex, he was practically a heart throb.

Pa gave it to him the worst though. And it made him a bully to anyone who challenged him.

Bringing my pistol to eyes view. I took four shots each to the forehead of all of our marks. Paddy would always be the strongest shooter, but I wasn't rusty. Not by a longshot.

"Well, nice to see you ain't lost your balls."

***

Time with my brothers drunken roughhousing and making a day of it had been the way to go for my first day out. One fucking miscount of an event and we were fighting on the streets of Boston.

"That growth spurt must have improved your boxing skills," Bellamy joked.

"Well, I dealt with Pa and you all my whole life. Yesterday was the only day I took a beating lying down."

"I knew it. Tell us who had it in for you and I'll take care out it—" Tadhg interrupted.

"I said I was fine. Prison is just full of a bunch of miserable fucks. I can take care of myself. I can pull my weight in this family." Gone was the time where my brothers fought my battles and cleaned up after me. The time was now to behave in a way that actually helped the family rather than hurt it.

"That's good to hear," Tadhg squeezed my shoulder. "Because where we're heading to next is gonna require you to."

Unsure of what his cryptic words had meant, it wasn't long before Tadhg was leading us to our next destination. Not to say he was a particularly cautious driver, but I'd never seen him have so little regard for speed limits, stop signs and red lights.

"Wherever we gotta go ain't worth dying for," I yelled from the backseat.

"We don't have a lot of time and there's still something we need to do."

Once we reached our destination, the air in my lungs hitched. No one mentioned Pa all day, but now I was confident where we'd stopped was why.

"Get out of the car," Tadhg demanded.

Everyone had managed to get out but me. I wasn't ready for this. "Do I gotta?"

"Cilly, you're the only one of us who hasn't said goodbye. If you're going to start a new life, you need this for closure."

Meadow Oak Cemetery

The setting sun was starting to mix with the eerie fog of New England weather, as it brought back so many memories at once. Pa wasn't a loving father, but he was the only father we had known. Seemed like he hated us from the moment we all popped out of our mother's snatch, but where would we all be without him?

Walking past gravesite after gravesite, the deafening silence made me wish I had something to distract me. "Which one is it?"

"Not long now. Just up ahead," Tadhg assured, as each of them stopped as if waiting for me to approach it.

"This is it," Paddy replied, asking me if I needed a drink since my feet hadn't moved.

"Fuck this." I tried to turn back only to have Paddy and Bellamy manhandle me back to the direction of the grave. They practically had to drag me to the gravestone and force me to my knees before it became real.

Oisín Sullivan

Father. Husband. Businessman.

Bottled up anger, fear, maybe even a little resentment started to surface. As much as I wanted to deny it, Pa was dead.

"You good?" Paddy called out.

"I could use that drink now," my voice broken and weak. "This man used the beat the shit out of us. But it still fucking kills me I wasn't there for his funeral."

"You didn't miss much," Bellamy defended but it didn't make me feel better about it.

"Didn't even get to—" as my attempts at conveying strength got the best of me and tears came against my will. "Didn't even get a chance to say goodbye."

"That's why we're here?—"

"It's not the same and you fucking know it!" Channeling that built up rage to interrupt Paddy.

"What was the service like?" I asked, deadpan.

"Big. A lot of people showed their respects. It would have been what he wanted, side from you not being there," Bellamy assured.

Taking another swig of whiskey. "To Oisín. Most the time he was a fucking bastard, but he was still our father and deserves our respect."

Handing the flask over to Paddy, he said his peace for the second time. "To Oisín, hopefully he's in a better place." As all it took was another drink to get Paddy to tell the truth.

"Who am I kidding? He's probably in hell. Because that's sure as hell where we're all going since all of us got the Sullivan curse." He laughed.

The Sullivan's curse. Not a single one of us—not even órfhlaith—had escaped it. It certainly explained why Pa had five children. Didn't matter what we got from our mother, we were all doomed with the Sullivan curse.

Having it came with an insatiable libido, well-endowed cocks on the male side—dangerous curves for órfhlaith—and at its worst, a penchant for unnatural things.

I'm talking despicable…deplorable…deviant…degenerate…diabolical sexual tendencies.

The average person would clutch their pearls to the shit we like to do. Dark stuff no Catholic woman or man should have any desire to do.

We don't always act on it. But if we didn't talk amongst each other, we'd convince ourselves that no one harbored such taboo thoughts. Couldn't be a coincidence, not a single Sullivan had a normal sexual appetite. So, we deemed it the Sullivan curse.

Paddy handed Bellamy the flask, but he didn't feel like sharing. "I said my peace last year. There ain't much left to say after that."

"I'm good," Tadhg seconding. Against his nature, Tadhg suggested if I was going to cry, to get it all out. He didn't want to see me shed another tear over this man again. To my surprise, Paddy reached out to me and joined me for a hug. A real one, not a headlock like before. After pushing everything down, I took another drink and decided this was it. Either I got laid or…there was no other option.

"This was a fucking lot, Tadhg. You wanted me here for closure, and I didn't argue. Now I'm going to have to push back a bit. If I don't get my cock sucked or find a woman to bury my balls in, I'm gonna do something that winds me back in prison.

"That's the thing, we've been meaning to tell you something," Paddy interrupted.

"And you're not gonna like it. Might be best you have another drink—" Bellamy insisted but I had had enough.

"What the fuck is going on with the lot of you? Every time I mention being with a woman, you change the subject or say it's not a good time. You've all been acting mad all night.What are you not telling me?" I asked in a winded whirlwind.

"Cillian, you know we love you, right? We weren't gonna let you rot in some fucking prison cell for ten years like Pa fucking intended," Bellamy spat with an anger infused with hate.

"What does that have to do with anything?" My impatience growing thinner by the second.

"There's a reason you're out seven years ahead of your sentence. And it sure as hell ain't good behavior," Paddy chimed.

"I don't understand."

"Your key witness recanted," Tadhg finally admitted. "We've been quietly setting things into motion. Bought a judge. Fished through the best attorneys or loopholes we could find. But what really got you out was the witness recanting. Sadly, a deal like that don't come around for free."

"You're still not making sense to me."

"You asked about the cocaine and gun connect. Officially, we don't do business with the Callahans no more. No one does." If the Callahans were off the table, that meant technically we were the biggest plate on the table. Only family giving us a run for our money was the Callahans, what could have made them lose favor in three years?

"What does that have to do with me?"

"One of our connects has relations with the witness' people. When they came to us with a promise to recant, our ears were open. But we have reason not to trust each other. So as an act of good faith, someone on their side is to be arranged to be wed with someone on our side to ensure the peace between both parties."

All of a sudden it began to register why I was met with silence whenever it came to me being with a woman. "Hell fucking no?—"

Any attempt at running was thwarted by Paddy and Bellamy holding me down. "You don't have a choice, Cill. The wedding's the last stop," Tadhg concluded.

"That's why you wasted the day, because you promised me to some hag?" I looked to them accusingly.

"If we had told you, you would have tried to run?—"

"You damn right I would have run. Why it gotta be me?"

"Because," Tadhg hit me with his stoic blue eyes. "The lass was just as reluctant. Wouldn't even consider it if the arrangement wasn't to someone closer to her own age. That left Bellamy and me out. Paddy would've been too much for a lass like that. You're the right age, it's done."

"Plus," Paddy lips curled into sinister smile. "You did shoot a priest out in the open, so in a wicked sort of way, it kinda has to be you," he ended in a laugh.

"She must be hideous ," I accused, trying to outpace my beating heart and shortness of breath.

"We don't know what she looks like but…there's something else we have to tell you. And this is the hardest part. It's understandable if there's a little pushback."

"As opposed to marrying someone I don't know?"

"Yeah, and you might need another drink for it," as Paddy handed me the flask again.

"The lass in question. She's a Colored woman."

Trying to study my brother's reactions, I hoped a smile would crack to convince this me with this was a prank. "You gotta be codding me?"

"We're afraid we're not."

It all took a second from my calm madness to become downright livid. "I ain't marrying no fucking Black girl."

"What's done is done. It's already arranged, so if you go back on it now, there'll be consequences."

"Why can't you get Bellamy to do it? He's got his cock buried deep in one of them every other week!"

"We already offered Bell, but they were clear on the terms."

"Ain't there laws against that shit?" I argued, desperate for a way out.

"Cilly, so much has changed since you've been in. The world is changing and unless we want to stay in the same place, we have to change with it. This partnership supplements the loss of the Callahans, eliminates our risk in the coke business and most of all, got you out of the pen. This really was the only way," Tadhg argued.

"Pa would have never asked me to do this."

"Well, Pa ain't in charge no more. Tadhg is," Bellamy defended. "And if it wasn't for fucking Tadhg you'd be locked up or dead like Pa intended."

Knowing how little bargaining tools I had, I paced there more frustrated than before and worst of all still fucking horny. "So, we're just working with Blacks now?"

"To be honest, they're not as bad as Pa made them out to be," Paddy nonchalantly shrugged. "Plus, they got some good pictures." Bellamy hit Paddy in the chest. "What? They do!"

"Look, I ain't no racist. I just think people do better when they stick to their own. Italians with Italians. Greeks with the Greeks. Irish with the Irish."

"Part of me don't disagree with you but you been locked up long enough not to know. Pa was bad for business the last few months he passed. We needed to do something to get profits back up and it happened to come with a string that helped you get out."

It was finally dawning on me that this was happening. If I wanted to avoid this fate, it'd come with having to kill my brothers. While I was tempted, this suit looked too good on me to want to sully it now.

"So, I ain't got no choice?" As I crossed my arms across my chest.

"Nope," they all collectively answered.

"Then I'm going to need more whiskey. And a hell of a lot more snow."