Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Jordan

S eán O'Brien is one of the most pompous assholes that I've ever met. He just sent me an email demanding I go see him. I wasn't aware I even had an email address on this computer, but I received a notification a few minutes ago, and I've been fuming at the audacity ever since.

Mr. Miles,

I need you to come to the Irish Flower tonight at eight. There's some work I need you to do for me, and I need you in my presence. While our current arrangement has been working well, tonight is different.

Please bring your equipment with you, I'll have a taxi called for you to pick you up in front of Líadan's apartment. I don't want to poke the Banshee unless absolutely necessary.

Seán O'Brien

I've done everything that he's wanted me to do the past three days. I have a tablet for video calls with him, so this is a power play. I fucking hate those. Most of my bruises have begun to fade, though my black eye and the bruises from the electrical prod are taking longer to heal.

Blowing out a breath, I see that I have an hour before I have to leave. Líadan and I are slowly getting to a better place. She always looks as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders, and in many ways it is. Stretching, I get up from the desk I've been working from in the room.

Padding over to the door, I open it to find Brendan on the other side of it.

"Yeah?" I ask, brows raised.

"I was going to see if you wanted to eat anything," he says. For a serial killer, he's an excellent host.

"No, thank you. I don't think I could eat anything right now. I'm going to get a cup of coffee before I have to go out for Seán," I say, easing around him.

I'm wearing comfortable clothing because working for hours at a computer calls for it. I've also started running on the treadmill Brendan and Líadan have set up in their extra room. They converted it into a gym for the days when the weather doesn't allow them to go out.

My body starts to ache if I'm in the same place for too long, and the last thing I need is to fuck up my back.

"Wait, you're doing what?" he asks, following me as I walk.

"Seán emailed me to demand I go by taxi to the Irish Flower. He said there's work he needs me to do in front of him. It sounds like bullshit and he's trying to jerk me around," I grunt, jogging down the stairs.

"That sounds like him, but he's been trying to keep you hidden, and the Irish Flower is one of his busier clubs. Granted it's not the sex club… it's worse actually," Brendan says with a wince.

"What am I missing?" I ask, turning when I hit the landing to go to the kitchen.

"The Irish Flower is where Seán makes deals, signs contracts with people over drinks, and the family finds new people to pull into sex work. It's a drink here, a drugging there before they're taken into an unmarked van and disappear," Brendan explains.

"It's a popular place for people to go to, so it's a hunting ground to find people who won't be missed."

"Holy shit!" I exclaim. "I knew these places existed, but I didn't think it'd be so fucking organized. I think sex trafficking and imagine someone kidnapped from the mall or something."

"Yes, that happens too," he says with a nod. "I get a little feral when Lía is out and doesn't check in. I know what happens in this goddamn town, and while she can take care of herself, some low level skin trader is simply going to see a beautiful woman having a picnic alone in the park."

"Are we still talking about that?" Líadan asks as we step into the kitchen. She's surrounded by baking supplies, and appears to be assembling it into a pan. "I knew you were in meetings, and I got caught up in my day. I sent you a boob picture to make it up to you."

"You did, and I had a raging hard-on during my meeting," Brendan says with a mischievous grin. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making an apple cake," she says. "Nothing else sounds appealing, so I'm going with it."

"Eh, I once survived on nothing but chocolate whoopie pies and Guinness for a week," I tell her with a shrug. "I was in Ireland scouting out talent, and I was young and excited. I survived on adrenaline, alcohol, and sugar."

"Fuck yes," Brendan says with a nod. "Lía lives for sugar and cravings like that. Pushing other food doesn't work, she'll eat a bite and be full."

"You're a big girl, eat when you're hungry," I grunt as I start making coffee. "One of the best things and worst things about being an adult is making and living by your decisions. Whether they're simple things like food or more complicated, they belong to you."

"Speaking of…" Brendan stresses, trailing off as I roll my eyes.

"Not at all the same thing, asshole," I grumble as I begin to doctor my coffee. God, I wish I could throw some Irish rum in it, but I won't. "Your father emailed me to insist I go out to see him at the Irish Flower tonight."

"It's so odd to me that he actually emails people," she mutters as the oven beeps to say it's done preheating. "I'm sure he's very proud of himself as he fucks with them too. How did you ruin someone's day today, Daddy? With a goddamn email."

I'm about to take a sip of coffee during her diatribe, but stop as I laugh. I can see Seán O'Brien doing this.

"Oh, he absolutely does. I didn't even know I had an email only he had access to until today. So I'm going to chug this down, shower and change before a cab picks me up outside of the house," I say, taking a sip.

Fuck that's good.

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone make the noises you do when you drink coffee," Líadan teases me. "Did Daddy say what he wanted?"

Opening the oven, she slides her apple cake in, and I have to admit it looks like it'll be amazing once baked.

"No, just that he needed me to do some work for him there," I sigh. "It doesn't matter, it'll get me out of the house for a bit, I just can tell he's up to something."

"Oh he absolutely is," she says, leaning against the counter. There's a little bit of flour on her cheek, teasing me enough to force me to lean forward to rub it off. I notice the way she moves toward my hand, almost following it when I pull away.

Líadan may be under my skin, but I'm definitely under hers as well. I feel protective of her, and all of the shit I've dug up on her family makes it worse.

"I guess I'll find out what it is when I get there," I rumble, downing the rest of my coffee. It's not cool enough to do that, but the slight burn of hot coffee helps to wake me up.

Washing my cup, I sigh as I dry it and put it away. I try to pull my own weight, even sneaking down to do laundry. I say it that way, but Brendan and Líadan both shoo me off and take my clothing typically to wash.

I don't completely understand either of them, which isn't really abnormal. I barely know Líadan and Brendan yet. All I do know is that I'm inexplicably drawn and protective of the little brat, and seriously attracted to Brendan.

Ugh, bad, bad idea. However, there's no stopping this train now.

"What are you thinking about?" Líadan asks. "You've had so many emotions just pass over your face. I can't figure out what would have caused them."

"I'm trying not to shut down what my face does around you anymore," I explain. "If I don't, every thought gets broadcasted. I was just thinking about how little I know about you two."

"That's all?" Brendan asks, brow raised.

"That was the gist," I state, beginning to walk out of the kitchen. I don't know what else to say. Our situation is odd. If they were normal people and we were beginning a relationship, I'd ask for date nights and shit.

That's simply just not going to happen though. Walking away from the time bomb that's my brain, I begin to lock everything down. I can't have a single thought leak out as I get ready to go see Seán. He already sees too fucking much as it is.

Showering up in my room quickly, I dry off and pull out a pair of black slacks and sweater. While I don't have a typical power suit, I can still feel as if I'm in control even though I'm anything but. Finishing off the outfit with black socks and nice shoes, I brush my hair and glance at the time.

Fuck, time to go.

Packing up my laptop and tablet in the shoulder bag I have for it, I walk quickly for the door. I swear, Seán is fucking cutting this close.

Asshole.

"Damn, if looks could kill, I'd be ash," Brendan rumbles, leaning against the wall.

"Seán's an asshole," I grunt, continuing to walk. "Pretty sure my ride is here. I'll fix my face."

"Wait," he sighs, falling into step with me. "About that. Seán is a wild card. He only pulls people away when he's planning something, and it's never for a good reason. I haven't heard anything, which makes this even worse."

"I only have one person he can use against me," I say. "My other niece is the sweetest sugar loving psychopath you'll ever meet."

"Are you talking about me?" Líadan pouts from the base of the stairs.

Knowing she only heard part of my sentence, I smirk. "Never, Princess, because I'll always say it to your face. Enjoy your cake. Save me a piece?"

She looks curiously at me as I get to the bottom of the stairs beside her, and I smile at her. Líadan is easy to smile at. I find her adorable.

"What?" I ask.

"I don't know," she says, shaking her head. "I think it's the fact that so many people talk about me behind my back. I wasn't expecting you to say that."

"I was talking about Lenny a second ago, but I guess you two are a lot alike. She went through a really traumatic experience almost six years ago and it changed her," I tell her. "Her men are just as stabby as she is, so it doesn't even phase them."

"Men, you've mentioned that before," she muses. "How many men?"

"Four," I state. A cab honks loudly outside, making me sigh. "Time to go."

"It's fucking cold, Jordan. You can't waltz outside in that," Brendan scoffs. "The weather dropped to the teens. They're suggesting the possibility of snow."

"Chicago weather is fucking insane," I mutter. "Just the other day it was sunny and beautiful."

"This is why I won't sleep on those days," Líadan teases me as Brendan grabs a long black coat.

"Seán is a clothes whore and notices clothing, but he hasn't seen this coat yet," he says, handing it to me.

I want to refuse it, but the taxi blows the horn, so I give in. There's an intimacy in wearing someone else's clothing. Pulling on the coat, I thank him before I pick my bag back up and race out the door.

Keeping Seán waiting wouldn't be good for my health, I feel.

The taxi drives slowly around to the back of the Irish Flower, and it appears to be a fairly nice club. I don't know what I was expecting, but the rich brick building with the gorgeous sign was not it.

The glimpses of how pretty the trappings of his life are just makes the darkness so much more interesting.

Seán O'Brien has a rich veneer of respectability over his businesses, and what I've been able to dig up shows that all the shady ones are under fake company names. Cloak and dagger and layers of misleading paper trails are firmly on his side.

No one should underestimate this man.

The back door to the club is seedy and decidedly different from the front. Getting out, I walk up to the door, and it opens as I get there. Bruin, the man that picked me up from the warehouse towers on the doorway, his smile more a bearing of teeth than from amusement.

His dark brown hair is wavy and perfect, and in another world he may even be considered handsome if you didn't know how dangerous he was.

"Took you fooking long enough," he snarls, shoving me inside. I say nothing, because I can't control a car ride or the speed it took to get here.

Bruin lets the door slam shut behind us as he walks behind me, yanking me into turns in the bowels of the club. Intermittently, I'll hear screams from behind a door, and once I saw one of Seán's goons step outside the room with blood dripping from his fists.

"Lucky fuck," Bruin says longingly as he gazes at the man's fists. "I gave up his interrogation to bring you to your room. Ugh, I'm so fooking annoyed. Hey, Fergus, did you get him to talk?"

"Nah, Bruin," Fergus sighs. "Fooker is buttoned up tighter than a nun's arsehole in church. I'll leave him to you once you're done. Maybe you'll have better luck. The man should know better than coming and trying to walk in here and cheat when he's on the family's shite list."

Well then.

"Fook yes. Let him cool his heels for a bit then, and I'll be back. Come along then, Mr. Miles," Bruin says, walking to the end of this hall and shoving open the door.

Holding back a cringe, I'm expecting something other than the room I see with a steel table, chair, and swinging fluorescent light hanging over it all. It is still giving creepy vibes, but I doubt anything back here is sunshine and rainbows. Lurch continues to stand behind me as I walk inside and place my computer on the table.

"The boss will be by in a bit," Bruin grunts, letting the door swing closed as he follows me in.

Curiously, I sigh as I pull out the chair and sit down. I doubt whatever he's about to say or do will be pleasant. His beady eyes gaze at me as he walks closer, his fists clenched. His cruel lips are thin and pinched, making him appear constipated.

The thoughts force me to concentrate on keeping my face blank because the idea of it is really fucking funny.

"Mr. O'Brien doesn't like to get his hands dirty," he says, folding his arms over his wide chest. "He wanted to make sure to remind you to keep your hands off his daughter."

Oh well this is fun.

"My hands are on my computer and nowhere else," I state. I don't know what Bruin does or doesn't know, and I'm not going to mouth off about things that could hurt her. I'll keep her secrets, even if I don't understand all of the implications.

"With a cunt so tight, I highly doubt it," he snarls. I'm barely able to process the words before he punches me so hard my chair begins to flip over. "I'm not done yet!"

The roar echoes through the room as he catches the seat of the chair, yanking me back onto all four legs.

"Líadan is being trained to take over, which means difficult lessons need to be taught," he continues.

"How do you know what her cunt feels like?" I snark. "As the precious daughter, why would the hired help have anything to do with her?"

I really hope I'm dealing with his delusions and not the truth right now. A part of me knows she's been hurt, she's said as much, though I don't have the details.

"He sold her to me to teach her the way of this world, dickhead," Bruin says, punching me in the face. "She whimpered and screamed so prettily. But shh, that's a secret."

Over and over, Bruin punches my torso until I'm gasping for air.

"You're a goddamn monster," I yell as Seán chooses that moment to walk inside.

"Yes, but he's one of the best pet monsters a man can have," he says. "Bruin was systematically made into what he is now, though with the help of a doctor. He doesn't feel pain, isn't scared of anything, and follows directions without question."

This reminds me unsettlingly of the doctor who had a hold of Lennon for months, making me shiver. Fuck, the universe has a way of shitting on you in times you least expect it.

"Off you go now, boyo," Seán says, making a shooing motion with his hands. "You have a man to torture, remember?"

Bruin's eyes widen as he nods, and I realize he must be wired to follow all of his commands. That's nifty… if you're related to Frankenstein. Removing any kind of free will from a person isn't something that I support.

The only thing I can find comfort in is the fact that the bastard who did this to Bruin isn't around anymore to perform these experiments. There's only one person I know who would be capable of it.

Bruin scurries off as fast as a man as large as he is capable of, and Seán folds his body into the other chair across from me as I turn to face him.

"Tell me about the information you've found so far," he demands. "Who is most likely to be a problem for me, you think?"

"I don't know your family the way you do," I begin as I ease my laptop out of the computer bag. It was nice of Bruin to wait for me to put it down before using me as a punching bag. Fucking wonderful.

"But, my analysis of the situation and possible threats are these."

Opening it up, I show him the spreadsheet I created. I got a business degree online so I could work while on the road. I took a minor in risks and balances because that's what so much of the music industry is.

There are people who are wild, their music often finding inspiration while they're high or doing incredibly stupid shit. Over time, I've found that I'm very adept at deciding who is worth taking the risk on and who to cut loose.

The exec board looks to me when it's time to make those decisions, because my gut and mind are rarely wrong.

My scouting trips became less frequent when Layla was born and her father refused to stay tethered to one place, making it impossible for me to do anything else but step up to take care of her.

I don't regret it for a moment. Helping to raise her has been one of my greatest joys. But now, I'm desperate to keep her away from this mess.

Explaining everything to Seán takes the better part of the next hour, and I can see him processing who is going to be the greatest threat amongst them all. The issue is that they all want to oust him out of power, or at least announce who his successor will be. The sharks are waiting for blood to hit the water, and everyone is getting antsy.

"You found all of this out with your spy shit skills?" he asks, waving his hand toward the laptop. "You figured out shit I've been trying to prove but didn't have the evidence to."

"Hacking into people's video feeds, bank accounts, and private spaces will tell you a lot about them. I don't do this unless I have a good reason to," I explain. "The rest is just running an analysis to decide who has the most to lose and for what reasons."

The look in his eyes tells me he's trying to decide just how much he needs me, finally seeing my intelligence as an issue.

Men like Seán crave the best people for the job, but the problem with that is that you're not always the smartest person in the room then.