Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Brendan

I t's been a couple of days since we talked to Jordan, and we've found little ways to spend time together. While our pasts are important, who we are today is too.

It consisted of breakfast before we each started our day, snatched moments when I got home, it all helped me to see what makes Jordan who he is. This man is a hard worker, figures shit out, and is surprisingly good at working out the connections of what his work means.

"Hey, before you rush out again, there's something I need to show you," Jordan grunts as he walks past me to the living room. "Princess, get your cute ass down here!"

My brows draw down as I hear Lía run from our room, even as my lips twitch at his nickname for her. She initially hated it because she's mafia royalty, but he doesn't mean it in a derogatory way, and I think she likes it now.

God protect Jordan if he ever forgets himself and tries to call the little brat by her actual name.

Walking into the living room, I move over to where he's now sitting with his laptop.

"Okay, Mr. Super Spy, what do you have here?" I tease him, plopping down beside him and squeezing his thigh.

God, the muscles underneath jump under the contact, but what's really sexy is how he pretends he is unaffected by my touch, even though I can see his hardening cock underneath his sweatpants.

He didn't bother to get properly dressed today, and I love the disheveled look on the usually proper side of him.

"Very funny, Mr. Executioner," Jordan deadpans as he hits a couple of keystrokes to bring up the screen he wants.

Grabbing his hand boldly, I have him help me adjust my cock in my cargo pants. "Kinky, but I like it," I tell him as he barks out a laugh.

"Fucking incorrigible," he grunts.

"I'm sure my father has been insufferable all day, so Brendan wouldn't turn down a blow job," Lía says as she walks in. She's wearing an off-the-shoulder sweater dress today with knee-high-socks, and I can see her nipples pushing at the material.

My girl hates bras more than anything, and I can see Jordan staring at her before he swallows hard. The man doesn't play nice because he squeezes my dick hard, making me groan before removing it.

"We'll have to table the blow job for now," he says, smirking as he holds out his hand for her to take. Surprising us both, he tugs her into his lap. Squirming slightly, Lía sighs as she decides not to move.

"What's going on?" she asks, her gaze getting pulled to the laptop on the table.

"Your father is planning a party in New York City it seems, and there's been a lot of buzz about it in the crime family," Jordan explains.

"I knew it was happening, just not that it was in New York," Lía murmurs. "Daddy hates that city. He says it whenever possible, even though he is opening a club there soon."

"However much he may hate it, Seán figured that in honor of your birthday being the day after, he'd have a party to also celebrate the opening of the club," Jordan says. "It's all speculation of who he'll be naming as his heir that concerns me."

"What are they saying?" I ask. I know he's naming Lía as his heir. There's no one else he could possibly choose. "No one has seen Lía in years in the family. Even Bruin has only seen glimpses of her when she speaks to her father when he takes her out to dinner. Seán rents out the entire place, and the conversation is kept private."

"No guards," she says softly. "I've seen Bruin as the Banshee, but he avoids me like the plague the family thinks I am. I'd rather be the thing that goes bump in the night than have him anywhere near me."

"The moment you can, promise me you'll put him down," Jordan says, brushing his lips over her temple. "He's obsessed with you, even though he doesn't have as much access to you anymore. I don't want him to have a single second to be able to hurt you."

Lía nods as she takes a shaky breath. "It would be great to be able to hear him scream as I unleashed my trauma, but if he can't feel pain the way you say he can't…"

"Not worth it," Jordan grunts. "Your father as much as said Bruin's pain receptors don't work. There's only one person I know who could have experimented with him to do that. I'm incredibly thankful that he's dead now. The doctor was a menace."

"We'll put him down, even though I think that's too good for him," I mutter. "So other than now knowing where the party will be in less than a week, where's the fire?"

"Everyone is buzzing about who the heir will be, and there's already plans to kill them," Jordan sighs. "Some are more colorful than others, and others talk about how whoever Seán names will be passed around first before they're killed. They want your father to step down and let them fight it out."

"Daddy will never do that," Lía retorts, ignoring parts of what Jordan says. "Everything he's ever done is to keep them in check. It doesn't sound as if they appreciate his efforts, though."

"Do you have any idea what he's going to do at this event?" Jordan asks, his thumb rubbing Lía's skin absently. "Is it simply an announcement?"

"Nothing Seán does is ever simple, because of his flair for the dramatic," I cut in. "He's going to allow the family to bring their human pets and slaves to this event, so it'll be closed to the public. There will be very public sex at certain points of the evening, and I'd expect some kind of auction would happen during the event to keep their appetite whet and minds engaged. These people are depraved. Some of them keep human menageries for their household, and are always looking for an opportunity to add to it…"

Jordan stiffens next to me, and I swear he stops breathing completely.

"Songbird…" he mutters. "Fucking hell."

"Jordan?" Lía asks before Jordan stands quickly. He manages to catch her before she gets dumped onto the floor, even making sure she's sitting on the couch before he's pacing.

"What did you just figure out?" I ask, hands fisting. I have a feeling he just pieced together something, and it's going to be yet another way that Seán O'Brien is finding ways to fuck us over.

"Seán calls Layla a songbird because of the way she sings. My niece has a very unique voice and style, which is why she's sold out every venue that she's ever performed at during her solo career," Jordan says, forcing himself to take a breath. "The blood debt Sean insists Layla owes him despite the fact that it was self defense means…"

"Daddy is going to sell her at this thing," Lía whispers brokenly. "But, she left the club, right? Couldn't Layla just move on with her life and never see Daddy again?"

"No, Lía, she can't," I sigh as I watch Jordan scrub at his face in frustration. "Seán will dangle her uncle over her head to get her to do whatever he wants."

"The difference is my niece won't be alone," Jordan growls, dropping his hands to his sides. There's a fire in his hazel eyes, and his sun-kissed hair is sticking in different directions from running his hands through it as he paces.

"The second Seán threatens her, Layla will call her sister because she doesn't trust him. She'll hopefully be able to provide some sort of support for her in the club."

"Layla's sister is just a girl," Lía says, her lips sneering. I pinch her side as I roll my eyes, because she's being sexist right now. "What? Not everyone is a psychopath, Brendan. How can Lennon help at all?"

"Lenny is a psychopath too, Princess, with husbands that match her crazy," Jordan rumbles. "Fuck, this could go so badly. Layla's never going to watch her mouth around your father. She finds it too much fun to fuck with him."

"Does she have a death wish?" I ask. "Seán isn't someone people tease."

"Their dynamic is very odd," Jordan sighs. "It's as if the asshole can't help but like her just a little. I doubt it'll help much outside of possibly making him hesitate at the right moment for her. If Se?n puts things into motion for an auction, he won't be in control once it does."

"It gathers a life of its own," Lía says dully, her eyes glazing as if caught in a memory.

"Uh uh," I bark, startling her. Picking her up, I plop Lía in my lap. "You're here with Jordan and I. Stay with us, milseán ."

Taking a shuddering breath, she nods. "I don't want that to happen to Layla," she gasps. "I can't imagine letting this horror happen to anyone else."

My heart pounds as I hear my girl experience emotions. She's been so numb for years. Holy shit.

"We'll make sure it doesn't," I whisper. "We'll make our own plans. If you're at the club and he's planning for shit to go down, I'll fade into the background. I don't attend anything by your side. Your father has been ensuring that I'm doing a million things so I'm not."

"I've noticed," she rasps. "What if he orders you to stay in Chicago?"

"I'll find a way," I vow, my fist wrapping around her hair and pulling hard enough to help her focus. Glancing at Jordan, I watch as he walks closer to drop to his knees in front of us.

"I don't want to choose," he grunts as his arm pulls her closer to him. "Layla is important to me. I raised her, and my brother wasn't a good parent to her. I feel responsible for her, but I may have decided to play matchmaker before I disappeared."

"You're a good man," Lía murmurs as I release her hair so she can move closer to him. "If I could give you up, I would, but I don't want to. I want to see where this goes. Leaving once the family sees you would put a target on your back, as well."

"Of course the bastard will want me to be there," Jordan rumbles. "He'll want me to watch his show unravel in front of me."

"It won't get that far," I promise. "I'll keep my ear to the ground, and the night of the event, I'll be watching. Even if it's in the wings."

"I just want you to know, even if I could walk away from this, I wouldn't want to," Jordan rasps, leaning forward to kiss Líadan.

Just as I started to feel a pinch of jealousy, Jordan reaches out and fists my hair, pulling me into a filthy three way kiss. My tongue is tangled between Jordan and Lía, and it's dirty, messy, and fucking perfect.

My cock is rock hard, and Jordan boldly rocks the palm of his hand over it. The groan that echoes through the room is raw and needy. I'm completely unabashed.

I want more of this. Jordan is good for Lía, and he's working his way under my skin. My life has revolved around Lía for longer than I can remember, but lately, I'm finding there's room for Jordan too. I don't know what that means yet.

We have the time to find out.

Líadan

Tomorrow is my birthday, and I'm sitting in a hotel suite getting ready for tonight. Daddy explained his plans for the event on the flight over as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sell a beautiful twenty-five year old singer to the Irish families. While I thought this was an intimate affair, he explained that I was incorrect in my thinking.

"Bah, Líadan, this is a tremendous day! All the most important people in the Irish Families across the world have been invited. The Byrne Clan has been asking if you've been promised in marriage yet," Daddy said.

"While you've been playing house for the last few years, that time is done. You will need to marry a strong man in the Families in alliance. I'll make sure you choose well."

Even as I felt my esophagus close, I forced myself to stay cool and composed. Hysteria never goes over well with Daddy.

"What kind of entertainment are you offering to the Families?" I ask, wide eyed. "This is a large event, Daddy. I don't think everyone will travel with their pets, do you? We don't want anyone to be hurt because we didn't have suitable men and women on hand to service them."

"I have a singer with a band for the event," Daddy says dismissively until he allows himself to really hear me. "Oh. Daughter, I didn't think of that."

I'm so glad I didn't have to vulgarly spell out that Layla wasn't going to be able to blow all of those men.

Nodding encouragingly, I say, "Of course, Daddy. You've been so busy. Why don't you call an escort service? They aren't the party favors that can be taken home, but we can have them all sign paperwork that they are willing and won't speak about anything that happens tonight. Once you make your announcement, we'll make sure they're gone. Just in case."

Daddy thinks hard before grunting, "It could all go sideways. Yes, yes, we'll do it this way. They'll wear pearls for clothing. It'll really class up the pretty whores."

Blowing out a breath, I turn to finish my makeup. Daddy wanted me to wear my hair down, so I force myself not to scrunch my nose in annoyance as I do the opposite. The top of my raven hair is braided, curled, and pinned up in a way that would make it difficult to grab, while the bottom is left loose.

My forest green eyes are lined in a dark-brown liner, and now I'm building a dark-green and chocolate-colored eyeshadow pallet to finish my eyes.

Quickly finishing and setting my makeup, I gaze at the dark-red lips I chose for tonight. I haven't been out in public like this in years, and while I'm not nervous about the crowd, I am about what the consequences of tonight could be. I will do what I can to help Layla, even if it means stepping aside so she can kill him.

Standing, I look down at the black, dressy three piece pants suit that I'm wearing. The top is a beaded corset, shoving my breasts up to the sky. This is my way of forgoing a bra, and telling it to get fucked.

The pants make my legs appear longer than they are, and the suit jacket would be easy to shrug off if necessary. The best part about it is that I have multiple places to hide knives along my body, a wire garrote wrapped around my black belt, and my pretty necklace breaks apart in a pinch to turn into thin throwing knives.

My high heels are the worst part of this outfit, because it makes it difficult to run. I am, however, quite adept at kicking them off, so hopefully I won't lose precious moments when I do that.

"Líadan!" Daddy yells from the living room of the suite, allowing myself an eye roll. Just one before I become the perfect mafia daughter for him.

I don't need a phone or anything else because this lipstick isn't budging for the next twenty-four hours. I tested it by giving Brendan a blow job while Jordan watched yesterday. His jaw clenched so hard, I worried he'd break a tooth, but it was an exercise in holding his poker face.

I have no idea how shitty or over the top tonight could go.

Leaving my lipstick in the room, I step out to walk to the living room where the man of the hour is.

"Yes, Daddy. I'm ready," I tell him as I stride in.

His jaw drops as he stands slowly, gazing at me.

"What are you wearing, child?" he gasps. Ha, funny how now I'm a child. Wonderful. "What happened to the pretty dress I had sent to the house?"

"I don't have fond memories of the last time you sent me a dress, Daddy. Forgive me if I decided to look dangerous instead of cute," I tell him, motioning to the door. "We should go, don't you think?"

"Yeah, these rooms connect. We need to bring Jordan with us," he grunts, leading the way.

Brendan was told that he needed to hold the fort while we were gone, but jumped on a commercial flight and arrived a few hours after us. Daddy didn't tell anyone else that his enforcer was staying behind, so Brendan will be able to sneak into the club and pretend to be working as he watches over everything.

Shit, so much could go wrong, but I don't have time to think about that. Jordan is wearing a suit that's perfectly tailored to his body, making my mouth water. He's gorgeous and distinguished in joggers and a T-shirt. However, in a suit, my pussy is already wet as I gaze at him.

Jordan winks at me before pulling up the stony gaze that works so well for him when my father glances at him as he steps out of his room.

"Time waits for no man," Daddy grumbles as we leave.

The drive to the club is quiet as our driver cruises through the busy streets of New York City. Daddy could never do anything as simple as take a taxi to the club, but as he rarely visits this city because of his hatred of it and enemies, we take extra precautions.

Bruin is waiting when we arrive, opening the door to forcefully pull me out of the vehicle. Fuck, I can't wait to kill this damn brute.

"I hope I'll get to fuck and destroy you at the end of this party the way I did last time. You were such a good girl for me as you screamed," he growls in my ear before pushing me away.

He's a big reason why I can't handle being called a good girl. The air in my body freezes in my lungs, and has nothing to do with how cold it is here.

"Líadan, there are people waiting for us," Daddy barks, and it's enough to push back the black spots of panic playing in the periphery of my eyesight.

A hand presses against my back, and I take a step forward as I gasp in a breath. There's no sound as I take sips of air until I can keep from falling over in these ridiculous sky high heels.

"You're doing great, Princess," Jordan whispers, matching me step for step. "Whatever that was, you're safe now. Those ghosts can't hurt you now."

My back straightens at his words, the weight and warmth of his hand on my spine begins to ground me in the present. There's not a therapist alive that can handle my trauma, but I'm slowly finding my way.

The doorman opens the door for us, and I step through it into the carefully lit hallway. It has floor recessed lighting to give the veneer of privacy as Daddy parades me up the main walkway, introducing me to people as he greets them.

I keep my gaze on their faces, ignoring the men and women slurping cock as their owners chat as if nothing is amiss.

"Líadan," a woman purrs as she reaches out and squeezes my hand. She says it in a way that drips sex, but I don't recognize her.

Could she have been in the room on my seventeenth birthday? Maybe, but the agreement between my father and all the participants stated that they'd never speak of it again. Not even to me.

"Hello," I murmur, waiting for an introduction.

"My, your father has been hiding you away, hasn't he?" she sighs, her gaze on my breasts. "It's such a shame, we could have so much fun."

Almost apologetically, I pull my hand away as Daddy clears his throat.

"Meredith, my daughter will never be on the menu for sexual play," he rumbles. "We will have women for your pleasure soon enough. It looks like you weren't able to bring your pets?"

"No, unfortunately not," she sighs, the Irish brogue more noticeable in that moment. "It appears that the red tape for bringing your sex slave into the United States is insurmountable."

Imagine that.

"Such a pity," I murmur as I move on with Daddy. He sent Jordan away while I slog through these introductions, and while it's for the best, I still find myself missing his touch.

After what feels like a million people later, we arrive at our seating area at the back of the club. The more I look around, the more that I can see details of the large room.

There are dark-blue satin walls, low lit chandeliers, and in the aisles there is a place to lock in the chains for those who brought their favorite human pets.

I feel gross being in this room filled with men and women without rights, but don't know if I'll ever be able to get them to abandon this practice. I can only control my direct people, so the change may need to begin in Chicago first.

Sitting slowly, I toss my jacket over my chair for increased mobility. People laugh and talk as my eyes take everything in, and I notice movement on stage. It looks as if Layla and the band are here now.

"As wonderful as your entertainment idea was, I'm happy to have my songbird here," Daddy says smugly as a gorgeous blonde begins to walk toward us with several men surrounding her. Cormac's grumpy ass is leading them, but I don't see Jordan anywhere.

"Why is that, Daddy?" I ask, picking up a sealed bottle of water that was delivered to me by a man in a thong and nothing else.

Breaking the seal, I open it and take a deep sip of the cool liquid as I wait for his response.

"This group of sharks are waiting for a chance to reach for the multitude of weapons on their persons. We attempted to remove as much as possible, but had to make certain concessions," he grumbles. "In good faith, they still have most of their weapons. There are too many places for these people to hide things."

Knowing I'm just as guilty of doing the same, I simply nod as I put aside my drink.

"You have a way to keep everyone happy after your announcement?" I ask.

"Yes, sell the songbird, of course, through lots," Daddy crows. It's exactly as Jordan thought, making me force a nod even as my stomach flip flops. I can mimic smiles and emotion when I need to, and as Cormac stops in front of us with his entourage, I adopt one that doesn't look like I need to take a shit.

"Layla," Daddy says almost warmly as he greets her with a wide grin. He appears almost lazy as he leans in his chair with his leg over his knee in his expensive suit. I continue to watch Layla carefully to see how she's reacting to the club.

I'm not going to lie, this place is a lot, and so are the people here.

"Seán," Layla murmurs. "How are you? Quite the crowd tonight…" His smile never falters as he turns toward me. You'd never know how much he hates being called by his God given name by a woman only a couple years my senior.

"It's all for my daughter, Líadan's, debut. The Irish families want to meet my heir," he says proudly. It even sounds genuine, which surprises me as I smile back at him.

It's a little one, but it's there.

"It'll be interesting to see what they think when they find out she's a woman," Layla says mildly. She's wearing a blush and white cream dress that's a tulle and applique monstrosity. I wonder if Daddy picked it out, because it's exactly something he'd choose, even down to the areas where it's very sheer, as if putting her best features on display. The irony that he attempted to buy me a dress as well isn't lost on me.

"It doesn't matter how capable you are to some people, they'll still underestimate you," she says, shrugging a shoulder idly. Her hair is up in a chignon, and I can see from here that there's something different about her pins.

Daddy must be losing his touch not to notice that her hair pins are knives.

"Why do I like you?" I murmur, the words pulling themselves from me. Layla is as extraordinary as Jordan has been gushing. She doesn't appear worried about tonight in the slightest.

"I said the same thing to her the other day." Daddy beams at me, making me feel unsettled as I notice his odd behavior. He seems too happy, almost gleeful. It's an inner mania right before he does something really fucked up.

"Where is my uncle?" Layla asks idly. She acts as if she doesn't care either way, irking my father.

"Uncle?" I ask as if I don't know already.

"Jordan." Daddy shrugs. "He has a niece, and she's a murdering pain in the ass."

"Don't hurt me, and I won't have to kill anyone," Layla says nonchalantly. I really think it's that simple for her.

"I need to check you for weapons," Daddy warns her. "I very much love this dress on you. I would hate to strip you naked before your performance."

"You're an arrogant dick," Layla comments. "Go ahead and check for weapons. If your hand moves inappropriately, I will break your fingers."

"The tiny pixie is feisty," I observe as Daddy begins to check her for weapons. I continue to speak to ensure he doesn't have his complete focus on her. Layla flinches when his hand goes up her dress, and one of her men growls so loud, Daddy pales. "Don't be a pervert, Daddy," I remind him.

"I'm not, hush," he says, rolling his eyes before he stumbles as he stands. "I'm interested to see what other commands I can get you to follow."

Ick. It's disturbing to watch your father act like a pig.

Catching a glimpse of an older man, I grasp onto it with both hands. "Jordan is coming now, look," I mention, nodding toward where he's walking. His sun-kissed hair is a beacon when the light hits it, regardless of how dim it is.

One of Layla's men forces my father to step back, though he brushes off the insult. "Your men are so protective," Daddy sneers. "I'm surprised your uncle lets you spread your legs for so many people."

He times his words to be overheard by Jordan, who simply raises his brow. "If you're insinuating my niece is a whore, then she's been called worse things than that by her own father. Layla loves hard, and who she chooses to share her body with is absolutely none of your concern. Don't you have better things to do than attempt to bait me?"

Ah, let the games begin. It's only going to get worse from here.