Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Brendan

" G entleman, I am not my father, therefore I am not going to behave the way he did when someone disagrees with me," Lía says, raising an eyebrow.

After leaving Dr. Kurtz's home, we got a hotel room in a shitty part of Chicago and paid with cash under a fake name. The woman at the desk didn't seem too worried about any of it, and was watching porn on her phone.

Clearly a swanky establishment.

However, the sheets are clean and there aren't any roaches, so it'll work for what we need. Now, hours later after a trip to buy new clothes, food, grab a nap and shower, we're back in business.

It's hard to believe that it's still Tuesday and we've survived so much.

Lía leans back in her chair in her leather skirt, her smooth legs covered in dark-purple tights. Her white shirt that's tucked into the skirt ties everything in seamlessly, mixing the demure with an edgy vibe. Her high-heeled boots are vicious enough to maim if necessary, and she has a new knife tucked into one of them.

They can knock us down, and we'll still come back swinging.

"I'm aware you're not the same person," Joe Macdonald says gruffly. "I've always disliked your father, but you've been nowhere to be found for years. Where has he been hiding you your entire life?"

"Hell," she sighs. The Macdonalds and Mickey O'Brien wait for her to expand and Lía takes a deep breath. "I stopped attending school my senior year. He hid me from the world, because then he wouldn't have to explain the bruises or the multiple broken bones. I doubt anyone would have cared with the way the families see human life."

"There were points I couldn't see her either," I say, picking up where she left off. "When she was twelve, my father shipped me off to Ireland for the trials and to test my ability to be Seán's enforcer. I refused to leave Chicago after that."

"Why? What happened?" Mickey asks, eyes wide.

"He beat the shit out of me," Lía says with a shrug. "It's not the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they took turns hitting me."

"You were twelve," he growls.

"You know this life, the people who are in it," Lía reminds him. "My father decided that he needed someone who would be able to police the people he ruled over. So he created that person. The Banshee."

"No," Nathan Macdonald grunts. "I refuse to believe it. The Banshee is?—"

"A monster," Lía says. "Yeah, I know. I don't have the capacity to feel empathy or shame, so let's skip this part, shall we? A few years ago, I found a little freedom and the ability to live outside of my father's home. I've been planning how to be able to take over ever since."

"That's a damn fine long game," Nathan praises. "I didn't mean to offend, it's just the stories are gruesome at best."

"Do you think some of the members in our organization would toe the line if they weren't? Not everyone knows who I am, outside of the club where Daddy died," Lía says. "It seems that everyone who was there is being pretty tight lipped, which works for me."

"So you didn't kill the old bastard?" Mickey asks, lips twitching to show he doesn't care either way.

"Nope," she says. "The honor went to someone else. I plan to clean house of the evil Daddy let in though. Human and sex trafficking isn't something I want to be involved in, nor will I allow anyone in our organization to do so."

"How are you planning to stop it?" Joe asks.

"Viciously. I am inviting a group of people who are the worst offenders to meet with me on Thursday. Anyone who doesn't attend will be picked off by me or someone I trust," Lía says. While planning on the train, we decided we could hire someone on the dark web to help us. We don't have Jordan's experience on our side anymore, but we'll manage.

Hitmen care about receiving their money and staying alive. We can ensure at least one of those things happen, and the latter issue is up to them. We just need to decide if it's worth the risk now.

"Plucking the root of evil is typically the best move. How can we be of service?" Mickey asks.

"Misinformation," I say, leaning forward. "If someone asks if you've heard anything, lie. Tell them that Lía is running scared after Cormac burned our home down."

"Fuck," the Macdonalds' patriarch mutters. He's been fairly quiet as his sons have asked questions, but now it seems that Rory Macdonald is processing everything. "We hadn't heard that, lass. When did this happen?"

"Last night," I grunt. "It's been a hell of a few days. The security cameras show that Cormac headed up the fire bombing."

I checked the camera footage when we got to our hotel, making a list of people marked for death. The video cameras were well hidden, so they didn't even notice them or have their faces well covered.

It's obvious that these were men who enjoyed Seán's leadership and the ability to do whatever they wanted.

Cormac also had his own hand in hurting Lía. I'm going to enjoy making these men squeal like the pigs they are, after I help Lía get the men in front of me onto our side.

"No one knew where I lived, so while I'm not backing down, I'm working from the shadows for a bit," Lía says. "Here are my plans."

The men listen as she explains how she plans to invite those who are the least likely to change their ways to speak to them, and then demolish the building while they're still inside.

"It's cold blooded and heartless, which most people believe the Banshee to be," she says. "Those who are used to collecting people will not see any other way to live."

"What will you do with the menageries?" Rory asks. "Some of those poor fucks won't be able to survive without the depraved attention they're given."

"I have a few ideas," Lía says mildly. "Daddy has a sex club that I plan to close down, gut, and reopen as a sex club and BDSM dungeon. There will be very clear rules for the members who attend, and those who work in the club will be able to service or dominate depending on what the member wants. Regardless, the club will only accept consensual experiences. Those who have been kept as pets for years may join the sex club with the understanding that they have to use their voices during any services."

"We will also be finding therapy services for them," I explain. "There are quite a few with mafia ties who won't blink at their experiences and will actually be able to help them."

"What about those who are beyond help?" Joe asks. "Some of these people have been with their owners for so many years, it may not be possible to rehabilitate them."

"We'll assess and then decide," Lía says. "If they can't move on from the years of abuse, I'll make their deaths quick and painless. All of this began before I was even born, but I will ensure that our families stop exploiting people while on my watch."

"That's good enough for me," Rory says. "I don't know your story, lass, but you have a good head on your shoulders. My phone has been ringing off the hook all weekend about where I stand on all of this. Not everyone was a fan of the way your father led, and have been watching the madness get even worse with each passing year."

"The mood swings," Lía says softly. "I never knew which way he was going to land. He could smile widely, while feeding me to the wolves and not give a fuck. It was getting worse."

"Aye," Rory says with a nod. "You may be his daughter, but I don't know how that's possible outside of biology. You may say there's no empathy in your body, but I saw when you spoke about giving people a chance to change their lives. It may not be in a traditional life?—"

"I say traditional is overrated," Mickey says with a shrug, receiving wry grins from around the table. "Not one of us made our money from being completely on the up and up. That's just boring. Our ties run deeply in crime, and that's unlikely to change. Give us a job, and we'll make it happen. For what it's worth, a lot of us have never understood why Seán kept you locked away, but now it makes sense."

"It's fucked," Joe grunts. "I plan to piss on his grave the moment he's buried."

"Is that happening soon?" Lía asks, amusement clear in her voice. "I'm not involved in the arrangements, clearly."

Snorting, I shake my head at her. Our humor is a bit on the inappropriate side, I see.

Mickey's eyes shine with laughter as he nods. "Five days from today," he responds. "The family members from Ireland will be attending before they return home. They want to show their respect."

"That very well may be a part of it, but that's not why they're still in the United States," Lía says. "I grounded their planes. They can't leave until I take them off the no-fly list with customs."

"Oh you evil bitch," Joe says with a chortle. "I say that with the utmost respect and regard. That's fantastic."

"Our meeting with the family members that can't be redeemed will be in three days' time. We will be notifying them all tonight," I rumble. "Our first order of business was to meet with you and explain some of what will be going down."

"Understood," Rory grunts. "I'll spread misinformation where it's necessary, and rally the troops to help where I know we won't be betrayed. It's clear a heavy hand is necessary with this lot, but I trust you'll be fair as well."

"Absolutely," Lía agrees easily. "I'm contemplating a change of residence after all of this is done. Daddy also has family members all over the United States that I don't feel comfortable leaving to their own devices. The O'Malleys manage to get into a fair bit of trouble on their own."

"Fucking Bailey," Mickey sighs. "He and his little motley family are a mess. My next truck route runs through Burlington in two weeks, and I'm not against speaking to them on your behalf if you're open to it."

"Daddy always talked about them as if they were leeches," Lía mutters. "If you could take that off my plate and handle it in a way that won't create problems, I'd appreciate it."

"You got it, boss," Mickey says with a nod. "Now, use us. You shouldn't have to do this on your own."

Lía straightens and I stand to make coffee and order food.

"We're going to be here for a bit it seems, and I want to make sure Lía eats," I say. "Will someone throw me their card? We can't use our credit cards right now."

Rory smirks as he shoves his credit card at me. "Don't insult me by offering to pay me back, boy," he says.

We're meeting somewhere no one would suspect: a back room at Rory's construction company. It's a great way to get rid of bodies, and they always manage to get the best bids in the city.

Thankfully, the building is empty because he gave them the day off after they landed a large bid. That's the excuse he put together, and then he sent his workers off with a hundred bucks to buy the first round on him.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir," I say as I pull my phone out after checking his coffee selection. Seeing it's shit but there is a single serve coffee machine in the conference room, I make a grocery order for delivery along with an order for pizza and garlic rolls from a pizzeria that isn't far from here.

Once that's taken care of, I tune back into the conversation, sliding Rory's card back across the table to him.

"Líadan, what are your plans for the rest of your father's businesses?" Joe asks, leaning forward. "Some of them are on the unsavory side."

Pulling out a tablet that we also recently purchased, Lía accesses a virtual drive where she uploaded that information easily.

"Which one and where?" she asks, turning the tablet around to show them the screen. "There are quite a few and I'm still working my way through them all."

"The Carnal Auctions," he says. "While Seán had rules about when they could take place, it's not difficult for someone else to step into the fold and begin selling people that they travel in for this purpose."

"I didn't actually believe they were still using it," I say in horror. "Seán said he wanted to close it down because there was a task force in Chicago hunting down human traffickers."

"Pfft. The place moves to different locations," Nathan chimes in. "They have a texting listing that they push out messages to when they have an auction lined up. They aren't given much notice, and that's to stay ahead of the law."

"Is there someone other than Daddy that was in charge?" Lía asks, but I tense in anticipation of the answer.

"Cormac," Rory grunts. "He also helps to break in the girls before they head to the auctions. The man is very involved in that side of the business."

"I'm somehow not surprised," I rasp, sitting down next to Lía. "We're going to need to take care of him before everything else, milseán ."

The endearment slips out without a thought, and the men zero in on me. I forget that it's not common knowledge that we're together. Lía rolls her eyes at them, amused by their focus.

"I'm an adult, gentlemen," she reminds them. "Brendan has been in my life since I was practically born."

"He's not that much older than you," Rory muses.

"His father offered to marry me," Lía chimes in, her lips widening into a true smile as they roar with laughter.

"No shit, I need that story," Mickey says, laughing.

"It was right after Lía revealed that she was the Banshee and taking over the family. Seán had just been killed," I recall.

"Classy," Nathan snorts. "That couldn't have gone over well. What did you do?"

"I shot him and Lía's uncle between the eyes and caused a bit of panic before we left," I tell them.

"Rightly so," Rory says approvingly as the phone rings to tell me that the food is here. My device is a burner, so there's nothing to trace back to me, and I signed out as a guest under a fake name.

I also asked them to leave the food and groceries at the front door on the table.

"Is that the food?" Mickey asks, standing.

At my nod, he walks out with Nathan, guns clearly showing on their person.

"We'll stop giving you shit," Rory says as we listen to the faraway sound of the door opening and closing.

Lía stands straining her ears, but I hear Nathan and Mickey talking as the door shuts again and is locked. A moment later, they come in with the food, and the world didn't end. We're a bit on edge right now.

Relaxing, I take the bag with the coffee pods from Nathan and set it by the machine to make after she eats dinner. Gathering paper plates, I set them out as we continue our conversation.

Righting the wrongs of old men is strenuous work.

Who would have thought Lía and I would be here now? I certainly didn't, but a part of me wishes we didn't have to leave Jordan behind to make it here.

Jordan

Twenty-four hours after leaving Dr. Kurtz's house

Líadan and Brendan are doing a fairly good job of staying off the grid. I'm unfortunately finding a footprint of someone searching for the same images that I am in the grid, so I am turning my search onto finding the slimy little hacker who doesn't know which side of the line is better for his damn health.

Skyler O'Brien is about to taste my fist as soon as I find him. I encrypt my searches, directing them to find him instead. He's not used to staying off the grid by avoiding video and traffic cameras because he figures no one cares enough.

I care, and I'm pissed the fuck off. I lost my boyfriend and girlfriend in less than twenty-four hours, and I can't sleep because I'm hyper focusing.

Taking the subway and wearing a knit hat as I slouch in my seat, I make my way across the city to his apartment. I caught him on the cameras headed back to it, but it'll take a little work to find the exact apartment.

Walking out of the subway station and up the stairs in a pair of dark slacks, long-sleeved green shirt and coat over all of it, I shove my already cold hands into my pockets.

I went shopping for clothing today, and forgot to pick up gloves like an idiot. I remembered comfortable boots and even a scarf, but my hands are freezing. It doesn't look as if I'll ever learn.

Snow begins to fall as I walk, reminding me that spring is supposed to be approaching soon. It's nine at night, and my breath is frosting in front of me. Chicago does whatever the fuck it wants, so the idea of spring doesn't mean much.

The apartment building is older, the people walking past me appear tired and run down as they rush to their destinations. As I walk up the stairs with purpose, I'm fairly certain that I'm going to inhale mold spores while I'm in here. A quick glance at the register just inside the doorway says that Skyler O'Brien lives in apartment number three-oh-eight.

Well that's shitty security.

"Hey man," a resident grunts, unlocking the door beside me.

"Thanks," I respond, following him inside as if I belong here.

Opting for the stairs instead of the decrepit elevator, I jog up them to improve circulation of my blood. It's damn cold today. My back is still healing well, but only because of the medicated cream that Dr. Kurtz gave to me. It's been a little tricky to reach certain areas of my back, but I'm managing.

Poking my head out of the stairwell, I see the third floor is fairly empty. As expected, the air smells stale, and there's a lingering scent of food that someone recently cooked. Wrinkling my nose, I find Skyler's apartment door and knock.

"I got your food delivery," I call out, making my voice gruff and low.

I don't have a bag in my hand, but I'm willing to bet he doesn't think anything bad can happen to him here. Funny. That's exactly what Líadan thought too, and look what happened.

"I didn't order any food," he whines. Skyler still goes through the trouble of unlocking and opening the door, and then I'm there, shoving him back inside.

"Hello, asshole," I smirk, closing the door with my foot. "You've been hunting my people, and I think you need a reminder of how bad a life choice that is."

Punching him in the face, I watch as he goes down like a sack of potatoes. Pulling him further into the apartment, I grimace at how disgusting it is. There are dishes overflowing in the sink, and trash on every surface possible. His computer equipment is the only thing that appears to have a little force field of cleanliness.

"You're a goddamn pig," I grunt, tossing his body onto the sofa. "You know you're choosing the wrong side in this war, right? The Banshee is going to find you and enjoy making you scream. Finding where she lives for Cormac was a stupid decision."

"What? I found where Líadan lives, I didn't?—"

I watch as he sits up from the sprawled out position he was across the couch, horror clearly on his face. He wasn't at the club in New York, and I have a feeling everyone has been very tight lipped about what happened there.

There's pros and cons to that realization, because Skyler is realizing who he's been fucking over.

"Boo hoo. You didn't realize the new mafia queen is also what goes bump in the night," I croon, gazing down at him. "You tried to kill her, how do you think that's going to endear her to you? Did you find her yet?"

"No…no. She must be using cash for everything. I can't get a digital footprint on her face or through credit. Her corporation names aren't pulling up either. That's how I found the townhome, because it was deeply embedded in so much paperwork," he says. "It was trying too hard."

Hmm. Noted. So, Skyler didn't set up the corporations, nor did he help with any of the paperwork. Seán must not have trusted him or anyone else enough. I wonder if he hired someone to do it all and then killed him. It's a lot of work to put in to keep his daughter safe, especially one he continually fucked over.

"What have you managed to weasel out of the internet?" I growl.

"I've been eavesdropping on some of the family's conversations," he admits. I kick myself because I didn't think to do that myself while I was looking for her and chasing down leads.

"Some of them have been discussing that they're waiting for a call from Líadan to meet. They all sound scared shitless about it, but it makes sense now that I know who she really is."

"I don't think it's being advertised, so let's not flap your gums," I suggest. "Why are you working for Cormac, and what can you tell me about his plans?"

"I always wanted to leave Chicago and do something else, but when Uncle Seán found out how good I am with computers, he hired me to hack for him," he explains. "He always scared the shit out of me. I always worried he was going to fit me in concrete shoes and drop me in the Chicago River."

"That's a wild imagination you have there," I mutter. "It's probably not too far from the truth since he said he killed the last person who money laundered for him."

"He was stealing from Uncle Seán, the stupid bastard," Skyler confirms. "Look, what do you want?"

Pushing away some candy wrappers, he leans forward earnestly. The kid is a pig.

"I want all the information that you've compiled and then for you to get the fuck out of town," I tell him. "I have the number to someone that will help you disappear and get you a good job, away from here."

Greg lives in South Carolina, and is a good friend of Lenny's. They'll help him stay on the straight and narrow. More importantly, they'll keep him out of trouble.

"Yeah? What's in it for you?" Skyler asks suspiciously, making me roll my eyes.

"It'll get you out of my hair so I can find Líadan," I sigh.

"Yeah, I don't understand why you aren't with her," he mutters. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Do you really care?" I ask in kind.

"No," he admits. "So if I do this, we're square?"

"You're an opportunistic asshole, but you probably aren't terrible enough to be dangled in front of my girl," I tell him. I don't care if they both left me, I'm still claiming and fucking their asses the second I see them again.

"Definitely not," he says, nodding vigorously. I'm just glad he's not pissing his pants. It already smells as it is.

"Show me what you got, and I'll give you the number to fuck off," I grunt, waiting as he pulls the laptop closer to himself to show me.

"As I said, she and Brendan aren't in any spaces that have many cameras, they may be in a shitty neighborhood," he says. "Uncle Seán is being buried in four days, and I heard that a lot of the people who flew in are grounded and can't fly home, so they decided to attend and pay their respects."

"How lucky for them," I remark.

Skylar smirks, realizing I'm responsible for this before continuing. "Rory Macdonald has been on the phone recently talking to people about how Líadan is a scared little girl who they don't need to worry about," he says.

"However, Uncle Seán and he hated each other, so I feel as if he may be misdirecting people. Few people remember the feud they had, and I only know about it because my uncle mentioned it. He doesn't approve of the trafficking, but my uncle told him to respectfully fuck off and stop being such a stick in the mud."

"Of course he did," I grunt. Rory was one of the people Líadan was going to meet yesterday, so it appears that their meeting definitely happened, despite the fire. "Anything else?"

"Not that seems important, but I'll send you my drive," he says, asking for some information so he can send it all. I'll need to make sure there's not any viruses on the drive that'll fuck up my laptop, but for now, I have everything I need.

"Here's the phone number," I say, rattling it off by heart. "I'll check with Greg to make sure you called him. If you don't, I'll send him after you."

"Yes, Sir. I'll call now," he says, already dialing the number.

I listen as he speaks to Greg, nodding as I walk out. He's not my problem anymore. Sighing once I'm back in the cold night air, I pull out my phone and call Layla. I want to make sure she's okay, and I also am a bit frustrated that I didn't get any clear answers tonight.

"Hello? Who is this?" she asks when she picks up, not recognizing the phone number.

"Hey, Lay," I say as I walk. "It's fucking cold here. Who the fuck lives full time in Chicago, anyway?"

"Apparently you do, old man," she teases me. "So you're not a prisoner anymore I see?"

"No, though it's not at all safe here. I may have had a house burned down while I was in it," I say lightly. "I'm fine, but people are losing their minds that we didn't die."

"How unfortunate for them," Layla mutters. "Why are you still there? If it's so unsafe, why stay?"

"I kind of lost my heart here," I grumble. "Líadan won't give it back, and I don't want her to. So I'm still stuck."

"Sounds complicated," she says. "I shouldn't talk with Atlas and Mav, since they're still making me insane."

"Oye, stop telling lies," Mav yells, making me chuckle.

"It's not a lie if it's true," I remind him absently, unsure if he can hear me. I'm going to have to resign from the label. God, so much to do. "I know it doesn't make much sense, but Brendan and Líadan are important to me. There's something about her that calls to me."

"It's cute that you think I'm angry that you fell in love," she says. "I'm sad I won't be able to call you whenever I want or see you. It's silly and selfish, and I don't want to be either with you. I want you to be happy."

"I'm working on it," I promise. "I may have gotten broken up with and I wasn't even awake for it."

"That bitch," Layla snarls, making me bark out a laugh as I go back into the subway. The sooner I get out of this neighborhood, the better. "How dare she leave you. Does she know your feelings?"

"I think she decided that she needed to protect me after I got hurt," I explain as I swipe my transportation card and move through the turnstile. "Sometimes, people make decisions that we should have been a part of."

"Yeah, I've been there," Layla sighs. "So what are you going to do?"

"Stalk the shit out of her," I say as she snorts in laughter. "Things are only over when I say they are. I have some tricks up my sleeve, so I'll continue looking. They're both smart, which means if I can't find them, neither will anyone else."

"Uncle Jordan, I applaud the efforts," she says. "Just make sure you make her regret her actions so she'll never do it again."

"I promise she won't be able to sit for a week," I vow, forgetting that I'm talking to Layla for a second as she squeals.

"Oh God, that's more information than I bargained for!"

Chuckling, I stand on the platform as my train starts screaming through the tunnel.

"My train is coming in now. If you don't hear from me, I am safe. Líadan is waging war on the family, and that's making some pretty large waves," I say. "I don't think we'll be staying in Chicago once we sort this all out."

"Chicago is too cold for your blood," she says, recalling my chronic inability to remember gloves. "Maybe somewhere warmer would be fun. You know, once you get the girl and guy back. Good luck with that."

"Thanks," I yell as the train pulls in front of me. Scandalous fucking contraption. "Don't take any shit from the guys. Wait, you're still touring, right?"

"For a bit longer," she confirms. "Then, we'll be back in Georgetown, and we're going to record with Lenny and the guys. I think my little cottage may be too small with these huge men."

"You have the money to buy a bigger place, Lay," I say. "Lenny can walk you through the process. It's stressful, but worth it to have your space."

"You're right," she says as I walk onto the train and find a seat. It's late enough that there's no one here, which is how I like it. "Promise you'll stay safe?"

"Cross my heart, Lay," I say as the doors close and we pull away from the platform. "Be happy."

Taking a deep breath, I hang up, blinking hard. God, that was harder than I thought it would be. Leaning back against the chair, I ride the rails as I think about where Líadan would be.

It makes sense that she would be staying in a shit hotel. There's an area that I'm thinking about that would be perfect, and they tend to have closed circuit video cameras. I'm going to begin to scour all of those hotels, because something has to give.

You can run, Princess, and you can hide, but I'll still hunt you down like the big, bad wolf only you can goad me into being. Taking a deep breath, I allow myself to daydream about stalking her through a park, chasing her down and fucking her into the dirt.

Brendan would be a good little naked soldier, unable to touch his cock as I punished Líadan's ass with my cock. Grunting, I adjust myself as I get up and de-board the train to walk to my rental.

It's almost five in the afternoon now, and I know I'm going to be pulling a few more hours in front of my computer. I've compiled a complete list of everyone who was there the night Líadan was sold and raped, and several of them are on her shit list to kill in the next few days.

I want to make sure she doesn't cut her fun short by simply blowing them sky high. That's too easy of a death for them. Líadan and Brendan deserve to fuck them up for what they did.

My darkness isn't as dark as theirs, but I can easily feed it without effort. I don't have the same morals that others live by. If you fuck with my people, I will ensure you have the worst and possibly last day imaginable.

Come out, come out wherever you are. I'm done fucking around.