Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Brendan

Thursday morning

S tanding across from the building Lía believes to be Cormac's home, I force myself not to fidget. These are the times I wish I had picked up smoking, but I'm not much for vices unless it involves blood and fucking.

I'm in the alley across the street waiting for Lía, who is ensuring everything is ready for the rest of our day.

It's exhausting taking over a mafia organization.

I placed cameras on the buildings surrounding the one in front of me, because the front door hasn't opened at all. No one is going in or out, which says there's another entrance being used.

It's not an abandoned building, either. There aren't any signs that it's standing unlived in, which are even more red flags that something isn't right here.

Lía's instincts have always been good, her gut telling her when something bad is going to happen or isn't right. I'll always follow it, no matter where it leads. Leaning against the brick wall next to me, I ignore the scents that the cold and snow attempt to cover.

Old garbage, animal feces and more prick at my nose, making me want to sneeze.

Checking the cameras at the back of the property, I see no one is going in and out of there either. It's only when I check the side cameras that I'm able to see that there's a hidden gate that goes into the neighbor's backyard. From there, stairs lead to a passageway that connects to the next street. Cute.

The men all are well muscled, dressed well, and scream money and mafia. Cormac has always enjoyed the illusion of being elite and therefore better than everyone else. Seán enjoyed nice things, which is why so many of his men stayed by his side even as he descended into mania.

I didn't see the passageway when I was setting up the cameras in the dark at five in the morning, but now as the sun is shining despite the gloom of the day, it's possible to see.

My phone notifications pop up while I hold it, alerting me that the girl of the hour is arriving on site.

Lía:

I'm almost there. Where are you hiding?

Smirking, I tell her where I am, brow raising when I receive another notification.

Jordan:

I see Líadan on the traffic cameras. Why the fuck is she in a cab alone?

Oh so you do care. Holding back a chuckle, I check my surroundings before shooting a text back. It would really suck if someone got the jump on me now.

Me:

Stalking isn't a sign of not caring, baby. We're dividing and conquering on a busy day. She's more than capable of riding in a cab alone. We should have realized you could handle our life. We were wrong.

I'm pulled back into checking surveillance, smirking as I see a majority of the men that must have been in the house are gone. I have no way of knowing if there's anyone else there, since the blinds are all drawn, though I can see lights are on.

Shadows within the house are impossible to detect right now, because they must be at the back portion of the home.

As much as Jordan is griping at me about Lía being alone, I did put a long range GPS tracker in the handle of her knife and shoes. Lía is aware of the devices, and said that it made her more comfortable to know they're there.

We have a lot riding on today, a kidnapping isn't on our agenda. Checking the status, I see she's being dropped off on the street behind me, about seven-hundred-feet away from where I'm standing.

Checking my text thread one last time with Jordan, I read his message.

Jordan:

I don't hear an apology anywhere in that text. How about you get on your knees and use your mouth to tell my cock how you feel?

"Fucking hell," I grunt, putting my phone away when I hear the slightest sound of the back gate opening. Adjusting my cock, I wince at the lack of stretch in my pants. It's being strangled, and not by Lía's tight cunt or ass.

"Are you in pain?" she asks as she ghosts up the alley to me. Once she got inside the gate, Lía's footsteps were completely silent.

"Only my cock," I mutter. "Jordan isn't playing fair. He yelled at me for ‘letting' you take a cab alone."

"Hmm. I'm perfectly capable of traveling without a nursemaid," she sniffs. "Did you remind him that I'm an adult, and one that's about to fuck some people up?"

"Yes, milseán , I did. He told me that didn't sound like an apology and that I should try again on my knees," I say, watching as she looks up at me with blown pupils. "We're going to table this, but I love your reaction to that."

"So much to do before we can properly apologize," she murmurs. "If you're sporting a hard-on, it's just fair play that he is as well. Can I have your phone please?"

Lía unbuckles the belt of her coat to the cool air as I nod. She's wearing a pair of leather leggings, flat soled boots, and a long-sleeved mesh layered top. Honestly, this is not helping my erection in the least. Her mask is in her pocket, and she pulls it over her face before pulling her shirt over her breasts.

She's not wearing a bra.

Gritting my teeth, I watch the way her nipples get harder and harder, unable to keep myself from reaching out and tugging on one.

"Fuck me, baby. You're going to give him a heart attack," I grunt, handing her the phone. There's only one reason she'd need it.

I give up on trying to make myself more comfortable in these pants. I bite my lip as Lía tilts her head like the little psychopath that she is and takes a photo to send to Jordan. Her gloved fingers fly over the screen for a moment before she hands me back the phone to fix her clothes.

Glancing at the open message as I pull out my own mask, I smirk at the words.

Líadan:

I may bend, but I never kneel, Jordan. I'm open to fucking it out, though.

"Goddamn, baby," I growl, pocketing my phone to get to work. "I may need to fuck it out later. Your tits need my cum mixed in your blood after all this."

Shivering, she nods, moving to tug me to the opening between the apartment buildings. I can't see her face due to the mask, but she's practically vibrating between arousal and the excitement of the hunt.

"My blood is always yours," she purrs. "Do we have a plan?"

"There's an opening at the back of the building. That appears to be where all of the activity is. However, there's also a side door that I can probably get us in to surprise whoever is left inside," I murmur.

"I'm all for being the surprise even if I hate them," she surmises. "We'll walk over together as if we're just taking a walk, and then duck between the houses? Do we think they have an armed security system?"

"Since there's so much activity, I doubt they're going to bother with it," I murmur. "Our coat hoods will cover the masks, so let's go for a stroll. I haven't seen anyone else out. It's too damn cold and everyone is at work."

Obediently she pulls her hood over her head, it shadows her face and the mask perfectly. Following her lead, I pull her arm through mine.

"Grab your knife, baby. I don't want you to have to fumble for it," I say.

"I brought two. The other one is in my coat pocket. There's more weapons in my hair, and I have my garrote as well. We got this, baby," she replies.

Walking together with our heads together as if we're headed somewhere important, we make sure to amble across the street. It's quiet and serene, something that's sure to change soon. I have some tools of the trade in my pockets, and I know Lía is capable of laying waste to a room full of people with me.

The most important of all of this will be incapacitating Cormac right away, so the little shitstain can't get away.

Ducking easily down the alley with her, I drop to a knee to help launch Líadan over the gate. One of the reasons I had to wire the outside of the house for video is because of the lack of visibility here.

Stepping on my outstretched hands, Líadan holds onto the top of the gate and goes over it without a sound. I follow her with a simple jump because of my height, now hidden from the street.

It's quiet back here, the side door unattended because Cormac truly believes no one will dare come for him. We may not have been able to even find him without a triangulation of this area, since he doesn't have this property under his name.

The first thing I ran through the city records was his name, which came up empty for a residence. He has a business or two that appears legit for tax purposes, but that's it.

The best way to stay off the legal radar is to give the veneer of being a law abiding citizen. Pulling out my lockpick set, I get to work quietly to unlock it.

While in Ireland, the family I stayed with was insistent that I learn how, so they locked me in an old building to practice. There could have been a million different ways for me to learn, but it was cold, and I was wearing a thin T-shirt and shorts.

It was supposed to be motivation for me to work faster.

God, that summer had so many terrible aspects. I don't ever want to travel again without Lía. I'd be too worried something bad would happen.

In no time, the lock slides into place, and my tool kit disappears back into my coat. There are so many hiding places in it, it's perfect for all the weapons I have. After the fire, I immediately went shopping for another. It's warm, trench coat length, and no one bats an eye at the sight.

Still crouching, I slowly open the door. There's a deep voice toward the back of the house, but no one to notice as Lía and I step inside. I lock the door behind me to keep anyone from possibly entering, as the locking mechanism was one of the more sophisticated ones. I can break into any building or safe after my crash course in lockpicking in Ireland though.

At least it was good for something.

Lía moves like the silent nightmare that she is, toward the left side of the house, while I move farther into the house to close off any possible escape for those in the living space.

"We still haven't found the girl," Cormac growls. "How hard is it to find one little girl? She's such a pain in the ass."

"I say we find the little princess, pass her around while we dick her down, and remind her that women are worth nothing more than to be a cum dumpster," Seamus grumbles.

He was one of Seán's commanders, always willing to bust someone's balls, force them to cough up money for protection. Seamus is also a dirty old man who enjoys spending his free time at the sex club hurting women.

The club in Chicago hasn't reopened with the excuse that it's in deference to Seán's death, but the reality is that it is permanently closed until Líadan and I can plan out the new business plan.

Glancing covertly over the corner, I quickly take in the three men who are talking to Cormac. Seamus, Declan, and Glenn all fiercely supported Seán since he supported their twisted recreation and desires.

The video cameras showed that they were some of the people who firebombed the apartment. Maybe it would be fun to burn them alive, the way they attempted to do to us.

A memory pricks my mind, making me scowl. Cormac has always been so comfortable around the family's human pets, it shouldn't have been any surprise to me that he's a handler for the auction inventory as well.

"You can fill all her holes, it wouldn't make any difference to me," Cormac mutters. "The girl should have been drowned at birth, and I tried to convince Seán to do it. Then he accidentally killed Roisin in a fit of anger not long after, which ended dreams that he would be able to try again. He had no interest."

"The family wouldn't have accepted anything other than a love match from him," Glenn rumbles. "Seems silly, but they carry high standards."

"Aye, they do. A bit ridiculous to be honest. Everyone is very much living under the pretense of sadness now that Seán is dead. We'll let them all wallow for a bit longer while we work on finding the girl," Cormac says. "Too much is up in the air and that fucker Rory has been on the phone calling people incessantly."

My lips twitch as I move back to lean against the wall, proud that Rory is making waves. He's loud and opinionated, but also strategic. If he wanted the family, I have no doubt he'd be able to get support, except for his small issue with sex trafficking of course.

"Where is the little snot-nosed fucker that was supposed to help you find her?" Declan asks.

"Dead," Líadan says, her real voice ringing out as she walks out.

I see she decided to throw out stealth for drama. Wonderful. Watching, I decide to let it ride as I pull my firearms from the holsters at my waist. I'll be the best wing man she could ever ask for and let her play.

"Fuck, you're a scary fucking bitch," Seamus gasps. "Gonna have to burn the mask in order to be able to fuck you."

These three were at the reveal in New York, which is why they know who Líadan is under the mask. Using the voice changer at this point would just be overkill.

"Your father gave you too much freedom, which is why we're here at all," Declan says with a sneer. While he may be correct in a way, we're here because they've been hunting us.

"It's cute that you think that's an option," she says, throwing her knife without hesitation. It's only slightly unbalanced, and I put buying her better knives on my to do list. The knives I have bought her in the past have been from a specialty store. They take two months to make, since they're special order.

The blade slides into Seamus' flesh like butter, but only because Lía made sure to sharpen her blades until they were up to her standards. The old man gurgles, mistakenly pulling the knife from his throat, and spraying blood everywhere. Dumbass.

Cormac's face turns a furious purple as he watches his living room quickly becoming a gruesome mess.

"Ah, fuck, seriously?" Cormac roars as Declan and Glenn pull their own guns.

Since they brought guns to a knife fight, I step in, my lips stretched into a gruesome smile as I shoot Cormac first in the leg to ensure he won't be going far.

"Stay," I growl, deciding to maim and play with my food. Aiming for the arm that's holding the gun, I shoot both Glenn and Declan, so they'll drop the only possible way they could hurt Líadan.

To keep them from running, I ensure that they both receive a bullet in the leg as well. This way, Lía won't have to struggle with them.

It's just good, clean torture.

"Look at the big, strong men who can't hold onto their pieces," Líadan teases them as I kick their guns away from them.

Handing her a taser, I let her have a bit of fun with them, while I pull out a length of rope for Cormac from the many hidey holes in my utility pants. I dressed for success, my profession just needs a different form of uniform than other people do.

Cormac is struggling to get up from where he's sprawled across the floor, except the bullet high up on his thigh isn't allowing him to. The screams from the men behind me make me grin widely, though all the ex-soldier in front of me can see is the demon mask sitting on my face.

"Holy Moses, Brendan. Boy, boy, don't let her influence you like this," he says, pulling himself across the floor. His good leg is shoving himself back, making him look a bit like a crab.

Snorting to myself in twisted amusement, I stalk his ass across the room.

"You don't seem to understand that my darkness matches hers," I murmur. Reaching him, I stomp down on the thigh with the gunshot wound, enjoying his screams.

There's a decorative table runner across a small table against the wall, perfect for shoving in his mouth. Pulling it sharply, I ignore the elegant Irish vase that was sitting on top of it, enjoying the way it shatters onto the ground. Oops?

"Oye… argh!" Cormac's words are stifled as I shove the ornate fabric deep into his mouth. It's heavily embroidered, and I take deep pleasure in knowing it's tearing up the tissue in his mouth. Pulling his tie from his neck, I wrap it around his head so he can't spit it out.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Lía muffled both Glenn and Declan, finding fabric to also tie them to the heavy furniture around her. Tasing them kept them from moving too much. They're also on their knees, which is ironic.

Smirking, I turn back, kicking Cormac between the legs, so he'll crumple into the fetal position. Chuckling darkly at how predictable people's reflexes are. It also works in my favor every time.

"There we go," I croon, hog tying him. First, I remove his pants on the off chance Lía feels like a little castration in the near future.

Letting the bastard bleed slowly onto the hardwood floor, I move over to where Lía is currently playing eenie-meenie-miney-mo with Glenn and Declan's fingers.

"Having fun?" I tease her. Shooting them is just too good of a death for them, but we don't have too much time.

"I am, though I wish we had more time," she says, cutting another fingertip right off as she echoes my thoughts. Lía manages to keep the blood off of her, since she knows exactly how the blood will spray or ooze depending on the action.

Pulling out a pair of black heavy latex gloves, I show them to her.

"I'll switch you for your mittens, milseán. You'll need those later," I remind her.

Nodding she takes off her black mittens, handing them to me to put in one of my many pockets. Declan and Glenn look terrified as they glance from Seamus' vacant stare nearby, to us wildly. We are definitely the biggest predators in the room.

"Seamus died too soon, though I couldn't help that," Lía mutters, pulling on the disposable gloves. I'm thinking the pyro in me may be lighting up the evidence after we're done. I'll call into the emergency line anonymously reporting the fire.

I can be a good citizen when it's required.

Humming a song to herself, she shoves her knife deep into Glenn's chest. It's one I recognize from The Darkest Nights , an older song that Líadan vibed with. It's another thread that binds her to Jordan, and a reminder that the world is incredibly small.

Looking through my pockets, I find a stun gun with a handle that extends and is USB powered.

"This is on the strong side. Don't give either of the shitstains a heart attack," I remind her, handing it over. "I think I heard recently that Declan has high cholesterol."

I can feel Lía's amusement as she electrocutes Glenn's dick instead. Barking out a laugh, I enjoy watching her work. Lía moves from cutting to electrocuting with ease, standing and branding their foreheads for a special touch.

I know this is a sign that she's done, and I watch as she cuts each letter deep into their foreheads.

Glenn's word is: Sheep, because he followed her father so effortlessly, and without compassion. Declan's word is Pyro, because he threw the first firebomb through her window, ultimately hurting Jordan. Surprising me, Líadan extends her hand for my gun.

"I may as well show you I'm a decent shot," she grumbles, relinquishing her knife to me as well. Carefully, she shoots each of them in very painful areas of their body where they'll feel like death without actually dying. Lía hits every one of her shots like the badass that she is.

I never said she couldn't shoot, just that she should practice. Brat.

"I see," I say, chuckling. "You're adorable. I assume we're going to leave them to the fire?"

There's been enough blood spilled that it's the only option to cover up our actions.

"Yes," she agrees. "I hate being on such a tight schedule."

Lía is grumpy as she moves over to where Cormac is still struggling to get out of the tight knots I created.

I left so early, I don't know if she ate or not, which means we'll need to swing by one of her favorite breakfast spots for food. It'll do no one any good to have a stabby, crabby mafia princess, stomping around town.

"Do you have any more fun toys, Brendan?" she asks me, looking down at Cormac as she puts the safety in the gun.

"Of course I do, milseán ," I tell her, pulling out a hammer and long nails.

"I don't know where you put it all," she says, staring at me before giggling. It's a sound I'll never get tired of, holding it tightly to myself. Líadan is so much stronger than anyone knows.

"You're like the Mary Poppins of torture devices."

"It's a lost art," I tease her, handing them off to her. "Make sure to nail the fleshy part of his balls first baby. Then you can work on his dick."

Nodding, she pushes up her mask, so Cormac can see the beautiful menace that is the true Banshee. It's never been about the mask, this is who she is, and he helped her father create her.

There must have been so many times he egged Seán on, instead of advising him to pull back or reminding him that she was a young girl and his daughter.

The examples that I wasn't here to protect her from them stretch on in my mind. The time that Seán first beat her in his office when she was twelve and Cormac held her still. Or when he pulled lots for the auction when she turned seventeen.

The examples make my blood boil, since they were all pivotal moments in Lía's life, but meant nothing to the man laying in front of her at her mercy.

Sometimes, karma knows exactly what it's doing.

Líadan pushes out her lips as she concentrates, pulling Cormac's old man balls forward to decide where she'll make the puncture wounds. Her gaze is clinical and detached, firmly focused on causing the most damage.

Immediately, I see I'll need to assist, changing out my gloves for heavy black latex ones to take over for her.

The grin I get makes my heart flip flop. It's disgusting how much I adore this woman. I'm willing to hold old man balls for her, and coach her on how to make him scream for her.

"Show me what you got, baby," I say softly, squeezing Cormac's balls hard for a moment in warning. He's wiggling too much.

Taking a long nail, she pierces the skin before lifting the hammer and bringing it down hard. Following her lead, I move my hand, so she can continue, even going so far to push Cormac's cock toward his face, so he pisses on himself. Neither of us need to be covered with the stench of his fear or pain.

Lía does a phenomenal job of nailing Cormac's balls to the floor, and her skin is glowing with happiness. He manages to hold out until the third nail, and then passes out.

"You are one of the worst men in the world," she growls, standing. Lía grumbles even though he can't hear her, stomping to the kitchen to get something. As I hear the ice hit a bucket and later water, I smirk as I get out of her damn way. Líadan O'Brien is madder than a hornet and just as worked up.

Stomping back into the room, she dumps the bucket over his head. Sputtering, he howls as he jerks away, momentarily forgetting that his balls are nailed to the ground and thrashes. That only lasts long enough for him to realize the error of his ways, and he freezes in horror.

"I want you to be awake when the building goes up in flames. I want you to feel every lick of heat, terror, and despair, knowing there is no way out," she says, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Or… I have another option and I can put a bullet in your brain and release you to hell where you'll burn anyway."

Intrigued by what she's up to, I wait until Cormac nods furiously and she removes the gag.

"Where is the warehouse where the human inventory is kept for the Carnal Auction, Cormac?" she asks, standing tall over him.

"Why do you know about that?" he pants. At Lía's raised brow, he nods. She's got him by the short hairs, and it's obvious. "Fine, fine. Insufferable little girl. Those people are as good as dead anyway. No one's been to see them in days. Just outside of the city, there are several large barns and buildings where we house and break in the inventory before the auction."

"Address, Cormac," she says in a low voice.

Nodding wildly, tears streaming down his face from the pain, he rattles it off and I memorize it.

"Are you expecting any more inventory for the auction?" Lía asks, eyes calculating.

"No," he says. "I swear it. These people are ages sixteen to twenty-two and men and women. They're all missing persons, who will never be found, barely missed. I had to make sure they were up to the caliber the auctions expect."

My stomach clenches as I think about the lives Cormac and Seán have destroyed for money and greed. I had no idea any of this was happening.

"Tell me about the auctions," I rasp. "Who does them?"

"Mila's mother runs the auctions," Cormac grunts. Her mother left her when she was very young, and I didn't think she had any ties to the family anymore. "The O'Malleys don't know anything about the auctions, and Mila thinks her mother is dead. It was the perfect way to keep the auctions running."

"Where can I find her, and why isn't she paying attention to the human inventory?" Lía asks. I know she keeps emphasizing that they are humans to shame Cormac, but he doesn't seem fazed.

"Nah, Trila doesn't give a shit about the inventory as long as they're delivered as promised," he grunts. "I suppose you want her location as well?"

"Yep," I grunt, pulling out some matches to play with to speed this up. Lighting the match, I watch as it burns, dropping it on him once it gets close enough to burn my fingers.

"Stop, you promised!" Cormac screeches, trying to evade the match the best he can. The flame goes out before it ever touches him. Idiot.

"I think you had something to tell us," Lía says, rolling her eyes. Pushing up my mask, I wait for him to answer. I'm already planning to find all the alcohol in the house to use as an accelerant for the fire. It's going to burn hot and be epic.

"Yes, yes. Let me think. Líadan, I can't remember. Fuck!" he yells, closing his eyes as he breathes hard.

Cormac looks beaten even though this is more about emotional and mental warfare. He's trussed up like a Christmas turkey, naked with his balls stretched tightly. For a man used to being in control and enjoying the finer things in life, he's fallen hard and fast.

"She lives off Brentley Plaza," he says finally, eyes wide. "980 is the building, and she lives in the penthouse. Fuck, can I go now."

"Is there anything else we need to know?" I ask, looking longingly at my matches.

"No, fuck, I don't think so," he groans.

In unison, Lía and I pull down our masks to search for booze, upending the bottles over the men, curtains, and the entire room.

"You promised!" Cormac screams.

"I said it was an option, not that I'd go through with it," she grunts as I lead her out of the room. The other men can smell the liquor despite being very out of it, they begin to look around.

"Well gentleman, it has not been a pleasure. Say hello to the devil for me."

Lighting the match, I toss it into the room, straight into a puddle of whiskey. The room begins to go up in flames, and Lía and I take steps back, lifting our hoods and pulling off our gloves.

Tossing them into the room, we turn and walk toward the side door, unlocking it and slipping outside.

The heat is quick to build, and the cool air feels amazing on my skin. Moving quickly, we move toward the front of the building, leaving the same way we came in. Lía loops her arm through mine, our hands bare as we walk.

Pulling out our gloves, I hand a pair to her to put on.

The screams can barely be heard as we walk away, the streets still quiet for a weekday. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the smoke slowly beginning to rise. Checking my phone for the video camera feeds, I can clearly see the flames from the back of the house. No one exits, not that I expect them to.

After walking for twenty minutes, I call the emergency line to report the fire. Lía merely leans into my body, our masks now put away as we enjoy the day, basking in the joy of putting scum down in a blaze of glory.

"How do you feel about breakfast, milseán ?" I ask her. Her cheeks blush, and I see through her.

"As if I skipped it and now I'm hangry," she admits. "Do we have time to get something?"

Checking the time from my phone still in my hand, I nod. "We can go and have a sit down meal, I expect. Wonderful excuse for an alibi, too."

Sighing, she nods.

"We need to get those people out of that warehouse, Brendan," she says softly. "It's been days…"

"We can't go, but we can talk to people who can help," I remind her.

Finding Mickey's number, I click on his name to connect the call.

"Hey, how did it all go?" he asks immediately when he picks up the phone. I know they've been worried, and it's an odd feeling to know people are pulling for you.

"It's a bright, fiery ball," I tell him. "We got all the intel we were looking for, which is the reason I'm calling. I need you to go to an address for me, possibly two. One has inventory that needs to be removed from the buildings, and the other needs to be placed on ice until we can handle her."

"Understood," he grunts, understanding my need for code. "I'll bring my rig to the first location and supplies. My sister, Jana, would be good to help me, as she's not nearly as scary as I am."

"Good, good," I sigh. "The other address is of the woman who runs the auctions."

"Joe is free," he says. "I'll get him on it. Rory has everyone he needs for work today."

The "work" is holding people hostage, and as we head into the subway station, I'm glad for his prudence in his speech. Exchanging the information needed, I disconnect the call.

"Well, baby. We worked up an appetite, let's get you fed," I murmur, kissing her forehead before we board the train.

The pieces are falling into place, we're almost home free.