Chapter 10

Cian

A t first, I hadn’t understood what Richie was saying. When he’d first opened his eyes and seen Saoirse, the shit coming out of his mouth hadn’t made any sense. He’d started crying, a wheezing wet sound that hit with the force of a hammer, and I’d felt my own eyes start to sting. She’d tried to calm him down while I’d texted Aoife to get her ass back to the hospital. I hadn’t been sure what to do to help him, so while the nurses had come in to check and make sure he was okay, I’d texted everyone else, letting them know he was awake.

I’d barely put my phone away when Saoirse had looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock.

“I’m so sorry,” Richie rasped. “I’m so sorry. Aisling?”

“She’s fine,” I said quickly, moving closer to the bed.

“I told him that,” Saoirse murmured. “Is Aoife on her way?”

I nodded.

“Didn’t mean for it,” Richie wheezed. “Just money. Didn’t know.”

My head snapped toward him. “You didn’t know what ?”

“Julian,” he replied. “Didn’t know.”

“You know Julian?” I asked quietly.

“Julian,” he said, nodding as he dropped his head back from the pillow. “Aisling?”

“She’s fine,” I repeated.

“Aisling,” he whispered brokenly.

“How do you know Julian, Richie?” I snapped. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but I had a really bad feeling.

Saoirse shot me a look, and I nodded and cleared my throat.

“How do you know him?” I asked, the strain in my voice barely noticeable.

“Worked for him,” Richie said, his words so quiet that I had to lean closer. “Just a little while.”

“You worked for Julian Kitz?” I jerked back in disbelief.

“Not long.” He opened his eyes again and looked at me and then Saoirse. “Aisling?”

I stared at him.

“She’s fine,” Saoirse said, rubbing her hand along Richie’s forearm. “She’s at home with Aoife.”

“What have you been doing for Julian Kitz?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“Side jobs,” Richie replied. “Remodel. Clean money.”

It took me a moment to piece it together. “You were cleaning his money.”

Richie nodded, his breathing labored. “Not long. Few months.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie,” I muttered, leaning back in disgust. He didn’t have to say anything else. I knew how to read between these particular lines.

How could he have been so goddamn stupid?

“I don’t—” Saoirse said, looking between us in confusion. “He was doing what?”

“Go out and meet Aoife,” I ordered.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Saoirse,” I snapped.

“Not happening.”

The argument ended when our big sister burst into the room, so filled with relief that her feet barely touched the ground as she rushed to Richie.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, reaching for his face. “Thank the good Lord. Oh, god. You’re awake.”

Richie opened his mouth, and by the expression on his face, I knew what he was going to say. I couldn’t watch it.

Without a word, I left the room.

Aoife’s faith in Richie was unshakable. She’d adored him since they were kids, and he’d always returned the favor. I wasn’t sure that I could see that faith smashed to pieces without smashing something else to pieces. Anything else.

When I reached the waiting room, Will was on his feet, his expression grim.

Bas, Frankie, Lou, and Myla looked like they’d just come off the elevator. They had Titus and Noel with them.

I didn’t want to talk to any of them. The rage flowing through my veins felt like a living thing, and I wasn’t sure how long I could carry it before I detonated.

“Wanker,” Will said in warning as I strode forward.

I ignored him.

“Baby,” Myla whispered, her eyes filled with concern. She’d never called me that before.

Without acknowledging anyone else, I grabbed her by the hand and tugged her with me as I kept walking.

“Cian,” Titus snapped.

“It’s fine,” Myla called over her shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”

“Not a good idea,” Bas muttered from behind me. I felt him start toward us, but I’d already reached the door to the bathroom and thrown it wide.

It was a single, and the door had a lock, and before Bas was anywhere close, I’d thrown it shut again and flipped the lock.

I couldn’t get enough air. It felt like I was choking.

“Hey,” Myla said, immediately getting into my space. Her hands came to my face, cupping my cheeks as she forced my head down. “Hey, breathe.”

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“You’re good,” she soothed. “You’re good. Take a deep breath.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” I choked out.

“The guy who hurt Aisling?” she asked gently, her thumbs brushing back and forth on my cheeks. “I figured you already had.”

“Richie.” I leaned away from her hands and shoved my hair out of my face. “I love him and I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

“What?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in shock.

“Cian, open the door,” Bas called, pounding on the door.

“He fucked up, My.” I shook my head as I took a step away from her. “He fucked up so bad. None of ’em are safe. Goddamn it.”

My fist hit the wall with a deep thump, not even denting whatever the hell they’d used.

“Shit, Cian,” Myla blurted, reaching for me. “Did you just break your freaking hand?”

“Motherfucker, open this door now,” Titus ordered, slamming against it.

“We’re fine,” Myla called back. “Get away from the door!”

“It’s not broken,” I muttered, shaking out my hand. I needed to pace. I needed to move. But there was no room in that bathroom, and the moment I stepped outside, there was going to be a whole group of people outside wanting me to explain what the fuck was going on. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to be where I was. I wanted to be far the fuck away from there, clueless to how the most important father figure I’d ever known had fucked over his family so spectacularly.

“Baby, stop,” Myla said, catching me as I turned toward the mirror. “Stop. Look at me.”

Every muscle in my body was tight as I let her pull me closer. She was the only reason I hadn’t already tore the room to pieces.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her eyes on mine. “What happened?”

I just shook my head.

“How can I help you?” she murmured. The question was so sincere that my throat got tight again.

Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I ignored the pounding on the door as I stuffed my face into her neck. My body was vibrating with rage and fear and fucking sadness, but the scent of Myla’s soap felt like a cool shower on the hottest day of summer. Shocking, but fuck if it wasn’t a welcome reprieve.

“Wanker, you don’t open this door, I’m coming in there.” Myla’s dad said, his voice eerily calm. “I gotta break it down and you’re gonna wish your mama swallowed before I’m through with you.”

“Gross,” Myla hissed, pulling away a little. “He’ll do it, Cian. You better open it.”

I let my arms fall from her shoulders and nodded, turning away as she moved toward the door. I was gripping the sides of the sink with both hands, my knuckles white, when she swung the door open.

“Dramatic much?” Myla’s mom bitched. “Jesus, Tommy. You can see they’re fine. Now can you leave them alone?”

“Not happenin’,” Tommy replied.

“She’s fine,” Heather said in exasperation.

“He ain’t,” Tommy shot back.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Heather muttered. “You know he’d never hurt her.”

“Not on purpose.”

“I’m fine,” Myla snapped. “What do you need?”

“Go with your mother,” Tommy ordered.

“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.”

“Wanker,” Tommy said, ignoring his daughter. “Need a word.”

I hated that fucking name, but I knew why he used it. I’d known why Will was using it, too, when normally they only pulled it out when they were giving me shit. It was a reminder of who I was, who they were, and the hierarchy that I’d pledged my life to.

Myla might get away with doing whatever the fuck she wanted—but I wouldn’t.

“Go with your mom, My,” I ordered. “Be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” Myla asked, moving in close to my side. “If you need a couple more minutes—”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I assured her. “Go.”

Myla walked out of the room, and from the corner of my eye, I watched most of the group outside the door drift away.

“Not hangin’ out with you in the shitter,” Tommy said. “Let’s go.”

I followed him out and walked quietly with the boys as they surrounded us. We took the stairs to the ground level and made our way over to the parking garage. Then we climbed all the way to the top. Tommy finally stopped in the middle of the surprisingly deserted rooftop parking lot.

“You know,” he said flatly.

“How do you?” I asked dully.

“Gray called me a couple of minutes before you came out,” Will said. “He’d been followin’ some leads, found the connection between Richie and that heroin fuckwad.”

“Richie said he was cleanin’ the money,” I mumbled.

I was fucking embarrassed, which was a little ridiculous. These men had seen me puking my guts out and nearly shitting myself on more than one occasion. They’d seen me do stupid shit a million times. They weren’t judging.

I was judging. I was fucking judging.

How could Richie have done something so stupid? A part of me wanted to go back inside and berate him until I lost my voice. I wanted to drag Aisling to the hospital so he had to look at her and see what his actions had caused. I wanted to punch him in every sewn-up bullet hole.

But another part of me, a tiny one that remembered all that Richie had done for us over the years, wanted to convince the men around me that Richie wasn’t as stupid as we all knew he was.

“Christ on a cracker,” Bas muttered.

“He say anythin’ else?” Leo asked.

“That he was sorry.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, hands in his pockets as he stared at his feet. “Bet he is.”

“Walk us through it,” Will ordered.

“He woke up and right off started talking about how sorry he was,” I replied, glancing at him. “He asked about Aisling. Mentioned Julian. Said he didn’t know .” I let out a humorless laugh. “He didn’t know , but he was cleaning money using some remodel as a cover, so he must’ve known something , right?”

“He say how he met Kitz?” Gray asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “This might kill Aoife. It might actually be the thing that sends her over the edge. Dad dying? She could take it. Mom? Good riddance. Raising four kids when she was a teenager? No problem. But finding out her husband is in bed with a bunch of drug dealers? No. Fuck no.”

“More likely to kill him,” Titus murmured.

“I know,” Bas replied.

“From what I’ve found, it’s just the one,” Gray said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t find any connection between Richie and anyone but Kitz. Problem is, Kitz is in deep, and Richie’s been laundering a fuckload of money.”

“How?” I asked. My brother-in-law was a good man. Solid. Kind. Smart, but so far from a criminal mastermind, I would’ve more easily believed that Seanie was breaking the law at daycare.

“Let’s just say, the IRS is gonna have a field day. I’m guessin’ your sister isn’t livin’ large. Either Richie doesn’t claim the millions of dollars on his taxes—which would make sense but give the government more ammunition—or he does, and your sister is paying more money on taxes than she makes in a year.”

“The IRS?”

“FBI’s got an entire fuckin’ team on this branch of the Smith heroin family tree. They clocked Richie from the start.”

“Fuck,” I breathed. “Is Kitz still alive?”

Gray paused. “Everything I’ve heard points to yes.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Leo said. “Either you killed him and the feds are after you or you didn’t and the Smiths are.”

“Smiths are easier to deal with,” Will said easily.

My phone started ringing in my pocket, and almost immediately after, Tommy’s did too.

Myla.

“I’m fine,” I answered.

“The police are here,” she replied quietly. “Not normal police. Fancy police in suits.”

“Shit.”

“They barely glanced at us when they came in. They went straight back.”

“Be there in a minute.” I shoved the phone in my pocket as Tommy spoke.

“Looks like the FBI has come callin’.” He looked at Will. “You got this?”

“Yep.”

“Heather and Lil will meet us downstairs,” Tommy told Leo. He looked at me. “Keep your mouth shut.”

I just nodded. He didn’t have to tell me, and we both knew it.

“I’ll head out with you,” Bas said. “I’m gonna get back to the house.”

“Everyone’s at the motel,” Gray replied as they headed toward the stairs. “Sent ’em when I started gettin’ callbacks and realized what we were dealin’ with.”

My mind raced as everyone but Titus, Will, and I disappeared down the stairs. I was going to have to face Aoife and the clusterfuck her life had become, and on top of that, I had no clue what the FBI was saying to Richie, but I doubted it was anything friendly. I needed to keep my shit together. I didn’t have a record. It wasn’t that I hadn’t skirted the law on occasion—or regularly if I was being honest about it—but I’d never been caught. Never even been fingerprinted.

Titus was the same, but he never realized that his brothers made sure that was the case. He worked the clean side of the garage and was assigned to guard duties when it was his turn, but we kept him clear of the shit that got dicey. He had a woman and kids at home, and while he wasn’t alone in that, Noel was different. She wasn’t made to hold down the fort if her man got sent down for any amount of time. None of us thought less of her for it, if anything, we felt protective. Any Ace in our chapter would’ve cut our arm off to keep her safe in the little bubble she and Titus had created. After what she’d lived through, she deserved it.

We took our time heading back inside, but the minute we stepped into the waiting area, I knew by the tension in the room that the FBI was still back with Richie.

“What’s going on?” Saoirse asked, jumping to her feet. “Richie started whispering to Aoife and she made me leave the room.”

“Sersh,” I mumbled, meeting Myla’s eyes. She was strung tight as a wire, sitting primly at the edge of her seat.

“No, Molly said those guys in suits are from the FBI,” Saoirse said shrilly. “What is going on?”

“Your brother-in-law is neck deep in bad shit,” Will said gruffly, making his way over to Molly.

“ Richie ?” Saoirse asked dubiously.

“He fucked up, Sersh,” I said, my voice low as I moved toward her. “You heard what he was sayin’ in there. We’ll talk later.”

“We’ll talk now,” she replied stubbornly.

“We’ll talk when there aren’t FBI agents wanderin’ the fuckin’ halls, all right?” I snapped.

“No way did Richie do something illegal,” she whispered, dropping back into her seat. “No freaking way.”

“Let’s hope that’s what Richie’s sayin’,” Titus muttered to me as he headed over to Noel.

“I’ll go back and see what’s goin’ on, okay?” I told Saoirse. “Stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t—” Myla called out before stopping herself.

“What?” I turned to look at her.

Her knee was bouncing nervously. “Just don’t say anything.”

Will laughed.

“I got it,” I assured her as I headed toward the doors.

The nurses recognized me, and the ICU doors opened right up as I reached them. Richie’s door was visible down the corridor, but I didn’t rush as I made my way over to it and pushed it open. The moment I stepped inside, all conversation stopped, and the suits at the end of the bed turned to look at me.

“You need to come back later,” one of them ordered.

Aoife was sitting by Richie’s bed, face ashen, her hands clenched tightly on top of her purse.

“Nah,” I said slowly, looking back at the suit. “I think I’ll stay.”

“We need to speak with Mr. Lewis and his wife alone.”

“I’m her brother,” I said, planting my feet. “What’s this about?”

The suits looked at me like I had a screw loose.

“Your brother-in-law was shot—”

“I’m aware of that,” I cut him off, glancing pointedly around the room.

“Richie—” Aoife said, her voice wobbling. “They want to offer him a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” I asked suspiciously.

“They want me to testify,” Richie rasped, his eyes on the suits. “Put Julian in jail.”

“Not just Mr. Kitz,” the suit closest to me clarified. Then he made a noise in his throat and shook his head. “This is a private conversation.”

“He stays,” Richie said flatly.

The closest suit opened his mouth to argue but shut it again when his partner shook his head. “Frankly, you’re in deep shit, Richard. You can go to prison for money laundering, and let’s be honest here—you wouldn’t be there long.”

Aoife made a little noise as his insinuation hit home.

“Or you can testify as the state’s witness.”

Richie stared at him.

“Aces and Eights Motorcycle Gang,” the other suit mused, checking out my cut. “Oregon. I doubt you’ll have much pull in the prisons here.”

“We’re a recreational riding club,” I corrected flatly.

“Sure you are.” He smirked.

“And you’d be surprised.” I smiled back at him, holding eye contact until he looked away.

“Better me than them,” Richie said finally, looking over at my sister. “Talking to you would put a target on my wife’s back.”

“It’s a federal case,” the suit furthest from me said easily. “Which means you’d be put in witness protection.”

I could see the wheels turning in Richie’s head. The man had absolutely no poker face, and I’d always been able to tell when he was actually weighing the pros and cons of something or just delaying his answer. “My wife and son?” he asked.

“Well—”

“Stop,” Aoife said quietly, her voice hoarse. She turned to look at Richie, and what composure he’d been hanging onto was gone in an instant. “You know I can’t.”

“E—” he pleaded.

“You know I won’t leave them.”

“Aoife—”

“You know I’d have to be dead to leave them,” she said harshly, slicing her hand through the air. “You’ve always known that.”

“Who are we talking about here?” the suit closest to me asked.

No one answered him.

My gut churned with nausea.

“They’re grown now, baby,” Richie argued. “You did your part.”

“You think it ends when they’re out of the house?” Aoife shot back.

“Think about what you’re saying, Aoife,” Richie replied, grunting as he tried to sit up further in bed.

“You know my answer,” Aoife whispered painfully.

“How can I protect you if I’m stuck in some safe house somewhere and you and Sean are here?” he asked desperately. “You have to come.”

“I don’t,” Aoife replied, straightening her shoulders. She looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. “I’m not.”

Richie stared at her for a long time before his gaze moved to me. He didn’t have to say a word.

I nodded.

If the suits hadn’t been in the room, I would’ve told him it was a terrible fucking idea. I would’ve warned him that there was a good chance he wouldn’t even make it to trial, and even if he did—he’d have that monkey on his back for the rest of his life. Once he testified, there wouldn’t be a place on the West Coast that was safe for him, maybe even the entire US. I would’ve urged him to get a lawyer, to play dumb, to keep his mouth fucking shut until we could figure out how to get him and my sister out of this mess safely.

But the damage had been done before I’d even entered the room. Richie wasn’t a criminal mastermind, and to him? The FBI was a godsend. He’d never wanted to fall into the shit with Kitz. He’d been offered an opportunity, and the moment he’d said yes, Kitz had all he needed to keep Richie on a leash. As I watched detachedly, my brother-in-law convinced himself that going into witness protection was the best for all involved and seemed to sink into the bed, as if agreeing to testify against the crazy motherfucker had absolved him of the mess he’d made.

Half an hour later, there was a plain clothes officer sitting at the nurses desk across from Richie’s door as I led my sister gently out of the room.

“What the fuck just happened?” she asked under her breath, her fingers digging into my hand.

“Just keep walking.”

Everyone stood as we came through the ICU doors, but we didn’t stop. I just kept leading her toward the elevator.

“Let’s go,” I said quietly as we passed them.

“All of us?” Saoirse asked.

“Everyone,” I confirmed.

We didn’t speak as they followed us onto the elevator, out through the lobby, across the driveway, and into the garage.

“Myla, can you drive her?” I asked as we reached Aoife’s car.

“I can drive,” my sister argued dully.

“I’ll drive,” Myla said quickly, moving closer.

“Wait for me and follow me back to the house,” I ordered as I fished through Aoife’s purse and found her keys. “Don’t stop for anything. Don’t make any calls.”

“That goes for all of you,” Will ordered, looking around at us. “I’ll call Tommy and have them meet us at the house.”

“The house is a mess,” Aoife said as I helped her into the passenger seat.

“Nobody gives a fuck,” I replied. I closed the door and looked at Myla across the car. “Straight to the house.”

“Got it,” she confirmed, dropping out of view.

The rage that had filled me so completely earlier had disappeared under a blanket of numbness and disbelief by the time I pulled into the driveway of our house.

I was prepared to deal with the police. I was prepared to deal with lowlife drug dealers and the pieces of shit that would stab you in the back for a cigarette. I was prepared to deal with the fallout of decisions I’d made or the club made. I’d put my ass on the line more times than I could count, knowing that if things went south, I might never make it home again.

What I hadn’t prepared for was my family having to deal with any of that. I’d kept my life with the Aces separate for a reason. I wanted the two parts of my life to intersect—I wanted them to know each other—but never in a million years would I have accepted it if Ronan had asked to join the club. I made sure that my choices had never blown back on Aoife and the kids.

The irony was absurd.

When I pulled up to the house, Will had already parked and was waiting for me next to his bike.

“Witness protection,” I said, striding over to him before Aoife and Myla made it out of the car.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Will muttered. “Figured as much when Aoife came out lookin’ like she’d just been tased.”

“Got there too late,” I replied quietly. “Should’ve stayed and told him to keep his mouth shut. By the time I got back in there, he was fuckin’ discussin’ options.”

Will ushered everyone into the house, and as they filed by me, I realized that Noel and Titus had brought Ruthie with them.

She squealed when she saw me, leaning toward me so sharply that Noel had to quickly readjust her before she toppled onto the ground.

“Hey, baby girl,” I said, taking her as I followed them into the house. “You miss me?”

“I don’t think you can move out,” Noel said sweetly, grinning at me over her shoulder. “She’s been watching the door for you since you left.”

“You love Uncle Cian, huh?”

Ruth threaded her fingers through my beard and yanked.

“You saw Richie?” Aisling asked me quietly, stopping me in the entryway. “Did you talk to him?”

She knew. She’d known the whole time. It was why she wouldn’t talk about it. Why she’d clammed up anytime someone asked her about it. My baby sister hadn’t been willing to rat Richie out. I just couldn’t figure out why.

“Noel,” I called. “Can you take her back?”

“Of course,” Noel replied, walking back to take Ruth from me.

“He’s talking?” Aisling pressed.

“Come with me.” Taking her by the hand, we threaded our way through the crowded downstairs and out the sliding glass door.

“He’s awake and talking,” she said dully once I’d closed the door behind us. “Does Aoife know?”

“She knows,” I replied gently.

Aisling nodded, staring out at the yard.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“And completely fuck up Aoife’s life?” she asked bitterly. “I think we’ve already done enough, don’t you?”

“Richie fucked it up. Not you.”

“She’s spent her whole life taking care of us,” Aisling said, not bothering to look at me. “ Finally, she’s at a place where she’s living the life she chose, you know? Just her and Richie and Sean in the house. Good job. Comfortable life.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t going to be the one to fuck that. No way.”

“So, you would’ve just…what? Never said anything if Richie died? Just acted like his shit didn’t get you like this?”

“What does it matter?” she asked thoughtfully, turning to face me. “This happened either way. Why would I add on to it? ‘Oh, Aoife, you know your husband that just died? Well, funny story. He pissed off the wrong people, and they decided they’d take it out on me.’ What’s the point of making it even harder for her?”

“Ash—”

“No, you know I’m right. This was never my fault, and everyone knows it. He kept me for an entire day after he shot Richie, it wasn’t even about Richie then. He was just…into it. He liked the fact that I couldn’t stop him. So, why would I tell them it was Richie’s fault? Especially if he was dead or a vegetable or something? How would that help anyone?”

I kept my mouth shut, because while I hated that she would’ve just kept it a secret, I understood why she’d done it. It made absolute sense in the most fucked-up way.

“You were there when he was shot?” I asked slowly.

“Oh, yeah.” She let out a little huff of breath. “I was there. He showed up at this house J—Julian brought me to. Hopped out of his truck as we were coming out the front door. He didn’t make it onto the sidewalk before Julian shot him.” She shook her head. “He was holding one of those big wrenches, you know, the one he kept in his toolbox? Like that was going to do any good. Jesus.” Her voice broke on the last word, and a single sob burst out of her mouth before she stiffened and turned away.

“Sister,” I murmured. I was afraid I’d hurt her—I didn’t know where the bruises were under her clothes—but I wrapped my arms around her anyway.

“He was scared shitless, Cian,” she rasped, leaning against me. “But he came for me anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“That should count for something, right?”

“Counts for a lot,” I murmured, kissing the crown of her head.

“He was saying my name when he was laying there,” she said. “He was still trying to get to me. Don’t tell Aoife, okay? I don’t want her to imagine it.”

“I won’t.”

A few minutes later, Will, Mack, and Leo came outside with Aoife. Saoirse followed them, a mutinous look on her face.

An hour after that, we had a plan in place.

Three hours later, Aoife got a phone call from the “hospital” that Richie was gone.

“But I wasn’t ready,” Aoife said, staring at me in horror. “I wasn’t ready yet.”

Saoirse looked shell-shocked. Aunt Ashley stared blankly at the floor. Ronan stormed out of the room. Aisling cursed under her breath and followed him.

We’d thought we’d have time to say goodbye to Richie. The suits had insinuated that they’d take him without warning but that it might take a few days to work everything out.

They’d lied. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Dammit,” Frankie muttered, rushing into the bathroom.

Myla came out of the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me, laying her head on my chest.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured, tipping her head back to look at me.

“Yeah.”

“You should follow Ronan.”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to let you go?”

“Not yet,” I muttered hoarsely.

“All right.”