Chapter 2

Two

P addy

"Don't scream," I warned, unlocking the safety of the gun, challenging the deafening quiet. Michael Thompson was an outstanding fabric of his community. Father of two, dutiful husband. Went to church every Sunday—hell—the man even volunteered at soup kitchens.

Unfortunately for him, having made some bad investments, he came to Tadhg looking for a way out of his fuck up. Two years later, that investment banker had made no effort to settle that debt. Now he sat staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Please—"

" Shh …Don't wake up your wife and kids," I mercifully whispered.

"If this is about my debt, I can pay. I just need more time!"

"I hear you," I entertained. "But for now, we're just going to take a little ride and we can settle it then."

"I swear to you," he lamented, silent tears running down his face. "If I just had six months, I could pay it back with interest."

"Sadly, you already owe interest. Probably be better if we just take that ride."

"I have a family. A six-year-old and a four-year-old. My wife might be expecting. Show a little mercy," he begged once more.

"Mercy is doing the opposite of what I was sent to do here. Which by the way, was to blow your face off. But I'm being generous. Your wife and kids? They don't need to find you like that. An image like that does something to people. Rather your kids' last image of you being of you tucking them in at night. Your wife, that loving kiss on the forehead before you sent her off to bed. My way's clean and easy. It may not count for much, but I'd make damn sure you don't suffer."

This was the hard part of the job. Convincing a person this was their best option, when the truth was, there were no options. Thompson's debt was two years old, one too big to settle without consequence.

Men like him cared more about their reputations and outward presentation than the secrets they kept in the dark. Instead of paying his debt down, in the course of two years, he'd gotten a new house, treated himself to a boat, and while it wasn't my business, treated his twenty-four-year-old mistress to weekend getaways under the guise of business trips.

Sooner or later, his wife was going to learn that he was up to his knees in debt. His best option now was a life insurance policy to make sure his wife and kids could walk away with something. To them, he was better off dead.

My role in the family couldn't be clearer. I was the raven. The symbol of death. I did the things no one had the stomach for. After serving overseas, there wasn't much I didn't have the stomach for.

All the things that I survived. The things that I had to do. Those were the things that kept a man up at night. So, carrying out contract kills seemed like nothing to me. I was practically numb to it.

"You ready for that drive now?" I asked, relieved when he nodded, finally accepting his fate. Walking from his study to the plateless automobile waiting in the driveway, I bound his hands and gagged him, since no amount of pleading would change things. If I were being honest, even if it would have, I simply didn't want to hear it.

The hour drive led us to a woodsy area sixty miles from the city, as Bellamy was already waiting for me, nursing a cigarette. Over the years, Bellamy became best at cleaning up messes, not making them. He could get his hands dirty like the rest of us, but he used his privilege as second in charge to do anything but have to take care of problems. He used to be good at it, but… after what we did , he didn't like killing as much as he used to.

"Time to get out of the car," I calmly encouraged, as the smell I ignored halfway through the ride had confirmed that what I now knew to be true. The fucker shat on himself. I was usually prepared for that outcome, dressing the back seat with tarp or plastic, but it never took away from the pungent smell.

Holding him at gunpoint, once we reached the area I instructed him to stand, he instinctively went to his knees as I pulled the gag off of his mouth. " Please . If I could just get another chance, I'd sell my house. I'd give you one of my daughters. Whatever it took to get six more months to pay in full?—"

"See that's why I'm feeling less and less sorry for you. What would a bunch of grown men do with a six-year-old? That's low, even for you. Didn't think you'd want your last moment begging, offering up an innocent child. Jesus, have some dignity before you go."

"I just don't want to go like this. I'm a good person," he pleaded.

"Remember, this ain't personal. It's just a debt, is a debt." As I lifted my gun, took one shot straight between his eyes, forcing his body to collapse on the tarp.

"Jesus Paddy, the fuck is that smell?" Bellamy asked, joining me in rolling the lifeless body in the tarp.

"He fucking shat himself. But he was easier than the last one, so dealing with the smell of shite is a decent trade off," I said, as we carried the body over to the prepared grave Bell had already dug.

"Let's make this one shallow. This one has to be found. His family's livelihood depends on it," I said, replanting some of the soil back into the grave.

"Look who suddenly has a heart. Not used to the tin man actually feeling something," he jabbed.

"You know I don't give a fuck about women, but the kids don't deserve being left with nothing. Especially since he was offering one of them up like a fucking coward. I got some sort of code."

We didn't deal in people and we didn't deal in harming kids. I didn't always show it, but when you served your country, you did it so even fucks like this could enjoy life with freedoms not offered to other countries.

It's just a shame how freedom is often wasted on lowlifes like him.

Opting to help instead of chastise, Bellamy picked up a shovel and aided in redistributing the dirt to make it shallow. "Any plans after this?" I asked, trying to take my mind off the smell with light conversation.

"Once I rid myself of the smell of shite, I plan to go see my main girl. So, it'll be a vigorous Wednesday night," he bragged. Bellamy didn't do relationships. Main girl was just the nickname he gave to the hooker he saw the most.

I was more like Tadhg in that regards. He and I had more discipline than Bell or Cilly. Cillian had become a father of four in less than three years. Take it from someone who'd been forced to stay in the spare bedroom next to theirs during the holidays, that man couldn't keep his hands off that wife of his. But the headcount in that house showed how obvious it was that he couldn't live without sex, just as much as Bellamy.

Don't get me wrong, I loved sex. But I'd learned the darkness I inherited with my Sullivan's curse could more than satisfy me when I didn't get it. Sex was easy. But getting to show my degenerate side was liberating. Good as any nut if you ask me.

"Why what were your plans?" Bellamy following up to return the question.

"Got a letter from a mate. Since they'll be in town, we'll probably go for drinks."

"Oh, is this a lass type of friend?" Bellamy raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"More like a brother from another mother."

"Hey, I'm your fucking brother," Bellamy defended, interrupting.

"Calm down. He's one of the men I served with. We've been through hell together. Honestly wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for him. You can thank him for that."

My brothers, close as we were, didn't have the trauma of serving, so I couldn't talk to them about it without misunderstandings. I was honorably discharged because I got injured, but the road to recovery hadn't been easy. Once I'd gotten home, no one liked seeing me as weak as I'd become, so I just chose not to talk about it.

Having a brother in arms felt comforting somehow, proving I hadn't gone through it alone. I hadn't seen my army brother in years, so it'd just be nice to catch up.

"In you go," Bellamy announced, as we hoisted the corpse into the hole, covering the body with the remaining soil, as my stomach growled, disturbing the silence.

"Burying a body sure works of an appetite. Could go for Darragh's." I looked to Bellamy for validation.

"Hey, I was just waiting on you to suggest it."

***

Nursing my first stout, I patiently waited at an empty booth in Rebel City, Tadhg's main location of operations. Let me tell you, it wasn't exactly hard to spot a man you hadn't seen in years when they were the only Black man walking into an Irish establishment.

Identifying him forced me out of my seat, to ensure he didn't feel out of place.

"Moore, you fucking eejit. Get in here," I greeted, aggressively pulling him in to give him a proper embrace. "I'm a hugger now."

"Oh, so you're a hugger now?" He joked with me, as I led him to the booth and ordered us beers.

"Life's too short not to show up for the people you care about," I admitted.

"You know, when you said you wanted to meet at your brother's pub, I was imagining some hole in the wall. You must be doing well," he said, with a quick scan of the joint. Moore knew my family's line of work wasn't necessarily honest work, but never judged me for sticking by my family.

"Well, business is spread out. I keep most of what I make from contract work. But yeah, we do all right," I downplayed.

Nathan Moore was the brother that I chose. Nothing could replace my brothers by blood, but there were parts of me they never understand. I also hadn't taken what he did for me back then lightly. Man saved my life.

"Well, you look like you're taking care of yourself," I remarked, with a playful hit to the chest. Given our past, I treaded lightly when it came to compliments. He and I had different…tastes. He knew what I liked. I knew what he liked, and they didn't align, so I didn't want him to feel led on.

Don't ask, don't tell approach. It's not like I was uncomfortable, I just didn't know how to navigate conversations around the topic. Plus, it didn't matter to me who he was attracted to. I'd seen lesser men behave like sissies, so it didn't take being into women to be a great man. I honestly hadn't met someone braver.

"Got to. I ain't got a successful family to go back home to," he joked.

"You don't need anything to do you? Because if you need something, it's not an issue?—"

"Actually, I'm doing okay. Just got back from some back to back Hollywood gigs that paid well." As the word Hollywood certainly struck a nerve.

Being an enforcer meant I took on contract jobs from time to time. Every time I wanted to clear my head, I'd hop on a bus and let it take me nowhere. But when I wanted to make some money, I'd hitch it to LA.

After the last time, I'd decided I had enough of it. Most of all, I had had enough of women and their bullshit.

"How's family?" Moore took a large gulp from his stout.

When I put my mug down, even I said the next statement in disbelief. "That's actually one of the reasons I came back. Remember the brother I told you about?"

"The one locked up?"

"Well, he got out. Even married a Black woman. A nice looking one too. Can't stop knocking her up," I joked.

"What about you? You got any little ones running around?" he asked playfully hitting me in the shoulder.

"Heh. Probably ain't in the cards for me, Moore." Every time I thought about fatherhood, I was reminded of my own father. Oisín claimed he was never really sure, but too many factors pointed that there was truth to what he revealed.

If I had kids, I wouldn't be passing down Sullivan blood, not really. The fact I even got the curse was still a shock to me. But like love, kids weren't a card I'd plan on pulling out. Ever . They both could stay in the deck for all I cared.

Maybe if I wasn't deformed, it'd be different. But that was my reality.

"What about you?" I asked, not wanting to assume he hadn't planned on it himself.

"I don't know." He shook his head in slight shame. "Seems like people like me only got one route to get you there. From the outside looking in, it don't seem like a happy one."

"Maybe we're just the lucky ones," I faked a smile. "All those expectations seem exhausting."

Cillian for as much of a blockhead as he was, he made that shit look easy. Already had a litter of lovable brats he never rose a hand to.

It was almost uncomfortable seeing someone I'd once found so immature become a man before my very eyes. Made me feel like I could never measure up to that. At least not in any way that mattered.

"Well, I'm gonna head back to my hotel. I'm sure you got things to do but it was nice catching up."

"Yeah, you too. Don't let so many years go by without reaching out. It was really good catching up." As we stood, and I leaned in for another hug.

"Still can't get over this whole hugging thing," Moore joked once more.

"Look, I lost my Pa. I lost my Mum. Almost lost my brother. Nearly lost myself. All I could think back to when was I was recovering in a medic tent was…that I didn't hug them enough before I left. If God takes me tomorrow, ain't no one ever gonna be able to say I didn't hug them enough. Especially now that I got nieces and nephews."

"Well, if you're ever by Chicago, don't be afraid to pick up the phone. They don't got jobs like LA, but the money is good. I've got reliable contacts always in need of someone with our background."

"Grand. Put in a good word for me, I might be on the lookout soon."

***

Sneaking through the back door, Eoghan nearly blew my cover as I had to silently communicate for the little scamp not to give me away. Tiptoeing in the kitchen was the hardest part, as I surprised órfhlaith with an aggressive hug from behind meant to give her the impression she was being attacked.

órfhlaith screamed and swore, realizing it was me at the very last second, as I burst out laughing on the floor at her reaction. "Should have seen yourself screaming like a wee little baby."

She pointed her spoon at me, wearing a scowl only a mother could love. "Paddy, next time you do that, I'll kill you. I ain't against mixing cyanide in your supper."

"Relax, you overly sensitive shrew."

"And while I'm at it, I ain't against throwing a little powdered glass in there too," she threatened.

"Is Bellamy coming?"

"You know how he is when he's seeing his Memphis delight. Barely comes up for air with that one," I said making myself useful by setting up the table. To avoid going home to an empty flat, I alternated between staying with siblings when they would have me, but staying with órfhlaith had the best perks.

Cillian's was nice, but you couldn't get any sleep with all that fucking and kids running around. Bellamy's was the worst. We just end up fighting over who ate the last of órfhlaith's leftovers in the fridge. Tadhg wasn't so bad, but he was too quiet for me, so it was like being on my own.

órfhlaith had one kid, so not a lot of screaming. Her husband was dead, so I didn't have to fight anybody putting their hands on my sister. Lastly, her house had a revolving door of food made that no man could resist.

"Eoghan! Table's set," I yelled from the kitchen. It wasn't much, but I valued the time I spent with family. Now more than ever. Sometimes I didn't always feel like I belonged, but I was still a Sullivan in all the ways that mattered. It's not like they knew, so they didn't treat me otherwise.

"How's the shop?" I asked, able to see through órfhlaith's half-truth.

"A little slow after a few good months, but we'll manage."

"How much do you need?"

"Did I ask you for money?" órfhlaith asked defensively.

"How much do you need ?" I asked with more authority this time, which appeared to pierce her pride.

"Two grand. But that'd cover me for the year, in case business doesn't pick up," she spoke low and under her breath, like she was ashamed she had to even ask for it.

When I reached into my suit jacket, she stopped me by saying, "Not in front of my son." As Eoghan made his way to the table.

"Is Uncle Paddy staying?" he asked enthusiastically.

"I don't know, is Uncle Paddy staying?" órfhlaith directed the same question at me.

Making my place at the table, I struggled. "Of course, I am. Who else is going to feed me in the morning?" I joked. For all our bickering, I admit, I didn't always give órfhlaith enough credit for being a good sister.

Mum had checked out, or maybe because she had known the truth, she didn't take to me like a mother should. órfhlaith was probably the closest I had to one. Protected me more times than I wanted to admit. Didn't mean I couldn't give her hell from time to time.

"Eoghan, please stop using the downstairs washroom sink until the plumber comes tomorrow. You made a mess that I shouldn't have had to clean."

"A plumber's coming here?" I asked, as she nodded, confirming. "When?"

"Tomorrow. Between eight and noon. I'm gonna have to close the shop because I'm tired of the bathroom floors getting flooded," she admitted, this time with more stress in her tone.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here. Ain't no way I'm letting a strange man be in a home with my sister all by herself."

"Oh, please. I've got a revolver if I need it."

"I said I ain't letting no strange man be alone with my sister ," I reiterated through clenched teeth.

"Fine, you immature little shitehawk." If anything, I could probably take a look at the leak. It wouldn't be as good as a plumber, but it would hold up until tomorrow.

Through a conversation shift, asking Eoghan how was school going, reminded me of how little of us got to center education. It was like we graduated from primary school to the family business.

Cillian and órfhlaith's kids don't know how good they had it. They just got to be kids.

I've never been good at anything but being a gangster, but it ain't like I was ever encouraged to be anything else. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if I had just been left at the doorstep of a fire station.

It was foolish to wonder about what if's and maybes, but sometimes I wondered where my life could have gone. After dinner, I took a look at that leak, as it wasn't long before órfhlaith was sending Eoghan off to bed.

She met me at the door of the spare room I stayed in as I handed her a wad of rolled up $100 bills, trading it for a cup of unknown liquid that she handed me.

"Take this." I sniffed it, shooting her a confused look.

"The fuck is this?"

"It'll help you sleep. Do you have your pills?"

"They're on a nightstand," pointing back behind me.

"All right, then I'll see you in the morning." She offered a hug before I closed the door behind me and stripped out of my clothes. At least most of my clothes. The sleeve on my leg, I only took off to shower. It hid my injury the best it could, and I didn't go anywhere without it.

Downing the cup with my pills, I prayed I didn't have to deal with being awake for long. The pills just helped take the edge off when I slept. Helped me with not reacting to the nightmares as much.

Sometimes I slept like a baby. Other times it was like I was in a war in my own head. The nightmares used to be worse before I started taking them. I used to refuse to take them. Made me feel like a nut job for having to need them. But I couldn't always trust myself without them.

Finally feeling the effects of the nightcap, my body slowly drifted into some semblance of peace.

***

A loud cracking sound forced me out of bed. I hated sudden loud noises. Anytime I heard a sound like that, my mind went through a slight fog. Grabbing my gun from the nightstand, I rushed outside to find out where the noise had come from. Through the haze, the only thing I could focus on was how wet I was all of a sudden.

Must have been raining, as a loud crack echoed from the sky, and I pointed my gun in the air and fired.

"Paddy, you're here ." A voice behind me yelled. "Paddy, look at me!"

I reluctantly turned to find a drenched órfhlaith in her house robe. "Give me the gun." She politely held out her hand, as all I could do was fight against the feeling of being overwhelmed.

Taking the gun from me, she guided me to her lawn. "Paddy, touch the grass," she lightly demanded.

"Touch the grass?" As confusion consumed me in the moment.

"Paddy. Touch the grass. You're here , not there." She did her best to convince me.

"I'm here, not there." I repeated over to myself until I started to believe it. The combination of damp but a texture of soft and wax made things appear clearer. I didn't see much grass in a warzone. I was here . Not on a battlefield.

"órfhlaith, I'm sorry," I apologized, the tears falling due to shame. I wasn't always like this, but when I was, I was a danger to her.

"Oh Paddy," she assured me, reaching into hug me. "Most times you're good. This is just a bad day."

"I don't like thunder?—"

"I know you don't."

As my skin nearly jumped off me at the sound of another spark. "I fucking don't like thunder," I admitted, fighting all the emotions flowing through me.

"Come inside, Paddy. You need to dry off before you catch something. I'll stay with you until the thunder stops, okay?"

"Okay," I said, as órfhlaith helped me inside. I felt like shite when my demons affected people, especially my family. Sometimes my mind wasn't kind to me, and the memories old and new didn't help. I was broken and couldn't nothing fix me.

After a while I just stopped trying to.