Chapter 29

Twenty-Nine

P addy

Well…at least I knew how she felt about me. All that accepting my darkness, kisses and cuddles. Waking up making love. Showing my true self?

I'm learning all of those things that I've already knew about love, were true. That shite's for children. People rarely marry for love. They marry whatever looked good on paper. And when they're miserable, they drag you into their mess so you could go on being miserable with them.

I thought I had finally found it. That rare thing you were only meant to feel once, maybe twice if you were lucky. But I was an eeijt. Pretty never loved me. Even if she did, she saw no future for us.

A man who couldn't love her was better for her than me. I was just an Irish gangster to her. Now I was about to face a friend for her, then I'd be out her life for good.

"Keep behind me." I warned Pretty, as I scoped the mansion's back entrance, holding my gun close to my eye as I hugged the door's corners, making sure no one came at me from an angle. "I just need more guns. I have some planted around the house." Spoken in a low enough voice not to easily locate where we were.

"You have guns around my house?" Pretty interrupted, matching my tone.

"They're in secure, safe places neither of you would have thought to look for them. With a house as big as this, it's not exactly convenient to have to run to a bedroom if an intruder is in the house," I explained my reasoning.

"Paddy, this is your friend. Can't you just talk to him?" Pretty pleaded.

"Pretty, I don't know where his mind is. Maybe I can get through to him, but it doesn't take away from the fact that he's already tried and failed to kill you. His feelings towards you are not random. Could be months. Years even, of resentment. If you could get over your need to be right, you would see it as clear as I do. Moore was a good man when I knew him, but I didn't come back the same when I came home. Who knows what or who came back in his place."

That was just a sad fact about serving. At least I had family, support. Moore, far as I knew, had no one but himself. If he felt for Vernon, even an ounce of I had felt for Pretty, there's no telling what he would do to get her out of the picture.

Suddenly, I hated how big this house was, as navigating every square inch made it feel not much different than when I was on the field. I thought I had gotten lucky when I found Vernon and Elijah both hands tied behind their backs and gagged in one of the minimally furnished guest rooms, but before I could do anything about it, pressure to my left came in a tackle technique used to disarm a man and keep him from his gun.

Pretty ran to her son, doing her best to untie him, as in our struggle, I'd managed to knock the first gun out of Moore's hand, but he came prepared, reaching for the spare in his holster. Even though I knew he'd meant to point it at Pretty, I was in his line of fire, so it was like he was pointing at me.

"All the shite we've been through Moore, and you got the balls to point your gun at me."

"Move. Sullivan. This ain't about you?—"

"Well, you made it about me when you gave my name to Vernon. You made it about me when I was hired to protect her."

"Sullivan, you were supposed to end up in Chicago. I didn't know dropping your name would end us up here."

"Well, we are here . This is where we are and I can't let you do this. This won't be your way to get what you want. I promise that."

"He…just won't fucking leave her," he screamed, eyes welling with tears. "He's tried so many times. Every time we're heading in the right direction. Every time he promises that this is the time, he'll go back on his word. Because he don't want to leave all this." He pointed in the direction of all the luxury we were surrounded with. This wasn't a lifestyle Vernon or Moore could get on their own, so I understood.

"He ain't never gonna leave. Not when he got all this. Not when he has her. I thought what we had could be enough for me. Kissing in corners. Rushed late nights. Canceled last minute plans. But I just can't do it anymore. He ain't never gonna choose me, not when he has her."

"Hey, Moore. Trust me, I understand more than you know. I know how it feels when you care about somebody and they're so close but so far away from you. I know what it's like to be with someone who comes first for you, but you don't even make their list of things that are important to them. Most of all, I know what it's like to give your all to someone, and it still ain't enough for them. To never be good enough for them. I wish I didn't know, but I know."

I shouldn't have let my emotions get in the way, but I had no other way of communicating that we were on the same page. The webs of madness were spun by Vernon, but somehow, we had all gotten stuck.

"Moore, I need you to put the gun down. As someone who loves you, I don't want to have to end you. Not when I bled with you. Burned with you. Fought with you. You're my brother, or at least the one I got to choose. I'm always going to love you for that. I know maybe it's not the way you wanted, but this ain't the way either. You can't do this. You've got a kid scared to death, a mother so desperate she's willing to sacrifice herself to save the one thing that's important to her. But most of all, you've got a friend who's slowly losing his respect for you. Even if you kill Pretty, you think Vernon's gonna want to be with a man who killed the mother of his child?"

"Well what other choice do I have? Every time we got a good thing going, I got to put my life on hold for a woman I ain't never even met. Every move he makes is about her."

"Nathan, I know. You don't think I know what that feels like?"

"Paddy, you ain't never going to understand. Half the world hates me for the color of my skin. The other half hates me for who I love. People like me got to dig through the trenches to find what makes us whole, but when you find it, suddenly you learn they got this whole other life. Meanwhile, they're your whole world."

Moore didn't think I understood him, but I did. At least in that regard, I did. I wanted to give Pretty everything, for making me feel like I could do anything. Our time just hadn't meant the same to her. I was replaceable to her, like Moore was to Vernon. I wasn't about to have him throw his life away for a person who could just give up on him so easily.

"That's where you're wrong, Moore. I do know. I do know." Not being able to fight the tears streaming down my face. "I know what it's like to feel like you lost the biggest part of you. Because you know if you lose it, ain't no chance of you finding another one. Men like us, we don't always get our path to happy. We're the lucky ones, remember? Now put the gun down."

"Paddy, I don't think I can." Moore admitted, with a coldness in his voice.

"Well, you're gonna have to go through me. Because that's the only way you're getting over there, is if you blow my fucking brains out, because it's not like I have shite to live for. You gonna shoot me, huh? Is he really worth killing your brother over?"

The pained look in Nathan's eyes told me that he wasn't sure. He was frustrated. Hurt. Likely exhausted, in an amplified way. Years of resentment were brewing in him and he wasn't going to channel that rage on the that man he loved. But targeting Pretty was not going to earn him the result he wanted, either.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Leaning my forehead against his barrel. " Do it !" He clicked the safety of his gun, as I tucked down and reached for the part of his leg that I had shot in the concert hall a few nights prior.

Moore flinched, but like me, he was used to a lot more pain, so I knew the only thing I could do in the moment was just wrestle the gun from him, pivoting and catching him in a headlock.

He elbowed me in the stomach with a vengeful force, knocking the wind out of me as it swung the gun across the room. The turn of events prompted me to warn Pretty to take her son like she'd planned.

"Take Elijah and get out of here," I yelled, only just catching her failed attempt at untying Vernon but choosing to save her son instead.

Moore had always been a strong one, but I'd taken a beating—or a hundred—to not be knocked down so easily. In a time like this, I was almost grateful for a father like Oisín, as I could have never fought through pain without him. Moore stabbed me in the hip, forcing me to knock him out cold with one punch.

"Don't make me do this, Moore. He ain't worth it."

"You don't know what we've been through," Moore said, letting out a hard breath.

"I don't," I said, limping toward Vernon in an effort to let him go protect his fucking wife.

"But if I gotta choose between you and protecting the woman and kid, I'm not choosing you. Because they happen to be my whole world. I may not be meant to have them. And it ain't fair, but that's life?—"

As in a nasty twist of events, Vernon slammed back the back of his head as hard as he could into my face, forcing me back as he struggled to get the rest of his restraints off himself.

"You piece of horseshite, I'm trying to help you," I said, stalking over toward him and clocking him like I should have done the night he caught me kissing Pretty.

Like expected, Vernon could only get in a good punch if no one saw it coming. With time to rest up, Moore was back on me, knowing that if he didn't take me down, I was going to be his biggest obstacle when it came to Pretty.

If I hadn't known any better, I would say this had been a set up the whole time. Vernon was a coward, but he knew he didn't have the balls to get rid of his responsibility himself. He certainly didn't seem fucking upset at the idea of losing Pretty as much as losing Moore. First thing I'd be doing is checking in on my wife and son, not helping my jilted lover get the drop on someone. Vernon really was a piece of work. Pretty'd probably never see that since she's already made her choice, but my hope was she'd gotten far enough away where it hadn't mattered anyway.

For what Moore made up in size, I made up for in stamina, but having a third person—even one who couldn't fight very well—was a fucking nuisance. Before I knew it, I was cornered, smearing sweat and blood from my forehead, ready to go one more round.

Someone probably wasn't walking out of here, and that someone probably was me. "Go get the gun," Moore demanded, as Vernon disappeared across the room in search for it.

"Guess this is the end of the line," I said, looking into dead eyes, eyes I used to trust, looking back at me like there was no love in them. "Just do me a favor. When I go, burn the body. My brothers, once I go missing, they'll fucking hunt you. And they ain't gonna be so clean about it," I warned. Everything after that seemed like it was happening in slow motion.

Vernon walking over to the gun. A loud banging sound deafening the room. Vernon falling to the floor, Pretty standing in a doorway, holding a gun in her hand.

I only had a second to assess Moore's reaction, as he fell to his feet to check on Vernon. It had been a clean shot, just like I taught her, so Moore knew he wouldn't have long. "You bitch!" Moore rose to his feet in an uncontrollable rage.

I didn't have time not to react, as I crawled toward the gun Vernon dropped and before Moore could reach her, I put a bullet in the back of his head without even thinking.

Pretty ran to her husband, looking at me falling apart, but trying to keep it together that I'd kill my only friend.

I went to him, ignoring all the bits and blood that came from the damage, trying to hold back tears as I hugged him one last time. He didn't deserve this. But I knew he was never going to stop. I had to.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry," I mourned, holding his lifeless body, hoping that he had one last breath just enough to feel it.

Vernon's coughing up blood brought me out of my stupor as he was gasping for air, wasting whatever time he had left to speak his final words, "I'm sorry, Pretty. For letting things get this far. I tried to end it. I should have, but I just couldn't quit him. He was a love of my life."

The words appeared to damage Pretty's ego, but maybe there was a look of relief mixed in too. To help her with the guilt.

"I did love you, just not the way you needed," he said, finding the strength to cup her face. "Thought, if I can do it for anybody, I could do it for you. But I guess I'm not so good at pretending." Just before the light was about to leave his eyes, he looked to me, covered in Moore's blood and said, "Take care of her and my son."