Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

FINNIGAN

“About fucking time.” Conor huffs as he climbs into my Bronco. “What took you guys so long?”

“Finn was busy trying to fuck my wife… again,” Declan answers before I have a chance.

“ Actually , the old man wasn’t ready when I went to pick him up,” I correct him.

Pulling back into traffic, the bottles in the crate at Conor’s feet clatter against one another. “Fuck, Finn. Is there a reason you have”—he pauses to count—“a case with ten Molotov cocktails in the backseat?”

“Twelve seemed like too many.” I laugh. “And you never know when they’re going to come in handy.”

“Are we sure Mam didn’t drop him on his head when he was little?” Conor asks Declan.

Declan chuckles his response. “I wonder that every fucking day.”

The two of them continue to bust my chops as we drive toward tonight’s job. Considering it’s nothing more than debt collection, the carful of us seems like overkill. When we pull up to the address Tristan provided, I park before what has to be at least a ten-million-dollar brownstone. Looking between my brothers, I ask, “Are we sure this is the right place?”

“Yup. Rich-as-fuck famous bloke that likes to”—Conor rolls his eyes and air quotes—“live dangerously with his illegal betting.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s why there’s three of us,” Declan informs me. “He has an entourage of muscle.”

Yes!

It’s been a dull-as-fuck week. I haven’t hit or fucked anyone, and if I don’t scratch one of those itches soon, I quite possibly might explode. “Grab my bat,” I instruct Conor as the three of us climb from the SUV. Rounding the Bronco and stepping onto the curb, he tosses me my favorite intimidation tool.

A tall, burly man steps outside as we make our way up the front steps and informs us, “Mr. Johnson has company. He isn’t accepting visitors.”

“Either you hand us $50K, or we’re going inside.” Conor traverses the last couple of steps and squares up to the man, who towers over him.

The burly bloke laughs in his face. “I’d like to see you fucking try.”

Conor shifts his gaze toward me, and I don’t hesitate to take the last few steps. Swinging the bat as I reach the top step, it cracks against the burly bloke’s kneecap with a stomach-turning crunch. As the guy crumples, Conor grabs the back of his shirt and tosses him to the side. Screaming in agony, he topples down the concrete stairs until he’s sprawled on the sidewalk.

“You were saying?” Conor snarks as he pushes open the front door.

When I step inside behind him, I quickly count the number of men in the hallway. Seven. “Well, fuck,” I mutter. “That’s not an entourage. It’s personal fucking army.”

Outnumbered, the three of us barrel into them with fists and bats flying. We manage to knock three of them to the ground before a meaty fist slams into my face. Fuck, that’s going to leave a bruise. It hits with such force that it tips me off balance, and I slam into the wall in an attempt to catch myself. Furiously, I shove myself from the wall and lunge at the man who hit me, taking us both to the ground. He lets out an airy grunt when his back slams onto the hard marble floor of the foyer and knocks the wind out of him. Pinning him beneath me and straddling his chest, I pummel his face with a barrage of punches until he lies unconscious.

“That’s for my fucking face,” I snarl as I climb from his limp body. Declan hands me my bat as I get to my feet. The three of us head upstairs toward the grunts and moans of our mark and his company . Pushing our way into the bedroom, we find him balls deep in the ass of a petite brunette bouncing on his cock.

“What the fuck?” he spits as he continues to fuck her. “This isn’t a fucking porn show. Get the fuck out.”

“Nikki likes being watched,” I retort, placing the face of the girl. “Isn’t that right?”

“Long time no see, Finnigan,” she coos, continuing to ride him without breaking her rhythm. She still looks good, except for her new fake tits. But they’ve clearly helped to level up the wallet-thickness of the men she’s pulling these days.

Declan shoves my shoulder. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“What?” I shrug. “She used to be my neighbor.”

“Dudes,” the bloke beneath her groans. “Get the fuck out.”

“Time to go, Nik.” I tip my head toward the door. “We’ve got some business with him that you don’t want to see.”

After casually slipping him from her ass, she climbs off him and then the bed. She struts toward the three of us, slowing when she reaches me. “Call me,” she husks, dragging her finger over my chest as she walks past me naked. “You can finish what he clearly couldn’t.”

“You fucking whore,” the erect bloke barks from the bed.

Shoving my bat into his chest, I growl, “We don’t fucking talk to women like that. And trust me, your little guy definitely wasn’t going to satisfy her.”

“Does hot fucking pussy just fall in your lap?” Conor asks, pulling the naked man from the bed.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” I answer before swinging the bat into the bloke’s gut. He grunts, folding over in pain as Conor holds him upright for another swing. “For making us come all the way down here, we’re going to beat the piss out of you. Whether or not you pay up though, will determine if you can still walk tomorrow.”

I swing the bat again, and Conor lets him fall into a naked heap on the floor. “The closet,” he whimpers through the agonizing pain. “The safe is in the closet.”

Holding him to the floor with the barrel of the bat, my eyes follow Declan retreating to the closet and returning a few minutes later with a couple of hefty stacks of cash.

“If you like getting the piss beat out of you, there are services for that.” I kick my boot into his side, causing a gurgled cry to erupt from him. “They’re a whole lot prettier than this lot and won’t cost you $50K and a set of broken ribs, either.” His eyes widen as I lift my boot, and he sucks in a deep breath in anticipation of my next move. Rookie mistake . Stomping down, his chest cracks beneath my boot. and a pained breath blows over his lips.

Having dropped both Declan and Conor at their places, I glance in the rearview mirror as I drive back to my place, getting my first look at the shiner growing beneath my left eye. My gaze falls back to the road, and I’m surprised to find a familiar blonde in athletic attire walking alone on the sidewalk.

What the fuck is she doing out by herself at this hour?

Her tight leggings and baggy athletic tank are a far cry from the very demure outfits she normally wears. Her curvy hips sway with each of her brisk steps, and I’m practically unable to pull my eyes from her ass.

She hasn’t just garnered the attention of my wandering eye but also of the three men behind her. They aren’t just following her. The three of them stalk closer with every few steps she takes. Their eyes roam over her with a nefarious hunger. They’re hunting my prey.

How the fuck doesn’t she realize they’re following her?