Conall (6 page)

The door opening behind him gave him pause for a second, but then he calmed. There was no need to turn around. No one else had the balls to get through Margorie on a day like today. Let alone walk into his office unannounced. His brother’s voice called out.

“What the fuck are you bellowing about, Conall? You sound like a fucking bear, you big brute. You scared Margorie with all your blustering and chuffing,” his oldest brother Kieran asked in a droll tone. Anyone else hearing that question and the tone of his voice, would assume he was calm. Not Conall. He knew better.

“Don’t start with me, Kieran. I’m not in the mood. That fucker is testing us and he’s pissing me off.” The scowl on his face would make a weaker man take a step back. Instead, his brother, and unofficial true head of the O’Shea family, at least to him and his two brothers, came closer. Taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Conall’s desk, he crossed one leg over the other and snapped his cuffs.

“I have a plan. Something I wanted to run by you before we take it to Fionn and Shannon. We’re through playing his games and jumping through his hoops. For years now, he’s tried to make us into his image, to tear us apart and force us to turn on each other. Not sure why Da hasn’t figured out that shit isn’t going to work with us,” Kieran said calmly.

“Don’t call him that in my presence,” Conall said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“Da. I’ve told you repeatedly. To me, he’s a rabid dog that needs to be put out of his misery, but my da? No. He lost the rights to that name years ago.” The pain and hurt of a child wondering why his father would not come to save him would never go away. Paddy O’Shea had lost any true family connection to Conall a long time ago. The only family he had left were his brothers.

Kieran went silent as he took in Conall’s words. Although they’d had this conversation a few times already, he seemed to never be comfortable with the words coming out of Conall’s mouth. Kieran had tried to take the brunt of the abuse when they were kids, but there was plenty to go around. None of them had been spared. He knew his older brother had tried to protect them and shield them from the worst of it.

“Conall, you still surprise the hell out of me. I never wanted you, Fionn and Shannon to be like this.” The weariness, combined with a steel resolve, was the only thing Conall heard. “You and me, we’re chameleons. Our ability to move within the world of corporate takeovers, politics, and the upper echelon of Boston elite still surprises the fuck out of me. Sometimes, I envy Shannon and Fionn. They’ve managed to stay under the radar, but they’re freer. They live in their world twenty-four hours a day. Without apology or excuse, those two are who they are and no one questions it. You and me. We play this game every day. We wear the masks people have forced on us and make this world pay attention to the costumes we wear, rather than the souls of the men underneath. One day, little brother, we’ll be done with the games and we’ll handle shit as we see fit.”

Looking over his shoulder at one of the few people who truly knew him, Conall smiled slightly. “I know, but this is where we are. Today.” Sighing, he turned back to the window. “I just want this over with. I’m tired of the bullshit. Did you hear what he did to Joey’s place over on Kingston Street last night? They claim they don’t know how it happened, but I know the signs. It’s Liam’s work. I know it. Hell, I sat with him as he planned other ‘accidents’ for other establishments that wouldn’t kowtow to the old bastard. I know his work. This is the old man and he’s gone too far. Five people died last night and there is no one taking responsibility for this. He knew that place was our first legitimate investment. Knew we were proud of the success of the lounge. He’s coming for us. I say it’s time we quit pussyfooting around and bring the fight to him.”

“Yeah, I heard and I figured just as much. That’s why I’m here. It’s time we start making our move. It’s time to take that fucker down. He won’t retire on his own, no matter how many close calls he has. It’s time to take things to the next level. If it’s the last thing we do, Paddy O’Shea’s reign over Boston is coming to an end.”

As he finished, Conall turned toward him again and gave him an intense look. Of all the brothers, Kieran felt the most responsible for their little band of misfits. Growing up with a man who would rather punch them than feed them had changed something inside all of them. But with Kieran, it had become something none of them could have imagined.

As children, Conall had attempted to find ways to make their lives easier. Staying quiet hadn’t worked. Talking to the man and playing the dutiful child hadn’t worked. Nothing he tried had seemed to make it easier. At some point, right around the age of nine years old, something in him had snapped. It had been a particularly hellish day and their “jailer,” Danny Boy Sullivan, had not let up on them one bit.

The temperature had been in the low thirties, so it was freezing fucking cold. There was no heat in the room they were huddled in and only a few blankets to share between the four of them. Their small bodies were huddled together, trying to draw heat from each other. They were cold, tired, and half-starved after eating only scraps of food for the past three days. Just as they were all finally getting to sleep, the door had burst open and there was Danny Boy Sullivan, standing there in all his evil glory. Eyes glossy from whatever drugs and drink filled his system, he stared at the boys with disgust-filled eyes, his mouth turned up in a grimace. The memories flooded his mind as if he were still in that room.

“Which one of you little fucks got into my beer?”

Kieran spoke up. “No one touched your beer.” Moving to position himself in front of his brothers, he tried to shield them behind his scrawny form.

“You little bastard!” the man screamed. “Who told you to talk?” he screamed in rage at the four frightened boys. None of them was brave enough to remind him that he had asked them a question. Eyes filled with fear if one had looked close enough, they all tried to move back, away from the man who was sure to take out his anger on one of them. Anyone paying attention would have seen the terror-filled stares from children who should be carefree and full of life. Instead, their lives had been filled with pain, neglect, and disregard.

“Just for talking back to me, you’ll be next, Kieran. Right now, it’s time for Conall’s boxing lesson,” he snarled as he lunged at Conall. Grabbing him by the arm, he practically pulled it from the socket as the boy had no choice but to stand. Conall yelled out in pain, but knew it would do no good. If Danny Sullivan thought one of them needed to be taught a lesson, nothing would get in the way of that.

“Leave my brother alone!” Shannon had moved to stand and yelled at the large man holding him.

Conall had shaken his head; his eyes were scared, but he refused to cry. There was no way in hell he would allow even one tear to fall. “No, Shannon,” he said in a low voice.

“Stop it, you motherfucker! I’m gonna kill you!” Fionn, ever the avenging angel, had also adjusted his stance, as if prepared to pounce. Grabbing onto Conall’s leg, he tried to hold onto his brother and save him from what they all knew was coming.

Kieran stared at the foul man, his face scrunched in rage, but his voice calm and quiet, which sent shivers along the skin of his three brothers. “One day, Danny Sullivan, I will find you and I will kill you for what you have done to me and my brothers. You will never escape me. You will look over your shoulder for the rest of your life. The one time you don’t expect it, I will bring the Angel of Death to your doorstep. I will deliver you as a gift to the Devil and he will tear your skin from your flesh as an offering.”

Nervous laughter filled the room as the older man tried to make light of the untamed rage reflected in Kieran’s eyes. Sweat dripped down his face and he knew without a doubt, that boy would kill him one day. But it would not be today. At this moment, he was still the one in charge. Pulling out his pistol, he pointed it at them as he backed out of the room. “Sit yer asses down! Don’t try to get out of this fucking room either.”

Jerking on Conall’s arm as he pulled him along with him, he closed and locked the bedroom door, trapping the other three boys in the room, unable to escape and come to the rescue of their brother, or carry through on the promise Kieran had just made.

Conall stayed silent through the entire exchange. He knew his brothers and more importantly, he knew the rage that coursed through Kieran’s body at that moment. The man took turns beating on each of them. All in the name of making them stronger. Danny Boy had claimed that Old Man O’Shea had asked him to toughen up his sons, by any means necessary. Based on what they had been told, if they were going to run the business with the old man, they needed to know how to fight. To maim. To kill.

The beatings were always masked as a “boxing lesson.” It was always that way, but there was no real contest. Danny seemed to loom larger than life to a nine-year-old boy. Inevitably, the punches would begin and the man would yell and scream at them to “Punch back, you fucking sissy!” or “Are you sure you’re an O’Shea? You seem like a limp-dicked coward to me.” His large fists felt like cinder blocks raining down hellfire on their bodies.

The punches would be focused on their upper body, but other than that, nothing was off limits. One time, he’d beaten Fionn so bad, the boys were sure he was gonna die right then and there. The prayers of three children to a God they felt had abandoned them filled the room. Fionn had survived, but that moment had changed them. Never, would they ever, be the same again.

If Paddy O’Shea wanted to create men in his image he had achieved his goal, and now his sons would be the ones to end his life.

“Are you even listening to me, Conall?” His brother’s annoyed tone interrupted his trip down memory lane.

Getting back on track with the matter at hand, he nodded. “Yeah, I heard you.” In actuality, he’d only heard snippets of what was being said, but it didn’t matter in the end. Conall trusted Kieran with his life and if he said there was a plan to get rid of their old man, he knew it had already been well thought-out.

Lifting up from the chair, Kieran came to stand next to him. It took him a few minutes to get started, but Conall knew he had something on his mind. Taking a deep breath, Kieran broke the silence. “You know, some people would say we’re damaged.”

“We are,” Conall said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah, I would agree,” he said with a smile. “I think I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long—hell, we all have—to finally have it within our grasp seems unreal. Nothing can go wrong, Conall. We have to play the game for as long as it takes to make this happen.” Kieran’s blue eyes were hard with the prospect of revenge. Their mother had eyes that same shade of blue and Conall knew it tore Kieran up each time he looked into the mirror. They had not been able to save her, and as the oldest, Kieran took that burden on himself.

When Fiona O’Shea died, taken from this world by her own grief and pain, there was only one person to blame. Patrick O’Shea. For that alone, he deserved to die. Add to that, Fionn and Shannon, his half-brothers, were dealt a blow of their own. Their mother had disappeared one day, never to be seen or heard from again. It had been thirty years since both women had been taken away from their sons. No child deserved to grow up without the loving arms of their mother, especially when it was due to the egotistical and psychopathic delusions of a man who thought he was untouchable.

Oh yes, some may say they were ruthless, heartless, cold-blooded sons of bitches. They were. And all four of them were proud of that fact. When the day came that they were standing over Paddy O’Shea’s dead body, the devil would get his offering of flesh for all the hurt and pain they’d suffered as children.

The old man may not know it yet, but he was marked for death. The sons he wanted to create and mold into his image had surpassed even his wildest dreams. The four of them had been forged in blood, pain, and tears.

It was time for Patrick O’Shea, bastard that he was, to reap what he had sown.

Chapter Five

“Tatiana, I have a delivery for you at the front desk,” the receptionist’s voice came through the phone. “Do you want me to bring it to you?”

“Thanks, Dianne. No, I can come and grab it. I need a break anyway.” Getting up from her desk, Tatiana made her way to the front reception area in her company’s front lobby. The deep aroma of flowers hit her at the same moment she saw the look on the receptionist’s face. “What the hell?”

“Someone has an admirer.” Dianne tittered behind her large smile, the telephone headset resting on her perfectly coiffed hair.

“No way. For me?” she said in disbelief as she arrived at the desk ledge. A gorgeous bouquet of flowers greeted her and she could do nothing but stare.

“Oh yes, they’re definitely for you. The delivery man made sure to confirm at least three times that he had the right person and the right office.”

“I’ve never gotten…I mean; no one has ever…” Her voice thickened as she tried to force the words out. Who in the world would have sent her flowers on a Thursday? Hands shaking, she reached for the card attached to a plastic holder and pulled it free. Quickly opening the small envelope, she hesitated. “Why am I so nervous?” she laughed sheepishly.

“Do you have a new secret admirer that I don’t know about?” Dianne asked.

At her words, Tatiana knew exactly who sent the flowers. Conall O’Shea. There had been no call or message from him today, and while she welcomed the time to just gather her wits and think about what the hell she was doing, a part of her had still hoped he would at least call.

Finally responding to the question that had been asked, she kept it simple. “No. Not a secret admirer, but a very persistent man who likes to make grand gestures.” The soft tone of her voice gave away more than she realized. This truly was the first time she had ever received flowers, of any kind. For Conall, it was probably no big thing, but for her…well, it meant more than he knew. Slowly pulling out the small card, she silently read it.