Liam: Branded Brothers (17 page)

“What are you not telling me, Jerry?” Liam leaned in closer
to him. “If there’s something I need to know about Jack or anything else before
I take down Mickey and his crew, you should tell me.”

Liam caught a glimpse of relief laced with sadness in Jerry’s
eyes. Jerry looked at him a bit longer and finally hit his hand on Liam’s leg.
“There’s nothing you should know, kid. The less you know, the better. Trust me,
there are some things in life that you just shouldn’t know.”

“What is it? Did you know my father?” Liam asked again.

Jerry shook his head. “Kid, I ain’t gonna talk about it now.
Like I said, you’re better off not knowing for now. Either you do the job or
not.”

Liam was silent. Jerry wasn’t going to talk, not now anyway,
and Liam had a lot of work to do to convince Ronan to come out with him to hunt
down Mickey. If they did it right, they would only need the two of them. Who
better to trust than Irish blood? Whatever secrets Jerry was hiding, they’d have
to wait until he was ready. “I’ll do the job under one condition.”

“What’s that?” Jerry sighed and folded his arms across his
chest. “You know I’m too old for this shit.”

“You tell me everything I want to know once I get Mickey
McGrath.”

“Deal.”

***

The overhanging trees cast a shadow
on Charla’s car. She exhaled and grabbed the bag of groceries on the passenger
floor. Dotti was notorious for eating nothing but Cheetos and drinking mojitos
for days on end.
At least she was getting some nutritional value through the
orange juice
, Charla thought. After Dotti moved to Blackwell, Charla
started bringing Dotti groceries about once a month. She’d leaved them on the
porch without ringing the doorbell or leaving a note. But a few months ago, the
bag Charla had left the last time was still sitting on the porch. The bag was
soaked through and the produce rotting. Charla had found Dotti inside, passed
out on the couch. Charla had marched back out with the groceries and hadn’t
returned since.

Until today. Charla was surprised to actually see Dotti’s
red Cavalier in the driveway, which meant Dotti hadn’t been kicked out by the
landlord. She somehow snaked her way into holding onto the place, just like she
always did. Dotti could convince almost anyone of anything, except for Charla.
It only took her fifteen years to smart up on her mother’s antics. Still
somehow, there was a shred of hope Charla still harbored for Dotti. If she
could find the right facility to help her or find the right man to have a
positive influence on her, Dotti might dig herself out of this hole. Charla
knew the wishful thinking was a cold shot in hell, but nonetheless, it was
still there.

She walked up the steps of the porch and set the bag of
groceries down next to the door. Then she dug into her back pocket and
retrieved the card for Marian. She set the card on top of the apples and turned
to go when she heard a muffled sob from inside the house. Her eyes darted to
the open window next to the door. She peered in to see Dotti sitting on the
couch, sobbing into her hands.

Charla exhaled and looked back at her car waiting in the
shaded driveway. She knew better than to walk into the mess that was Dotti. She
should get back in the car, head to Jack’s to pick up some clothes, and then
head to the gym to meet Jill. She knew this, but instead, she bent down and
picked up the groceries. She listened to the sobs a second longer and then put
her hand on the door knob and turned slowly.

“It’s me,” Charla called as she opened the door. Dotti
continued to sob, not lifting her head from her hands. The place was a disaster
like usual. Charla looked past the empty bottles and clothes in the living room
to the garbage on the counter in the kitchen. She called out again, struggling
to use the word to address Dotti. “Hey, Mom, it’s me.”

Dotti’s head suddenly picked up and a look of shock
registered on her face. Thick black streaks lined her cheeks, but she didn’t
bother to wipe them away. Instead, she let out a raspy sound, “Charla, what are
you doing here?”

“Brought you some groceries,” she said casually as she
stepped over a box to get to the kitchen. She swiped the counter with her arm,
clearing a spot for the bag. Then she grabbed Marian’s card and slid it into
her back pocket. Her hands reached for the groceries out of habit, but she
quickly realized she had no place to put away the food. She slid the bag
further on the counter instead, nearly tipping over an almost empty bottle of
orange juice. She sighed and turned back to the living room.

Dotti muttered a sound Charla could have sworn was
thanks.
But Charla quickly dismissed that idea consider she’d never heard the word
come from Dotti’s lips before. Charla stood next to the couch, debating whether
or not she should hand her the card and leave without another word. It would
save them both from the strained conversation they were sure to have.

But Dotti opened her mouth before Charla could hand her the
card. “Bob left me,” she wailed. She put her face back in her hands again.

All Charla could think was
who the hell is Bob
? She
didn’t bother guessing what kind of flavor Bob was. She knew he was one of the
latest scum of the earth addicts who took her money or took her alcohol or took
her sanity or all of the above. Dotti rotated through men like Charla changed
her underwear.

Charla rolled her eyes and dug in her heels. “It’s all right,
Dotti. You’re going to be fine. He was an asshole anyway.”

“Why do they always do this to me? Why do they treat me like
a doormat?” she sobbed.

Charla exhaled and walked toward the couch. She sat down
gently, unsure of what disease she’d somehow contract by just sitting down. “If
you’d stop acting like a doormat, maybe they’d stop treating you like one.”

Charla’s words hung in the air. She’d tried every approach
with Dotti before. Empathy, tough love, and brutal honesty. Nothing ever seemed
to get through, but Charla was too fed up with all the bullshit to be nice to
Dotti. The black streaks appeared again, and Charla was braced to get an
earful.

“So, I’m a doormat, huh?” Dotti asked quietly.

Charla paused for a second in shock, then she cleared her
throat and jumped in. “Yeah, you’re a doormat. You let these guys walk all over
you. They come in here and trash your place and take advantage of you. You’re
better than that. You deserve more.”

“You think so?” Dotti’s eyes were filled with an innocence
Charla had never seen before. She wondered how it could be the same woman she’d
seen yesterday.

“Yeah, I think so,” Charla replied, putting her hand on
Dotti’s bony knee. She was in desperate need of the groceries she’d brought
over and maybe even an IV drip. Charla briefly considered bringing her to the
hospital, but she knew how that would ultimately turn out. A screaming and
kicking fit that would bring them both shame. “You’re a strong woman who is
capable of whatever you put your mind to.”

“You’re just saying that,” Dotti rasped, finally wiping away
a few tears. Charla didn’t know what was causing this sudden change of heart,
and she figured it could flip in a heartbeat so she dug her hand into her back
pocket for the card. She knew this was another last ditch effort, but if she
didn’t keep trying, Charla knew she’d get a call one day to bury Dotti.

She handed her the card. “It’s a free facility on Seventh
Street. A friend recommended the facility. Ask for Marian. Apparently, she’s
the best in town. She’ll help you get the resources you need.”

Charla stood up, expecting to hear a lash of swear words and
complaints, but Dotti said instead, “You know, I just can’t seem to get over Peter.
I can’t seem to get myself on track. I feel like I let him die.”

Charla closed her eyes, thinking of his lifeless body in the
living room of the apple wallpaper apartment. She opened them, feeling an anger
rise in her chest. “Peter was an abusive asshole. He ruined your life. He
ruined my life. I couldn’t be happier he died because it gave you a shot at
turning things around. It wasn’t your fault so don’t ever say you let him die.
”

Charla spun around to look Dotti in the eyes. It was coming,
and nothing was going to stop it. “For the record, no fifteen-year-old should
ever go through what I did. I never should have found a lifeless man I was
supposed to call my father in the middle of the living room. And you know what?
When I found him, I waited a couple minutes to call the ambulance. I watched
his face turn blue before I helped him. If anyone has a claim to letting that
man die, it’s me, and I’m proud of it. That man deserved to rot in hell.”

Dotti’s face drained of color, and her mouth slacked open.
She sat in shock, unable to speak.

“Call the number on the card, Mom,” Charla said, pointing
her finger at Dotti’s shaking hand. “This is your last shot. Turn your fucking
life around otherwise you’ll end up just like him.”

Then Charla spun on her heels and headed toward the door,
calling over her shoulder, “And you’re welcome for the groceries.”

Chapter 10

The Blarney Stone stood quiet in the
morning hours, the windows black on the inside. Light traffic passed by the bar
like any other day, the residents of Blackwell oblivious to the fact that a
dangerous criminal lurked in their town. Mickey McGrath was more than
dangerous. He was on the FBI’s most wanted list for drug smuggling and
homicide. He was suspected of murdering a man with ties to the Italian mafia
ten years ago. Liam had no doubt Mickey had done more than the FBI charged.
There was always more with guys like him. And someone at The Blarney Stone was
turning a blind eye and letting him come here to do business. Even Blackwell,
Illinois, was within the mafia’s reach.

Liam sunk lower into his seat, surveying the surrounding
buildings. The Copper Leaf Hotel was directly across from the bar. It would be
the perfect place to set up shop tonight. He picked up the picture of Mickey
from the envelope. The alley between The Blarney Stone and Cleo’s was just as
Jerry described it. Taking down Mickey tonight was his best shot at getting
him, but he needed help. He grabbed his phone and quickly found the number he
was looking for.

“What the fuck you want?” Ronan answered.

“Top o’ the morning to you, too” Liam replied with a smile.
He could hear a soft buzzing in the background. “You with a client?”

“Not if it’s important,” he replied.

“It’s important,” Liam said, looking back down at the
picture of Mickey.

“Fucking better be,” he said. His voice distanced as he
said, “I’ll be right back.”

“Want to make fifty grand tonight?” Liam asked.

“Who wouldn’t? What time and where?”

Liam laughed. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

“Money talks, big bro, money talks,” Ronan said.

“You a good shot?”

“Hell yeah, I’ve got a .22 and .44.”

“I have to ask you a question before I can trust you on this
run,” Liam said, hesitating at first. He didn’t know how to approach the topic
of Ronan’s background. Liam was guessing he would either release a mouthful of
fucks or hang up.

“Well, what is it?” Ronan asked.

“Can I trust you?”

“Sure, why the fuck not?”

“I know you were locked up,” Liam replied, looking in his
rearview mirror. A black Buick pulled up a few car-lengths away.

“Where you hear that?” Ronan asked.

“The truth? Some guy by the name of Rich Horton. I picked
him up yesterday morning,” Liam said.

“Rich fucking Horton. That guy,” Ronan said. “Yeah, I was in
county for a month. Not proud of it. It ain’t gonna happen again.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Liam watched two men get out
of the Buick. He glanced at the driver first, assessing his medium build and
blue shirt. He looked like an average guy. Then Liam looked at the passenger
rounding the front of the car. He recognized the slicked red hair immediately.
“Fuck.”

“What?” Ronan asked.

Liam glanced back down at the picture in his hands. There
was no mistaking the man now crossing the street. It was him. Mickey McGrath.

“I’ll text you the details about tonight later.” Liam hung
up and tossed the phone on the passenger seat with the picture. He didn’t
anticipate seeing Mickey this morning and definitely didn’t anticipate the
possibility of taking him in now. He didn’t have his van, but Mickey only had
one guy with him. He was smaller than Liam by at least fifty pounds.

He flicked open the glove compartment and pulled out his
spare handcuffs and .9 millimeter. It wasn’t his first choice of weapon, but it
was his back-up, and it would be enough to take Mickey down. He double-checked
the rounds and reached for the door. He watched as both men disappeared through
the front door of The Blarney Stone.

As he was about to open the door, his phone blared on the
passenger seat. He looked down to see Charla’s name flash across the screen.

“Fuck.” He let go of the door handle and grabbed the phone.

***

It took five minutes for Charla to
let her white knuckle grip on the wheel to loosen. As soon as she did, she let
out a scream that turned the head of the man sitting in the driver’s seat of a
sedan idling next to her at the stoplight. She laughed and waved before
drumming on the wheel. The man shook his head and smiled before taking off when
the light turned green.

A weight she’d been harboring for almost ten years had been
lifted from her shoulders. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she drove to
Jack’s cottage. Saying the words aloud to Dotti was more freeing than she ever
anticipated. She’d never thought about telling her, but in that moment, it felt
right. She couldn’t hold onto it any longer, and maybe, just maybe, the harsh
reality would give Dotti the courage to move on. For once, Charla felt like
she
could move on. She was released from the horrible secret that tied her
down. No more lies. No more secrets. No more deception.