Callous King (The O'Dea Crime Family Book 1)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Do I love him? Was that really what this is? This fear . . . this worry.

  “Sorcha,” His gruff call rattles my skull, and I blink hard before his face appears above me. Bleary and undefined, Cian’s concern drenches his expression and softens his touch as he caresses my cheek. I barely feel beyond his touch. I clasp my chest and crane my neck in a futile effort to relieve the pressure. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, Sorcha.”

  A cold sweat breaks out under my shirt, and the world starts spinning the harder I try to concentrate. Softly, his lips brush mine, and I claw at my throat before he grabs my wrists to pin them by my head. Cian takes a deep breath, sucking the heat from my face, before kissing me hard. I tense while his tongue coaxes my lips open, and he forces air into my lungs.

  Oh. . . The taste of him eases the anxiety strangling me, his grip is firm, but gentle like his mouth. Exhaling his breath into my body, his essence infusing my smothered cells to their very core. Cian tangles our fingers, squeezing comfortingly before pulling back to breathe heavy pants. Cracking open my eyes, I blink back the sting until his nose bumps mine reassuringly.

  “The things I do for you, sweetheart,” Cian mumbles gravelly before resting his forehead on mine. His features distort from his closeness, but his eyes. . . dark and steely, they capture mine and glimmer with open affection. “Do you feel better?”

  “I think I’m in love with you.” I blurt out hoarsely, and I don’t have time to be horrified as Cian lifts his head to smile down at me fondly. He ducks to kiss me again, and I gag on my own cries as tears slip down my temples.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear,” He says before pulling back, and cold air rushes between us. “Just this once, show me some mercy, sweetheart. I’d never put a hand on you. You’re too precious to me, too flawed and perfect. You’re everything I never knew I needed.”

  The atmosphere drops to frigid temperatures while Cian thumbs my cheek, and I wince at the harsh sting. His eyes harden, the pad of his thumb brushing my lips as he takes my chin to turn my face. The fire in his eyes replaces any words he may utter, and he sits back on his knees to rub his face in agitation. Inhaling a shaky breath, goosebumps blanket my body as his muscles writhe in muted fury beneath his skin.

  “What happened in the hallway, Sorcha? Did you drop the towels, because your hands hurt?” He rasps, and my heart leaps into my throat. Sitting up unstably, I shake my head dumbly before Cian casts me an expectant look with a low grunt.

  “Um,” I pause briefly as I scramble to remember, pursing my lips thinly to hide how they tremble. “Bella. She said that she knew I was here to stop her marrying you, and she wouldn’t let me? It’s the first time I’ve talked to her. Actually, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been within ten feet of her.”

  “And she did that to you? What did my sister say to you?” He pushes, a harsh quality invading his voice as he reaches to cup my chin. “You looked pissed.”

  “Y-yeah . . . Siobhan said she admired me and looked at me like . . . like she thought she could sympathize with me. Like she was trying to make me feel like we . . . were the same,” I croak softly, and Cian snorts in disbelief as I drop my face into my wet palms. Images play behind my shuttered lids, and I sniffle harshly as a persistent tightness plays between my ribs. “She was watching. She had to be. Why else would she call me a tool?”

  “She said what?” Cian snarls nastily, the rage in his eyes becoming feral as it infects his expression. I shrink under the dense waves of anger rolling off him, my body physically too spent to even attempt to combat him. He takes a deep, harsh breath, closing his eyes tightly and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so you were already worked up when you came in here. That’s better than your panic attack being my entire fault.”

  “I’m afraid of you,” I admit, my voice rolling off my tongue thickly, and alarm flashes in Cian’s blackened eyes. “I don’t want to make you upset. I thought, maybe, you were mad about what I said to her. And it made me realize I’m still afraid of you. Ironic, considering I know I’m safe with you . . . but you terrify me. As much as I want to read you, Cian . . . you’re not like others. Your callousness is unpredictable, and it terrifies me.”

  “She doesn’t matter,” He declares hotly, conviction replacing the angry glint in his eyes as he wraps his hands around my neck. Gently propping his thumbs under my jaw, Cian captures my eyes as my pulse races against the meaty part of his palms. “You matter, sweetheart. Now, though . . . my patience is running dry. Finish the laundry while I go make some calls.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cian

  “We’re going out,” I announce, drawing Sorcha’s attention from the sink, as I lean against the entryway to the kitchen. Crossing my ankles, I shoot her an expectant look as my sister descends the stairs out of the corner of my eye. “Go get dressed.”

  “Okay,” She flicks off the tap, her wariness brightening her eyes before they snap to the stairs behind me. Distaste twists Sorcha’s beautiful, rounded features, and I jerk my chin insistently. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see when we get there. If you have anywhere you’d want to go afterwards, we can, too. I’ve got some errands to run. I want you with me,” I say, smirking slightly when Sorcha stiffens before a faint blush races up her neck. She’s too fucking cute when she darts off and a sigh of satisfaction blusters from my nose. My world is a little duller without her golden hair to illuminate it, but I don’t dwell on it as my sister frowns at me. My cheek twitches as an intense wave of irritation floods my system, but I beat it down viciously. “What?”

  “You shouldn’t do that, Cian. She needs therapy, not to get chased around by a man,” Siobhan grumbles pointedly, and my throat tightens as she gestures at the stairs. “I imagine she’s had enough of men. You don’t know what she’s been through, and you’ll never understand even if she did tell you. Who knows how much she’s repressing, and it can explode any time, over anything.”

  “Oh, yes, like you understand,” I snipe, and Siobhan scowls at me darkly. “With all your experience being raped . . . but you weren’t actually raped, Siobhan. Marrin attacked you, but don’t try to twist it like he fucked you in a dirty alley and beat the shit outta you. He tried to finger you and didn’t get very far before Dad found out and barged in. You were both drunk, and you’re the one that invited Marrin in the first place. Yeah, sure, it’s fucked up that he tried to touch you. No one should be violated like that, man or woman. But don’t act like you’re fucking blameless. You invited him, because you had a crush on him. You drank with him, knowing other girls said to be wary. You knew he was a fucked up, deranged rapist, and that Byrne covered it all up, but you literally handed yourself to him on a silver fucking platter. You ignored Dad’s warning, and then turned on him when he wouldn’t wield some clout to get you out of the consequences of your actions. Marrin spoke to me after when I threatened to kill him and told me the things I didn’t yet know. You’re as guilty as he is in this, and don’t even bother comparing what you went through to Sorcha. It’s not the same.”

  Maybe, Siobhan didn’t think I knew what really happened so long ago, and I bristle with rage as she stares at me in alarm and dread. Did she lie to herself so much that she didn’t remember the truth anymore? Inhaling sharply, I straighten to unbutton the collar of my shirt before it strangles me.

  “No one should ever have to experience being attacked,” I reiterate slowly, my voice cold and stony as I stare my sister in the face. “But you were a child drinking with a known rapist and were shocked when he violated you? No, Siobhan. How dare you degrade what other people have suffered by trying to act like you’re the victim. How dare you degrade Sorcha’s experience by pretending that you understand. You don’t. You don’t know jack shit about anything.”

  “You don’t know anything about how I feel!” Siobhan snaps viciously, her face blossoming beet red with rage. I can’t help my snort, and I roll my eyes before she shakes a fist at me. “You think I
don’t know that? You think I don’t regret it? I—”

  “I honestly don’t give a fuck how you feel about it. This conversation is about you lying about your experiences to feel good about yourself,” I drawl, and Siobhan stiffens as big tears well in her eyes. “You want to feel like you’re just so good, giving Sorcha a shoulder to cry on? Sympathizing with her? You wanna pride yourself on being her only friend? Fuck off. You’re not her savior, Siobhan, and I imagine you’d be in deep shit if she found out how far you’re going for this lie. I’d be careful if I were you, my dear sister. Sorcha’s not someone to mess with.”

  Our conversation ends while Siobhan realizes she can’t defend herself. I know she doesn’t have all that great an ability for arguing. Staring her down, I arch a brow quizzically when she bites her lower lip hard. Smoke could start pouring out of her ears, she was so angry, but I honestly couldn’t care less.

  The only reason I know about the incident is because it involved Byrne, who was already beginning to show signs of losing influence at the time.

  “Cian? I heard you’re going out?” There’s two too many women in this fucking house. Siobhan broke eye contact first, and I grunt lowly before turning my gaze to Bella. She’d made herself scarce after sneaking into my bedroom the last time, but now, her eyes blaze with determination. “I’ll come with you. We can make it a date. I have some stuff I wanna do, and we should at least learn to tolerate each other.”

  “No,” I state firmly, and Bella’s face droops in disappointment even as her gaze darkens into a glare. Fuck, did she not remember that we grew up together? What the fuck could possibly happen? The marriage contract just magically makes me forget why I hate her so intensely. “Do you need a reminder of how I feel about you, Bella?”

  “If you’re so disgusted with me, why agree to the contract?” She shrieks at me, frustration thrumming in Bella’s tone as she throws out her arms. “I’m trying to make the best of a shitty situation, okay! Do you know how much I had to beg my dad to blackmail Colin for this opportunity, and you’re ruining it!”

  Bella pants with the gusto of her irritation, chasing the ringing of her exclamation. Interest sparks in my chest, my eyelid twitching as she sucks in a sharp breath. Panic flares in her eyes, but to her credit, she shuts her fucking mouth and turns around to run upstairs. Questions circle behind my eyes, and I lick my teeth absently.

  “That answers the question of why the contract is so bare bones,” I say to myself, and shake my head of the thoughts racing ruts into my brain. Walking away from my sister, I round the stair railing just as Sorcha emerges at the top landing. She wears the same shirt and pair of jeans that I’d gotten her to meet with Byrne’s person, and I cup my chin thoughtfully. “We’ll get you some more clothes while we’re out.”

  “I like mine,” She quips hastily, rubbing her hands down her thighs to pull on the rough fabric of her jeans. “Um, but are sweatpants okay?”

  “Fine,” I relent, and Sorcha gets close to smiling again as she floats down toward me. Disturbingly easy, I ignore the issues raised in the kitchen between my sister, Bella, and myself in favor of her. “Did you think of anywhere you wanted to go?”

  “There is one place . . .” Sorcha trails off into a stony silence, and I nod mutely at that recognizable look in her eye. We pass the kitchen where my sister stands in stony, grumpy silence. Pausing to stare at her, I clear my throat to get her attention.

  “If I come back to a single carpet fiber out of place,” I say gravelly, staring directly at Siobhan. “You won’t have to worry about keeping up with your bullshit. No one can save you if you piss me off anymore.”

  Siobhan jerks her head in a nod, and I scan her as she takes out a carton of eggs from the fridge, her hand shaking noticeably. Walking down the hallway with Sorcha trailing along, I fish out my keys with one hand and rub my scalp roughly with the other. “Fuck. It’s always one thing or another.”

  “Where are we going?” Sorcha asks, but I don’t answer as I take her hand and lead her out of the house. My mind wanders to a dark place, and bitterness stains my tongue. How long am I going to have to be a prisoner in my own fucking home? To the contract, to Siobhan, because Lord only knows she can’t do jack shit by or for herself. Twirling my keys absently, I make my way toward my car with purposeful strides.

  “I wanted to be alone with you,” I say once we’re locked in my car, and I heave a sigh of relief as the weight lifts from my shoulders. Sorcha’s stare bores into the side of my face while I turn over the engine, and I grip the wheel tightly to sit back in the driver’s seat. “I started hating being home the moment my sister moved in, but it’s gotten ridiculous since Bella came too.”

  “Why don’t you just kick them both out?” She asks as I roll out of the driveway, and I glance at her before scanning the road past her. “I mean, Siobhan can’t go live with your dad? Isn’t there a rule about having you too close to each other and stuff?”

  “My dad kicks everyone out at eighteen. Either you make it, or you’re fucked. He’ll help us out if we really need it, but,” I trail off with a grimace, and Sorcha hums softly in acknowledgment. “Siobhan lives with me, because she asked. Not really any other reason. Back then, she paid her part and wasn’t a burden. Now, her bullshit is grating my nerves. As for Bella, well . . .”

  “What’s gonna happen to them if you find proof Siobhan’s talkin’ to Byrne? And Bella was screaming about blackmail,” Sorcha says gravely, and I clench my jaw hard. I had hoped she didn’t hear any of that shit. “I could hear her through the floor, she was so loud.”

  Which means she didn’t hear me calling Siobhan out on her shit. Good. Flexing my fingers around the wheel before turning onto the street, I take a breath in preparation. “I already told you, Sorcha. She’ll be executed. Siobhan might be an O’Dea, but that’s exactly the reason this shit is unacceptable. Her head’s too big for her fucking body, and if what she’s doing for her own personal reasons is interfering with me and my business, she needs to be punished. It’s not like she accidentally crossed me, sweetheart. She deliberately fucked with me.” Not just me though, the entire family. No one will trust her now.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot,” Sorcha begins ominously, and I glance over at her as my driver takes us down the street. Boston’s beautiful this time of year, but she’s so much more captivating with the sun shining off her hair. Her eyes glimmer brilliantly, and despite everything, she looks content. Sappy, but goddamn. “I think I have a plan that’ll work.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sorcha

  “Hey, Boss. It’s been a while,” The man rounds the counter to hold out his hand, a friendly smile gracing his pierced lips. He doesn’t spare me a glance, and I glance around the parlor curiously. “I heard Byrne crashed your birthday party. Man, I wish I could’a been there to see that shit. Jack said it was a riot.”

  “It wasn’t that interesting. Did you draw up what I requested?” Wandering away from Cian, I stare at the big wall every inch and corner-to-corner covered, with tattoo options. A distinct style threads each picture, with very Irish symbols and patterns. A few I recognize from Cian’s body, and flames swell to engulf my cheeks.

  “Yeah. Dunno why you’d want these, though. They’re not your usual style.”

  “They’re for her,” Cian declares, and my ears ring in the stunned silence. I whirl around to see him gesture to me with a thumb over his shoulder. My heart leaps into my throat, but Cian doesn’t spare me a glance even while the tattooist eyeballs me warily. “Let’s see them. I’m not fixin’ to be here all afternoon.”

  “Uh . . . oh. Does she got any ink, or . . .? It’s a pretty intricate one to do for her first time, Boss.” The man says uncertainly, scanning me with shrewd eyes. Discomfort lodges between my shoulder blades. “And by the looks of her, she didn’t know about it, which is kinda unethical if you’re forcing her.”

  “She’ll agree when she sees it,” Cian says firmly, confidence thrumming in his voice befo
re he finally looks over at me. His expression tenderizes at the sight of my anxiety, and he snatches the paper from the tattoo artist to saunter over to me. Holding out the page for me, he casts me a reassuring smirk. My stomach roils, and I hesitate to take it. “I like to think I did well describing you.”

  “O-oh,” I falter, prickles racing down my arm when I take the page. Turning it over, surprise raises my brows at the delicate, intricate design. Confusing, thin lines intertwine to form a butterfly, and I lick my lips heavily. If I hold it a little like this, it looks like a heart. “What’s it for?”

  “I’ll tell you when we leave. You like it?” He probes, a knowing glint in his eye that glimmers long before I nod. “Good. I didn’t wanna force you. While you’re getting tattooed, we can talk about your plan for Byrne. Connor will take good care of you, Sorcha.”

  Gulping down the nerves that bundle in my throat, I reach to pull back my hair before following Cian. His tattoo artist eyeballs me skeptically, but doesn’t protest, gesturing with a wave of his hand. Walking down a short hallway with small rooms on either side, I struggle to control my racing heart.

  “So, where do you want me to put this thing? Assuming you wanna look at it all the time,” Connor drawls, shooting Cian a shit-eating smirk as he stands by an open door to usher us in. The tattoo chair dominates the room, and blood drums in my ears as I gingerly sit in it. “I’m not doing it anywhere super thin, so no ribs or anything like that.”

  “Of course not. Right here,” Cian replies smoothly, and I glance over as he taps above his heart with a slight shrug. “It’s cliché for a reason.”

  “Not terrible, I guess,” Muttering to himself, Connor’s clearly unhappy with having to tattoo me, proven when he eyes me shrewdly. I hold my breath, tension zinging up my spine, and my scars prickle wildly under his intent gaze. “Even if you have a high pain tolerance, needles are a whole other beast. I got all day, so if it becomes too much, you can tell me, and we’ll stop for a while. Even if Cian doesn’t like it. He may be the boss, but this is my shop and I do things my way.”