I could see it in his eyes that Cian was bluffing; he doesn’t think Siobhan will go after kids, but he was playing with Kaitlyn to really drive home how screwed she was. Unable to see her face, I could only imagine it crumbling when she strangles a cry. Kaitlyn’s shoulders slump in defeat, her head lowering, and my lip twitches in disdain.
“Boss,” Jack calls, holding up a large, red bucket similar to the one Kaitlyn had used on me my first day as a maid. My palms tingle wildly, and I lick my lips as I hastily tuck them under my arms. “Ready whenever.”
“Let’s get started, then,” Cian says ominously, and Jack sets the bucket down between the two women. Interest peaks in my chest, and he glances over at me to smirk, a malicious glint brightening his eyes. “I’m sure, if you can dish it, you can take it, right Kaitlyn?”
“Oh,” I sit up straighter, and Kaitlyn’s head whips up as she chokes on her sob. She quakes as Cian stands over her domineeringly, a vicious glee twisting his expression. My heart leaps into my throat, anxiety curdling my blood as Jack pulls out a larger bucket. Steam rises and swirls delicately, and my skin tightens around my arms as I pull my knees up to hug them. My stomach churns as phantom pain shoots up my hands and arms. It’s almost like yesterday. The moment I saw the steam, everything comes rushing back. “Cian, you don’t have to.”
“No, but I want to, and also,” his eyes meet mine to soften, and I bite my bottom lip in expectation, “we don’t want to give anyone any reason to think it wasn’t just a murder-suicide by torturing them in more obvious ways. The fire will get rid of superfluous injuries, but I don’t want to feel cheated.”
“It’s gonna be a long day. Can we order Chinese food or pizza or something, Boss? It’s past noon. Places should be open right now,” Jack asks, excitement tilting his voice as he pauses to drag his hand through his hair. “Oh, can we get Vietnamese? I’d kill for some pho right now.”
“Sure, order whatever you want. I’ll get started down here. Get enough for everyone. It’s the last time we’re gonna be in this house.” Cian says, and Jack fist bumps the air in victory, excitement masking his face. Is he really just faking it all? I guess, if someone were going to show genuine happiness, it’d be about food. Do sociopaths feel happiness? I don’t know enough about it. I’ll just assume Jack does get happy.
Rushing up the stairs to the kitchen, Jack leaves Cian and I in stony silence. I prop my chin on my knees. My toes dig into the stretched fabric of the couch cushion. Bella’s obnoxious cries and rattling as she struggles to toss herself back and forth in dismay filter out of my scope of comprehension as I stare at him under hooded lids.
It’s bias, but he’s so handsome crushing people under his heels. Tall and commanding, Cian looks down on everyone around him—everyone but me. I’m his equal. I’m the brains, and he’s the brawn. I don’t have to stand so straight or glare. Hiding in his shadow was where I’m comfortable, and his back isn’t so stiff he wouldn’t bend to listen to me.
“What are you thinking?” Cian asks, his tone gentle and coaxing, and I blink when he walks over to loom over me. “Did you have anything to say?”
“No, you covered it all. I was just thinking, how far do you think Siobhan would go if you never figured it out?”
“You mean if you never figured it out? Don’t act like I did anything, sweetheart. This is all you,” He says, tenderness infecting his tone and gaze, and flames lick up my cheeks. I tear my eyes off him, and Cian sits next to me heavily to wrap his arm around me. His voice shines with pride when he continues, his fingers settling between my scars as he palms my back. “Is that your way of asking me what I’d do without you? I can tell you; I’d probably look really stupid when all of this came to a head. I’d be completely undermined, just like Siobhan wants, and she’d still end up in over her head.”
“I’m not gonna help her, but we need to watch her. Otherwise, Marrin might slither away like a leech when she finally comes face-to-face with him,” I mutter more to myself than him, and Cian grumbles lowly in acknowledgment before the peaceful quiet suddenly shatters by Bella tumbling forward with all of her body weight. Her nose smashes against the bucket, a few of her teeth knocking out of their sockets and she falls face first onto the concrete. Her garbling and choking earns her a harsh scoff from Cian, and reluctance slows his movements as he stands up. “I’m kinda surprised at how little substance she truly has. I don’t know why. I thought there’d be something there, you know? She’s nothing more than a pretty face.”
“I’m not. I learned a long time ago that Bella’s a shell. Even if it’s because her dad’s a sick fuck that drilled into her how important being pretty and rich is, it’s not like she had a lack of opportunities to fix herself. Not that she’s got the willpower, though,” Cian says as he hoists a now unconscious Bella off the floor. Blood and snot gush from her nose and mouth, and he pushes her head down to stop her choking to death. Casting me a fond look, Cian smiles warmly at me, and my breath hitches. “You got me far enough. I’ll take you the rest of the way, Sorcha.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cian
“Are you satisfied?” Whispering so faintly, barely a raw collection of sounds, Kaitlyn’s head drops dramatically as she uses what little energy she’s got left. Even as I shake my head, I scan my handiwork with pride. The skin up to her knees had melted and swirled, puffing with huge, fluid-filled blisters that seep from the force of her pained spasming. I admired Kaitlyn for taking it so well, even if it was frustrating.
“No. This was less gratifying than I thought it’d be,” I admit, stroking my chin thoughtfully before turning my gaze to Bella. The bitch hadn’t woken up after smashing her face, but her labored breaths attest to her being alive. “There’s no point in doing anything to her like that, so in a way, she got the last laugh. It’s not all that entertaining if she’s not awake.”
“You’re a m-monster.” Kaitlyn sputters, and I sneer down at her as her unspoken declaration wafts up from her trembling, chapped lips. She wished she never got involved with me; I’m a devil in disguise. . . or some shit to that effect. I grab a fistful of her hair, relishing her shocked, sharp cry when I snap her head back. Dazed, brown eyes that had so gleefully watched Sorcha scrub the carpet by hand now boggle with pain and terror.
“You drew it out of me when you decided to bow to my sister instead of me, Kaitlyn,” I jerk her head back to punctuate my growl, and she bobbles around unstably with a low groan. Turning to Sorcha, I briefly check my watch and swipe back my hair with my free hand. “The food should be here soon. You can go wait for it while Jack and I get these two upstairs. I still don’t get why we have to be here, sweetheart. Wouldn’t it make more sense if we left and then Bella started the fire?”
“No, it’s more convincing if we can say she started the fire trying to kill everyone rather than just herself. We have to find a way to make it rage really fast. I thought we could use the kitchen, but since we’re not going with that version, it’s gotta be something else,” Sorcha says, her voice deepening in thought as she frowns lightly. She leans back, and I step around the two women to sit next to her. “The obvious thing to do is her bed. Especially if she’s got the expensive, flammable stuff.”
“And Kaitlyn?” I probe further, and Sorcha shrugs carelessly with a slight shake of her head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter as much, as long as it looks natural. Even then, just the positioning has to be natural if all that’s gonna be left of them is charred bodies. Who knew faking suicide was so complicated?”
“It’s complicated, because neither of us would do it in a dramatic fashion, so it’s harder to be sure how to pull it off. People are gonna be investigating, so we can’t mess it up. We need to be able to avoid anyone asking any deeper questions, otherwise . . .” She trails off gravely, her lips thinning, and I frown darkly.
“Otherwise, we’re both in trouble,” I surmise, my voice scraping my throat roughly, and I reach to rub the back of my head. “There’s nothing to back th
is up, but our words, and anyone that looks too close will see the inconsistencies. It’s no secret I hated Bella, but by all accounts, she was trying her damnedest to keep herself afloat.”
“As a catalyst, Siobhan leaving isn’t very strong,” Sorcha replies hollowly, and surprise ripples up my arm as she grabs my hand. Her palm is clammy, almost cold, and I clench my jaw hard against the foreboding curdling my blood. “We don’t have a choice but to go for it. The plan has changed too much, and we’re out of time.”
The smell of piss and sizzling flesh curls my nose hairs when I take a deep, stabilizing breath. Turning my gaze to Kaitlyn, I scan her unconscious body shrewdly before looking at Bella. She can’t function through the pain, but then again, she’d never been in physical pain before. I’m sure she’d probably never broken a fingernail before, let alone gotten her pretty face smashed in.
“Boss,” Jack calls from the top of the stairs, and I grunt lowly in acknowledgment as he comes sauntering down heavily. He waves Siobhan’s and Bella’s phones in both his hands, a dark expression shadowing his sharp features. “Sorcha was right. After Bella blurted out, she had to get Byrne to blackmail Colin, she called her father a few times. He picked up the first and third call. There’s about a dozen and a half, but there’s no texts. I don’t know her password to see if she deleted shit, though. Apparently, she was smart enough to remember it and not write it down.”
“And Siobhan’s?”
“Most of her shit is password protected, but I did manage to narrow down who her contact was that got burned before she resorted to using Kaitlyn,” He declares casually, and I stand up to help Sorcha to her feet as Jack pauses a few feet away. “Her name’s Cleo. I remember her a little. She was the bitch Marrin caught when Byrne stole Sorcha. I always thought it was weird how she just disappeared one day. Marrin didn’t kill her, that was obvious by the huge hissy fit he threw when he realized she was gone. But as far as I know, Cleo wasn’t suspected of being a spy. I think Siobhan just figured out that either Cleo couldn’t cope with the job, or that Cleo had done the job and wasn’t needed anymore. A lot of this is my own conclusion, though, based on what I remember from the time.”
“It’s well-established that Siobhan’s a fucking liar. I’m over her and her tangled webs,” I reply, not really interested in whatever convoluted bullshit my sister sets up. “If Siobhan were truly confident about it, she wouldn’t need all the smoke and fanfare. I’ll let her do what she wants for now. When Marrin goes after her, we’ll figure out what to do then. Go on upstairs, sweetheart. We’ll be up in a second.”
“She had to get Byrne to blackmail your dad?” Sorcha asks suddenly, interest lilting her tone as she casts me a look. Guilt stabs my chest, and I hold up my hands sheepishly before she shakes her head. “We still have a couple hours until nightfall. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Sorry. It was the day we went to the tattoo parlor, and I honestly didn’t think about it again. It didn’t strike me as surprising,” But my excuse fell on deaf ears as Sorcha walks off toward the stairs, and Jack whistles low and long. Blustering a sigh, I rub my mouth to hide my frown before turning to the women tied up next to me. “Today just seems to be getting longer and longer. It’s only been four hours since I woke up.”
“You didn’t stumble out of your room until almost eleven, though. It’s gonna be a while, Boss. Are you afraid of her?” Open curiosity colors Jack’s tone, and I stroke my chin thoughtfully. My mind whirls, my eyes focused on Kaitlyn’s bubbling, seeping skin up her arms and legs, she’s probably in far too much pain to wake up again, and I grunt lowly.
“Do you really need to ask me that? Once this plan dies down, I’m going to marry her,” I announce firmly, and Jack’s face twists into a strange smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Did you find out anything else?”
“Not really much until I get this to someone who can crack it open,” Waving Siobhan’s phone, Jack rocks back on his heels to slip both phones into his pocket. “I figured Bella wouldn’t exactly have kerosene on hand or anything, so I got some flammable bathroom shit. Hairspray, shit women would have. Everything’s ready to go when you want. I wanted to ask you, Boss . . . I’m not gonna be expected to work for Colin, am I?”
“No, you’re gonna go on another job for me. Byrne’s been contacting every house, big or small. He’s even called Desmond, trying to get my cousin on his side. I need you to find out who’s taken the bait,” Revealing my loose expectations, I can’t help but smirk when Jack perks up at the idea of not having to be around my father. “It’s refreshing to see someone who so openly hates someone.”
“He killed my mom. Of course, I hate him. I mean, it was her fault, but I don’t think it warranted a death sentence,” Jack waves his hand dismissively before clapping his palms together hard. “If you wanna be most advantageous, let’s wait until, like, one or two in the morning. Nighttime is when people struggle the most internally.”
“You just wanna eat dinner uninterrupted,” I joke, and Jack grins outright at me. “Are you afraid of Sorcha, Jack?”
“I’m glad we’re on the same side. Let’s just say that. If I had to go up against her, I don’t think I’d lose, but I probably wouldn’t win.” He answers gravely, and I nod in agreement as goosebumps sweep down my back at the notion. Sorcha’s willing to go as far as she has to; she’s willing to kill herself to get back at the people that ruined her.
This is going be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sorcha
“Jack can do it, Cian,” I reassure him, and he flexes his hand around a thin pen anxiously. His face twists in discomfort, intensifying at my suggestion, and I struggle to hold back my frown. “You don’t have to do it. I’m sure Jack knows where to stab me, so I don’t die.”
“I think this is overkill,” Cian grumbles, but he shakes his head furiously before catching my gaze firmly. “There’s no point in arguing with you, Sorcha. But if all this goes off without a hitch, and everyone makes perfect conclusions, you can’t complain when I take you on vacation once you’ve recovered.”
“Okay, whatever. Where do you wanna go? I’ve never gone on a vacation.” I reveal, and Cian scowls darkly at me as he stands over Bella’s unconscious body curled up on the floor. Her bedroom isn’t what I’d expected with its unadorned walls and lack of little baubles. I thought it’d be painted a ghastly pink and filled to the ceiling with stuffed animals or something.
Really, that would’ve been fantastic since stuffed animals are highly flammable, but alas . . .
“Anywhere you want, sweetheart. I’d recommend somewhere tropical.” He murmurs, our tender moment coming to an end as Bella moans in pain at our feet. Tearing my eyes off his tender gaze, I glance down at her in disgust and grim satisfaction.
“Finally,” I mumble, my lips tingling and my ears ringing as Bella’s face contorts in pain. Even now, she’s a beautiful mask of suffering, like a painting. I smile at the paleness of her cheeks against the stark, dark red blood that crusts her skin, malicious glee welling up in me. “She’s just the first.”
“She’s just the first,” Cian agrees solemnly, nodding at Jack with a jerk of his head. Tension electrifies the atmosphere, and I inhale a deep, calming breath. Clenching my teeth as Cian grimaces in preparation, I hold my breath. Apprehension floods my system when Jack ignites a lighter out of the corner of my eye and tosses it onto Bella’s bed. The sheets immediately feed the fire, and slowly it all begins.
The fire moves slower than I expect, its flickering colors mesmerizing as it eats its way toward the edges of the bed. My chest tightens, and Cian takes my hand to curl his fingers between my own. His palm is warm, different than the vicious, intense heat drying my nostrils and cheeks. Holding his hand to my chest, I turn away from the toxic smoke billowing from the bed. Bella’s terrified shriek shatters the dampening silence, and I jump in shock. Blinking hard, I tear my eyes off the fire to cover my nose and mouth with my free hand.
H
olding my breath, I peer through the thickening smoke at Bella while she scrambles to her hands and knees. But she can’t get far, her fractured arm and torn shoulders are unable to handle her weight. Honestly, Jack must’ve had fun with her. I was in the Byrne house for so long. I know what parts Bella would contribute to, including the pain of others in my position. So, I don’t pity her in the least bit. She deserves everything that’s coming her way.
Crashing face first into the carpet, her whimpers and whines dissolving under the growing flames. Blinking back the sting of the smoke, I back away toward the door with Cian, his arm wrapping around my back protectively.
“C-Cian . . . no . . .” Turning her ruined face to us, Bella coughs harshly and shakes her head in hopeless despair. Sharp satisfaction sears my chest hotter than any fire, watching her unflinchingly as she struggles to breathe. Shivering in Cian’s arms, I wrap my arms around myself and take a shallow, toxic breath.
“Let’s go, Sorcha. Before you really end up hurting yourself.” Cian says over the lick of the flames climbing the walls, and I nod hastily. Slipping out into the hallway, he leaves the door open, and smoke billows around our feet. Bella reaches out in futility, coughing and letting out a cry before twisting sharply. The rope around her ankle acts as a fuse, and she frantically claws at the knot. Wheezing lightly, I catch her panicked gaze to hold it and straighten, my nerves briefly calmed by her turmoil.
This is what she deserves. Her father’s rotten, her brother’s rotten, and Bella isn’t exempt from those genes. She’s just wretched in a different way.
“Sorcha,” Jack says suddenly, and I turn to him only to tense when he advances on me so quickly, I can’t follow. A sharp, tearing pain rips down my side, and I gasp in shock as his eyes lock on mine. No emotions swirl in his orbs even as he grimaces darkly, and I blink back tears of hurt and the sting of smoke. “I’m sorry it hurts.”
Callous King (The O'Dea Crime Family Book 1) Page 15
