KILLIAN: The O'Donnell Mafia

by Zoey Parker

  “That son of a bitch,” I whispered. “Can our plan be to shoot him now?”

  “Shh,” Dad said, leaving the car running, but opening the door and stepping out.

  I followed suit, working hard to still the tremor that had settled into my hands, a byproduct of the massive amounts of adrenaline pumping through me, no doubt.

  Caleb laughed as I got out of the car. “Wow. Killian. Didn’t expect to see you around anytime soon.”

  I wanted to punch him. I wanted to hit him until his teeth popped out and his nose shattered, and his eyes went bloody. I could have killed him right there, and feeling the gun in the waistband of my jeans, pressing against my spine, I was sure tempted.

  “Killian and I are trying to work things out,” Dad said, answering for me.

  I nodded in agreement, my mouth in a tight line to keep my murderous thoughts from leaking out.

  “How exactly did you work out your problems?” Caleb asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his legs spread wide as if he were a cowboy in a spaghetti western. “They were rather large problems, if I remember right.”

  “Family is family,” Dad said, as if that were explanation enough.

  And, to be fair, it kind of was. I still didn’t know if he fully trusted my story, yet here he was. He’d even given me a gun, which I had not expected. I liked to believe that meant he had to trust me. You wouldn’t hand someone you suspected of murder a handgun. Right?

  Caleb nodded, a sly smile slicked across his face. “It sure is.”

  “So, your dad said you two wouldn’t be around the complex this afternoon?” Dad said, his voice both innocently curious and accusatory. That was why he made a good leader. He could speak one sentence and deliver multiple meanings. He was an apt communicator and, when he wanted to be, completely terrifying.

  Caleb didn’t seem phased. “We just got back. He actually mentioned he was going to give you a call.”

  Dad nodded.

  I looked back and forth between them, feeling like I was at a tennis match. Only, they were volleying with words.

  “It’s just that Declan said he saw you here about twenty minutes ago, and I talked to your dad only five minutes ago.”

  The words hung in the air between them, each one a tiny bomb waiting to go off.

  Caleb smiled, but it was ice-cold, calculating. “So why did you bother asking Dad where we were? It seems you knew we were here all along.”

  Dad took a step closer to Caleb, and I followed suit, shadowing him. “If I’d just shown up, you or your dad could have come up with a story about why you were at the warehouse. You are both smart guys. I think you’re both capable of being deceptive when you need to be, even when it’s on the spot. However, letting you think I didn’t know where you were, gave you both an option: you could either tell me the truth and say you were at the warehouse or you could lie. Your dad chose to lie, and you know what that told me? It told me you had something to hide. So, I came down here to see what it was.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll be quite disappointed,” Caleb said, turning sideways, ushering us towards the building with his arm, “but you are free to check the place out.”

  Dad nodded and obliged him, stepping forward, following Caleb towards the warehouse.

  I reached out and grabbed his elbow. “Dad,” I said, a warning clear in my voice.

  Caleb stopped. “Come on, Killian. Do you not trust me?”

  I bit my tongue so hard I felt certain it was bleeding and lowered my voice. “We can’t go in there,” I whispered.

  As much as I wanted to break down the walls, search every room, and pull Heather out, I had to be smart. I couldn’t save her if I got myself killed. And going inside the warehouse with Caleb felt like a death wish.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, you can come inside.” Caleb walked towards me, within arm’s reach, and it was too much. Instinct took over. I shoved him. Not hard, but directly in the chest. A threat.

  “Whoa,” he said, putting his hands up and backing off. “You need to calm down. Maybe it’s better if you wait outside.”

  “Why?” I asked, my voice trembling with rage. “So, you can kill another of my family members?”

  Dad barked. “Killian.”

  I realized immediately what I’d done. I’d spilled the beans. I’d let the cat out of the bag. I’d just admitted to Caleb that I knew what he did. And as much as it ruined our plan, it felt damn good to say it out loud. To say it to his face.

  “No,” I said, waving my dad off. “Let’s all quit pretending here. We all know why we’re here, so why prolong the inevitable?”

  I felt emboldened. Each word I spoke gave me more courage, more confidence.

  “I can’t say I’m sure why we’re here,” Caleb said, shrugging his shoulders.

  I couldn’t take another second of him playing the diplomat. He spoke as if he were playing chess, each move was calculated and planned, never a piece out of place. Not anymore. I planned to flip over the entire board.

  “You killed my brother,” I said as I looked directly into his eyes. I wanted him to see how sure I was. I wanted him to see that I wasn’t afraid and I wasn’t going to be persuaded. “You shot my brother in front of me, so I would have to watch him die, and now you have your sister locked up inside.”

  “Killian.” He was trying to talk me down. He thought that if he said my name like it were a joke, as if I were crazy, that perhaps I’d back off, but I refused. Not now. There was blood in the water, and I wasn’t leaving without a fight.

  “Caleb,” I said, taking a step towards him and enjoying the fact that he took a mirror step backward, his eyes shifting nervously. “Whatever game you’re playing, whatever plan you have organized in your insane, murderous brain, it’s over. You’re going to pay for what you did to my brother, and I swear, if you hurt a hair on Heather’s head, I will kill you myself.”

  Caleb paused, seeming to absorb what I’d said, thinking it over in his mind, deciding on his next move. Surprisingly, he moved towards me, each step happening as if it were in slow motion.

  Finally, when he was within arm’s reach of me, he leaned forward, a pleased smile playing at the corner of his lips, and said, “I watched you that night. You couldn’t save your brother. What makes you think you can save Heather?”

  Before he’d even finished speaking, I’d reached my hand into the back of my jeans and pulled out my gun. Unfortunately, Caleb had done the same. We were in a stand-off, each of us with a gun leveled at the other, finger on the trigger.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Dad said, lifting his hands in a form of surrender. “Calm down. Lower your weapons. Both of you. Lower them.”

  “Yes, I agree. Lower your weapons, boys.”

  I allowed myself a quick glance over Caleb’s shoulder to see Kevin Rourke stepping out of the warehouse, a gun in his hand. It too was pointed at me.

  “Kevin,” Dad said, trying to be the peacemaker. “Don’t escalate things. Put your gun down. Let’s talk. This doesn’t have to get bloody.”

  “It’s already bloody,” I spat, all the while glaring at Caleb. “It got bloody the moment Caleb pulled the trigger and shot Niall.”

  Kevin took a few more steps forward, his guns still trained on me. “Stop trying to pass the blame for your brother’s death onto my son. You O’Donnell boys never could face the music. The amount of times I got woken up in the middle of the night to get you out of another scrape you’d mouthed your way into. You have always been reckless, Killian, and this time you took it too far, and there is no one around to help you. You’re a murderer, and you deserve everything you have coming to you.”

  He paused just behind Caleb, a devilish smile on his face. “Caleb, teach this murderer a lesson.”

  A shot rang out just as the words left his mouth. I dove behind the open car door and peeked through the window to see Kevin Rourke writhing on the ground, blood pouring from a hole in his thigh. He was shouting and cussing, clutching at his upper thigh w
ith both hands.

  Dad had his gun in his hand, aiming it at Caleb now. He’d taken it out so slyly that no one had even noticed. Caleb had pivoted, jumping back several feet when Kevin was shot and was now pointing his gun at Dad, though he kept glancing back in my direction, his eyes nervous for the first time. With Kevin out of commission, he was outnumbered.

  “Killian isn’t a murderer,” Dad said, his voice laced with spite. “Caleb just admitted he killed Niall. If you want to teach anyone a lesson, it should be him.”

  I stood up from behind the car and came around to stand on the other side of Caleb, so it was impossible for him to focus on both of us at the same time.

  “I didn’t admit to anything,” he shouted, his voice high and shaky. His calm façade had wilted away, and all that was left was a scared kid. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

  “Where’s Heather?” I asked. “Just tell me where she is, and we’ll take her and leave, and you guys can get the hell out of the compound and never come back.”

  Caleb still had his gun out, though he couldn’t decide who he should be pointing it at. He shifted his glance between Dad and me, occasionally looking at his dad and the growing puddle of blood pooling around him on the pavement.

  “It’s a fair deal,” Dad said. “Fairer than you’re likely to get otherwise. Take it. Put down your gun and leave.”

  I could see Caleb thinking it over, trying to decide what to do. And just as I could see the resignation in his eyes, and I felt certain he was going to lower his weapon and leave, he fired.

  Just once. Right at Dad.

  We both dove to the ground and began firing back, but Caleb was running for the warehouse.

  Thoughts of Heather filled my mind. She was inside, and Caleb was backed into a corner. I clearly had no idea what he was capable of.

  “You okay, Dad?” I asked, standing up to run after Caleb.

  “He missed,” he said, giving himself a once-over just to be sure. “He didn’t hit me.”

  With that, I was sprinting for the warehouse door. I had to get inside and find Heather. I had to get her out of the warehouse and make sure she was safe.

  When I got inside, the entire place was dark, nothing more than the shadowy outlines of mostly empty metal shelving units visible. However, I noticed a door to the right. A faint glow of light was leaking around the door frame.

  Slowly, I made my way over to the door, trying to listen for footsteps or voices, but I didn’t hear anything. I turned the doorknob and found it was unlocked. As quietly as possible I pushed the door open, first a crack, then a few inches, and finally, my gun entering the room ahead of me, all the way open. It was then that I saw her.

  Heather was lying on the floor as though she were sleeping, her hands folded across her stomach, ankles crossed. The only catch was that she was on the dusty concrete floor of a disused storage facility—not exactly her usual napping spot.

  I moved closer, glancing around for any sign of Caleb, afraid he may try to jump out and surprise me, and that was when I noticed the blood. There wasn’t a lot of it, but it was enough. My first thought was that she’d been shot or stabbed, but I couldn’t see any obvious wounds.

  I knelt down on the floor beside her and reached out to take her pulse. I nearly collapsed with relief when I felt the steady flicker of her heartbeat against my fingers. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face.

  “Thank God,” I whispered, just in case she could hear me. I wanted her to know that I’d come for her, that someone who cared for her was there. Then, once I knew she was alive, I began inspecting her, trying to determine where the blood came from.

  It didn’t take long. The crotch of her jeans was stained a deep rust red, and a tiny trickle of blood had pooled on the floor beneath her. Under different circumstances, I would have assumed she’d gotten her period, but Heather was pregnant. I knew very little about pregnancy, but I knew bleeding wasn’t good. She needed to get back to the emergency room as soon as possible.

  I slid my arms underneath her legs and was beginning to lift her when I heard a loud bang behind me. I lowered Heather back to the floor and walked slowly to the main room to investigate. The door I’d entered through had been shut, so the fluorescent lighting coming from the room behind me was the only light in the building.

  I squinted into the darkness, trying to notice any distinctly human shapes, but my eyes refused to focus. Suddenly, the concrete wall behind me exploded, bits of rubble smashing into my neck. I ducked down instinctively, looking up to see a bullet hole in the wall. Another shot rang out, and more concrete rained down on me.

  If I stayed where I was, a stray bullet could go through the wall or the doorway and hit Heather. So, despite the fact that I didn’t want to leave her, I took off running towards the darkest corner of the warehouse, far away from where Heather was. Bullets peppered the wall behind me as I ran.

  I threw my arm back and pulled the trigger even though I didn’t have a target, hoping it would startle Caleb enough that he would stop shooting, giving me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It seemed to work. The room went eerily silent; the only sound I could make out was the rush of blood in my ears.

  Slowly, the room around me began to take shape. I could see the metal shelves arranged into orderly rows, and I could make out the windows that dotted the walls, each one blacked out by years of dirt and grime. My vision was becoming better, my pupils dilating to let in more light until, at the far side of the room, crouching behind a shelf, I saw a human shape.

  Silently, I crawled behind a stack of wooden boxes for cover and then peeked over the edge. The shape shifted in the dark, and I knew it was Caleb. Raising my gun over the boxes, I leveled it at the distant shape, finger ready to pull the trigger.

  I had imagined the moment too many times to count. Even before I knew Caleb was Niall’s killer, I imagined murdering a faceless man, avenging my brother’s death, regardless of the culprit. However, now that it was happening, everything felt surreal. It felt like one of the video games Niall always made me play or a scene from a movie.

  I’d seen death, and I’d seen men beaten to a pulp. Hell, I’d even punched a few of them myself, but I’d never killed a man. Never had the power to end a life in the palm of my hand. And honestly, despite how badly I wanted revenge for Niall, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to live with myself.

  A bang. I blinked once. Twice. Three times. Trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The shadow I’d been aiming at had disappeared, my gun now pointed at empty darkness. I swiveled my head, looking at every row, expecting Caleb to come sneaking up behind me at any minute.

  “I shot him.”

  I recognized my father’s voice immediately.

  “Dad?” I shouted, still not standing up from behind the boxes, wanting to be sure I knew what was happening on the other side.

  “I shot him, Killian,” he said, his voice blank, emotionless.

  I made my way around the edge of the warehouse, still anticipating Caleb to jump out from between the rows and shoot at me. However, when I turned the last corner, I found my father standing over the heap of Caleb’s body, slumped along the shelves.

  “I shot him,” Dad repeated.

  “Is he dead?” I asked, even though, based on the angles of his body, it was very clear that he was.

  “Yes,” he said, turning to me for the first time, his eyes round, bottomless orbs. “He’s dead.”

  “He deserved it, Dad. He killed Niall.”

  Dad shook his head, agreeing with me, though I could tell he was having doubts.

  I wanted to comfort him, be there for him, but it would have to wait. I turned and ran into the small room, Heather still lying on the floor exactly where I’d left her. I scooped her into my arms and ran for the car.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heather

  I woke up in the emergency room. I tried to roll over as my spine was killing me, feeling as if ever
y individual vertebra was bruised, but I had an IV sticking out of my arm that wouldn’t allow it. I glanced around the small, sterile room, but it was empty except for the many machines around me, incessantly beeping and flashing.

  Had I had another seizure? I couldn’t be sure. Honestly, I couldn’t remember much of anything after Caleb hauled me out of the car and led me towards the warehouse. Everything after that felt like a blank. Had Caleb or my dad brought me to the emergency room?

  I wanted to believe they were still capable of caring about me on that most fundamental level. That, regardless of everything that had happened between us, they didn’t want me to die. Still, I couldn’t be sure.