by Fiona Keane
“Are you okay, bird?”
“Yes,” I informed him, swallowing the final gulp of wine. Damn, that’s delicious. I want to be wealthy and have a steady supply of Riesling. Chilled. Better yet, I want that shit on tap. Butler, make this happen. Smiling to myself, I looked at the brothers. With glasses of wine in their hands, they both stared at me with curiosity before beginning to drink.
“Go on,” I encouraged. “I haven’t lost all of my marbles just yet, Fuckoys.” Liam’s wine sprayed my arm as it spat from his mouth. What? What did I sa—Oh. Oops.
“Fu—” Julian’s mouth parted with an amused smile while he placed his glass on the table, his head cocked to the side while looking at me. “Fuckoy?”
“I haven’t heard that one. Jewels, the Molloy boy toys, my personal favorite. I’ve heard those, but not,” Liam chuckled, “fuckoy.” Blushing, I reached across the table for more wine, eagerly filling my glass.
“And now you’re going to lap that up like a kitten.” Julian’s head shook with humor, my eyes quickly realizing I’d poured too much wine into my glass. Too much. There is never such a thing.
“Tell a baby bird some secrets, she turns into a lush peacock. Vivid, vibrant, and blunt,” Liam mused. “Fuckoy. I’m going to use that one, Julian. Julian Fuckoy.”
I looked across the table at Julian, catching his deep blue gaze over the rim of his wine glass. My neck warmed watching his throat move while swallowing the gulp of chilled white.
“Let’s get back on track,” he said, winking at me before looking to Liam. “I would’ve assumed our grandfather was one to give notice about attending a mass, considering the risk of being in such close proximity to the Young family. And Regan informing him of it?”
“Well,” Liam’s posture relaxed into the back of his chair. “That is probably something to do with you and Noelle.”
I stiffened, the fingers spinning my wine glass freezing. Noelle. Julian’s would-be-fiancée. I felt his eyes on me but kept mine focused on the few bubbles dancing toward the surface of my wine glass. It’s so yummy.
“Why,” he demanded of Liam, his voice smooth and undisturbed, “because Edward can’t get it through his horrendous mind that arranged marriages aren’t my thing? Because I’m…” His trailing voice was followed by a low sigh, gaining my attention only to watch Julian’s palms rub against his face. Liam’s throat cleared nervously, an uncharacteristic reaction, while glancing between Julian and me.
“I, uh, I did some more research. It’s…it’s not pretty.” He shook his head while sifting through the contents of an envelope on the table. I looked around the kitchen with a more thorough eye. There were organized piles scattered throughout the room. Those two had been busy.
“I spoke with someone at Saint Mary’s this afternoon, pretending to be you, Fuckoy,” Liam teased, his fingers skimming one sheet of paper.
“Isn’t that illegal?” I asked, embarrassed to realize who I was questioning. “I mean…you have to do some legal things once in a while. Right? I don’t know how this works. So…um…”
“More wine,” Julian requested, lightly poking the bottle in my direction across the table, his smile softly decorating his face. “Yes, it’s illegal. Yes, we do legal things most of the time. Liam, let me see that.” I watched Julian’s face transform while studying the document, his eyes scanning left to right while he thoroughly read its contents. Liam casually sipped his glass of wine, tipping back in his chair while his right foot balanced on the beam beneath the table.
“With whom did you speak?” Julian’s voice barely slipped through his clenched jaw.
“Some nurses,” Liam replied, his chair legs meeting the kitchen floor. “I was curious about the bird’s head.” Me? Julian was silent, but his eyes were screaming the lexicon of utter rage. Yet the deceptive calm painting his features was absolutely frightening. Shirtless, it was impossible to miss his muscles tighten while Julian continued to read through the document.
“Just tell me,” I whispered, coming up for air from my glass. “Julian.” I could tell his heart resisted it, but he knew better. His brows met above gloriously deep sapphires that resonated with pain. Julian stood from the table, taking his chair with him as he stepped around Liam to be at my side. Sitting between us with his bare back to Liam, Julian handed me the paper.
“Read it for yourself,” he whispered. “It’s what I’ve always thought. They told me you’d never been there when I went back…Christ. We’re halfway to our proof. Now, we just need to know who’s responsible for it.”
“What?” I took the paper from him, reading the notes of my care while at Saint Mary’s. It was an excerpt, photocopied from my records, clearly indicating something was amiss.
…orders have been given to initiate deep brain electroshock therapy to rid patient of depressive tendencies…
“I wasn’t depressed.” My words fluttered from my lips quietly. “I never told anyone there that I was depressed. I wasn’t. Why would they say that?” Julian’s palms held my trembling thigh, his warmth and pressure unable to cease the vibration rippling through me.
“Keep reading,” he whispered.
…treatment will consist of daily sessions, not lasting longer than fifteen minutes per session, with a goal of erasing memories thought to maintain patient’s conscience in current state…parent of adult patient requested as next of kin for immediate deletion of memories in hospital…
My gaze, dampened with unshed tears, moved between Julian and Liam, their own apprehensive eyes on me.
“The parent part.” Liam nodded to me, acknowledging where my mind stopped reading the report. “I caught that too.”
A tightening pain latched around my throat, stifling the sob that begged to follow the tears rolling over my cheeks. I tried to blink them away, lifting my eyes toward Julian. He appeared just as distraught as me, his soul accepting the empathy roaring within it. Both of his thumbs lifted to softly wipe away the waterfall cascading down my face. I imagined the puddles forming against his pristine kitchen floor. That’ll be a bitch to clean.
“Now,” Liam’s throat cleared, “knowing you have no parents, bird, I’m not certain who would’ve had authority to claim your next of kin.”
“Or who would have lied.” Julian’s head shook as his elbows fell to his thighs. “Nobody came from the woodwork to pretend to be Aideen’s family, Liam. That staff lied to me. I knew it. This is bigger than that. Someone gave an order, and the staff wrote their notes to muffle that.”
“Omissions,” I whimpered, struggling to stand. Okay, maybe there is such a thing as too much wine. No, never. There is such a thing as too much information, though. Julian was stealthy, quick to hold my elbows as I wobbled with the paper in my hand.
“We just need to know who it was,” Liam cooed from the table as I wiggled free of Julian’s grasp and mindlessly wandered toward his kitchen window, “and then we can solve the mystery.”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t get my memories back.”
“That’s not true,” Julian declared, his voice heard in my heart above anything else. “You have them. They’re in there. Whatever we did, whatever fucked-up shit I tried to do, something worked. Your dreams aren’t a farce, babby. It’s all real.”
I laughed, my head shaking with realization. “And so is the fact someone would do anything to keep me from being alive and intact.”
The shattering sound of glass tore throughout the room, yet still unable to fully capture my attention.
“Dammit!” Julian roared, his voice terrifyingly enraged, filled with an ominous tone that would have killed me one week ago.
The floor pulsed beneath us with Julian’s pounding footsteps. His hands were on my shoulders as he briskly spun me around and pulled me to him, suffocating my tears against his bare, warm chest. His heart rattled into my ear, his body heaving angered breaths against mine. This monster is pissed.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I whimpered, blinking away more te
ars. It was useless. They continued to stream from my cheek along the rippling path of Julian’s abdomen. His hold tightened, binding me to him with an intimate warning.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m sorry I yelled, and I’m sorry I broke the wine bottle. I’ve just had enough of this! Someone has been trying to keep us apart, to keep you isolated and down, since the night I first saw you. Dammit!” I knew he wasn’t talking to me. I understood the emotion behind his words, the foundation of his rage. It was the exact same way I felt six days prior, having learned the truth behind his omissions.
“Listen,” Liam groaned, his words muffled, “arguing and getting emotional isn’t going to fix any of this. Bird, I am terribly sorry for what happened to you, and you have my word Julian and I will fix this. Julian, grow a fucking pair and get it the hell together over there. Jesus. You can’t be a leader if you’re throwing wine bottles around when you’re angry.”
I peered over Julian’s clenched bicep, observing Liam squatting to collect shards of glass and dabbing up the fizzing liquid from the floor. Such a waste.
“Grow a fucking pair,” Julian snarled, spinning both of us around so his eyes would contact Liam’s. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No,” Liam stood, his voice clear with his posture, “I’m not. I hate to say it, but now is the most important time of any for you to have a level head. Both of you. If you want to find answers without killing anyone else, or being killed, you must keep it together.”
“We must.” Julian’s head shook before his chest rumbled with condescending laughter. His binding hold released, leaving me chilled with his absence, aware of how vulnerable I felt. Julian’s muscles were rigid, towering over his brother, a figure mirroring his height and stature. He was impossibly terrifying from that angle. A monster. A devil. And yet, somehow, my tears were replaced with drool. The monogrammed “A” moved atop his shifting muscles, his back tense while he screamed at Liam.
“I’m this close to castrating you with a shard from that bottle.” His voice tore a new hole in our ears. “If you think for one fucking second that how we’re feeling shouldn’t be demonstrated, then I’ll kill you. You’ll be the final tally on my skin, baby brother, and I won’t have a second thought. You know as well as I what Aideen has been through, and yet here you are, suddenly the wise owl who has the authority to demand our scripted responses and halted emotions. Fuck. You.” My fingernails burrowed into my biceps, unable to contain the tremble threatening to shatter my body.
“I know what she’s been through, and I’ve been the one at your side through all of this, you ungrateful bastard,” Liam retorted, his snarl dangerously equivalent to Julian’s. “Don’t you forget that. You’re welcome, by the way, for getting you shot so you two could even meet. Has everyone forgotten that?”
“What?” I stepped toward them, my stomach knotting with trepidation as I approached the angry, snarling beasts. Julian’s hands combed through his hair, pressing painfully against his scalp before quickly dropping to his sides.
“This one has quite the reputation,” Julian groaned, turning toward me. “If I weren’t his brother, I’m sure he would have tried more than his casual cheekiness to sway your affection, babby. You see, Liam simply can’t keep his pants on, and thanks to our similar DNA, I look too much like him.”
“You look like me,” Liam snorted, crossing his arms in a huff, childishly waiting for Julian to finish the story.
“Technically,” my empty eyes flicked to Liam, “you look like Julian since he came first. Whatever. So, Liam’s a pervert. That’s no secret.”
“Thanks for the support, bird.” His eyes rolled, and I peered back at Julian. The etchings along his body, tattoo, and wound, distracted my periphery.
“Liam thought it a wise idea to sleep with Lucy Foley. Her father is a goon, but he is closely aligned with the Young family. Lucy cried to Daddy when Liam didn’t return her phone call, Daddy put out a call for Liam to be violently reminded not to rattle his daughter’s bed, and I got shot instead.”
“Terrible shot too,” Liam scoffed, a small chuckle trickling from his lips. “The fucking kid got Julian in the thigh.” Julian’s eyes were on mine, willing Liam to blend into the background.
“That’s quite a vulgar summary,” I responded, unsure of how to interpret the story. “How do I fit into all of this?” Is anyone else freezing? I could go for a blanket. Does he still have the soft, snuggly, fuzzy one he gave me? Maybe some hot chocolate? And more wine. Yes. Julian’s tongue lazily slipped through his lips before his bottom teeth tugged his upper lip, pausing his thoughts.
“Malcolm Young shot me, Aideen. Just days after you’d been admitted to the hospital. I guess Foley was owed a favor by the Youngs, so their favorite shit was sent on a job to shoot Liam.”
“But,” I disagreed with his version of the truth, “Malcolm saw you at my coffee shop when you were both there. He would’ve made the connection.”
“Malcolm didn’t see Julian’s face when he shot him,” Liam interjected, “but that was part of the reason Julian even went to the hospital. Normally, Doctor Monroe would’ve been called in to wrap up the old man, but considering Malcolm shot Julian on the street, someone saw.”
Julian slumped into the chair I previously occupied, motioning for me to follow him. His foot kicked out the chair in front of Liam, suggesting I sit there. I complied because, while my gut hummed with hesitation, my heart knew this was a Julian prepared to divulge more truths. And I was ready for the consequences.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My fingers knotted in my lap, wishing they were either holding Julian or a full glass of wine. I heard Liam’s body lean against the kitchen island, the pile of shattered glass clinking against the countertop. Julian’s posture was distracting, calm yet fearful. It was almost as if he was too afraid to talk, worried of how to approach me. Or I could have made that all up and been blinded by the farce vulnerability he portrayed by sitting across from me half naked. Look at those tattoos. Look at those muscles. Do you think this deity feels vulnerable?
“He did make the connection.” His words flowed with a heavy sigh as Julian’s elbows pressed into the table. “He made the connection shortly before sending someone to your apartment to kill you.”
“Malcolm is responsible for that?” Julian nodded in response, his lip again nervously pierced between his blinding teeth.
“At least,” Liam muttered in our background, “that’s what we’ve been able to piece together. I still don’t think that shit is smart enough, or even high enough in his family’s hierarchy to be given the tools to do that, but I guess you never really know someone.”
“So you don’t know for a fact it was Malcolm,” I probed, watching the brothers. “You’re just thinking it was him based on circumstance?”
“It was him.” Julian nodded, his blue eyes practically speaking for him. “The piece of shit I killed in your kitchen was Malcolm’s brother. And circumstance or not, I don’t know who else would want to hurt you. You think there’s someone else?” Is he serious right now? Need I remind him of his promise to kill every fucker who tried to hurt me? Hold on. Confidence building…and…emit wrath of Aideen. With my head violently shaking, I flew from the table as my hands waved defensively before me.
“Wait a second,” I demanded. “If you know it’s Malcolm, if you have whatever proof you need to persuade you that it was him trying to kill me again, then why haven’t you killed him?” And suddenly, I’m violent. Not my style, not my initial reaction, but…what else can I do here?
“Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy,” Liam groaned. “It’s in the plan, though. Slice that kid up nice and slow, let him suffer the way he caused you to suffer. It’ll be beautiful.”
“You’re horrid.” My eyes widened with Liam’s disgusting change in demeanor, although part of me found peace with the notion of Malcolm ceasing to exist. “I knew this was too good to be true.”
Julian hesitantly rose to meet me
, his hands outstretched to gather his wild peacock, enraged with reality. “Aideen,” he cooed, “you have my word that Malcolm Young will die for what he’s done to you. I’m going to choke the life from his throat with my own hands if that’s what it takes, but it isn’t always that simple.” Um. I think I need to use the bathroom. Julian held my elbows, his fingers curling around them in a constricting but supportive manner, holding my rigid body within his grasp.
“It’s not simple because you’re so political,” I mocked, rolling my eyes.
“Exactly,” Liam boomed, “you get it, bird.” I watched Julian with uncertainty, willing him to continue as his hold around my elbows tightened. I need to go throw up and put on pajamas. He needs to put on a shirt. And looser sweatpants. A girl can only handle so much.
“You’re right, Aideen. We can’t go over to Malcolm’s house and watch him choke to death on his balls. It takes time for that sort of thing, and we generally aren’t the ones responsible for the physical act of retaliation,” Liam continued, his footsteps slowly joining Julian and me near the kitchen doorway. My frightened eyes burned against Julian’s as my shaking finger pressed into his tallies. His eyes followed my hand, slowly closing in acceptance of my thoughts.
“I can only imagine what type of retaliation warranted these,” I whispered, my breath catching as Julian’s long fingers found my wrists, softly wrapping around them, “and yet you’ve both told me you’re nothing like them.”
“I’m not,” Julian urged, his right fist lifting to my chin and pulling it upward. “I’m not born to run a family who believes corruption and violence is the only way to maintain power. I’m not going to pay off the police, giving them financial incentive to ignore my personal interests or actions for my entire life simply because of my last name. You told me that history wasn’t important to you. You assured me in the hospital…never mind. It isn’t about the past anymore.”
