Survival & Revenge (Boston Latte Book 3)

by Fiona Keane

  His grasp tightened, pulling my mouth deeper against his while the passion of my confession consumed us. His knees bent, his height lowering to meet mine as he held my face stiffly in his warm possession. Julian’s palms slowly meandered along my neck, his thumbs at the notch between my collarbone, threatening to undue and subdue me with the simple tickle of his touch.

  “My only love,” he said with promise, “you have no comprehension of what those words mean to me. I love you. I love you more than the moment I first saw you, already falling for your heart then. There is still so much to say.”

  I smiled beneath his kiss, his lips touching my teeth while he nibbled my bottom lip. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

  “Promise?” His hands grazed my sides, pooling my soul in the center of my body while my knees shook. Julian’s thumbs caressed the skin just under the hem of my shirt as his palms spread along my hips. If he doesn’t go, he won’t fix this. He is split: me or them. Me or him. I can’t make him choose.

  “You told me in the hospital,” I whispered while his face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my burning skin, “you’d leave for me. But he’s your brother, Julian. Just handle it. Take care of it and come back so we can finish and…whatever.”

  “Whatever?” I felt his grin spread along my neck, his teeth grazing just behind my ear, officially sending my knickers to the dumpster. Gone. Done. Exploded and now in the rubbish.

  Julian’s moan of disappointment vibrated through me. He was just as frustrated as me. Yet his world, his kingdom, went on, and I was but a mere subject at his mercy. Julian pulled away, his fingers scouring through his thick brown hair, almost painfully as to compose himself.

  “I’ll be here,” I assured him, playfully kicking his shin. “I might be asleep, but I’ll be here.” He leaned toward me once more, lowering his face to mine and devouring my lips, searing himself to me, burning me into him.

  “I love you, Aideen.” I burrowed my cheek against the touch of his palm, closing my eyes to capture the feeling. It all felt so wrong; we weren’t meant to be apart again that soon, even if he would return in just a few hours. But that was his eternal promise; I would always be wanting. I held his palm to my lips, lightly kissing his warm skin before closing his fingers and gently pushing his hand away.

  “I love you.” The words fell more fluidly from my lips that time, receiving a delicious smirk in response. Julian reached for his pocket, retrieving his buzzing phone before grimacing at the message.

  “I have to go, Aideen. I’ll try to be back before you wake up in the morning. I love you.” Those were his parting words, filled with frustration and regret, before he left me once more in a state of heightened aching and confusion.

  I closed my eyes, my body trembling with the memory of his touch. Leaning against the door, I reminded myself to inhale while my heart twisted thinking of Julian and Liam, considering the war we started. I wanted time to pass, desperate to see him again, so I tumbled through my blurry vision and found my bed once more. I didn’t know the purpose for my tears; worry, angst, explosive sexual frustration, confusion, grieving, or happiness. They turned to muffled sobs, saturating the pillow once I covered my body in the luxurious fabric. I kept my eyes closed, willing myself to sleep, forgetting the cup of tea he made for me, and only focusing on Julian. Julian. It is real. All of it.

  The room was as dark as I left it before falling asleep, but I slowly opened my eyes in response to the weight against my knees. Squinting into the darkness, his blurry silhouette came into view, and my heart warmed, melting the nervous tension strangling it while I slept.

  “It’s still dark,” I whispered, rubbing my eyes. “That was quick.” I tried to smile, welcoming him back to me, but as my vision cleared and the silhouette moved, I realized it wasn’t Julian. It wasn’t him. In all of his farce, the omissions, the secrets, I knew this was not Julian. His weight was against my knees, preventing me from swinging off of the bed, but I still tried. I pulled my legs toward me, hoping to kick him, but he grabbed my ankles.

  “I hope it will be.” His icy whisper seared my spine. I continued kicking through his tightening grasp, but his body only moved nearer to mine, hovering dangerously close to my face. His knees dug into my shins, imprisoning me as he reached for something in the pouch of his sweatshirt. What is that? It was too dark to see, but I couldn’t imagine an escape. I continued to kick, swinging my arms in every direction, but it was too late. A cloth bag was forced over my head, filling my mouth with every scream and desperate plea for air. I can’t breathe. Julian. Julian. Julian. I bucked and slammed, writhing around as he bound my wrists. I can’t breathe. It was too dark. He lifted me from the mattress, my body continuing to fight against him.

  “Now,” he whispered, holding my head to his shoulder, “this will only hurt a little bit, dudette.”

  I screamed, knowing him, fighting him. I screamed as the needle pierced my neck. I screamed for Julian, my voice fading as his name was the last sound to leave my body.

  Chapter Four

  JULIAN

  It hurt like a bitch to run across the city with my bandage loosening and the cold air smacking my face, but I knew my body would feel like heaven once I was in Aideen’s arms. She loves me. The only thing keeping me moving at the idling traffic lights, aside from plotting which limb to rip from Edward Regan first, was her.

  It took one week for her to come back to me, one night for us to come back. I wasn’t willing to let another damn second keep our future from us. I bolted through traffic, pierced and sore, ready for whatever bullshit my family brought me. Liam. The little fool. Jesus. I loved him because nobody in our family did—except our mom and Maureen, both absent from our reality in their own way.

  Liam was nothing to the men above me, a scrap of DNA exhausting resources and draining Boston’s pool of women. I wondered what he told Regan to warrant a stabbing. Matching bowties as children, matching bandages as men. I was seething by the time I reached my building, struggling to catch my breath while I approached the main door.

  “Sir,” my doorman advanced, his hands raised toward me, “stop.” What the hell?

  I was yanked backward, traction lost as I tumbled into the dense body behind me. I spun at his waist, my fists lodged in his stomach, foot slamming into his groin. Someone pulled my shoulders in the other direction, causing my right hand to lose its place against that bastard. Metal clicked around my left wrist while someone bound my arms behind my back, screaming in my ear about my rights. I knew my fucking rights. I knew them and knew I was going to kick some bastard’s ass for this erroneous mistake.

  Why the fuck am I in handcuffs? I pulled my shoulders in both directions, struggling beneath the restraints and muscles mounting me. The metal pierced my wrists, biting into the skin and fueling my rage. My arms were ripping from my shoulder sockets, bent in ways they hadn’t been designed to move, while hands lowered my face to the ground. I could feel my brain swelling with blood from hanging almost upside down. My hood fell over my head, obstructing my view when I tried to turn. I am going to kill them all. Tear their skin from their pathetic bodies, punch their teeth, KILL them.

  “Don’t embarrass yourself, Mr. Molloy,” one of the men stated, squatting at my side with his police identification badge extended for my view.

  I thought of the implications this mistaken arrest would have on our reputation, on the career I didn’t want. Arrest? Wait one damn second. Why am I arrested!? I opened my mouth to resist, to shout in response, but as the lobby door opened and three men in suits followed David onto the pavement, I knew my Harvard degree, my last name, and my words were useless. I have no way of telling Aideen.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” the officer scolded. “Anything you say is going to be used against your elitist ass when we lock you up for murder.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarled, pulling against my restraints. It only strengthened their hold on me, sending my knees into
the pavement where particles of ice pierced through my sweatpants. Aideen!

  “You’re under arrest for the murder of Aideen Leary, Elliott Daly, and Cedric Young,” another officer joined in. “We love taking down you pretty boys.”

  Murder. The pain of my heart stopping inside my throat caused me to gag. Murder. I knelt on frozen pavement, salt stabbing my knees, after holding Aideen in my arms while she told me she loved me. It took so long to get back to that moment, to break through the torture so she remembered how sweet those words felt on her tongue. Arrested for murder.

  “Get your damn hands off of me,” I snarled, swinging my right leg out from beneath me as I stood, causing one of the men to fall onto the pavement. His nose smashed against the awning post, blood dribbling onto his pudgy fingers as he wept.

  “You’ll regret that when you’re in prison,” the man behind me threatened, pulling on the chain of my handcuffs. The metal scraped along my wrist, stopping at the base of my palm.

  “Anything you do is going to be used against you in court,” he reminded, pulling my back against him to whisper like a snake into my ear. “Get in the damn car to spare yourself further embarrassment.” I knew my damned rights. I had the absolute right to slit the throats of these shits and anyone standing in my way.

  It couldn’t have been more than twenty degrees outside, but I was a damn volcano. I was losing it, my mind boiling and my heart panicked. Aideen’s murder? I had to get to her, I needed to go back and make sure she was safe. What the hell is happening? I couldn’t feel my fingers, my legs, my face. It was melting. I was melting.

  “Now,” the officer snapped, tugging once more on my wrists so the metal scratched its way through my flesh. It burned, my skin exposed to its wound and the winter wind. Please let her be okay. I was trying to focus, counting the men standing outside and considering the outcome of each murderous solution I envisioned. Do I comply? Where the hell is Liam? Do I fight? For her, yes. Always.

  “Shameful.” The derogation pulled my rolling eyes into focus as I observed my grandfather stepping out of the building to stand between David and the three suits lining the front door. “I shouldn’t even be seen by this tragedy.”

  “Where is Liam?” I snapped at Edward, jerking toward his supercilious scoffing face, ready to smack the smug grin from his wrinkled skin.

  “Your brother? He wants nothing to do with the embarrassment you’ve caused out here. Officers.” Edward nodded to the men struggling to restrain me as I lunged toward him. “Take him away.” I didn’t know who Edward Regan thought he was, delivering orders, but I swore the moment I was out of this mess he was third on my kill list. First, Malcolm for what he did to Aideen. Second, my grandfather. Third, Edward Regan.

  Two men bound their muscular arms around mine, pulling me away from my home while I kicked to delay. My heels met their thighs, their manhood, everything, but the beasts were strong. Not as strong as me. I crouched while they whimpered, holding my bound wrists into the air and spinning to free myself of their hold while their grasp on me loosened. I reached for whichever man was closest, knowing those officers were drinking from the same cup as the filth now mocking me on the sidewalk.

  I lowered my hands around one of the men, quickly snapping the chain of my handcuffs against his throat, feeling him turn purple beneath my strength.

  “Julian,” Edward warned, one hand raised.

  “Get him in the car!” one of the men screamed, and all I thought of was killing the stranger whose life hung between my chest and handcuffs…and Aideen. Sweaty hands were around me, the purple man falling to my feet, while Aideen’s face formed in my soul and I let my eyes drift to Edward.

  “Where is she?”

  He shrugged, his lips pursed. “She? Your sister? I haven’t the slightest idea. Your friend? I do believe the very reason these police officers are arresting you is for her death. My daughter? Oh, I assume she’s out somewhere. That reminds me. We have another theatre date tonight. Take care, Julian.”

  Take fucking care? The vessels in my eyes popped; I was only seeing red. He wasn’t out there when the slimy bastards arresting me declared their reason. That piece of shit let it slip. Someone knows. He knows. Whatever is happening, this bastard is at fault.

  David glanced at me impassively. He knew. David took Aideen and me to her apartment; he was the last person to see her alive.

  “David,” I demanded, “you were just with us! You know she’s alive.”

  His gaze faltered, slipping to the ground while trying to avoid my lethal stare. I snapped once more, screaming his name before catching myself in the threat to kill him. I didn’t want to give these bastards one more thing to hold against me, but David had now added himself to my list of tallies.

  My shoulders seared with pain as I twisted to release from captivity. I felt my eyes well, but I bit back the weakness. I needed to stay strong for her. I would never give up on her, fighting for her, fighting for us. I just left Aideen. She couldn’t…I wouldn’t let the thought enter my mind. I wanted to take one of their guns and end myself, letting their skin stain with the blood of a man who’d lost it all. But first, Aideen. First, I play their fucking game to get my girl. I wouldn’t let them win with the trophy of my weakness. I would kill those bastards with it.

  If someone was hurting her, my final breath would be the cry of victory after slitting their throats for what they did to my girl. Get in the car. This is them, not you, and not her. Them. This is their game. I thought of Aideen’s name, the history behind the legend of it all, and I smiled while shaking my head. It’s a fucking game.

  “What the hell is so funny?” one of the men inquired, shoving my chest, but I simply laughed. How could I not, when I realized none of the men standing before me held any power over me? Aideen held the power, not them. I needed to stay five steps ahead of them; I needed to let them think they had what they could never obtain—strength, power, control…Aideen. It’s a fucking game, and they better be ready because she and I trained for this. I’m more than prepared to play.

  ***

  I was thrown in a cage without food or water and with a window the size of my foot. It was cold and reeked of piss. I paced the cell, my head almost grazing the ceiling in the small space, while I wrought myself with worry over Aideen’s safety. Nobody came to feed or visit, and nobody came to talk. I knew they wouldn’t. I didn’t expect anything. I knew those people. I was them, and I was going to destroy them.

  I lost track of time, unable to see the sun or moon from the small window in my cage. It felt like forever, but I knew the measurement of eternity because I suffered that time when Aideen was taken from me months ago. I prayed to the god I didn’t believe in, willing her to be okay. She was waiting for me, and what hurt more this time than the last was that she knew she was waiting for me—she knew I was gone this time.

  The cell had no heat. A rookie move. I’d freeze to death before I let those bastards get away with this. I didn’t mind the cold. I was overheating with rage, my muscles burning with the pushups I completed to occupy my time. I couldn’t feel anything but the darkness in my soul burrowing itself into my chest, where he assured me it belonged. I wondered, looking around the cinderblock and metal cage, if I made my grandfather proud by not caving, by letting someone attempt to torture me without even a sigh.

  My ass was numb from the cold ground, but it didn’t matter. I would sit on a damn ice cube for days if that was their torture method. I would do whatever it took to get back to Aideen. Squatting adjacent to the cell wall, I studied the small window. It was encased with iron beams, about two feet above my head. I stood and placed my hands around the beams, watching my knuckles whiten beneath my skin as I imagined each beam being the neck of the bastards standing in my way, making her wait. It felt incredible imagining their death, wishing it were Malcolm, Edward…my grandfather. I would crush their throats, cease their words, and end their lives.

  I released the hold, shaking the rage from my hands, and
wiped the sweat tickling my forehead despite the cell’s lack of temperature. It was me, I was on fire. I pulled off my sweatshirt and shirt, letting the fabric fall to the hard ground while the blast of icy air washed against my chest and arms. I reached for the bars once more, watching the tattoos dance along my forearms in mockery with each clench of my fists around the iron. Closing my eyes, I felt the A in my shoulder burn, reminding me to focus.

  I lifted my feet, pressing my soles flat against the wall while holding onto the iron bars, letting the idle time burn itself away in my stretched muscles. I hung like a damn animal, just waiting. I let my head fall backward, dangling between my shoulders, reveling in the pain creeping its way into my biceps and core. I deserved it, I deserved torture, I deserved whatever they threw at me for leaving her.

  The silent space slowly filled with the abrasive noise of clicking heels. I need to snap them off and stab someone. I didn’t move. The sound increased with proximity before the click turned into a shuffle and stopped with a quiet sob.

  “My God.”

  I opened my eyes, upside down and filling with blood, to observe my sister watching me in utter disgust. Her thick fur coat and glossy red mouth seemed inappropriate for our setting and, for a brief second, I felt shame.

  “Julian?” she inquired, her brows meeting the longer my body dangled from the wall before acknowledging her. I walked my heels further up the wall until I could flip backward, my feet landing flat against the ground. I took a moment to let the blood settle back into my body before looking at Maureen. I pressed my hands against my hips, catching my pulse and breath.

  “Well,” she huffed, “are you going to acknowledge that I’m in a prison cell visiting my own brother?”

  “Hi.”

  Maureen’s eyes narrowed, a small sneer of disgust visible in her top lip, and all I wanted to do was laugh. I had no control over my lips, my throat, and the barrel of laughter that rumbled from my chest while I stood half-naked in a prison cell after being arrested outside of my damn home, watching my sister stare at me from the shelter of her heeled shoes and coat of a skinned animal. My eyes and cheeks burned from the grin of a mad man that plastered my face.