Bitter King, page 6
part #2 of The O'Dea Crime Family Series
“Hey, baby,” Slipping my free hand into my pocket, I lean against the cool concrete wall as the line crackles lightly. “How’d it go at church?”
“It went . . . well. What about you, Artem? How’s your emergency?” Something in her voice is off—a lilt that I don’t like—and I purse my lips thinly. “Everything’s good?”
“Yeah, I’m just doing some crisis management, but all the action is over with. I have a great team. They know what to do in most situations,” McKenna hums softly in acknowledgment, and I clear my throat roughly of this sick feeling of dread that grows with each second. “So, listen. I know we were supposed to meet in Atlanta in a couple of weeks, but I was wondering if you’d like to come to New York City? Maybe next week? They’re doing The King and I on Broadway if you know that one?”
“Oh, like the cartoon movie? I’ve seen the cartoon,” Her tone heightens in interest, and relief slumps my shoulders as I nod to myself. “I’d love to, sure. I don’t have anything going on next week. I can’t stay on the phone right now. My brother’s taking me to dinner in a little bit, and I have to get ready. He’s a real stickler for being early, you know. Definitely one of those people who’re like ‘if you’re on time, you’re late.’”
“No problem, yeah. It’s a date, then,” I say hastily, and the line crackles again as background noise filters through. Faintly, I can hear McKenna saying something to someone else, but I can’t make out the words. “Have a nice time with your brother tonight. Text me later?”
“It’s a date, yeah. Okay. I’ll text you, Artem.” Saying our goodbyes, I hang up to suck my teeth and shake my head as the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. Dread gnaws at my gut, and I chew my straw as my mind replays the conversation over and over again. I wonder what happened at church to make her nervous.
After a few minutes of mulling it over, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. What bullshit? McKenna’s friend must’ve said something after they left. No one else knows about us if there is really any ‘us’ to talk about. My cheek twitches in agitation before I growl lowly and push off the wall to head through a reinforced steel door. Thom and Dreads stand over Cedric’s pathetic ass strapped to a chair, and he looks up at me with wild, crazy eyes.
“Y-you can’t. You can’t do this to me! I’m good! I paid!” Shouldering my shirt, I drape it over the hook on the wall as Cedric protests shrilly. “I gave you the money!”
“No, you tried to weasel your way out of paying the interest by leveraging money you already owed me. If you didn’t read the contract, that’s not my problem, Cedric, but we’re not done here. Now, this is what’s gonna happen next,” Grabbing a folding chair, I straddle the seat to prop my arms on the back and stare Cedric in the face. Gesturing with a wave of a hand to Thom, I nod distractedly as fear rolls off Cedric in powerful waves. “I’m gonna sue the ever-lovin’ shit outta you, you understand? But you’re not going to be around to dispute it. And my wonderful right-hand man is gonna make it look like you fled, so I’ll get a summary judgment and take everything you own.”
Cedric’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out, and his pale face twitches in shock and terror. The silence is uncomfortable, and I lean back to arch and roll my shoulders. Tapping the metal chair, I wait until Thom leaves the room before continuing. “It’s business, Cedric. You tried to fuck me over, but you didn’t stop there. You terrified one of my people, so I am gonna get mine. Legally. But not before I kill you with my own two hands, you get me?”
“I thought that was perfume I smelled on you, Boss,” Dreads grins at me, but it fades when I glare at him weakly. “It’s just not like you to be so personally pissed that you’d see to this yourself. It’s not exactly high up there on the totem pole, you know?”
“The lower on the totem pole, the more important it is, Dreads. If someone is willing to threaten Mel, then they’re willing to threaten me. It makes no difference to me. A threat is a threat,” Dreads’ eyebrows rise sharply in surprise at my nonchalant muttering, and I tear my eyes off Cedric to frown at him. “Fuck, you two need to read more books.”
“Yeah, he told me about the one,” Rolling my eyes at Dreads’ words, I scoff lightly, and he pulls out two pairs of jumper cables with a chuckle. Standing up, I fold up the chair and set it against the wall before spitting out my plastic straw. “Still good on the cigarettes, Boss?”
“Almost a year, yeah,” Fuck, I wish I were back with McKenna. Being here is just . . . business. Connecting the prongs of the cables to the bottom of the chair, Dreads gives me a thumbs up before stepping back. “This is my favorite part, Cedric. I hope you like it just as much as I do.”
Chapter Six
McKenna
“Mick,” Cian smiles broadly at me as he stands up from the table, and I smile back while he pulls out a chair for me across from Sorcha. “I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me. I know you don’t like these kinds of restaurants, but Sorcha and I already had a reservation.”
“No problem at all. But why’re you talking like that? This isn’t a business meeting, is it? Do you need help hiding a body? Am I gonna be able to look Dad in the eye after this?” I joke lightly, and Cian smiles tightly as a sudden air of seriousness settles on my shoulders. Seating himself in the silence, he shares a look with Sorcha that I don’t understand. Worry seeps into my veins. “Is everything okay? Did something happen, because you proposed? Congratulations by the way.”
“Thank you. It’s not about our engagement, necessarily. It’s about Siobhan. You know she just came back today after being gone the last six months since the fire, right?” I nod, remembering seeing my oldest sister at Easter Mass earlier, and Cian props his elbows on the table to clasp one hand over his fist. “I know you two don’t see eye to eye, but with everything between Siobhan and I . . . I need you to keep her out of my way.”
“Uh, okay? ‘Everything’ as in,” I trail off questioningly, and Cian grimaces as he looks over to his fiancée again. She nods mutely. I don’t think I’d ever heard her say a word, actually. Well, it’s not like I’d spent a lot of time with her. We see each other from a distance. Even when they had lived with Dad for that short time, I don’t think I ever said more than three words to her at a time. “About Bella Byrne?”
“It’s involved, yeah,” Cian agrees, and I grimace darkly as my chest tightens with anxiety at the mere mention of her name. “I’m sure Sean told you his idea about the fire. I can’t comment on whether he’s right, but as you know, there were a lot of issues that arose after my birthday.”
“I know, I was there.” My small acknowledgment earns me a satisfied nod, and my brother sits back to sigh uncomfortably. I’ve never seen him so awkward, and I keep my reply short.
“Siobhan tried to sabotage me,” Cian mumbles almost tentatively, and I stiffen as my gaze flies to his in alarm. My chest tightens, my heart jumping into my throat as I look between Sorcha and Cian hastily. “She flipped my housekeeper, was feeding Byrne information that put me and Sorcha in danger, and weaved quite a few lies and half-truths that didn’t help the situation at all. I don’t know if you know why Father sent her away, but that’s the reason. Siobhan betrayed me, because she wants to go after Marrin herself and was afraid I would get to him first—that Sorcha would get to him first.”
“Marrin Byrne? But I thought he was in jail?” I lower my voice and look around warily, and Cian nods with trouble furrowing his brows deeply.
“Not for long, just for now. I’m not worried about him. We’ve decided …” Casting a warm look at Sorcha, my brother’s face softens in a way I’ve never seen before, and my brows raise in surprise. So, even he can look at someone like that. “To let her do what she wants, because neither Sorcha nor I think she can pull it off. But Bella’s ‘suicide’ has put Travis Byrne on the alert, and I don’t want Siobhan ruining my plans with her selfishness.”
“Come on, Cian. I honestly couldn’t care less,” Reaching across the table to touch his arm, I frown at my brother as my chest tightens. “The absolute last thing I’m ever gonna do is work. I don’t want drama or to get in trouble, so I’m not gonna say anything to anyone. Just tell me what’s going on, and I’ll help how I can. Or don’t tell me anything. But don’t do that vague, mysterious bullshit. If you don’t want to talk about it, just say you don’t want to tell me.”
“Tell her, Cian,” Sorcha mumbles quietly, almost too quietly, and his lip twitches in irritation that brightens his eyes. His ruthless rage breaks through the mask of his expression, and I gulp harshly as I pull back. “She’s inconsequential.”
Ouch. But I can see it on her face that Sorcha realized too late that it might be offensive, and I shake my head shortly. “I like being inconsequential. I just wanna do me, no drama or stress. So, what’s going on? I’ll help how I can, but I don’t know if there’s much I can do, honestly.”
“Siobhan planted a spy in my home to feed bad information to Byrne,” Cian reiterates, and I hold my breath as anticipation races through my veins. “She tried to undermine me too many times to be accidental. She forced my housekeeper to torture Sorcha. She tried to play Bella and I off each other, and then tried to mediate it. I have no clue what she could’ve told Byrne, or if what she said will clash with what we’ve set up. And then, she tried to lie about what happened between Marrin and her. I only found out after the fire that Siobhan was the one pushing Bella onto me.”
“Why . . . is she still alive if she did all that?” I ask tentatively after Cian lists the offenses, but I know there are probably more. Those are the big bullet points, and he shakes his head and sighs. “What’re you planning to do about her?”
“I’m not sure. Dad and I have discussed it, but considering Byrne’s moves—or lack of moves, honestly—I’m working to gather more information. Jack went back in after the fire, but all he’s been able to find is that Byrne is trying damned hard to get his son out of jail, so they can flee. I need to move before that happens, but I can’t with Siobhan in play. She’s too emotional, too much of a wild card,” Pausing to let the gravity of his words settle on my shoulders, Cian frowns as I cover my mouth to hide my frown. My thoughts race furiously, and as much as I want to doubt my brother . . . this is definitely something Siobhan would do. “I know you like spending time in New York City. If you’re planning on going back, I’d be grateful if you could preoccupy Siobhan there for a few days.”
“Oh,” Surprise heightens my tone, and my cheek twitches in a short smile as I nod in understanding. “Sure. I’m actually going down there next week. I have a date, but I can ask Natalie to come with me and watch her while I’m out. Does that mean whatever you’re doing is going down soon?”
“No,” Answering quickly, Cian holds up a few fingers discreetly, and I twist as the waitress comes over with a bottle of wine and three glasses. The conversation stalls as she takes our order, but I haven’t even looked at the menu, simply ordering pasta carbonara. After all, this is an Italian place. She hops off to put in our order, and I sit up a bit further to pour myself and Sorcha a glass of wine before my brother continues. “No, it’s not, but I don’t want to give Siobhan the chance to buckle down and think of something. Spontaneity is good. That’s why I’m asking you, McKenna.”
“You’re really that worried about what she might mess up, huh?” I surmise, lifting my glass to my lips. My brother grimaces, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before Sorcha clears her throat and speaks up.
“She can ruin herself all she wants in her pursuit of Marrin, but she’s putting everyone at risk for her own, selfish obsession. She’s a liar, an emotional thief, fuck she’s even a manipulator, and this idea she has for revenge . . . it won’t end well,” Sorcha says quietly, but firmly, determinately, and personal betrayal sours her expression. I don’t know what had happened between them, but I sure as hell am not asking right now. “I’ve spent years trying to take them down, McKenna. I’m the one that put Marrin in jail. I’m the one that sent Byrne into an uncontrollable spiral. I will not let her ruin that. But . . . it’s like Cian says, executing Siobhan for being a traitor is a last resort. Your dad has objections. Until the families are restabilized, he’s hesitant to add fuel to the fire.”
“How is her desire for revenge different than yours? I don’t mean to be inconsiderate; you definitely have any number of reasons to want them all dead. I just . . . don’t understand, what’s different?” Dread dries my mouth as soon as the question leaves me, and Sorcha casts her blank stare directly at me. Not once has she ever had any expression on her face, unless of course she’s with only Cian. But I can’t confirm that.
Sorcha never smiles. Secretly, I wonder if I could go a day—even a few hours—without smiling.
“I’m not an idiot,” I almost choke on my sharp inhale, covering my mouth with the back of my hand to hide my smirk. Sorcha licks her lips. If I look really close, there’s a twitch. Just the smallest twitch. “Siobhan doesn’t trust her own family to deal with something that threatens all of them. She’s trying to do everything by herself, and she can’t. Byrne is an obvious problem for the entire O’Dea family, and if people make moves on their own, things go wrong. Especially underlings.”
“Underling. Oh, man,” Giggling at that backhanded jab, I sit back to take a huge breath and hold it for a moment. Raking my hand through my hair, the bridge of my nose tingles with the furiousness of my thoughts before I nod firmly. “Okay. I like that. I mean, I get it. I do. You’re not gonna lock her up and throw away the key, because you want me to see if I, as her little sister, can get the truth or some semblance of the truth. A year ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to do just that, though, Cian.”
“Sorcha’s convinced me it’s safer this way. This is about the end game. We need to get the Byrnes out of the picture without implicating ourselves to keep the confidence of the families. Getting revenge is a welcome byproduct, but Sorcha knows it goes above and beyond just that,” Cian pauses to hold out his hand, and she takes it to show off the quite small rock on her ring finger. The ring fits her hand, isn’t flashy, and I smile warmly as affection worms deep into my chest. “I’ll do whatever she says. I’m more than aware that I’m not smart enough to pull this off. I can’t even come up with a plan this complex. Sorcha’s plan, Sorcha’s rules.”
“That is so cute,” I sigh wistfully, and Cian cracks a smile of his own before I sit up excitedly. “So, Dad gave you his blessing to marry? When did you propose?”
“Last night. No, Dad didn’t say much when I told him, but silence is better than a ‘no’ with him. Bella Byrne, before she died, said she had some sort of leverage on Dad. If it was enough to offer her a marriage contract despite everything, it had to be something big. I don’t know what it was, but I told Dad he didn’t have the right to dictate my eligibility after that,” Cian’s smirk broadens in triumph, and I grin at his obvious happiness. “Honestly, I think he was relieved.”
“So, whatever Byrne is holding over Dad’s head needs to die with him, and that’s why he’s allowing this?” I say as a deeper understanding flows through me, and I grab my glass to take a big gulp of fruity, dry wine. “Okay! Let’s celebrate! No more talk about Dad or the Byrnes. Tell me . . . tell me about your house search. Tonight’s important! You’re engaged! Woohoo!”
If Cian isn’t telling Dad about my distracting Siobhan, there’s no reason to ask about Artem. It’d just complicate things at a time that’s super precarious. It’s not like Dad needs to know everything about everything, anyway . . . and it’s entirely possible that Natalie doesn’t know the whole story.
Chapter Seven
Artem
Wrapping my arm around McKenna’s waist, I grin down at her as the bright lights of Broadway brighten her eyes. She blushes fiercely, but the shadows playing deep in her eyes tell another story. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my bundle of plastic straws to place one between my lips and chew.
“Is everything okay, baby?” In the past week since we saw each other, something had happened—it’s obvious to me. McKenna’s cheek twitches at my question, and she rubs her neck awkwardly before peeking up at me from behind her gorgeous, lightly curled hair.
“Uh well, my sister’s here,” McKenna says sheepishly, and surprise raises my brows before she pauses to wrap her arms around herself. Her long, silk dress hugs her hips and chest, but I can’t take my gaze off her face as it twists in discomfort. “She’s been out for a few months. She fucked up, so she ran off to hide while my dad and brother cooled down. It didn’t last, though. It all came back up when she got back, so I ended up having to drag her around with me.”
“What’d she do?” Biting her lower lip at my question, McKenna shrugs lightly in obvious displeasure. “You brought her to New York tonight?”
“Natalie came to watch her, but yeah . . . she accidentally burned down my brother’s house,” But I can sense that McKenna didn’t believe what she said—that it was an accident. She sighs with mighty unhappiness, and I squeeze her to my side before we start walking again. “I mean, she’s my sister, but, like . . . she’s just . . . she’s kinda a stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s more important than everyone else. Smarter than everyone else. Better than everyone else.”
“Is she?” I ask curiously, and McKenna arches a brow as she reaches to tug my beard playfully. Affection blossoms in my chest, and she rests her cheek on my shoulder. “I’m guessing not, because if she were, you wouldn’t need to babysit her. Some people just get in over their heads and helping those kinds of people never feels good. Especially if it happens a lot.”
