A Monster Is Coming, page 5
I didn’t even know why I was thinking about this. I’d dealt with all of this years ago. I took care of the men and women who were involved, with Ivan by my side.
Maybe it was Niamh. Knowing the scars I detected told a story. She had lived her own kind of horror story, and she was constantly keeping me at arm’s length.
Leaning against the hood of my car, I stared off into the distance, not really paying much attention to my surrounding area.
Ivan had wanted a meeting, in person, but private. My home wasn’t private enough, but I did have nosey neighbors. I’d already made multiple excuses to them declining dinner invitations, as well as game night invites. I was not here to make friends or to play that part. I had one mission in mind, and I’d already been at it for a month and a week, and nothing.
Niamh always showed up for training. She was never late, and she always made sure to keep an eye on the time. Not once had we run over, nor did she show any signs of being aroused by my closeness. No matter what I did, she seemed completely oblivious to my touch.
“Are you going to update me?”
I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that Ivan had approached from the side. This sent alarm bells off in my head. I hadn’t been paying enough attention, and if Ivan was able to sneak up on me, there was no telling who else might do it.
“Where did you come from?”
There was no car, and Ivan didn’t even have his cell phone. He stood, arms at his sides, looking like he could blend in as any ordinary man. Only, Ivan wasn’t an ordinary man. He was a king. I didn’t like that he was out here alone. There was no telling what our enemies could do.
“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” I said.
Ivan smiled. “I’m not alone.”
I knew Ivan was more than capable of taking care of himself, and I accepted that, but we had a lot of enemies, new and old. The last few years should have taught him to be more careful.
“Is Slavik with you? Andrei? The Beast? The Butcher?”
He waved his hand in front of his face, and shook his head. “That is no concern of yours, Peter. Give me an update on what is happening with Niamh Long.”
I stood up and ran fingers through my hair. “She’s … learning to trust me.”
Again, I had my doubts about that. She wasn’t a foolish woman. She didn’t trust easily, which told me her father had done a number on her. Even though she tried to blend in the town of Pickle Quest, she hadn’t made any friends.
While she’d been working and during one of my lunch breaks, I’d already broken into her apartment and seen what I needed to see. Niamh was ready at a moment’s notice to make a run for it.
I’d already put two and two together and figured out why she opted to work at the diner. This was her way of assessing a threat. The diner was at a prime location in town, where most tourists stopped, and anyone who was anyone went there.
I went because I knew she was there, and it was about breaking the ice. Also, when Niamh didn’t realize I was watching her, I was. I saw how she assessed everyone. When she recognized the faces, she relaxed and went about her business. She took a step toward the exit in the back when she saw those she didn’t recognize. Always prepared.
“Which means you’re nowhere. Time is ticking and there’s only a matter of time before her father realizes where she is.”
“Is he even looking for her?” I asked.
Some parents didn’t give a shit about their kids. Something told me that Finn Byrne didn’t love his daughter. The thin and fading scars were evidence of that. Some of the times I touched Niamh, it was to get a feel for the depth of her scars, to figure out what caused them.
She had a belt used on her, of that I was certain. I also believed she had been slapped and punched. There were no telltale signs of the latter, but it didn’t take a genius to work out what kind of man Finn Byrne was.
“Yes,” Ivan said.
This surprised me.
He reached into his jacket pocked and pulled out a sheet of paper. I took it and glanced over it. The sun was starting to come up and I read the details.
“He’s got a ‘seek and obtain’?” I asked.
“Yes, bounty hunters will be looking for her,” Ivan said.
“Bounty hunters?”
“Yes, this was not placed through law enforcement. Private firms. The Beast alerted me to the movement of Finn Byrne.”
I didn’t like this. If it had gone through law enforcement, I could have dealt with it differently. Even private assassins were easier. Bounty hunters were different, especially those who seek and obtain. They were a deadly bunch, and not known for having polite social skills. The only benefit for these kind of bounty hunters was they always worked alone.
This got me thinking.
“He doesn’t want people to know she is missing,” I said.
A seek-and-obtain bounty was a private call out. Glancing at the information, I was surprised Ivan had it, but then, The Beast being a bounty hunter and an assassin, it shouldn’t surprise me.
Bounties were only given to the hunters. It was their job to keep it to themselves, and ninety-nine percent of the time they did. They kept that kind of information to themselves, mainly to get the job done. If enemies discovered their target was on the loose, all hell would ensue. There were some rules, at least within our world of war and chaos.
Now I had to be on the lookout for fucking bounty hunters, and they were not always easy to detect.
“Finn Byrne is making a move, or he plans to make a move very soon, in the hope of taking back territory.”
This wasn’t good news.
Finn Byrne hadn’t been a problem to us in a long time. In fact, he made a point of assuring us that attacks on Ive’s turf were not his.
Running a hand down my face, I looked toward Ivan.
“Can you reach out? Make a deal?” I asked. “Offer one of us for his daughter?”
Ivan smiled. “This is not a negotiation, Peter. You will do what I ask, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“This is bullshit. You know I will be better suited taking care of my territory and helping you keep hold of Pavlov’s.” Just thinking about that traitorous fuck was enough to get my anger boiling.
I’d never liked Oleg Pavlov. He’d been one of the original sons from the Russian Bratva, but he attempted to fool Ivan into believing he was loyal to him and him alone. The truth was, he’d never been loyal to Ivan. He planned to bring him down, to tear down all that the Volkov Bratva had built.
Oleg Pavlov was dead, but his territory was still unstable, which is why Ivan had approached The Beast and The Butcher. Both would be more than capable of putting that territory back in line.
Slavik, Andrei, Ive, Victor, Ivan, and I had been dealing with the unruled territory. It was time to find another Brigadier. I just didn’t think either The Beast or The Butcher were likely candidates.
This got me thinking as I handed back the piece of paper to Ivan. “Byrne’s going after Pavlov’s territory, isn’t he?”
Ivan neither confirmed nor denied it.
“Time is ticking, Peter. Get the job done.”
I had never failed Ivan and I wasn’t going to do so now. Niamh wasn’t easily fooled, and she was also used to keeping people at arm’s length. She didn’t seem to be able to grasp flirting, or when I touched her inappropriately. I wanted to get her to make the first move, and simply respond, but that shit wasn’t going to happen.
I couldn’t allow this to go on much longer.
Ivan needed me. My territory needed me, and for whatever reason, Ivan wanted his plan to go this way. He’d never steered me wrong before, and I knew he wouldn’t start now.
****
Niamh
I was bored.
I’d gone to the library too late yesterday. I had no choice but to return the book I’d been reading, only I didn’t have enough time to pick another.
The woman behind the counter had looked so disappointed as I walked through the main doors. I figured she wanted to leave for the day, so I dropped off without a glance around.
Now, it was nearly nine o’clock, and sleep was not coming to me. I didn’t own a television and one didn’t come with the apartment. I’d spent most of my Sunday cleaning my apartment. I didn’t like living in mess.
My mother didn’t have a problem, and the days my father would come to visit, and I got locked in my bedroom, the state of the house afterward was disgusting. Mom didn’t care that alcohol and vomit were being rubbed into the carpet. Once, when I was cleaning up, I even had to dispose of used condoms.
Even though I loved tidiness and cleanliness, I hated cleaning. It was a necessary evil, and one I was less than happy to do.
Why was I thinking about my mother and those gross parties? They were not fond memories. They were the worst. I hated when my father arrived.
Pushing hair off my face, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan whirl around. Normally, it helped put me to sleep, but not today.
I took deep breaths and decided to start counting imaginary sheep about to jump over the fence, when there was a bang on my door.
Gasping, I sit up, gripping hold of the blanket I had placed over myself. It was kind of warm, summer was approaching, and I tried not to panic. Who could be knocking on my door at this hour? I didn’t notice anything strange yesterday. Sundays are difficult as I never knew who had arrived in town. The diner was often closed, so I always hoped any potential problem didn’t stick around and hated little towns.
Another large bang had me jumping out of bed. I didn’t know who it could be making all the noise. I hated how my heart was racing, but I rushed toward the door. I didn’t have a weapon on hand.
“Niamh, open up.”
I frowned. That sounded like Peter.
It didn’t surprise me that he was able to get to my apartment through the supposed security on the main door. The apartments were so cheap that only one of the elevators worked, and according to several people living in this building, that elevator had stopped going to the top floors years ago. Everyone tended to take the stairs.
Opening the door, there was Peter at my door, and he looked drunk.
To stop him from touching me, I had no choice but to stand out of the way while he stumbled into my apartment. This is not what I wanted to deal with. Not on a Sunday night. I was quite happy to be bored.
“Peter?” I asked, and quickly closed the door behind him, locking it.
I knew I was going to have to start considering moving on. I’d been in one place for too long, not that I was an expert in running away and not being found, but something told me I had to keep moving. This was all dependent on whether my father gave a shit about what happened to me.
With the locks all placed—not that I was under any illusion of them working—I turned to find Peter had stumbled a little too close.
He squinted at me and I couldn’t help but wonder if he even realized he’d made it to my apartment. There was alcohol on his breath. I wasn’t even sure if it was on his breath, but he did reek of the stuff.
“Hello, Niamh,” he said.
“Hi, Peter, enjoying the liquor?” I asked.
This made him laugh. It was such an odd sound, and that was when it suddenly occurred to me, I’d never heard Peter laugh. He was always so serious.
He held his fingers together and seemed to sway a little. His other hand went to my shoulder, and he held onto me, trying not to fall. “Little bit.”
“You and I both know you’ve had more than a little bit.” At least he wasn’t banging at my door. I didn’t want the cops being called, not that I’d seen them around these parts, even when fights did break out.
Peter didn’t let me go, and I think he was using me to stay upright. I still forced a smile to my lips. Alcohol and men, I didn’t like. I’d seen my mom drunk plenty of times. Sober she could be mean, but with beer or whatever drink she wanted, she turned cruel.
He held a finger against his lips. “It’s a very important day. Don’t tell anyone. This is the day my father died … a long time ago,” Peter said.
Just because I didn’t have any love for my parents, and if my parents did die, it would honestly be a relief to me. For a split-second, I wondered if I would be upset. Was it a built-in response to mourn your family, even parents you couldn’t stand?
I didn’t know the answer to that, and I was afraid of it. The last thing I wanted to do was miss my parents. I hated my parents. It would be cruel to miss people who treated you like shit.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“I know. I shouldn’t have been alone, but I can’t remember your number, and I don’t even know if you want my company.” He still held onto me as he ran a hand down his face. “I know there are a lot of women who would like my company, but the only person I wanted to be around was you, Niamh.” He smiled and I’m not going to lie, this man should attempt to smile more often.
He stopped looking like a killer, and transformed into a heartthrob. I didn’t know if that was possible with all the ink and the deadly intent in his eyes. For several seconds I didn’t know what to do or say. I could only stand still and wait.
“Does that shock you?” he asked.
“I think the alcohol is making you a little … strange,” I said. There was no way I was going to believe it, although some of the things my mom said when drunk, she’d claim to be lies, but deep down I knew it was the truth. One time, my mother admitted that she had even considered killing me. She’d held a pillow in her hand, stared down at me as a baby, and wanted to kill me. I’d been a baby girl, not something of any value to her or Finn Byrne. She wanted the problem gone.
What had stopped her? My father showed up and showered her with attention, at least that’s how the story went. Either way, she kept me and didn’t do a great job in raising me. Or maybe she did an amazing job, and I just didn’t see it. I don’t know.
“Nah, alcohol is making me say the truth.” He cupped my face. “Have I told you how much I look forward to our training sessions? Teaching you how to swim, and then helping you stretch your muscles?”
This was getting out of hand. Every other word was slurred, but not to the point where I couldn’t understand him. I understood him just fine.
I didn’t know if this was the right thing or not. It didn’t seem right to me.
I watched him, worried, a little cautious about what to do.
“I bet you don’t even think of me when I’m not there.”
I didn’t even realize there was a distance between us, until Peter closed it. There was a small gap of space between us, but all too soon it was gone. Like it had never existed in the first place.
I was still standing at the door, and if I attempted to step back, the door would stop me.
My heart raced.
I didn’t know what was happening.
“I think about you, Niamh. I think about you all the time, and seeing as I am drunk, and this is not real, I can do this.” He slammed his lips down on mine, and this shocked me. I was twenty-five years old, and I had never been kissed.
Being socially awkward and a little terrified around guys didn’t make dating easier. My father being who he was, didn’t help me with this problem either. Some of the guys who showed interest had only wanted to get closer to my dad. It sucked on every level.
Even though Finn Byrne didn’t have his own territory, and he’d lost any real power, there were those who believed it wasn’t his fault. They wanted him to be in charge once again.
I had lost interest in who had taken over his turf. I often doubted he deserved the adulation others showed him.
My first kiss, given to me by a drunk man, who would not remember this in the morning.
I didn’t know what should happen first—if I pull should away, or if Peter would suddenly slump in my arms. I had no choice but to catch him and attempt to stop him from falling on the floor. He’s falling asleep. Kissing me had sent him to sleep. I’m sure of it.
“Niamh,” he said, speaking my name on some kind of groan.
“You’re tired. You need to sleep.”
I don’t want him sleeping in my apartment, but it didn’t seem right to kick him out on my doorstep.
So, with Peter’s pathetic help, we got him to the sofa and he collapsed. Before he even hit the seat, I’m sure he was asleep. For several seconds, I stopped and stared at him, not sure what to do. Peter looked so vulnerable.
He had his boots on, and I was tempted to just leave him like that, even though my lips still tingled from our kiss. Instead, I sunk to my knees and removed his boots, putting them to one side.
I moved him to sit down. The sofa is not long enough for him, but the furniture came with the apartment. It had seen better days, but it would do for a bed. Once I had him into a slightly better position, I went back to my own bed, grabbed a blanket, and walked toward him. I didn’t want him to freeze to death.
Now that he was settled and he looked okay, with my tingling lips, I made my way back to bed.
Chapter Five
Peter
I wasn’t drunk but I needed something to break the ice. I wasn’t even upset about my father’s passing. I’d been the one to fucking kill him, but I had to work with what I could.
I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. All I did was use it as a mouthwash, spitting it onto the ground, and then dropped some on my clothes so I would smell of the stuff. It would take a lot more than a bottle of whiskey to make me lose sense of my faculties.
I needed a way to get into Niamh’s apartment without raising suspicion in her. Once she put me to bed, I slept for a few hours. It had been a long time since I’d slept through the night. It was very rare for me to have a restful sleep.
