Page 23 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Tiernan

I ’ve been on edge all fucking day.

We’ve done shit like this before—this being what’s going down with Michael Jensen tomorrow—but it’s always involved my father, Uncle Rian, Conan, or one of the others. Outside of cleanup, this is all on us.

And it’s something my father will lose his shit about if he finds out, so there’s that added pressure as well.

Doing it on our own is something I want, something I need to do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a lot of shit on my mind. Shit I can’t share with Dean. Some of it—the nerves, the weight that crushes the center of my chest every time I’m going to hurt someone—I don’t share with anyone.

Ever.

It’s weak, and weakness isn’t allowed if I plan to succeed—and I fucking do.

It’s not easy taking a life, even a bastard like Michael Jensen. He deserves to die, and I’ll always do what needs to be done, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t strip away at me every time I pull the trigger.

Eventually, I’m sure it won’t. I don’t know if I should look forward to that day or not.

Usually when a hit is planned, I can lock myself away and not have to deal with anyone, but that doesn’t work this time. We sell a whole lot of product when I throw a party. Still, it doesn’t hurt to go about our everyday business as we’re leading up to a murder.

And then there’s Dean. He’s fucking here, all the time.

He’s not an idiot. He knows something’s up.

I’m not used to having anyone but my father in my business, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.

I could have told him to leave, but I wasn’t ready to do that.

I want him here, I just have my responsibilities to handle first.

“Kick everyone out in an hour,” I tell Cillian, who just finished a threesome with the dancing girls.

“Done. You going to find your boy?”

“Yes,” I reply, not arguing with him anymore about Dean being mine.

There’s no use. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be here.

If he can’t learn to control his fucking temper, though, we’re going to have a problem.

Do I want to punch most people I come across?

Yes. But I don’t. Was it hot as hell to see him jealous?

To see that lack of fear as he approached someone bigger than him and didn’t hesitate to make a move?

Fuck yes. I’d wanted to fuck him right there in front of everyone, but this business doesn’t work if you can’t control yourself.

That’s how we make mistakes, how we get caught.

It’s how we die.

I unlock my bedroom door, expecting to find him there, having used the key I gave him, but my bed is empty, the covers still made, telling me he hasn’t been here at all.

Where the fuck is he?

I jerk my phone from my pocket and text him.

Where are you?

My feet refuse to keep still, pacing my room as I watch my phone for his reply. One minute, three, five, eight minutes pass, but there’s no answer.

Did he leave? Was he so fucking pissed that I didn’t talk to him enough today or that I let a couple of losers flirt with me to get what I wanted that he bailed?

Fuck that.

Fuck him.

Why did he go?

I don’t need one more thing causing stress in my life, but I told him I wanted him here. Can’t I have a bad fucking day without him taking off?

My feet eat up the floor as I make it to my bedroom door in three quick strides. If Dean wants to play games, fine, we’ll play games. If he wants me to bring him back, I will.

The second I’m in the hallway, I notice the lights on under Aislin’s door. She didn’t come down to the party tonight. She told me she’d be staying in her room. Maybe Dean is in there with her?

I knock gently in case he’s not there, but no one answers.

Hand on the knob, I slowly push the door open, gaze immediately landing on them—Dean and my sister, asleep in her bed.

She’s curled up close to him the way she does me when she doesn’t want to be alone.

A burning sensation crawls up my stomach and into my throat.

It’s not jealousy. It’s shame. Because she needed me, and I wasn’t there.

Because she sat alone during this party, and I didn’t understand why, and when she needed someone, again, it was Dean who was there to take care of her.

Dean, who is protecting what’s mine.

That does something to me, makes it feel like everything is getting all tangled up, all entwined inside me, in a way I don’t understand and have never experienced.

Without any direction from me, my feet lead me to the edge of the bed.

His knuckles are bruised from hitting that dumb fuck earlier.

My stomach clenches seeing marks on him from anyone other than me.

It’s one thing when he’s bruised from my mouth, from pleasure, but seeing him hurt feels like someone stuck a burning-hot fire poker through my chest—even if it is his fault.

Ash has her hand on his stomach, fist tightened in his shirt like she’s afraid he’ll leave. I would never pull him out of this bed, though I never want him anywhere except in mine.

His facial features are softened in sleep, the anger he carries so visibly all but gone when he lets himself rest. My fingers twitch to reach out and touch him, caress his cheek.

Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?

I walk to the door, turn the lock, and flip the light switch, bathing the room in darkness. There’s an armchair in the corner of the room, so I settle in it, destined to watch over them.

*

“Tiernan, wake up.” I flinch at the sound of Aislin’s voice and the soft hand on my thigh. “Why did you sleep in my chair, silly? You could have woken Dean up to go to bed with you. I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I clear my throat, my voice rough from lack of good rest. “I shouldn’t have thrown that fucking party, and you should have told me if you were having a hard time.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m fine. I don’t know why I was acting like that. I didn’t expect it. Nothing even happened to me. I just…”

Aislin tries to walk away, but I take her by the wrist gently. “Hey. Something fuckin’ could’ve. It’s okay if it fucks you up.”

“That’s what Dean said too.”

Of course he did. It’s like he lives in my brain sometimes. “We’ll take care of it. He won’t…” I let my words trail off, my gaze shooting to the bed, where Dean is sitting up, watching us. I can’t say out loud that Jensen won’t hurt anyone ever again, but she knows what I mean.

Dean looks down, turns his head, not holding eye contact with me.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I say. I kiss Aislin’s forehead, then stand and tell Dean, “You should go back to your dorm for today.”

“What?” Dean’s gaze snaps to mine.

“Go back to your dorm for today. Cillian is taking you out tonight, and you’re going.”

“Fuck you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m so fucking tired of you saying those words to me.” I head out of the bedroom, Dean right behind me.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’ll go back to my dorm—I don’t belong here anyway—but I’m not going out with Cillian.”

“Yes. You are.” I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this today. I need my head in the game, and that won’t happen with Dean here, with me trying to hide what’s happening while making plans.

“He fucking hates me.” He seems to realize what he said, amending to, “ I hate him.”

“No. He doesn’t. You’d know if he hated you.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration eating me up, chewing my bones. “Can you just fucking listen for once? Trust me, Dean, okay?”

“ Trust you? ” he shouts. “I’m fucking here when I shouldn’t be! You’re the one going off to do mysterious shit and won’t tell me what’s going on.”

I drop my head back, looking at the ceiling. This is so fucked up. I don’t even know what’s going on, why we’re having this…fight? What the hell even is this? We’re not boyfriends. “Nothing is going on.”

“I care about her too.”

And I know he does, but that doesn’t change the situation. I’ve known him for like five seconds. I can’t tell him something like this. “Then do what I tell you. It’s what Ash would want too. I don’t have time for this, Dean. Go home. Wait for Cil.”

He looks like I’ve hit him, like I’ve taken something away from him, before the mask of indifference slides over his face.

In one way or another, Dean and I are always walking away from each other, and this is no different.

I stare at the door for too long after he goes.

*

Michael Jensen is fucking one of his professors.

He can’t seem to keep it in his pants, and this time, that’s going to work to our benefit.

He drives a little out of Ashford to greenway trails with a small, dark parking lot, where he always parks in the far righthand corner.

Then he follows one of the trails, makes a short detour off the sidewalk, and through to a neighborhood on the other side.

Slips in, fucks his history professor, then slips out.

Tonight he won’t make it out of the parking lot.

Rory and I are waiting in the trees, tucked away in the darkness right beside where he parks. There’s a nip in the air, fall letting us know she’s here and soon will give way to winter.

“I can’t fucking wait.” Rory bounces on his toes, full of energy like always.

I grunt in reply. In reality, I feel the same. He deserves this.

Still, I’ll always be calmer than Rory in moments like this, and if Cillian were here, he’d be somewhere in the middle.

Aislin: About to pull up.

I still hate that my sister is involved in this shit. That she’s in my car, following Michael. That she’ll see what we do to people in situations like this. That she wants to be the one to end it all.

“Here he comes.” Rory motions toward the lot. We’re both masked and in black from head to toe, guns ready, me with the heavy weight of responsibility in my chest. If this goes wrong, it’s on me. If someone gets hurt, it’s on me. If my father finds out and punishes us, that’s on me too.

That’s why I haven’t allowed myself to consider what’s going on with Dean since he left the house earlier. He doesn’t understand the pressure I’m under.

Jensen parks and gets out. He glances toward the lot entrance as Aislin pulls in, so he doesn’t see me when I step up behind him, wrap a hand around his mouth, and hold the gun to his head. “Oh, look what I found. A fucking rapist.”

His body stiffens, but he doesn’t try to pull out of my hold. You can get people to do almost anything you want with a gun to their head.

Rory steps out too, looking like a fucking boxer in his movements.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jensen asks. “You can have my money. Anything you want.”

“We don’t want your money. We want your life.”

“Can I hit him?” Rory asks.

“Just once.”

I step back, and he takes a swing. Jensen drops to the ground.

Rory laughs. “What a pussy.”

I can’t help but smile. “Help me get him in the car.”