Page 10 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

FINN

I don’t even knock. I just storm into the Commissioner’s office and let the door crash against the wall.

I’ve already sent Drago home to update my brothers on the situation. I should have been meeting my baby nephew, Liam, today. Not be here in this shithole dealing with bullshit charges.

Arrested for murder. In my own fucking hospital. Like hell would I be that reckless, to kill at my place of work.

It didn’t take them long to release me. But I’m pissed.

“Dr. Quinn.” He pushes himself up to stand, using the table for balance.

He’s a heart attack waiting to happen.

“Tim.” I glare, slamming the door shut behind me.

He’s wary of me. Always has been. For good reason.

Keeping calm, I pull out the chair opposite him and sink into it, leaning back, resting my foot on my knee.

“Sit,” I order.

He clears his throat and does as he’s told.

“Finn. Look?—”

I hold up my index finger to silence him and his piss-poor excuses.

“I’ve just spent nearly three hours locked up in a questioning room, Tim. For crimes, shockingly, I didn’t commit. Who gave the order to arrest me?”

Sweat beads on his forehead.

“I–I, I—” He stumbles over his words.

“You did?” I snap.

He shakes his head, face paling.

“No. God, no. You think I have a death wish?”

I chuckle.

“I don’t know. Looking at you, maybe.” The smirk on my lips sharpens.

“Now. Give me the name.”

“It was our Sergeant, Peter. He got an anonymous tip. Evidence came in. He had to act on it—for the sake of the precinct. I would have stopped it if I knew. I didn’t find out until after the order was given.”

I scoff.

“Evidence? That shit wasn’t real. And a heads-up? Where the fuck was that?”

He clears his throat again, voice thinner now.

“We know it was all bullshit. Hence why you’re walking out of here. I’m sorry, Finn. It won’t happen again.”

“Hmm. So do I need a word with Peter?”

I lean forward and tap my fingers on his desk.

We have a deal with the department—and enough blackmail to end most of their careers.

He shakes his head.

“He knows now. I’ve spoken to him.”

I roll my eyes.

“You gonna find out who tipped them off? I need to know who my enemies are to keep us all fuckin’ safe, Commissioner.”

My tone drops.

That’s part of the deal.

I remove the problems in this state.

They keep the cleanest record across the U.S.

In return, they turn a blind eye to our business.

But this arrest? Fucking bullshit. And he knows it.

“Was it a British man?” I ask.

“We don’t know, Finn. We’re working on it.”

Arthur Bowen is the first suspect to my mind.

A family vendetta that dates back to our fathers.

Conan killed their youngest son, James, in an underground cage fight before we moved to America.

And now their eldest, Arthur, despite murdering my father, is still out for blood. Which is my issue to resolve.

I swore an end to the Bowen family in London years ago. And maybe, this is his fucked up way of proving he can still get to the Quinn brothers. Even if we have gotten rid of every man he has brought into our state.

Tim pulls out a brown folder from his drawer and slides it across to me.

“Everything we got is here. The best we can find right now is a link to Ohio.”

I scratch my jaw. Hmm. I was wrong. It’s not the Bowens. Arguably this is worse.

I fucking knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.

That killing Luke was only fueling the fire with The Preacher—who, as far as I can tell, is a ghost.

I open the folder and shake my head, staring at the grainy, clearly doctored images of me ‘killing’ my patient. I look closer. I remember him; I did his surgery. It was his last chance for his failing heart. What I do remember most is that he had a watch on worth a fucking fortune.

“He died from complications after surgery. In my field, it’s kinda common,” I say nonchalantly.

My mind is racing. I’m dealing with someone who can hack hospital systems.

“I suppose the hospital CCTV went down, conveniently? It’s just this one still image of me walking in a hallway around the time of death?”

He nods.

“You arrested me on these fucking grounds?” I can’t hide my anger.

“I–I’m sorry.”

I blow out a sharp breath. They’re sending a message.

They can get to me. They know who I am.

And that—ain’t fucking good.

“You think anyone at the hospital was involved?” I ask.

He rubs his neck.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Finn. We got nothing. And I’m not sure you want us to be the ones doing the digging.”

His body language is screaming he wants to leap out the window and away from me.

“Dr. Quinn,” I correct.

He’s damn right. I have my own team who can dig, not the cops.

I stand and he holds out his hand. I hesitate, then give him a firm shake. I have to keep the cops on my side. Especially now.

“You know I don’t kill my patients, Tim. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He swallows. I tighten my grip.

“Well, Dr. Quinn. Just keep an eye on your hospital. Keep the records clean. I’ll give you a heads-up if anything else comes in. I’m not sure how much I can bail you out of if this continues, though. Clearing the streets of mob violence is one thing—killing patients in our hospitals is another.”

I arch my brow.

He’s talking shit.

And we both know it.

Because as long as he’s on our payroll, he’ll bail me out of anything.

“I’ll take care of it. Leave it with me.”

Translation:

Keep your nose out of my hospital.

“No problem.”

Before I leave, I straighten my jacket and grab my flat cap from my pocket, pulling it on as I head out into the fresh fuckin’ air.

I turn back.

“What do you know about a guy called The Preacher?”

He frowns.

“Finn. Leave that well alone.”

I arch a brow.

He’s piqued my interest.

“No one knows who he is. But rumor is—it’s like a cult.”

Makes sense.

The mark.

The girls.

The ownership.

“Like a cult, or is a cult?” I question.

He shrugs. “Depends who you ask.”

Now I know for sure, my kill in Ohio wasn’t The Preacher.

“You know where I can find him?”

Tim laughs.

“If anyone knew, he’d be getting the death penalty right now, Dr. Quinn. Leave it alone. Don’t bring him here.”

What a fuckin’ baby.

“Fine,” I scoff and head out.

Being in this place too long makes me itch.

The rain pours down.

I tip my head back and close my eyes, letting the droplets fall across my skin.

Fucking cleanse me.

It’s been one hell of a year.

My brother nearly died in my arms.

I became an uncle again—twice.

And me?

I’m stuck living two damn lives.

Heart surgeon by day.

Serial killer by night.

And hopefully, if all goes to plan, I’ll be leading a war to London to finally take down our lifelong enemies.

To get revenge for my father’s murder.

Nothing is going to stop me from ending the Bowen family.

I’ve had this vendetta since I was ten years old. But, it seems like we have another storm brewing here in Pennsylvania.

Pulling out my phone, I call Reggie.

With my brothers, Declan and Conan, both having newborns, I can’t expect them to drop their lives to help me.

I’m more alone now than I’ve ever been.

Which is fine.

I’ve always tried my damn best to keep them safe. But I need my brothers by my side.

“Dr. Quinn. Would you like a rescue party now?” Reggie asks.

“Yeah. Straight to a fucking bar.”

An engine roars to life in the parking lot, and I grin.

“Come on then!” Rowan shouts, hanging out the passenger window with a wild grin.

He revs the engine and I head for the car.

Before I get there, Rowan hops out and opens the door for me, then slides into the backseat.

“Glad to see you managed to survive feeding Nyx,” I say to Rowan.

He blows out a breath.

“Yeah, I actually think she quite likes me.”

I scoff.

“She’s probably waiting for you to return so she can strangle you to death.”

“Well?” Reggie asks as he hits the accelerator.

“Ohio’s catching up with us, it appears,” I say coolly, lighting a cigarette.

“We going to head back there?” I can hear the anticipation in Reggie’s voice.

I shake my head, exhaling smoke out the window.

“No. We need to pull Drago in for more digging. And wait for Theo King to tell us when we head to London. One enemy at a time.”

This is how my life has always been.

You kill one, another takes its place.

It’s never calm.

Never peaceful.

Only death and destruction follow me.

Reggie’s lips curl into a sickening grin.

“I can do one better than going for a beer. How about spilling some Bowen blood?” he says.

“You got him?” I ask.

The last fucking Bowen in our state.

Reggie nods.

“Yep. Tied him up in Decadence, ready for you. Thought you’d need a little treat.”

I don’t often go into our chocolate factory, Decadence, my brother uses it as the base for his games, but since they’ve ceased existing, his designed rooms do come in rather useful for holding hostages and torturing. No one would expect such a thing to happen in a goddamn chocolate factory.

The perfect cover for all of our operations. Bringing in drugs and arms, disguised as cocoa? Perfect.

Cracking my knuckles and releasing some of the tension in my neck, my mind is easily made up.

“The perfect way to end a fucking disaster of a day,” I tell the twins.