Page 4

Chapter two

Famous Last Words

Kira

F uck! I needed to get access to the security systems here. I needed to find out what the security plan was!

Was there a plan? There had to be, right? After all, he had a fucking army! What were they doing walking around with their guns if there was no plan? Surely, Eoghan wouldn't just use them for decoration. How could I communicate with the numerous guards that traipsed around this fucking mansion?

I paced, my son surprisingly still asleep, despite the sound of gunshots just down the stairs.

I didn’t want to be in this room, waiting to be attacked. I couldn’t just bury my head in the sand.

I stared at the now brown-colored walls, and the black board and batten. The black wasn’t a crisp, minimalist black. It was softer, like an ash black, with brushstrokes that bent and curved. It was less harsh than the Victorian Green wallpaper, and wooden stain that had been here before.

“Did he repaint this?” I wondered out loud.

“Aye,” Aoibheann answered, her soft, whispery voice like a gentle brush to my consciousness. “Soon after Alastair’s…” She coughed, a little, “untimely demise.”

I smirked, looking at her. Was she a murderer?

Did she give me her escape route, then kill her husband?

Three years ago, I would have said that was impossible, but now…

the way she flourished with her husband’s attention made me wonder if that strength was in her all along.

But then, there was another poisonous thought that crossed my mind…

Christ, what would happen to us if Eoghan was dead? What would happen to me? Not just our status in Green Fields Enterprise’s society… but how would I ever recover? What would happen to my heart?

Running away was one thing. I could still see him on page six. I knew he was alive and happy… but if he was gone from this earth? I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

No, I’d handle it because my son needed me. But it would be a bleak existence.

“They’re coming,” I said in a quiet gasp, when the sound of footsteps came through the door.

I looked at Aoibheann sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on her rounded belly, the other running through Cillian’s hair. She was putting herself between my son and the door. Her protectiveness was unmistakable, and I was grateful. But what good would Aoibheann do against guns?

Jericho’s scrutiny heated my skin. It was like he was trying to figure out what to do with me, as thoughI were an unwanted chore he had to dispense of.

His nose wrinkled as he clenched his jaw. He went to the back of his trousers, and pulled out a micro Desert Eagle—a pocket pistol not much bigger than my flattened hand. He offered it to me, handle towards me, pointing the barrel at himself.

I looked at it, before raising my eyes back to him.

“Show me what you can do, Picasso.” Ah, he was testing me… again.

His use of my code name in front of Aoibheann surprised me. Maybe he had told her who we were? If he did, then why couldn’t I tell Eoghan? Or was it different, somehow, because Aoibheann had been sheltered—or imprisoned—from the happenings of their Mafia life?

I decided I didn’t care about the reason. Whatever threat was out there had to be annihilated before they reached this room. Cillian was the only thing that mattered.

Well, Blink, let’s see if your training paid off.

I took the pocket pistol, made sure it was locked and loaded, and took one last look at the couple in front of me.

There was something glorious about them, a united front. A couple that stood side by side. The inappropriate pang of jealousy hit me all at once.

“Protect Cillian,” I said, staring at Jericho. “And if something happens to me, then you need to support Eoghan.”

Jericho’s nose wrinkled. He acted like I had just asked him to fuck a bear.

“We will,” Aoibheann whispered, and we both whipped our heads around to look at her. “We’ll protect the baby.”

The steps were in the hallway, and I looked at Jericho, awaiting his confirmation. He nodded.

I opened the door, my arms outstretched, and I took two shots. Each one, lethal.

I didn’t shoot for fun. I shot to kill.