Page 102 of Scandalous Kingpin

“Maybe this was a test,” I croaked. “Didn’t we take a class on business conflict and amicable resolutions?”

“I think I skipped that class,” she joked.

“I definitely did.”

“Love you,” she said, and I blinked, my lonely heart warmed by the reminder that no matter what, even an entire ocean away from them, I was lucky to have friends and family who loved me and would always have my back.

Even when mistakes were made.

Chapter Forty-Five

PRIEST

The great thing about having morally questionable values was how much could be accomplished. I kidnapped my wife, but there was no fucking way I would apologize. She belonged with me, and for better or worse, we would work out our issues.

Her brothers didn’t object to me taking Ivy because I threatened a war. After all, she was no longer a Murphy but had my name attached to her. And Louisa… well, she needed a bit more persuading. But I had the information she needed to find her sister and she couldn’t bypass it.

Not that I’d cut her away from them.

They were family, and if she wanted to help her sister find her twin, I’d do everything in my power to find her too. With Ivy at my side.

Instead of going back to Philly, I’d taken us to Ireland and the property Aisling had gifted us. I even secured Cobra’s transport so Ivy wouldn’t feel alone, although a small part of me worried she’d sic her on me.

I stood by the large glass door that looked out onto the craggy cliffs of Ballyhack to the waves crashing on the beach. Strong. Powerful. Deadly. A combination so familiar it would usually bring me some comfort.

But not today.

I’d had my wife back at my side for a week now. She’d finally stopped asking me to take her back, but she refused to talk to me.

She just needs time to cool off, I told myself, yet as the back of my neck itched and tension crept up my spine, I had to roll my shoulders to push away my obsessive thoughts.

The months of therapy had helped, but the old habit of releasing tension by means of torture had crept in and had me pacing around restlessly in the large foyer.

Glancing up the staircase for the last time, I made a decision.

I walked outside, instructing my guards to keep an eye on Ivy and Cobra, then made my way to the outskirts of the property, the one that bordered the Brennans’, and descended into the dungeon.

“You have to let me go or you’ll burn in the eternal fires of hell.” The local priest I had kidnapped sat tied to the chair, chains shining around his torso, while I examined him like the filthy insect he was.

I flexed my hands into fists. The rage I’d suppressed roared back, drowning out any other feeling.

“The only one going to hell is you, Father. And there’s a special place there for pedophiles.”

His body twisted in a futile struggle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The burning flame of panicked resentment flickered in his eyes. “I’m a man of the cloth. I teach Sunday school.”

The memories of my own abuse were hazy, buried beneath the weight of the years, but emotional scars were there. They would always be there.

“I know.” I bent until we were at eye level. “And you won’t be teaching shit by the time I’m done with you.”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Malice mingled with the resentment in his eyes.

“You’ll never get away with this.”

“Oh, I already did.”

Every bottled-up emotion unleashed on this fucker.