Page 27

TWENTY-THREE

emmanuel

Leaving Clodagh was hard. It’s hard to fucking believe how much has changed over the past few days.

I knew the moment I walked away from her that it was the wrong fucking thing to do, but at the time it was right.

Clodagh needed time to grow, to find out who she is.

Her life has been filled with fear and constant uncertainty.

When I killed my father, I ended that fear for her, but she needed to find herself, find out who she is, without having to constantly look over her shoulder.

I knew that the moment she turned eighteen, I was going to come for her. There was only so much time I could wait. I just hoped that she didn’t hate me. I hurt her, broke her heart by walking away after that kiss, but I always knew she was who I wanted. I just had to bide my time.

Two fucking days, that’s all I managed to get with her before I had to leave again.

Thankfully, I can leave knowing she’ll be waiting for me when I return.

Right now, I’m determined to keep my life in Dublin away from her life in Galway.

She’s thriving there. She loves being in college and she’s made friends.

I don’t want to disrupt her life. She’s got a four-year course to do.

We’ll make it work. There’s no way I’m walking away from her again.

The sound of my cell ringing fills the car the moment I get onto the motorway. “Yeah?” I answer, my voice gruff. I don’t want to be away from Clodagh, but I don’t really have a choice.

“You on your way?” Jer asks. I didn’t tell anyone where I was the past three days, but I know Jer’s not stupid. The man sees a hell of a lot more than he lets on. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knows exactly where the hell I am.

“Yep. Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” I ask, wanting to know what the fuck I’m being called back to Dublin for.

“Guess who got on a delta flight out of Boston six hours ago?”

“Don’t leave me hanging. Who?” I hate guessing games and I’m in no fucking mood to play right now.

“Tetchy fucker,” he grunts. “William ‘Mad Bill’ Harrington. He used an alias and boarded the flight. The cunt will be arriving in Dublin in a matter of hours.”

I grin out the windshield. Fuck yes. “What about that cunt of a son of his?”

Jer lets out a whistle. “That was what I called you about yesterday. There was an explosion at Trace’s mansion two nights ago. Reports from the morgue in Boston tell us Trace Harrington was in that mansion and died.”

My brows raise. I hadn’t expected that. “Fuck,” I say low. “Now, Jer, you’re full of fucking surprises. We get rid of this cunt and those bastards are gone. What about the rest of the Syndicate?”

“From what Henry and Denis have uncovered, the rest of the syndicate aren’t involved in this bullshit.”

My jaw tightens. “How certain are we on this?”

“Right now, it’s all that we have to go on. But from everything the Gallaghers have said, they’re positive they’re not involved.”

I sigh. I hate relying on others for information, but the Gallaghers aren’t ones to let shit lie. They’ll dig deep and they’ll do it thoroughly. “If we get wind that they’re part of this?—”

“We’ll take them out,” Jer assures me. “Once you’re in Dublin, we’ll get ready to take that prick down. He’ll have no idea that we’ll be waiting for him at the airport.”

I grin. Fuck yes. This is what I need, what I’ve been waiting for. These cunts worked with my father, helped that prick escape from prison, and gave him the ammunition to go after Clodagh again. The sooner William Harrington is six feet under with his son, the fucking better.

“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him.

“I hope Clodagh had a good birthday,” he tells me with a laugh and ends the call.

Bastard. But she did, in fact, have a good birthday. Not only that, but she gave me the gift of her. I didn’t expect her to be a virgin, but fuck, she’s all mine.

My phone buzzes with a text. It's from Clodagh.

Clodagh: Made it to class safely. Miss you already. Be careful x

I smile despite myself, feeling some of the tension leave my body. She's safe, and she's thinking of me. It's more than I deserve.

I type out a quick reply.

Me: Good girl. Miss you too. I'll call when I get to Dublin.

As I put my phone away, I steel myself for what's to come. William Harrington is about to learn what happens when you fuck with the people I love. And once he's dealt with, I can focus on building a future with Clodagh—one where she never has to be afraid again.

The miles fly by as I push the car faster, eager to get to Dublin and end this once and for all.

* * *

It’s cold and wet as we wait outside the airport. We have every exit covered. The bastard isn’t going to be able to escape us.

The rain pelts down, soaking through my jacket as I stand watch near one of the airport exits. My eyes scan the crowd constantly, searching for any sign of William Harrington. The anticipation has my nerves on edge, but I force myself to remain calm and focused.

Jer's voice crackles through my earpiece. "Flight’s just landed. He should be coming through customs soon."

I grunt in acknowledgment, my hand instinctively moving to the gun concealed under my jacket.

Part of me hopes the bastard tries to run—it would give me an excuse to put a bullet in him right here.

But the smarter part knows we need to take him alive, at least long enough to get information out of him.

Not to mention there are too many cameras, too many eyes.

Twenty tense minutes pass before I spot him in his pathetic attempt at a disguise—dyed hair and thick-rimmed glasses. I’ve stared at his picture more times than I’d like to admit.

"Target in sight," I mutter into my comm. "Moving to intercept."

I start walking purposefully toward Harrington, careful not to draw attention. He hasn't spotted me yet. Excellent, just what I need.

"Hello, Bill," I growl in his ear, my hand clamping down on his shoulder. "Welcome to Dublin. We've been expecting you."

He tenses beneath my touch. "The fuck are you?" he hisses at me.

I step into his view, just as Stephen and Freddie join me. They stay behind him, ready, just in case he tries to turn and run.

"I'm your worst fucking nightmare," I growl, tightening my grip on his shoulder. "Now, you're going to come with us nice and quietly. Make a scene, and things will get very unpleasant for you."

Harrington's eyes dart around, no doubt looking for an escape route. But he's smart enough to know he's cornered. "You're Houlihan's boy, aren't you? Emmanuel Dellinger?" he says, his voice low and strained. "Look, if this is about your fath?—"

"Shut it," I snap, and begin steering him toward the exit. "You'll have plenty of time to talk later."

As we walk, I can feel the tension radiating off him. Good. Let the bastard sweat.

We make it to the parking garage without incident. Jer's waiting by the blue van, his face expressionless as we approach.

"Well, well," Jer says, eyeing Harrington. "If it isn’t the asshole."

Harrington's face twists with anger. "Jerry Houlihan. Still alive, I see. What do you want?"

Jer's smile is cold. "Oh, we'll get to that. For now, why don't you enjoy the ride?"

Before Harrington can respond, Stephen and Freddie shove him into the van. I climb in after them, my gun trained on Harrington as Jer takes the wheel.

As we pull away from the airport, I feel a grim satisfaction. We’ve got the asshole. Now comes the fun part.

Harrington glares at me, a mixture of fear and defiance in his eyes. "You have no idea what you're getting into, boy," he spits.

I lean forward, my voice low and dangerous. "No, Bill. It's you who has no fucking idea what's coming."

What we have planned for this prick isn’t going to be easy.

No, he’s going to be in for a world of hurt.

I glance at Stephen and see him grinning like a crazed motherfucker.

Yeah, William is going to be in a fuck of a lot of pain.

The Eraser is going to let loose, and when he does, God help William.

It takes us almost ninety minutes to go across town and out of the city to the countryside. Stephen has a farmhouse he uses for when the Eraser comes out to play.

“What the fuck are you doing?” William growls as Freddie and I pull him from the van. Stephen whistles as he begins to set everything up.

"Having fun," Jer replies, laughing.

There’s plastic wrap on the grass, and the woodchipper is turned on and ready. He’s changed into overalls, ready and waiting to take this bastard to the depths of Hell.

"You can't do this," he sputters, struggling against our grip. "Do you have any idea who I am? Who I'm connected to?"

I yank him closer, my voice low and menacing in his ear. "We know exactly who you are, Bill. That's why you're here."

Jer approaches, his expression grim. "Last chance, Harrington. Tell us everything you know about the Syndicate's operations, and maybe we'll consider making this quick."

William's eyes dart between us, desperation clear on his face. "I-I don't know anything! It was all Trace's doing, I swear!"

"Wrong answer," I growl, nodding to Stephen. “Blaming your son is a fucked up thing to do, asshole.”

The smile Stephen has is as sadistic as the glint in his eye as he pulls William from me and slings him over his shoulder. "Oh, we're going to have some fun with this one."

As Stephen starts to walk toward the woodchipper, William's screams echo across the empty field.

"Alright, alright!" he cries. "I'll tell you everything. Just... please... don’t do that."

I share a look with Jer, who nods grimly. Stephen throws William down at his feet and the fucker starts to sing like a damn canary.

“It was Trace,” he says thickly. “He’s pissed off that his wife keeps coming back here. She’s his and he doesn’t want anyone to harm her.”

I call bullshit. There’s no fucking way that’s it. “Who’s his wife?”

Bill shakes his head, his mouth snapping shut. “She’s sweet, kind, pretty, but she’s afraid of leaving everything behind. Trace wants her with him and he’s pissed.”

This doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t go to war over this shit. I turn to Jer and raise a brow. Surely he doesn’t believe this crap? Jer shakes his head. Yeah, he doesn’t believe this shit either.

“That it?” Stephen snaps. “That all you got?”

“He’s gone,” he cries. “My boy is gone and it’s all your fault. You killed him.”

I laugh. “Fuck that. If we killed that cunt, we’d tell you, but it wasn’t us. Seems as though you’ve got more than just us as enemies. Now, as Stephen said, is that all you got?”

“I’m losing my patience,” Jer hisses. “Start talking—truthfully this time or Stephen will get to do what he’s been dying to do for a long time.”

Bill juts his chin out. “You bastards think you’re the best? You’re not, nowhere near. Trace wanted power, all of it. He had plans to take over your organizations.”

“How?” I bark.

“Killing the leaders and sending our men in to kill anyone who doesn’t align with us.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s how my father got us to where we are. You show your worth, show your strength, and the men will follow you.”

Fucking cunts.

“You did all this for power?” Jer asks, and I can hear the disbelief in his voice. “Didn’t work out for you so much, did it? You lost that prick of a son of yours, and now look at you—crying at our feet.”

“Fuck you,” Bill hisses at Jer, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Bill," I say coldly. "You've been most helpful."

His eyes widen in terror as he realizes his fate is sealed. "No, wait?—"

Stephen’s done waiting. He lifts him up and pushes him into the woodchipper. The blades whirl harder as they start to grind against William’s bones. The cunt’s screams are loud and filled with pain and fear.

It’s soothing to listen to. When I kill, I do it from long range. I don’t get to get up close and personal the majority of the time. Hearing the screams from this bastard is like music to my ears.

The screams eventually fade as he succumbs to his injuries. It takes a while before his body is crushed and churned into nothingness.

"Well, that's that," Jer says grimly. "One less problem to worry about."

I chuckle. Thank fuck for that. Here’s fucking hoping that’s the last of that bullshit. I, for one, am sick to my back teeth of the Boston Elite Syndicate.

“Go,” Stephen tells us. “I’ve got this. He’s gone, as is his fuckwad of a son. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

I grin, fucking glad this shit is over.

Hopefully tomorrow I can get back to Clodagh.