Page 10 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Ten: Kieran

A knock on the door woke me up.

I’d overstayed my welcome at Liam’s apartment and had then managed to crawl, in a drunken stupor, to his guest bedroom.

My little brother had always liked things when he was younger, but over time, he’d become more of a minimalist. This bedroom was very much adult Liam—sharp corners, a picture of us when we were kids hanging on the wall opposite the bed, an elegant wooden crucifix hanging on the back of the white door.

For a second, as I lay there with a splitting headache, I wondered what it was about our lives that had made us all like this.

Minimalist.

Professional.

Desperate for control.

The knocking got more insistent.

I was vaguely aware that my phone was next to me on the bed, that I’d spoken to Ruby last night and that I probably—no, definitely—needed to wash these sheets.

“Go away!” I shouted.

“I got you breakfast,” Liam said. “I think you mean ‘thank you’.”

My stomach growled. “What did you get me?”

“I’m coming in,” Liam said.

I quickly made sure the blankets were covering me up—plus any mess I’d made—before Liam opened the door to the bedroom. He was holding two paper bags with grease leaking from them and my mouth watered. He tossed one at me, then set the container with the coffees on the bed between us. “Here.”

I caught it on my chest, the smell of bacon and hangover relief so potent I almost didn’t care about anything else. “You’re too good to me,” I said, rubbing my eyes against the harsh morning light. “This could only be better if you put whiskey in my coffee.”

Liam smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “I’d offer, but I think you’ve had enough of my booze,” he said. “You were hard to get up.”

I sat up, reaching for a breakfast sandwich. “Yeah, well, I had a rough night. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“It’s alright. Are you going to tell Tristan?”

“Fuck, you want to have this conversation before coffee?”

He walked in and sat on the swivel chair beside the bed, grabbing his own sandwich. “Actually, I don’t want to have this conversation at all. But you dropped a bomb in my lap last night and now I’m trying to figure out how to diffuse it.”

I nodded. “Welcome to my life.”

Liam picked at his sandwich, peeling off the wax paper like he was trying to decide whether to eat it or interrogate it.

“I know you love her, Kieran,” he finally said. “But are you sure you’re not making a mistake? If she didn’t want you around her child…”

“My child. My daughter. Your niece.”

Liam considered that for a few seconds. “She’s the DA and you’re the spare Callahan.”

I laughed. “You’re the spare Callahan.”

He smiled. “Yeah, yeah. But you understand what I’m saying. There’s a reason she didn’t want to get involved with you. Maybe she’s smarter than you?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I made a face. “If you’re trying to be helpful, you’re not.”

“That wasn’t meant as an insult. You’re a little dopey, but you’re not stupid.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m dopey, but I’m struggling to see how this isn’t an insult.”

He laughed. “I’m just saying. There aren’t actually that many people smarter than you. And you don’t normally fall for women like that. Actually…now that I think about it, I’ve never met any of your girlfriends. Shit, I thought you were gay for a minute there.”

I cocked my head. “This conversation is really spiraling.”

“I think it’s making a lot of sense. It might be painful, but maybe you need to let her go.”

“I let her go last time and hey, turns out we got a daughter out of it,” I replied, looking down at my hands. “I just didn’t know it. Now that I know…”

“What?” he asked, voice calm and steady now. “Now that you know you have a kid together, you expect it’ll just change everything? She still didn’t want anything to do with you. You shouldn’t chase after her, Kieran.”

“I’m not going to miss out on my daughter’s life any more than I have to,” I said. “And, again, she’s your niece. You should be invested in this.”

He took a bite of his food, buying himself time to think. “I am,” he said after a few seconds. “But you confessed a murder to the FBI, and I don’t know her. I know you. I know Tristan. I worry about you more than I worry about her.”

“That’s touching,” I said.

“I mean it. You have to worry about yourself.”

“That’s why I’m telling you,” I said. “I’ve never told you this before, but I actually like you, Liam.”

He tilted his head, an exaggerated look of surprise crossing his face. “This is unprecedented.”

“It’s a hard emotion for me to process,” I said. “So consider yourself warned: you might have to bail me out of jail if this goes south.”

He smiled, then his expression schooled again. “Seriously, lad. Tristan has your back but he can be ruthless if you make a mistake that threatens the family. And if he finds out about this before you tell him…”

I sighed, staring at the ceiling instead of the judgement in his eyes. “I know. Okay? I get it. I’m not an idiot. I know this could fuck everything.”

“You’re family.”

“And so is she.”

“You have to tell him about Russell. Even if you don’t tell him about your daughter or Ruby.”

“I told him someone broke into her house and I killed him.”

“That’s not enough information. You have to tell him everything about Mickey Russell.”

I chewed on the last of my breakfast sandwich.

“If Tristan thinks that Ruby is an actual threat to the Callahans, he will…do whatever he needs to do. I was given a task. I was supposed to ruin her, right? This would ruin her. But it would ruin Rosie too, and that’s my daughter, Liam. How do I do that?”

“She should’ve thought about that when she kept it from you,” he said. “Is that what you’re going to tell him? Give him a different timeline?”

I glanced at the photo on the wall again—three kids in expensive clothes, arms around each other, grinning like idiots.

Malachy wasn’t there that day. We’d gone…

camping, maybe? I couldn’t remember. But it had been fun.

Our faces were muddy, the sun right in our face, all of us squinting at the camera.

Tristan was the oldest; protective, always dangerous, always next in line. He didn’t want to be the heir. He hated it. But that was the way it had to be and we had known that since we were kids.

As I’d gotten older, I’d learned the truth. He wasn’t more mature, not exactly. He was just a different kind of reckless.

We didn’t know that he’d be this stone-cold motherfucker, this business-savvy adult who married an Orsini woman—even if that, in all honesty, had been a strategic move and not an act of love.

He’d fallen in love with Adriana, but…well, that had been its own clusterfuck.

Just thinking about it gave me a headache.

Liam was right; he was going to be pissed. But I couldn’t keep hiding this from him. If I told him enough of the truth, I had a shot at damage control. If I told him just enough, maybe it wouldn’t even really matter if—when—he found out about the rest.

I could live with pissing off my oldest brother. I could live with screwing up the task with Ruby. I could live with embarrassing Tristan, disappointing him, letting him down.

What I couldn’t live with was Rosie and Ruby getting caught in the crossfire.

I just had to make sure of it.

I dropped my sandwich wrapper in the bag and got to my feet, the movement more restless than decisive. Liam immediately looked away, cursing. “Jesus, Kieran…you could at least throw some pants on when you’re staying in my guest room.”

I snatched my boxers off the bed, tugging them on. “Sorry—you know, just…crawling drunk into bed in the middle of the night doesn’t lend itself to propriety.”

“Fine, but try to keep yourself decent,” he muttered. “You’re not the only one who uses this room, you filthy animal.”

“Anyway—back to what I was saying,” I rolled my eyes. “Ruby didn’t tell them anything. I’m the only one with my dick on the line right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t mention your dick.”

“Liam, please focus.”

Liam only looked back at me once I’d put my pants on, scowling. He leaned back, pivoting on the chair. “She’ll talk eventually,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“She might not.”

“She’s the Boston DA. She would be incredibly stupid if she didn’t. From what you’ve said, she’s not stupid.”

“She’s not stupid,” I agreed.

“Then she won’t keep her mouth shut.”

We stared at each other for a few beats, silence gnawing at both of us. A slant of light cut the room, hitting the cross behind the door. I didn’t think too hard about the symbolism of it.

“I’ve kept my mouth shut about more than this before,” I finally said.

“And look where it got you.”

“Yeah, in your apartment. Eating breakfast.”

“Naked.”

I smirked, trying not to think about how screwed I was. “I’ll take out the sheets before I leave.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh, fuck you, Kieran! That’s gross!” he said. “Don’t take out the sheets. Burn them.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the sheets off and bunching them up. “I’ll take these to the laundromat and see if they have any burning specials.”

“Please do,” Liam said. “Those were nice.”

“They were okay,” I said. “You have better sheets somewhere, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, on my bed,” he replied. “Obviously I’m going to have the better sheets, weirdo.”

I laughed. “Okay. I’m going home.”

“Do you think the feds will be there?”

I shook my head. “Nah, justice works slow. Let’s hope they’re still massively understaffed. Catch you later, baby brother.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he called after me as we walked toward the front door of his apartment. “Try not to break anything between now and then, okay?”

“Little faith,” I said as I started to walk away from him.

“Little dick,” he shot back, laughing.

I laughed too. I might’ve been going to war, and this could’ve been the last time he found it funny. But it was nice to have him on my side.

I just didn’t know how long that would last. And that…that scared the shit out of me.