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Chapter Twelve
Quinn
My knuckles are bleedingon both hands, and I may have snapped a few bones in my right hand, but that Geno fucker is definitely down for the count. No way is he going anywhere but on a date with two of my top enforcers.
Working the fingers on my left hand while my right continues to swell, I curl my lip when I spot a tooth on the attic floor. I know it’s not mine—the son of a bitch never got the chance to hit me that hard. He’s a gnarled old bastard of a brawler, but he definitely fights better when he’s drugged his opponent.
I reach down and retrieve the tooth, lifting it to get a better look. If he wasn’t already scheduled for an early exit from this world, he’d definitely need a dentist. Eugene wasn’t exactly taking good care of his teeth. I chuckle inwardly and drop the tooth at Geno’s feet before kicking his leg to wake him. He stirs and blinks up from the chair I’ve tied him to. His right eye is completely swollen shut. His left doesn’t look that much better. His nose is broken in several places, and there’s blood in his teeth from his split lip.
Until my enforcers get here, it’s just him and me. Mo took Jo downstairs for Holiday to check out after I checked her out. Although I didn’t want to leave her side, I have unfinished business with this man and lean against a nearby dresser, letting the unsettling silence keep us company.
He struggles against his bindings and glares at me. “You’re a bastard. You’re not good enough for her.”
I pick at the blood from under my nails and take my time before answering, “That means a lot, coming from you.” There’s rustling downstairs and I know Jo is fighting to return to the scene. I don’t have much time before she gets past Mo. “We have a little problem, Eugene. You and me.”
“That so?”
“That so,” I repeat flatly and push off the dresser, kneeling in front of him to be eye level. He tries to avoid my gaze, but I grab his chin and hold him in place. “Attacking me the way you did, like some sort of coward hiding behind a mask, hurt my feelings. But I could look past that. Stabbing me with a laced knife pissed me off, but even that I could see past.” I tighten my hold until the tip of my fingers are deeply imbedded in his skin. The look in his eyes transforms from fight to fear. Good. I inch closer and rivet a lethal glare to him. “But when you laid your hands on Jo, that’s the one thing I can’t let go.”
I drop my grip and gently slap his cheek before standing and returning to the dresser, placing my back to him. “Do you have life insurance, Eugene?”
“What difference does it make?”
“All the difference in the world. If you do, I’ll make sure there’s a body so the claim can be paid out to your wife. You owe her that much. If you don’t,” I pause and glance over my shoulder, keeping my expression cool, even. That look of fear in his eyes deepens. “Then I’ll make sure your body is never found.”
His jaw drops. He then forces a smile that’s only surface deep. The fear is now shining in his eyes. He knows he’s not getting out of this, at least not alive. “Come on, Quinn.”
“Mr. O’Reilly,” I correct. No way does this fuck get to call me by my first name. That honor is reserved for friends and family, and even then only those I like.
“Mr. O’Reilly,” he quickly repeats and grins again, showing off blood-stained teeth. “We can come to an understanding, can’t we? I can be a great asset to the Alliance. I know things.”
“So do I, Eugene. You’ve already proven exactly what kind of asset you are to the Alliance. For that, you will die. You had to know this was coming. The only question will be how.” I return my attention to the dresser, keeping my back to him. If I face him again, I won’t be able to stop myself from beating him to death, I’m sure of it. This man hurt my woman. I saw the size of the lump on her pretty head. That alone is reason enough to end Eugene.
But add in the fact he thinks he can negotiate with me, bargain for his life, only seals his fate. I’d do it myself out of principle, but I have people for this sort of thing, wet work that comes with being an enforcer for one of the top-tier families.
“Fair enough,” Geno finally sighs, accepting his fate. “But Mr. O’Reilly, please don’t let anything happen to Mary.”
I turn to steal a sideways glance at him. I expected him to beg for his life, not his wife’s. “Are you asking me to do you a favor, Eugene?”
“No. I’m asking you to do Mary a favor.” He blinks and tears stream down his bruised, bloody and swollen face. “She’s innocent in all this, always has been. Don’t let what I did ruin her, too.”
I force myself around to face him fully and shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from choking him out. With a single nod, I give him my word. The sins of the husband won’t be visited on the wife. He’s done enough damage.
The shit storm this man has caused for the Prescott family is going to brand Jo for the rest of her life. She’ll never have a seat at the table once the Alliance learns that the leak came from within her own walls. No Prescott will ever be allowed into the Alliance after this.
I still as that thought settles in my brain. No Prescott will be allowed, but I can fix this for her. If I change her name, she’ll simply be another O’Reilly at the table. No, not if. When I change her name. My mind already turning with how to set this new plan in motion, I turn to leave the attic this man turned into some sort of Jo shrine—another reason to end him. No one gets to worship my woman but me.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice shrill, quivering. “You’re just going to leave me up here?”
“My men will be here shortly. I suggest you make your peace with your maker.” I glance back at him. “You’ll be meeting him soon enough—but Eugene, you did one thing right, asking me to ensure Mary’s safety. Because her safety should matter more than anything in the world. For that—you won’t suffer. That’s my promise to you.”
To his credit, he doesn’t say anything else. He knows the gift I’ve given him. We both do. I make my way out of the attic and descend the stairs, lifting a hand to halt the two men who are waiting on the third floor. They have the tight, hard look of mafia enforcers, but they won’t be needing those particular skills tonight. “Clean,” I say simply. “One shot. And call Jones to clean all the shit out of that room. I want it stripped down to the studs and bleached.”
Something else I’ll do for Mary. And for Jo.
I find Jo in the library, alone, and I can tell by the set to her shoulders as she stares blindly out the window, a glass of Jameson in her hand, that she’s already worked out the ramifications of tonight. The mole was not only in her house, it was one of her closest employees, a man who’d lived in her family’s home for more than a generation. If she can’t control her own most trusted employees, how can she be given a seat at the Alliance’s table?
She speaks before I have a chance to, still not looking at me. “I withdraw,” she says, her words flat. “I have no other choice. The mole was here all along, and I failed to see him as a threat.”
