AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With a brief word of gratitude, I turned and headed straight for the imperial staircase, knowing full well I’d get hell from Raphael for being late. But all would be forgiven after I told him that though the Russian confession never came, the Irish message had been sent.
I paused when I reached the landing between the first and second story. I kneeled before the Virgin Mary statue and did the sign of the cross.
“Forgive me, Máthair,” I prayed to a ghost that I knew could not reply.
My head rose to meet the fixed gaze carved in marble. Shame wrapped around my lungs.
I stood and sprinted in the direction of my father’s wing on the second floor as though I were being chased by a monster.
But it wasn’t monsters that I ran from—my sins, yes, but never monsters—because I was the deadliest thing that lurked in the night.
The Flynn family’s very own fallen angel.
The fucking lord of Boston’s underworld.
The one who fed on the pain and suffering of the damned—or so they said.
My father’s nurse scurried away from his bedside when I entered the master suite. She was young and attractive, and I knew that Raphael had been fucking her every chance he got.
“Leave,” I demanded through the remnants of my self-loathing.
After she’d disappeared into the hallway, I took my father’s warm hand and pressed my lips to the emerald stone that rested on his bony digit. It had been moved to the middle finger—another sign that my father continued to deteriorate despite around-the-clock medical care from his live-in nurse and regular visits by the family physician.
“The Russians paid in blood tonight, Athair.”
The only response was the same desperate breath I’d been listening to since I’d returned from a routine trip to Providence four months ago to find that my father had suffered a stroke. Fluid bags with his daily infusion of vitamins hung by his bedside, and soon, he’d be fed via a permanent tube that’d been placed in his abdomen.
I swallowed something that resembled grief cloaked in pity.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I didn’t have to look to know it was Raphael and that Liam had informed him of my arrival. A weighted sigh escaped my lips. I’d have rather spent the next few hours in an underground mixed martial arts arena fighting my inner demons disguised as Boston’s best fighters, but alas, duty called.
Leaving my father’s bedroom, I glanced at the timid nurse studying the herringbone floor. Her cheeks flushed when I passed. No doubt it was out of fear. There wasn’t a soul who walked these halls who didn’t know the story of the deadly twin.
I wondered if Raphael had informed her about his bride-to-be and if he intended to be faithful. The nurse was just a fuck to him. They all were.
Not that it mattered.
Raphael and the widow were marrying for the greater good, not for love.
For the first time in my life, I thanked God for the two minutes that my twin brother had on me.
I’d gnaw off my right hand before I married a fucking Brennan.
Lucifer
“Do you think O’Malley took the bait?” Raphael leaned back into the leather armchair, resting an ankle on his opposite knee.
After a necessary shower, I’d joined Raphael, Liam, and Finn for a nightcap in the study. My brother was eager to debrief me on the scheming and plotting that had gone down in my absence with the commissioner and congressman, including all the ways he intended to exploit the dark underbelly of Boston. Drugs, extortion, gambling, and guns; our money-laundering strategy was a fine-tuned enterprise in and of itself, and now Raphael wanted to play middleman for one of Boston’s most influential politicians and the Mejia Cartel—for a healthy cut, of course.
The corners of Finn’s mouth curled into a cocky grin. “Did you see how big his fucking eyes got when I showed him the numbers? No doubt we’ll have his campaign in business with Mejia by the end of the week.”
Raphael rattled the ice in his tumbler. “Do you have time in your schedule to facilitate, or shall we inquire about Red Murphy’s nephew? He’ll graduate from MIT in a couple months, and Red said he wants in. We could consider him for our IT needs and that’ll free up your time to focus on the finances. Boston has a reserve of crooked public servants waiting for us to call them to the table.” Raphael glanced around the room, boasting an air of self-importance. “We’re sitting on a fucking untapped gold mine, gentlemen.”
Finn shook his head. “All set for now, boss.”
I knew firsthand my cousin was content in his position and had no desire for less responsibility. He was a workaholic who thrived on spending his days shut in his skyscraper apartment downtown with his face plastered to a computer monitor or between a woman’s thighs.
“Very well,” Raphael replied. “Should that change, I trust you’ll let me know.” He stroked his Burberry tie. “Changing lanes—Quill’s taking care of the docks. Trade routes won’t be a problem on either end. By being in bed with the Brennans”—he took a leisurely sip of liquor—“no pun intended, we achieve instant credibility with outside syndicates wishing to do business with Boston. We need alliances however we can get them. Word on the street is that after the Russians, the fucking Italians are now waiting with bated breath to take their shot at us.”
