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“How much?” I asked, not even believing the words as they came out of my mouth.
“Two grand. It'll be useful to have someone like you around, honestly. We need somebody around just to look tough and intimidate some of these fuckers. Scare some sense into these dirtbags sometimes, right?” Killian said with a smirk.
Rory came back with my beer, handing it over. I raised the bottle and took a long drink, trying to get my head together. Everything was happening so fast and I was getting pulled into something I'd wanted no part of for so long.
“Yeah, it's good to have him here. He's a lot scarier than I am,” Rory laughed.
“He's scarier than anyone here,” Killian said. “Just having your presence with us will scare people straight, Declan. You probably won't even need to get your hands dirty.”
“I won't kill anyone,” I said sternly. “This is all nuts, but if I'm going to do this, I'm drawing that line right now.”
“No killing necessary, man. Just scare the bastards,” Killian said. “That's all we need.”
He was so different from his family man persona, it wasn't even funny. It was like he was two different people here and at home. It almost broke my heart for his wife. She had no idea what her husband did behind the scenes, what he was really like when he wasn't with her.
“I won't hurt anyone either. Not for no reason,” I said.
Killian sighed, leaning against the wall. He shared a look with Rory and they both rolled their eyes and laughed. They were both obviously amused by me and it showed. Both of them were trying hard to stifle their laughter and were failing.
“Fine. No hurting people either,” he said. “Not unless there's a good reason for it. You have my word, brother.”
I chugged down the beer. “I determine the reasons as well,” I said. “Meaning I'm not going to just beat the shit out of someone because they owe you money. I'm not like that.”
Killian shrugged. “Works for me. Like I said, just your presence will do the trick in most cases,” he said. “So you in or you out, Declan?”
“I'll do this job for you first. After that, we'll see,” I said.
I slammed the bottle down on the table and walked out of the room. Whatever shit they were involved in, I didn't want to be part of it. Could I scare some poor sap into paying up? Sure. I could handle that. I looked threatening enough. Underground fighting will do that to a person.
/> But actually putting hands on somebody? Killing somebody? No, I couldn't do that. I wouldn't be a part of that.
“Rory is going with you,” Killian called out. “He'll take you over there now.”
“Fine.” I said.
Rory and I had never been all that close. Of the two, I preferred Killian over Rory, and that said a lot. At least Killian tried to act like a normal member of society most of the time. He could be a charming, sarcastic, funny as hell, son of a bitch when he wanted to be. He could be a good guy, a fun guy to hang out with sometimes.
Rory, on the other hand, had no intention of pretending to be on the right side of the law, or a normal, functioning member of society. He wasn't charming, he was arrogant and condescending instead. He wasn't funny to anybody but himself, and he was a straight up prick most of the time. He relished his life as a criminal, a drug dealer, a member of a crime family. He liked living the lifestyle of a mobster. There was nothing else about him, not a single good or decent quality that I could think of.
He was the last person I wanted to work with, but there we were. I sighed and walked out of the pub, Rory behind me.
CHAPTER FOUR
KARA
I walked up to my front door, and instantly knew something was off. Just like I'd known something was off in the living room earlier, I knew something wasn't right as I stood there. I reached out and found that the door handle turned freely – even though I always remembered to lock up when I left. I pushed on it, letting the door swing inward. It moved a few inches inward, but then stopped with a creak. It was then I realized the door frame was broken.
“Dad?” I called out. “Did you forget your keys?”
I stared into the living room and saw that the place was in shambles. All of the beer cans and bottles that littered the ground had been kicked all over the room. Cushions that had been on the couch when I left had been stripped off and lay on the floor. Books, picture frames, and knick knacks had all been thrown off the shelves.
Everything was in such a state of disarray, it looked like a damn tornado had torn through the place.
The hair on my arms stood on end still, but the pit of fear that had opened up inside of me suddenly started to ease. When I recalled how my father had left so suddenly, my fight or flight response came down a few notches as I stopped to think about the situation with a little more clarity.
My father had taken a few things with him. Chances were good he'd come back looking for something else. Maybe some money he'd stashed away. Maybe some drugs he'd hidden and had forgotten to take with him. He'd likely come back and had torn the place apart looking for whatever it was he'd left behind.
Grumbling to myself, cursing him for destroying the door, I stepped over and around the mess he'd left behind.
