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He nods eagerly. “Yeah, he was a repeat customer.”
“What else did he buy?”
He swallows.
“What. Else.”
“A forty-five with a bunch of ammo, some remote detonators, and a Barrett M82.”
My mouth thins. “You sold him remote detonators and a fucking sniper rifle?”
He swallows again, nodding.
“Okay. Wears a mask, uses a voice changer, pays cash,” I growl. “You’re sure there’s nothing else you can give me?”
Aaron shakes his head. “No, Mr. Kildare, I’m sorry.”
“That’s really too bad.”
I turn, pulling the gun out of my jacket and leveling it at the man pinned to the drill. Aaron screams as I put a bullet through his cousin’s head. His grieving doesn’t last long. A second bullet turns his own face to mush about a half second later.
And that’s that.
Like before, I feel absolutely nothing. And like before, it’s for the same reasons as the first man I killed when I walked in here. One, because it’s me we’re talking about. And two, because the world will not miss, and does not evenneed, men like Aaron and his cousin Brian over there.
Brian also enjoyed beating up the women he was married to. Like the one that “ran away” five years ago and no one seems to be able to locate, or wife number two who’s perpetually sporting black eyes and busted lips.
And Aaron? Well, Aaron likes—liked—his internet pornography with a dash of particular heinousness.
Children.
Again, there are types of monsters I have no patience for and will give no quarter to.
Monsters like my father.
And they makefantasticsacrifices to my own bloodlust.
I make a quick pit stop at Aaron’s office computer to delete the security records of my mayhem.
Then I’m gone.
6
CILLIAN
“Morning, sunshine.”
I turn to glance at my niece, Eilish, grinning at me from the breakfast table of the Upper East Side brownstone—the home she and her sister grew up in, and that I moved into almost a year ago, when I came to New York from London to take over after Declan was killed.
“More like good afternoon.”
Neve, Eilish’s older sister, grins an equally Cheshire Cat smile at me over the rim of her coffee mug. Beside her, Castle just shakes his head, giving nothing away.
Since getting married, Neve of course now lives with her husband Ares in their penthouse on the West Side. She and Eilish are thick as thieves, though. And when you add Castle into the mix, who’s basically been like a big brother to them ever since I hired him to be their bodyguard more than ten years ago, it’s like a little trio of siblings that can’t stay away from each other.
Neve and Eilish glance at each other, grinning impishly, before they turn back to me, wagging their brows.
“Yes?” I grunt.
