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“Still no sign of Alexei. He’s gone underground. Did Jessie mention if she knows where he is?”
“We didn’t make it that far, bro. She wasn’t exactly pleased to see me.”
“I guess not. I’ve been looking into the Wolf again too. Jessie is convinced he’s still alive and maybe he can give us some answers.”
“Any luck?”
“None at all,” he sighs and then he’s quiet again.
“Something else going on, Shane?” I frown.
A few seconds pass before he answers. “He’s sick.”
It takes me a second to register who he’s talking about and bile surges from my stomach, burning against the back of my throat as soon as I do. I swallow it down. “How sick?”
“Very. Lung cancer. It’s terminal.”
“Good. I hope he dies a very slow and very fucking painful death. I hope that cunt lives every second of the rest of his miserable life in excruciating pain. I hope he dies in a pool of his own vomit and piss. But, most of all, I pray that he dies alone, crying for someone to help him. Just like she did.”
“Yeah, me too,” he replies softly.
“When did you find out?” I snarl as adrenaline starts to thunder around my body.
“Yesterday. Erin told me.”
“Figures she’d know,” I snap. Erin is our family lawyer, and Shane’s ex-fiancée. She moved to New York from Ireland at the same time as we did, and she has the unfortunate role of being the conduit between my father and Shane. None of us have spoken directly to him since we left Ireland ten years ago, but Shane communicates with him via Erin when he absolutely has to. Shane was our father’s pride and joy. His first born son — he would have been his only son if my cunt of a father would have had his way.
“Are you visiting him?” I ask.
“Of course not, Con. What the fuck?”
I wince, feeling guilty for even asking that. The truth is, Shane probably hates our father even more than me and the twins do.
“But when he dies, I will have to go to Ireland and sort out his estate,” he says with a sigh.
“I know. Have you told Mikey and Liam?”
“Yeah.”
“They okay?”
“They need you back here. They need Jessie back too.”
“And what about you?” I ask him. He will never admit that he needs her just as much as we do, even though it’s completely obvious.
“Just get your asses home as soon as you can. I don’t care if you have to tie her up and put her in the trunk.”
“Yeah, well, that’s kind of my plan B,” I only half joke, because if Jessie doesn’t agree to come with me of her own free will, I don’t know what I’ll do, and I am not averse to kidnapping her for a third time.
“Erin’s here. I have to go. Keep me posted.”
“Will do. Bye, bro,” I say before I end the call. I lean back against the headrest and suck in a lungful of air as I try and suppress the memories of my childhood and teenage years that any mention of my father dredges up. I hate that vile piece of shit more than anyone in this world. The fact that he's dying should bring me some comfort, or some peace, but it doesn’t.
I look up at the door to Jessie’s apartment again and unclip my seatbelt. I want her so fucking bad, I feel like I can’t breathe without her. My fingers grip the door handle and my heart races in my chest. What if she tells me to go when I need her to want me to stay so much?
The light in her apartment goes out and I sit back in my seat again and let out a long breath. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
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