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The chief constable should be the least of his worries. He needs to sort out his men first because it doesn’t matter who’s on our side if we don’t have a side. But that’s how arrogant he is. He thinks everyone is blinded by his bullshit.
“I’ll not tell ya again.”
He leads the way, expecting me to follow, and I do ’cause the quicker I get this done, the sooner I can find Babydoll and apologize. Guests greet us as we walk through the castle, talking utter bollocks, but I nod and smile, pretending to give a fuck.
Co
He gestures that a waiter is to follow him, which is my opportunity.
“Chief Constable Moore,” he says, snaring two glasses of champagne from the server’s tray, offering them to the chief constable and his wife. “And you must be Mrs. Moore.”
Both accept the glasses, but I can immediately see the chief constable doesn’t appreciate lickarses.
“Mrs. Moore is Donovan’s mother. I’m Lana,” his wife says, extending her hand, which Co
Reaching for my own glass, I throw it back in one gulp, needing to wash the disgust from my bake. I notice Donovan watching me closely. This is the first time he’s seen me, but no doubt, he’s heard a lot about me.
I’m known for being a bad wee rip, and that’s why the peelers have left me be, but I think that’s about to change. Donovan Moore is no friend. He is foe.
“This is my son, Puck Kelly.”
Smiling without enthusiasm, I grab another glass of champagne, not interested in making small talk. It seems Donovan feels the same way.
“I know who he is,” he says, sipping his drink.
“Ach, I’m flattered,” I reply smartly, while Co
“I’d love to speak with ya later on,” Co
“Grand,” Donovan replies, not fooled by Co
Co
That’s his cover story. That the Kellys earn what we do because Co
Everyone knows it’s bullshit, because although this business does exist, it makes little to no money operating legally. It’s just a front, and it’s worked until now.
Co
Thankfully, Cian’s da appears, who Donovan seems to take a liking to more than Co
When he turns the corner, headed for the kitchen, I stop him. “I’ll be havin’ this.”
I don’t give him a chance to ask why I need an empty glass as I walk away with Co
Opening the vanity drawer, I reach for the swab and rub over the rim to collect as much of Co
Leaving the glass on the vanity, I open the door and what I see has me wishing I didn’t leave it behind as I’d have used it to gouge out the eyeball of the fucker who has his hands all over Babydoll.
“What’s goin’ on here?” I coolly ask, walking toward the ballbag who is definitely a peeler.
“Mind yer business,” he snaps, looking over Babydoll’s head to address me.
“This is my business,” I contest. “And soon it’ll be yer hand I’ll be breakin’ if ya don’t let her go.”
Babydoll turns over her shoulder to look at me as the fucker has a hold of her wrist. She looks worried, but not scared as she yanks herself free.
“Do ya know who I am, ya dirty wee hallion?” he threatens, puffing out his chest.
“I don’t give a fuck who ya are. Touch her again and y’ll know who I am.”
“I know who ye are, ya wee blurt.”
“Dead-on,” I mock. “Then we don’t need any introductions.”
Babydoll looks between us, chewing her lip.
I stand my ground, daring this bastard to fight me, but he realizes the consequences are not worth it. “Ack, have yer slut. Yer welcome to her.”
He shoves her into the wall, and just as she’s about to advance and give him an earful, I beat her to the punch—literally. I elbow him in the nose before making good on my promise of breaking his hand.
He howls, his bravado quick to break, like his nose and hand.
Taking a hold of Babydoll’s hand, I quickly lead us down the hallway and through the kitchen so we can exit out the back door. Once outside, I let her go.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” she replies, catching her breath. “Just a sleazy old man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. I can take care of myself.”
“Ach, it sure looked that way,” I sarcastically state, shaking my head.
“I don’t understand you,” she reveals sincerely.
“I don’t understand myself either.”
She mulls over my comment, her anger toward me simmering when she reads the truth behind my admission.
“I’m sorry for insultin’ ya.”
“Which time?” she quips, folding her arms.
She isn’t making this easy for me, and she shouldn’t. I did a shitty thing. Well, many shitty things.
“I don’t know what it is about ye, I just…ya make me…feel.”
“Feel what?” she questions, but she’s misunderstood.
“Make me feel…full stop,” I clarify. “I can’t get my head around it. I was taught feelin’s make ya weak. And they do. I was full of feelin’ when—”
“When what?” she coaxes as I pause, realizing what I almost shared.
But what would happen if I did share my darkest secret with her? Would it change anything? The answer is no.
“When I watched my ma being killed. I was so full of feelin’ that I didn’t do anythin’ when I should have done more.”
Babydoll covers her mouth with a trembling hand. “Oh God, that’s h-horrible. That’s why the brooch means so much to you? Because it’s the last thing you have of hers?”
She should not know me this well, but there are a lot of should nots where Babydoll is involved.
“Aye, ya could say that.”
“How old were you?”
“I was five.”
Babydoll shakes her head, processing what I just shared. Something which has burdened me for so long suddenly feels a little lighter because it’s not a secret any longer.
“Is that what your face paint means?”
She isn’t thick; she understands the significance of it.
“Three men raped and killed my ma and because of them, that mask allows me to accept what I must do.”
“And what’s that?” she asks, stepping closer to me.
“It’s what I did to some fucker last night.”
She gasps, eyes wide as she doesn’t need me to draw a diagram. She understands I took a man’s life and feel nothing for doing so.
“You know who they are?”
Nodding slowly, I reply, “I do. Brody Doyle is goin’ to pay for everythin’ he took away from me.”
I realize she has no idea who that is, but I suddenly want her to know.
“This man, he’s the one who killed your mum?”