us.
“Let’s just get to the point, shall we? Am I a liability to the family?” I tilted my head and tapped my chin with my finger, pretending to really think about it. “I wonder.” I clucked my tongue. “Daughter of Irish mob boss kills cheating boyfriend and mistress.” I gasped, mocking shock. “That is by far the most scandalous thing someone in our family of killers, drug traffickers, and arms dealers has ever done. How will we get past such a blemish to the family name?”
His eyes were still narrowed as he stared down at me, but his features seemed to have softened. “The dramatics really don’t help your case, but I see some things haven’t changed. You’re still as theatrical as ever.”
Help my case? Interesting choice of words. Hmm. He thought I'd snapped. Maybe I have.
Since I’d been going to Trinity, I’d been playing the role of a demure, normal woman because I'd thought it was what I wanted. Not anymore. Pandora’s box had been opened. I could no longer suppress my darkness. Even now, I could feel it bubbling inside me, ready to surface when I needed it.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Jamie. If I’ve gone off the deep end… well, I guess only time will tell, but I certainly won’t.” In other words, I didn’t answer to him. Even though he towered above me in what would be an intimidating stance to anyone else, I just cocked a challenging eyebrow. My father was Stefan Quinn. He'd taught me that you could be just as intimidating on your knees. As long as you had the confidence of a king, oozed the essence and mystery of a killer, people would think twice before fucking with you.
Jamie didn’t say a word as we had our stare-off. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he seemed to be searching mine. He’d always been intuitive, perceptive, and calculating. He’d been like that since we were kids, thanks to Stefan’s tutelage. I didn’t feel a flicker of intimidation inside me as I stared back at him despite knowing who he was and what he did for my father.
He was a killer.
Stefan had made Jamie kill for the first time when he was sixteen. I remembered watching as Stefan had led him into the basement of our home. A place I'd never been allowed to go. Stefan had sometimes taken people down there—people who’d wronged the family. I'd sat outside that basement for what had felt like forever with a twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then a shot had rung out from behind the door. In that moment, I'd been convinced I’d never see Jamie again because every time Stefan had taken someone down there, they'd never come back out.
My heartbreak over losing my best friend had been short lived. Jamie had eventually walked out of that basement with Stefan not far behind. Both had noticed me sitting there. Stefan hadn't looked happy, but Jamie hadn't given him any time to chastise me. He'd pulled me to my feet and taken me outside. We'd walked along the stone walls that surrounded the five acres of our property in silence. I'd known not to push. Even at twelve years old, I'd known how hard Stefan’s lessons were, and even if I hadn’t, I was able to see how hard that one had been in Jamie’s eyes. They'd been vacant, like the last piece of his soul had been chipped away. Now that I was older, I’d say it had been the last of his innocence that had been taken.
As he'd gotten older, even I'd known that killing had become as easy as breathing for him. I'd thought he'd even enjoyed it, turning it into a craft he'd worked hard to perfect. Some would have said he was the best. His death count in the crime world was the proof of that. His ability to make someone disappear was infamous. To some, he was the embodiment of the grim reaper, and that should have had me shaking with fear, but I wasn’t. I didn’t fear death anymore. My father was to be thanked for that.
While Jamie had been off killing people in the basement, I'd been going through a mental bootcamp of my own that involved mind games and desensitizing. When I'd been thirteen, Stefan had made me believe I was going to die for a whole summer. He'd been so convincing with the anger he'd exuded and his emotional