Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,40
feel her level of pain. I want to take it all away. I want to tell her I’m fucking sorry. I should have told Frankie he didn’t have to fight. I should have told them he was soft and hated hurting anyone. I should have told them that their son was gay.
I release my ma’s hand. “Whatever has gotten into you is nice.” Her smile wobbles, and I see the strain and worry in her eyes.
I can’t look away from her. My da fucking adored her, and so he should. She was the best ma anyone could ask for. She didn’t deserve the losses she kept receiving. I swallow my pain and grin at her before turning to my pie.
“I’m just feeling sentimental.”
That pulls a laugh from deep in my ma’s belly. It’s a sweet sound that numbs the pain for a moment. Frankie was her favorite. He would help around the house, and he was just there for her when Da was out fighting. He would keep her mind busy; he helped her escape the worrying thoughts.
As for me, I was wild and borderline psychotic while growing up. I did stupid shit.
“Eat, Emma.” She’s been too busy watching the exchange, but she starts to eat her rabbit food.
I didn’t like that I was getting used to her being at my side.
“Have you picked a venue or dress?” My ma slides in across from Emma, and this is another blow she won’t be fit to take.
“I have a few ideas for my dress.” Emma cuts in, saving me from telling my ma this isn’t going ahead. If it makes her happy for now, I let Emma talk.
“Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly what I want.” The smile in Emma’s voice has me glancing at her. She looks up at me, and I see fear in her eyes, along with something deeper.
“I always wanted a long veil that covered my face.” Emma is speaking to me like I fucking asked.
The fear is carried away as hope steps forward. “I wanted my groom to lift the veil, and I wanted to see that look…” Emma turns to my ma, who’s smiling with her head tilted to the side like she knows exactly what Emma is talking about.
“That look that says he’s at peace. You know?”
My ma reaches across and takes Emma’s hand. “That you are the reason for his peace.” Emma’s voice trails off. I finish my pie as Emma lies through her teeth about certain flowers, how the tables will be set up. She’s a very good fucking liar. If I sit here long enough, I think I might believe we are getting married.
My phone beeps, and I check it. It’s from Paul.
Michael Philips
145 Side View Terrace,
Longwalk Road.
He’s in bad shape, but he’s discharging himself.
That address wasn’t far from here. The killer has been close to our doorstep the whole time.
Stay at the hospital and let me know the minute he leaves. I send the text back and put my phone away.
I would finally have my vengeance for Frankie. My ma is engrossed in the lies that Emma is telling. Emma keeps tucking her hair behind her ear, leaving the mark on her face visible. I reach across and push it forward. She flinches at the small bit of contact. Her shoulders stiffen.
“I like your hair fully down.” I press a kiss to the crown of her head, and she shrinks a little on the chair.
Emma regains some of her earlier chatter, but she’s rattled. She’s afraid.
That isn’t a bad thing. It might stop her from being so reckless. My mind spins back to Michael Philips. I smile into the mug. I’m so close I can almost taste it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHAY
“Stop touching my things.” I shrug out of my jacket and put it on the bed. Emma immediately replaces the bottle of aftershave on the top of the cabinet.
Taking off the gloves is like pouring vinegar into an open wound. Sweat and blood mix and burn as I enter the ensuite and turn on the taps. I check to see what Emma’s doing; she’s still walking around my room, taking it all in. It irritates the fuck out of me. I jam my hands under the running water and clench my jaw as razor blades scrape along my knuckles.
Each punch had been worth it. A buzz races through me. In a matter of hours, Michael Philips will be dead, and I will have my vengeance for my brother.