Resolve forming in my stomach, I climbed out of bed and stomped off into the bathroom, pushing the door open.
"Hey there, ready for more already?" he said teasingly.
"Liam, what happens after tonight?" I blurted out more forcefully than I had intended.
He was quiet for a second, and the water stopped. He stepped out and I blinked, taking in his naked and wet body, beads of water slowly rolling down his ripped and sculpted muscles, the body he earned by working hard on the streets, by fighting for a living. He smirked at my expression as he wrapped a towel around his midsection.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that."
I shook my head, embarrassed. "You don't have to. I'm just being annoying."
He stepped closer. "Listen to me, Ellie. After tonight, I'm done with the Mob."
I looked up. "Are you sure?"
"I'm leaving the life. I'm going to walk away from it all."
"But . . . why?" I was at a complete loss.
"Isn't it obvious why?"
I gaped at him, confusion running through my mind. I suddenly felt completely naked, even more naked than I already was. Which, as I glanced down at myself, was pretty naked. I wished I had stopped to at least put on underwear.
He sensed my hesitation. "You don't have to say anything, and you don't owe me a single fucking thing. But that's my plan."
"I can't ask you to do that, Liam. You can't give up everything you've worked so hard for."
"After what we've been through, I'd rather burn it all to the fucking ground than keep working for them. I won't ever let myself be in a position where I have to put someone I care about in danger."
"But what will you do?"
"I'll still own my restaurant, and it's still turning a profit. I have a lot of money saved, and some decent investments. I'm going to be fine."
I shook my head. "Liam . . ."
He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me hard on the mouth. My emotions were in turmoil. I wanted him to quit, wanted to run away with him and forget about all the pain we had gone through together. But I couldn't let him give up the things he had worked so hard for just for me. He had already sacrificed so much to save my life.
He pulled away gently. "Just thing about it. We can talk more later."
"Okay," I said softly.
He kissed me again lightly on the lips and stepped around me, heading toward the bedroom.
I leaned back against the sink, knees suddenly weak.
He had to fucking come back. He had to. I needed to find out what was going to happen next.
Because I was his and always would be.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Liam
I could feel the tension in my shoulders as the black SUV bounced over a pothole. The night's events skimmed through my mind: men moving fast, guns firing, muzzle flashes, bullets flying, blood and pain and worse. And through it all, only one thought: Ellie, I have to get back to Ellie.
It was over faster than I could have imagined. O'Brian had mustered up five other bosses, though the ones who sat out didn't get involved on Colm's side, either. The men were armed to the teeth, most of them already killers. We wore bulletproof vests and other paramilitary shit, most of it bought illegally, but a lot of it stolen. We knew we had to move fast to avoid the cops and to take Colm by surprise. He knew that something was happening, since Max had told him that Colin was a traitor, but he didn't know the extent to which events were turning against him.
Ten black SUVs pulled up outside his place late that night. We stormed Colm's place, met with minimal resistance, and found him trying furiously to pack a bag, obviously ready to run.
We had learned since the last coup: never let the old boss live.
I was brought back to the present as the car pulled up in front of O'Brian's place. I climbed out of the back seat, nodding to the driver. A few other cars pulled up, and I recognized some of the men. Colin gave me a tense wave and I nodded back as we walked into the pub. Men were joking, making tense, bullshit small talk, trying to find a way to come down from the adrenaline coursing through our veins.
There was nothing like it. Sex maybe came close, but that was a different thing. When you're fighting for your life, up against men who know they need to kill you or else be killed, there's something terrifying and horrible and exciting and more. It breaks some men, and some men thrive on it, can't seem to get enough of that rush. I didn't particularly care for it either way; to me, it was just another part of the job. After being a part of something like that, though, you're never quite the same, no matter how hard you try to forget it. The memories linger and the feelings shift you forever.
But it was almost over. I remembered the look on Colm's face as I kicked through his door and held my gun to his head. At first it was pleading, but soon it turned to disbelief. He never thought he'd be the one at the end of a gun. He never thought I would be the man holding it.
Frankly, neither did I.
I walked straight through the pub's main room and knocked on O'Brian's office door. I was nervous, almost as nervous as I was busting into a firefight.
"Come in," I heard.
I turned the knob and entered. O'Brian was sitting with his legs up on the desktop, reading a book and smoking a cigar. There was a half-empty glass of whisky by his elbow, and he looked a little drunk. Probably celebrating his victory.
"You look like shit, boy," he said.
"You look comfortable."
He grinned. "Come on in shut the door."
I did as instructed and took a seat in front of him. I felt like my whole body was on fire, like I had just run a marathon. I had done things that night I never wanted to do again, used a weapon in violence against other men, although it was for a good reason. But fuck the reason and fuck the Mob. I had risked my life enough for them. I had done enough shit that I hated, and I was out. Maybe O'Brian didn't know it yet, but on the inside I was already making a new life with Ellie, figuring out what our plans would be, what kind of man I would be as a civilian.
It was strange to realize that. I would be a civilian soon. I had never really been one, not even when I was a kid. I was always the son of a prominent boss, and that meant I was a part of the life since day one.
For me, leaving the Mob was like being born again.
"It's done," I said.
I pulled a pair of keys from my pocket and tossed them to him.
He caught them. "These are?"
"Colm's keys. His place is yours."
He studied them. There was blood spattered all over their length.
"Good lad. You did it?"
I nodded.
He sighed and moved his legs down off the desk, leaning forward. His face was grave, despite how much power he had just gained.
"It's a terrible thing, to have to kill a man."
"It is."
"But you did it, because you do the things that you have to do. Even if you don't want to do them."
I nodded, saying nothing.
He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle and a glass. "Interested?"
I accepted, but I wasn't in the mood to drink. Mostly I didn't want to risk his anger, especially considering what I was about to ask of him. He poured a glass and held it out, and I took it from him. I took a sip and felt the cold bite of the alcohol enter my stomach. It was smooth and nutty and full, and it left a sweet buzz on my lips. More than that, it helped to calm my nerves a bit, and I took another big sip, finishing off the glass. O'Brian grinned at me.
"Down to business, then," he said.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're the new boss."
He nodded. "I am the new boss. I've worked it out with the others."
"The Mob is in good hands."
"It is, more or less."
That gave me pause. "What do you mean, more or less?"
"Liam, I need a second. And I want you to be that man."
I gaped at him. Being the second to the Mob's boss was a huge deal.
"Don't you have your own guys?"
He shrugged. "I do, but tonight was a test. I sent you out there to see if you were the kind of man I would trust. There are men of my own, but none of them show your promise or your talents. We need someone like you to help lead things. And hopefully, one day far, far in the future, there won't be any issues of succession."
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. The fucking asshole. He just had to dangle that in front of me. Becoming second would mean money and power and more. It would also mean more violence and more responsibility. Worse, he was hinting that one day I would become boss. I shook my head, almost angry that he was trying to do that to me.
I could easily imagine myself accepting, and I knew that I would be good at it. I'd make a fantastic fucking second, and an even better boss. I knew the business, knew the rules, knew the people. I was born to run everything. I was practically raised into it. The city was basically mine already.
And if it weren't for her, I would have grown into my kingdom. I would have become the violent mobster I had always wanted to be.
"I can't do it."
He blinked, clearly surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Tonight was my last job."
His eyes narrowed and he sipped his drink. "So you want out, then."
I nodded, meeting his gaze.
"This really surprises me, Liam. But I guess I can't say that I blame you."
I stared at him and nodded my response, afraid of what he'd say next.
There was a tense moment, and he sighed. "Fine. I can't exactly keep you around if you don't want to stay. Normally, one of the Right People can't walk away so easily, but this is a special case."