Honored (City Series Book 4)(7)

And I couldn't believe I went for it.

"You too, Mr. Sullivan."

I smiled and he turned away, gathered Richie up, and walked off, back the way he had come. I watched them and shook my head softly to myself.

He was definitely more animal than rational. But I couldn't tell yet exactly how much, or how badly I wanted to find out.

After that, the kids all filtered onto their busses, the parents shut their doors and hung up their phones, and people slowly left the building, out to other places. I watched them all go, not feeling any particular hurry, though a little guilty about making Petey wait for his nightly walk. Finally, when I was one of the last few people left, I walked down the steps and headed back toward my apartment.

I felt good, really good. I felt good for the first time in a while.





Chapter Five: Liam


The van hit a pothole, jostling me around. I grimaced as I was crushed against the cold steel of the exposed door.

Max grinned at me. "Buckle up," he grunted.

I gave him a look, not in the mood to deal with his bullshit. He shrugged and looked away.

I stared back down at my fingers and felt the blood again, the junkie's blood, and knew it would be worse this time, much worse. The weight of the black pistol with its long, smooth silencer was more a burden than a reassurance. We're always told guns are protection, guns are necessary, but in that moment the gun felt like a burning hot iron I was forced to hold on to like my life depended on it.

And truthfully, my life did depend on it.

I hadn't agreed to do Colm's dirty work, not right away. I agonized about it all that day after meeting with him. But no matter how many rational arguments I came up with about the Right People's code of honor, about protecting innocent people, about protecting our very way of life, none of it mattered. Colm had ordered me to do something, and Colm was the boss. I had to either kill the girl or be killed myself.

And where would Richie be if I got a bullet in the brain? He'd be stuck with his drunk mom. He'd end up walking the very same path I did, if not something much worse, much darker. I had the protection of our father back then, and was spared the worst of it early on; Richie would have to dive in head first and get his hands dirty if he wanted to survive without me.

It wasn't just Richie, though. It was everyone who worked for me, probably even Colin. They'd all be guilty by extension, and if I knew one thing about Colm from the past few weeks, it was that his purges were very, very thorough. Nobody would be left standing.

I couldn't let that happen.

I adjusted myself, trying to find a comfortable position against the cold metal wall. The plan was absurdly straightforward. Jimmy and Max would drop me off a few blocks away from a dark underpass. They said the girl walked her dog along that path, or at least had for the past two nights; they figured she'd go there again. If she didn't, we'd reassess. But my job was to stand in the shadows of the underpass and, as she walked by, put two bullets into the back of her head. Then I'd walk away, toss the gun down a storm drain, and go home.

That was it. That was all there could be, although there were a thousand potential issues. I voiced them all, and they were all shot down. If there are witnesses, don't do it. If she doesn't walk by, just go home. If the dog attacks me, kill the fucking dog.

I gripped the gun tighter, my finger carefully off the trigger. I could kill someone. I'd already killed someone. I didn't like it, but I knew it was necessary. But I was finding it very, very hard to justify murdering some innocent bystander just because she saw something she shouldn't have.

But dead bitches don't talk. At least that's what Max said to me as he handed me the pistol twenty minutes ago, his grin making me want to punch his teeth into the back of his skull.

Suddenly, I felt the van slow and then stop.

Jimmy turned around and looked back at me.

"Showtime, Liam," he said.

I looked at Max, and he nodded at me. There was a brief moment, a very brief but satisfying moment, where I imagined myself killing the two of them and driving off with Richie.   





 

Instead, I double checked the safety, slipped the gun into my waist band, slid open the van's door, and climbed out into the twilit evening.

"Underpass is a few blocks ahead. You know what to do," Max said.

I looked at him and didn't respond.

"Do the right fucking thing, Liam."

He slammed the door and they were off.

I watched them go for half a second, and then I began to walk down toward the underpass, my mind reeling. The gun felt like a weight attached to my lower back, and I was barely treading water, in the middle of the ocean. One deep breath and there would be darkness and nothing.

But I wasn't a quitter. I would let myself become a monster before I'd give up on those that depended on me.

I walked down a steep hill, my boots making noise on the rough concrete, and entered the tunnel.

Above me, I-76 stretched through the heart of the city, though the cross street where I pressed myself up against the cold concrete wall was hidden. I thought I knew where she would be coming from, and I knew more or less when, but there was so much I couldn't control. I fiddled with the gun in my waistband as my pulse began to race.

The next few minutes were going to be some of the most important moments of my life. I knew that. I also knew that what Colm wanted me to do was wrong, but not doing it would be even worse. I was stuck in a position I never thought I'd be in. The air underneath the overpass was damp, and there were puddles in the street from a recent rain. The stone was worn down from the years, with small glittering bits of reflective rock and mildew stains rolling up its length. It was cold, and the humidity made it feel even colder. I felt like I was miles below the city, alone and freezing.

I sighed and clenched my jaw, trying to get myself under control. I looked to my right and saw that the empty expanse was fenced in. There was small, stubby crab grass and dirt, plus a whole bunch of trash, covering the tiny field. I realized I could probably jump the fence afterward and cut across the block, which would immediately put me away from the body. But if someone happened to walk by at the instant I pulled the trigger, or really anytime in the few seconds after, I'd be fucked. But there was a chance I could get away.

I was probably fucked either way. There was no doubt in my mind that the cops would come down hard on Colm and the Mob. There was no way they didn't notice the increased violence and strife; I was sure they had informants in our ranks, if not a few undercover people. All of that meant that when the heat came down, I was going to get thrown under the bus.

I cursed under my breath. That bastard Colm would probably get to take over my territory while I rotted in prison, or maybe he'd pass it on to one of his cronies.

Up the street, back the way I had just walked, I heard a dog bark. It startled me, and I glanced out around the corner. In the distance, I saw a young girl coming toward me, black dog pulling at the leash. I looked quickly away, not trying to linger too long on her. But I knew it was her, it had to be her. She matched the description even though I barely got a good look at her. Young, blond, walking a dog. I didn't bother trying to get any more features; I didn't want to see her, didn't want to know for sure that I was about to kill a real person.

I reached back and slipped the gun from my pants and slowly checked it. Full clip, safety off. I held it behind my back, glancing around the area one more time to make sure that the coast was clear. I slipped farther back into the shadows, away from the sidewalk, and waited.

It felt like an hour before I heard her shoes banging on the concrete as she came down the steep hill. I gripped the gun harder, my hands beginning to shake. What if she saw me before she passed and got spooked? What if the dog attacked me? I shook my head, trying to get my shit together.

I had to be strong. I had to follow orders. I had to, for Richie's sake, and for my people.

I stared down at the ground, at the dirt and pebbles, and watched an ant struggle across the uneven ground. The little black speck made its way toward my feet. I heard the girl descend into the underpass, heard the dog sniffing and walking ahead of her, but I kept my head down and blended into the shadows. I stared at the ant, praying the girl wouldn't notice me, my hands shaking, sweat forming and dripping down my back. Silently, I kicked the small black speck away, but I didn't crush it.

Once she was a few feet beyond me, I pushed away from the wall and walked up behind her, the gun gripped in my hands. I held it tight, maybe eight feet away, and stared at the back of her head. There was something strange, something familiar about it; I couldn't figure it out, but I could have sworn I knew her. Trying not to think too much, I held the gun up, finger covering the trigger, hands shaking like mad, but it wouldn't matter: I was too close to miss.   





 

I had to pull the trigger.

Fuck, I had to kill her.

Otherwise, Richie was fucked.

My people were fucked.

Colm would burn everything I loved to the ground, and his people would spread the ashes across the city as a message to those that defied him.

As I tensed my finger, the dog suddenly looked back at me and started to bark.

"Petey, stop it," the girl said and began to turn back.

My eyes went wide, terror springing into my chest. I didn't think it was possible to feel more afraid, more broken and confused, but it was. Adrenaline spiked in my core, causing me to feel almost dizzy. Time slowed down, and I made my decision faster than I even knew possible. Before the girl could turn fully, I whipped the gun behind my back, out of sight.