Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“No, fuck up is what you do the second time,” Finn replied. “The first one can be a mistake. But we’re on what, fourth or fifth now? And I’m not even counting the times you’ve shown up hungover and five minutes late.”
Colby shifted on his knees and eyed his brother. At least he was uncomfortable and worried now.
“I have no excuse, sir,” Tony said. “I’ve been a dumbass—but I really wanna make up for it. I want a spot in the syndicate.”
That was marginally better.
Finn turned his attention to Colby instead. “How old are you?”
“Just turned sixteen, sir,” Colby answered.
Sixteen?! JJ had said seventeen.
I exchanged a look with Kellan, and I couldn’t help but feel alarmed. He was a kid!
“And that one?”
“He’s twenty-five,” Colby said.
Finn nodded once and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Lemme guess. Your big brother wants to get shit-faced every day, and you’re too weak to resist.”
Colby swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. “I won’t throw anyone under the bus, sir. But I’ll be 100% sober from now on if I’m given a last chance. I haven’t taken shit seriously—and I should’ve. I’m-I’m very sorry.”
“Jesus, bro,” Tony muttered. “You gonna offer to suck his dick too?”
Oh, Tony.
Finn found that funny but said nothing.
“Shut the fuck up,” Colby snapped under his breath. “I told you from the get—I wanna climb in JJ’s crew.”
“See, that’s good to know,” Finn noted. “What other ambitions do you have?”
Colby cleared his throat and let out an unsteady breath. “I wanna work in tech. I had an interview with Eric Bell last month, and I blew it by not showing up. B-but in my weak-ass defense, it wasn’t because I was drunk or nothin’. I was too chickenshit.”
Kellan brought out his phone and looked to be texting someone. Maybe Eric?
“It’s good to have ambitions,” Finn said. “Less good to be chickenshit.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You got anything to say, Alfie?” Before I could respond, he was looking at the brothers once more. “Alfie’s taking over part of our shipment operations, and if you want in on that money, do yourself a favor and be on his good side. He keeps a short list of people he calls.”
I didn’t, but maybe I should.
I cleared my throat and took a couple steps forward. I wasn’t sure I… Actually, I did have something to say. If Colby was being honest, I wanted to keep an eye on him.
“Separate ’em,” I said quietly. “If they wanna become Sons, we can’t have Tony dragging Colby down, and Colby needs to focus on growing balls.”
“That’s a good start,” Finn agreed. He glanced back at Kellan. “You reckon our boys in Dublin can help the drunk wise up before he finds himself with a bullet in his head?”
“They once straightened out Colm,” Kellan replied. “They can straighten out anybody. I’ll make some calls.”
“I resent that, mate,” Colm protested.
My mouth twitched.
It was nice to feel a bit of humor in a basement where the death of a drunk was being discussed in front of said drunk’s kid brother. Fuck, it was messing with my head. Colby was an actual child. He shouldn’t be here.
“It’s settled.” Finn walked over to Tony, fisted the guy’s hair, and yanked his head back. “But I’mma let you in on a little secret. The only reason you’ll walk outta here alive is because your brother is showing enough remorse to persuade us to give him another chance. And his…loyalties…might shift if we kill you.”
Tony gnashed his teeth and refused to make eye contact.
“Maybe some fucking gratitude is in order?” Finn pressed. “No? All right.” With that said, he pulled back and punched Tony hard across the face, and I sucked in a breath. “How about now?” Finn continued. Then promptly delivered another fist to Tony’s face, and this one had a muted crunch to it.
Tony swore through a pained groan as blood started gushing out from his nose.
“Show him respect, Tony,” Colby gritted out.
“For what?” Tony spat out. “For not killin’ me? He can suck my—”
Finn cut him off with another punch, one more, then a third and a fourth.
By then, Tony fell to the floor and couldn’t stop groaning—but that wasn’t enough. Finn muttered something about never beating a man when he was lying down, so he hauled Tony up to continue his assault.
“What am I saying? You’re not a fucking man,” Finn seethed. Then he used both hands to grab hold of Tony’s head, and he rammed his knee up the guy’s face.
“Motherfucker!” Tony yelled.
Colm strode forward, and he positioned himself behind Tony so he could hold him up. Tony’s face looked like roadkill. He had blood everywhere, from his nose, a busted lip, and a cut eyebrow. And he was swelling up.
Finn pulled out an actual handkerchief and wiped off the blood, and he turned to me. “Time to see if you’re with us, Alfie. Give them a good warning.”