Page 40 of Retribution

“That’s a big word for you. You going back to school? Finally gonna graduate high school?”

Derry’s hands clench at his sides. “I know what a fucking proxy is.”

“Good. Then you’ll know anything happens to her, it’s like it happened to me. You got me, guy? You lay a hand on her—anywhere on her—you might as well be doing it to me.”

With a curt nod, Derry moves to the door.

I exit first with Finn on my heels. He extends his hand to Derry. “Nice doing business with you.”

Derry doesn’t take his hand.

In the hall, Finn’s icy stare connects with mine for a moment. “I’ll see you back at the house. He lays so much as a fingertip of one of his fat, filthy fingers on you, you tell me. Ian will have the car waiting outside for you when you’re done.”

“Understood.” I lean against the wall where the memorial photos end.

As Finn and the other guys wander the wide, well-lit hall, Derry closes the door to his office. I’m left in the hallway, alone.

Chapter Fifteen

Like a magnet, I’m pulled down the row of photos to my brother’s picture. Without anyone else around, I can let myself study him, remember him. Although this version of him isn’t the one I knew. To me, he was my older brother, my mother’s other child. Twelve years my senior, he looked out for me, took me to the movies, drove me to Tae Kwon Do, made silly jokes, teased me. This tough guy on the wall is a mystery.

“You like the look of that one?” Derry’s voice startles me.

Inside, I curse myself. Getting caught up in my own thoughts here is a bad idea.

“Do they all die in the ring?” I glance at him, trying to pretend his presence isn’t unnerving.

“Nah.” His lecherous grin fades. “That one was shot down like a dog in the street.”

“By you?” I raise my eyebrows. My mind races, straining for the truth.

“Not even. Wicked Wickie was our gravy, sweetheart. We woulda gone to war over his loss if we’d ever found out who did it. He was a hell of a fighter.”

His loss is so much greater than a fighter. I keep my face blank. My hands inside my pockets are sticky, liquid oozing between my fingers. “Shame.”

“Hell of a shame.” He holds out an envelope. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, sweetheart. You’re gonna get caught in the crossfire.”

I smirk. “I don’t have a problem with danger.”

Crossing his arms, he shakes his head. “I got no use for women in this business.”

“Clearly,” I say with a chuckle.

“I don’t know, something about you seems kinda familiar. So I’m gonna give you some advice. Get outta that house. They’ll tug you between them until they rip you apart.”

“I don’t break easily.” I tap the envelope in my palm.

He scoffs. “Gives them more incentive to try harder. They ain’t good people.”

Coming from him, it’s not much of a caution. Lorcan inferred Derry would have no trouble raping or killing me. Finn’s warning before he left the building turned those ideas to concrete. Derry’s a busybody who wants to feel more important in a situation that’s out of his control.

“I’ll take that into account.”

“You should.” Derry rests a hand on the wall and leans against it.

On another man, it might be an attractive pose. On him, it makes his stomach even more prominent. Given my height, his bald patches are obvious. A faint whiff of body odor hits my nose, and I school my features. It’s not the pleasant scent that comes off men when they’ve been working but rather what happens when a man is sweating out his fear.

“I’d hate to think of a pretty little thing like you getting hurt.”