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Authors: Erica O'Rourke

BOOK: Bound
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C
HAPTER
42
M
organ’s was empty. Morgan’s was never empty.
Except for now. No customers at the tables, no Charlie wiping down the bar. No ESPN on the plasma. Empty and quiet and dark.
Until two men stepped out of the shadows on either side of the door.
“Take him out front,” Billy called, sliding out of the booth and strolling across the room. “I didn’t invite
him,
Mo.”
“Luc stays, or we both go. Your pick.”
“My bar. My rules,” he said, his voice wavering with rage. He brought it back under control with an effort. “Your friend isn’t welcome here.”
“Like to see you make me leave,” Luc said easily, his hand still twined with mine.
“Did you enjoy the sandwich? Roast beef, wasn’t it?” he said. “My sister does a lovely job with them. She always includes just the right amount of horseradish.”
“Horseradish?” I stared for a moment, and then it hit me. “You’ve been watching the house. You called the landline, not my cell. You knew the moment we came home.”
The grin stretched clear across his face but never reached his eyes.
“And
that,
” he said to Luc, “is how I make you leave.”
“Mouse?” Luc asked. My call, he was telling me. He’d do whatever I asked.
Billy pulled his phone from his pocket and waggled it at me. “You’re too young to remember this,” he said conversationally. “But the phone companies used to have a slogan. ‘Reach out and touch someone.’ Shall I reach out, Mo?”
The magic went on alert, and my pulse galloped. I couldn’t look at Luc, or I’d break. “It’ll be fine,” I said to him.
“Of course it will,” Billy said. “So long as everyone behaves properly.”
“I’ll be okay.” I brushed my lips over Luc’s cheek and whispered, “Help my mom.”
He flexed his fingers, like he was about to cast a working, and walked out, the two guys trailing behind.
“Now,” said Billy. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? Or would you like one last drink before the war?”
“War’s over,” I said, forcing myself not to look out the window toward Luc. “You lost. The police are coming for you, Uncle Billy. They have enough to nail you even without the drive. You can drag this out longer, I guess, but in the end, you’ll be going to prison.”
He sat on the barstool, expansive and unconcerned. “Your mother always said you were better at science than history. Don’t you know how this plays out?”
“If you think my dad’s going to take the fall for you again, you’re crazy.”
“I think your father will do anything to protect his family. You get that from him, you know. This belief that you can save everyone. The Donnellys, your friend Lena. I would imagine your hunger to find Verity’s killers was penance for not saving her.”
A flare of anger obscured my vision for an instant. “I really don’t think you should talk to me about Verity.”
“You couldn’t save Joseph Kowalski, either, could you? That, by the way, truly wasn’t my doing.”
“I know.”
“So it would appear that history repeats itself. We’ll carry on, just as we always have.” He sat back with a smug, satisfied look. Not taking his eyes off me, he called, “How does that sound to you, Jack?”
There was a noise from the back room. Heavy, tired footsteps, and my father appeared. “Sounds like you’ve got everything planned out, Billy.”
“Dad?” I stared, baffled. He’d heard everything? And he was taking Billy’s side?
“Mo.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I wish I could say I was happy to see you.”
“Mom said you were out looking for me.”
“Wasn’t hard to figure out where you’d end up,” he said. “I told you to not to take that drive. Did you think I was joking?”
“You don’t understand. You don’t know what he’s done.” I had to make him understand. Make him see how bad this was. Convince him to help me.
Before I could tell him about Mom, Billy cut me off. “It doesn’t matter. Hand it over, Mo.”
I didn’t move, and he slapped the bar open-palmed, so hard the glasses jumped. “Now. Unless you want me to tell Marco Forelli you’ve decided to go from stubborn to suicidal.”
“Dad?”
“Do it,” he said tonelessly. “And then leave.”
“Why are you doing this?” I willed myself not to cry, but the hurt was deeper and more painful than I’d anticipated.
“To protect you and your mother. The way I should have all along.”
I blinked, shook my head, and threw the drive onto the bar. “So much for being a changed man.”
Billy snorted. “People don’t change, Maura Kathleen. Look at you. For all your bravado, you still do exactly what’s expected.”
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t be so sure.”
“You came right over here, didn’t you? Brought the drive, just like I told you to. And now you’ll come back to work for us, as expected.” He scooped it up and smiled.
My temper, thin and brittle, snapped into a hundred pieces. “I brought you
a
drive. Not
the
drive.”
“What do you mean?” Billy said. My father’s head jerked up.
“Enjoy the files,” I said. “My physics teacher really liked the presentation on dark matter. I’d ask you what you think of it, but you’ll both be in jail.”
Billy gaped at me, and I tried to feel the satisfaction I’d anticipated. The triumph. Instead, it left a sharp, vinegary taste in my mouth, especially when I looked at my dad.
“The police have the drive and your files,” I said. “You’re holding my junior year portfolio.”
“You gave it to the police?” asked my father. He didn’t seem shocked, just confused.
“Close enough.”
“You stupid, stupid girl! Forelli will kill you—he’ll kill all of us. Don’t you see what you’ve done?” Billy stood so abruptly the stool toppled over, and went behind the bar. Face splotched with red, hands shaking, he pulled a bottle of Bushmills off the top shelf and poured a glass. He downed it in one go and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’re a ghost,” he said. “You died the minute you handed over the drive. So did your family.”
He exchanged a glance with my father. “She’s killed us all, Jack. What now?”
“I’ll deal with her at home. She’s my responsibility.” He folded his arms, glaring at me.
Billy poured another glass. “You’ve been too soft with her from the moment you got back. She’s a danger to us; she has been from the start. You’ve no idea what she’s been up to. I’m the one who kept her in line.”
“I’ll take care of her,” my dad said again, moving toward me, but I backed away, banging into a table.
“Sure, and I’ll tell Marco what? She’s grounded? You’ve taken away her television privileges? We need to control the damage. Prove she was working alone. He needs to know we’re loyal.” He rounded on me. “You were such a darling girl, once upon a time.”
I saw Billy grimace, his idea of an apology. I saw him bend slightly, reaching beneath the counter.
When he straightened, all I saw was the gun.
C
HAPTER
43
T
he sound of the safety clicking off was louder than I’d expected. Like someone snapping their fingers right next to your eardrum, a high harsh sound.
“You don’t want to shoot me.” Reasons, eminently logical, flooded my brain. Luc would kill him. Colin would kill him. Forelli would still blame him for the drive. Murder charges carried a stiffer penalty than racketeering. He’d lose the bar. He’d lose everything.
But my mouth wouldn’t work. And the wild, vacant look in his eyes said logic wasn’t going to be much use. Billy’s rage had carried him light-years past reason.
“We all have choices,” my dad said, stepping in front of me. “And hurting my daughter would be the worst one you ever made.”
I sagged against the table. My father gave me a faint, weary smile over his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”
Never had I wanted to believe him more.
He kept his hands up, easy, nonthreatening, but there was steel in his voice when he said, “Put the gun down.”
“We need to minimize the damage,” my uncle said.
“Mo,” my father said, as if Billy hadn’t spoken. “Leave.”
I glanced toward the front door, too scared to breathe.
“Don’t take a step,” Billy said. “Jack, we have a situation. It needs to be dealt with.”
“It will be,” my father promised. Something was transforming him—the stoop of his shoulders disappearing, the lines around his eyes determined instead of defeated. “You’re going to let Mo leave. You’re going to call off the men at the house. And then I will deal with you.”
Billy’s hand trembled. “You know I’d never hurt Annie, not truly.”
“You’ve got two guys covering my home, and they’re both carrying. I can have my people take them out now, but I’d rather not put my wife in harm’s way.
My wife,
you bastard. My wife and my daughter. I trusted you to look after them.”
“Your people?” Billy asked, and the gun steadied. “And who are your people, that you come into my bar and tell me what to do?”
“Me, to start with.” The door to the storeroom, the one that connected Morgan’s to The Slice, slammed wide open. Colin strode in, and I could breathe again.
Billy looked between the three of us, confusion plain on his face. “You left town.”
“Not quite yet,” Colin said. He held out his hand for me. “Come on, Mo.”
I couldn’t stop watching the waves of hatred rolling off my dad. So much anger, so carefully restrained, as if he was waiting for something.
“You used my wife. My child. That was never part of our deal,” my dad said, taking a slow, menacing step forward.
“I’ve protected them.”
“You
used
them. I’ve seen the records. I know what you’ve done with the restaurant’s books, even after you signed the business over to Annie. I told her not to let you help with the taxes, to keep all her files separate, but she has a blind spot for you. Always has.”
“It was nothing,” Billy said. “Barely worth the effort, really. I just kept running cash through until it was squeaky clean, same as I’d always done, and she never noticed the difference.”
“And burning down The Slice?”
“The money came in handy, of course. But we needed Mo on our side. And it showed people how badly things would go, if they cast their lot with the wrong team.”
“So you burned down my wife’s restaurant to intimidate people—including Mo—and to get a little insurance money?”
“These are difficult times. I do what’s necessary to protect what’s mine.”
“So do I.” My dad turned to me, deliberately putting his back to Billy and the gun. “You did good, sweetheart. But you should have listened to Nick.”
“Nick? You know ...” Suddenly, it made sense. The early release. The secret phone calls. His insistence that I didn’t understand what he was doing. “You were working for the police?”
“The FBI. Part of the deal was that you and the Kowalski girl weren’t supposed to participate anymore.”
“Nick said they didn’t need us. Because they had you.”
The bigger picture,
Nick had told me. And I’d never seen it. I’d treated my dad like a criminal. My voice shook. “You should have told me.”
“I didn’t even tell your mother. I had to make you doubt me. It was the best way to convince Billy and Marco that I was truly back. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s good. Not good. But manageable, right?” The words tumbled out as relief swept over me. He’d chosen us. That’s what mattered. He’d chosen us over the Outfit. We could fix this, and be a family again. A fresh start, like he’d said. I grabbed his hand. “It’s okay. We’ll call the police and they’ll arrest Billy and everything will be fine. We can go—”
Home,
I was going to say, but Billy’s outrage, loud enough to rattle the bottles on the shelves, drowned me out.
“You bastard!”
“Gun!” Colin shouted. My dad shoved me to the ground with a grunt, the sound of the gunshot impossibly loud and close. He staggered, dropped, and I scrambled across the floor to him, screaming, seeing the dark stain spreading across his denim shirt, not caring about Billy anymore.
Gunshot. Pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding.
I’d paid attention in health class. I knew first aid. I could fix this.
Colin dove toward me, but Billy fired again, the noise splitting the air like someone had gone Between, but it wasn’t Luc—it was me. The bullet slammed into my shoulder and the magic flared crazily, shrieking in protest. Colin took aim at Billy just as people in helmets and bulky vests burst in. The room spun as the magic shuddered, and Colin dropped the gun, shouting something to the cops, easing me back, and stripping off his jacket to press against my shoulder.
“Gunshot,” I mumbled to Colin as time slowed to a crawl. “Pressure on the wound.”
I looked past him. Billy was still holding the gun, aiming at me again, snarling and holding everyone at bay. He’d lost it completely. He’d kill me before the cops could stop him.
He jerked back at the same time I heard more gunshots—four sharp explosions like the Fourth of July—and disappeared behind the bar.
I twisted my head to the side and saw my father, half-sitting, Colin’s gun slipping from his hand, blood pooling around him. He collapsed.
“No!” Somehow, I shook Colin off and crawled to my father, panting, the magic wailing and frantic, keening loss, and I wanted to keen, too, but all I could say was his name, and beg him to stay.
People didn’t stay.
I’d done this before. I knew. People didn’t stay. Not like this. Not with so much blood, and I’d sent Luc away. I screamed for him now, felt my father’s hand touch mine.
“Wish I’d done that twelve years ago,” he said, the words grinding out of him, costing him so much. “Never should’ve left.”
“You’re here now,” I said. “Just stay, okay? Don’t go. Hang on a little longer. We can fix this.”
I needed Luc. I needed the magic. I needed time. God, why wasn’t there ever enough time?
He tried to smile but only one corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes met mine again, hazel and infinitely sad. “Liar.”
“Daddy, don’t.” My tears were lost in the stain spreading across his chest.
“You go now. Far away. And be ... extraordinary, okay?” His breath rattled, his voice faded. “Love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too. Daddy, please. I’m sorry. Please. Don’t—”
The EMTs elbowed us out of the way, urging me onto a stretcher, and I was fighting them off but my shoulder hurt so, so much, and everything started to go black. I felt Colin pick me up and carry me outside, and Luc was there, shoving his way through the crowd of people, blazing with fear and love.
“Mouse!” His hand was on my shoulder, but I pushed him toward the door. “My dad. Luc. Inside.” And he was gone again, and the dark came back.

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