Filthy Bastard by Madison Faye
Chapter Fourteen
Nicole
It’s still dark, but I’m awake. Somehow, hours back I assume, we managed to drag ourselves to the bedroom and collapse into the bed together. I have no idea what time it is now, but I know it’s definitely dark, and I know it’s definitely that sound that just woke me.
That sound, but I’m not entirely sure what it is. I blink more awake, and I turn to wake Killian when I realize he’s already awake too. His eyes are narrowed, his jaw tight, and with just the moonlight coming in through the window, I can see his gaze sweeping the darkness.
“Kill—”
“I heard it,” he whispers.
He leans over to the side table, and the metallic sound of him cocking his gun sends a shiver down my back.
“Wait here,” he growls. He stands and slips some jeans on before he moves quietly for the door and pokes his head into the rest of the house before stepping out. I follow, pulling on my yoga pants and shirt before slinking to the doorway. Killian turns to me, and I can see the arched brow like he wants to tell me “I told you to wait,” but he doesn’t say it.
And then, we both hear it together—the sound of a car creeping down the gravel drive. Killian grunts and goes to the side window, me right behind him, and we can both make out the dim shape of car with the headlights off coming to a stop near the house. The engine turns off, and the door opens noiselessly.
Killian’s hand tightens on the gun, and my pulse begins to hammer.
“Stay back,” he growls as a shadowy figure steps out of the car.
“Kill!”
The big, booming voice slicing through the silence is jarring after the quiet car with no headlights.
“Killian! You there?”
I turn in confusion to see Killian frowning.
“That’s Owen,” he growls.
“I thought he didn’t know where your place was?” I whisper.
“He doesn’t.”
Killian’s jaw is clenched, his whole body on edge as he uncocks the gun and slips it into the back of his jeans.
“Stay back, princess,” he grunts, looking me in the eye before he moves for the door and opens it. “Owen?”
“Hey, brother!” Owen calls back out, stepping towards the house. I’m still hidden behind Killian in the house, but past him, with the moonlight coming through the trees, I can make out Owen—dark shaggy hair, a slightly silvered goatee, leather biker jacket, jeans, and a big tattoo of something I can’t quite make out on his neck.
Killian puts his hand behind his back and motions with his fingers, gesturing for me to move, so I do. I slip to the side of the door, hiding in the shadows next to the closet door and some shelves. Killian clears his throat as Owen stops at the bottom of the three steps up to the door.
“How’d you find me?”
“You never called back, man! Had to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah,” Killian mutters. “Sorry. Shit reception out here.”
“Well, I knew you’d probably hole up here. Hawk knew the address.”
From where I’m hiding next to the doorway, I can see Killian’s jaw clench. Through the door-jam, I watch as Owen takes a pack of cigarettes out his pocket and jams one in his mouth. A zippo flicks, the flame illuminating a haggard, rugged face, and showing me that the neck tattoo is a roaring lion.
Owen takes a long drag.
“She here? The chick, I mean.”
“Owen—”
“Kill, there’s more going on here than you know. Trust me, brother. So is she here or not?”
“We gotta talk, Owen.”
“Killian, this whole thing we’ve gotta roll back on. Our whole fuckin’ intel was wrong on all of this. It’s not Leonard, man.”
I frown, and so does Killian.
“What?” he grunts.
“Yeah, brother. It turns out, it’s not her father. Hey sweetheart?” he suddenly calls out, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Since I’m guessing you’re in there? Come on out so we can all chat, honey. This whole thing is a big misunderstanding.”
Killian glances sidelong at me, his eyes hard. But I nod, and with a deep breath, I step out. Owen smiles when he sees me, nodding.
“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Nicole, yeah?”
“Hi.”
“Listen, I’m real sorry for all of this. Honest. I’m second in command of this crew, so I’m taking full responsibility for this whole fucking mess.” He grins, but there’s something cold and hard in his eyes.
“Actually, hang on. Someone else wanted to come along with me here tonight.”
He turns and waves, and more headlights turn on further up the gravel road. An engine starts, and Killian tenses and reaches for his gun, but Owen waves a hand.
“Nah, brother. It’s okay. Hang on one sec.”
The mystery car drives down the road towards us before coming to a stop and shutting off. The door swings open, and my mouth drops as the man steps out.
“Dad?”
My father steps out, smiling meekly.
“Hi, honey.”
Killian snarls and lunges forward, but Owen jumps quickly, blocking him and pushing him back.
“Woah! Woah, brother! Hang tight. We were wrong about Leonard, alright? He’s not with the mob. We were wrong.”
Killian’s eyes narrow. “Wrong?” he growls.
“It’s not an opinion, it’s fact,” Owen mutters. “He’s been—”
“I work on the intelligence and the evidence I’m given,” my dad says quietly, looking scared and quiet honestly, pathetic.
“I’m really sorry for your friends, Mr. Donovan, and I’m going to see if I can fix this.”
Killian’s teeth are bared as he glares at my father.
“Who gets you this wrong info then?”
My dad sighs this practiced, lawyer sigh that somehow seems both bored and condescending at the same time.
“Detectives, cops,” he shrugs. “This mob-bought corruption might by systemic in the whole city. But I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Nicole, come here honey.”
I stay where I am, my eyes hard.
“You knew I was here?”
“Well, my new friend here, Mr. Cordon,” he gestures at Owen. “Assumed as much.”
“You didn’t call me?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d pick up, in light of what I’m sure you’ve been told.”
My mouth purses, trying to imagine a scenario where a parent finds out their kid’s been kidnapped, and is safe, and doesn’t immediately call them a gazillion times until they pick up.
Owen claps his hands together, shattering my thoughts. “So, let’s all go inside and talk, Killian,” he chuckles. “I swear, this whole thing is funny shit once you hear it.”
“I’m not laughing, Owen,” Killian growls.
Owen laughs, shaking his head. “This fuckin’ guy!” he chuckles, elbowing my dad like they’re old buddies. “Always such a hard case, this guy! C’mon, Kill, play host. You got something to drink in their I assume?”
Killian’s brow furrows, but he nods. “Yeah.”
“Well, let’s get drinking!”
Killian looks at me, I look at him, and we both seem to subtly nod at the same time.
“Alright, come on in.”
I move back into the kitchen, and Killian stands aside, gesturing for Owen and my dad to come in. My dad steps up first, followed by Owen, when suddenly, there’s a scrabble. Killian swears as Owen shoves him sideways, and just as he goes sprawling, the older man reaches back and yanks the gun out of Killian’s jeans.
I scream, but my mouth snaps shut as he points the gun right at me. Killian roars, lunging up from the floor, but Owen yanks another gun from his own belt, snarling as he jabs it in Killian’s face.
“Sit,” he hisses furiously, the whole jokey smiling look from seconds before vanishing.
“Owen—!”
“Sit!” he booms. “Right fucking now, Killian!”
“Owen! What the fuck are you—!”
“Now, asshole!” the older man snarls.
Killian hisses, his teeth bared, his muscles tight and coiled, and his huge hands tightened to fists at his side. But he glances at me, he growls, and then he moves back to sink onto one of the stools in the kitchen.
Owen shakes his head. “Goddamnit, man. I didn’t want it to be this way. Not with you, Kill.”
“I fucking knew it,” Killian growls ferociously. “You fucking traitor.”
Owen rolls his eyes. “Oh fuck off man. Don’t get high and mighty.”
“Fucking why, man!”
“Times are changing,” Owen grunts. “And the Bastards are a dying breed in a town like Boston. I tried to talk sense into Grey, but he wouldn’t listen to reason, so I’m doing it myself.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Kill, an alliance is what we need. To survive.”
“An alliance?” Killian snarls. “An alliance that puts your brothers I jail?”
“Gotta break some eggs, Killian,” Owen mutters. “But not all of them.” He pokes his gun towards Killian. “You? I want you in, man. I need guys like you when we make this happen. Grey’s out. I mean, he won’t ever change. But a man like you could make some serious bank for himself with this new—”
“Fuck off, Owen,” Killian snarls. “Just fuck off.”
“Killian,” the older guy growls dangerously.
I bite my lip, looking up.
“Dad?”
I’m looking for reason. I’m looking for guidance, or a rational voice, or something to let me know this is all going to be okay. But my father just shrugs.
“This is how the world works, Nicole.”
I stare at him, feeling my pulse thundering.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“You’re young, honey,” he says flippantly with wave of his hand. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand?” I hiss incredulously. “Dad! I understand right and fucking wrong!”
“There is no right and wrong!” he roars back, making me blink in shock at his rage. “Talk to me after you’ve been a lawyer in this fucking system for thirty years, Nicole. You do what you have to. You figure out who’s really in charge, and you play the game.”
My lips curl, my nose wrinkles.
“You disgust me,” I hiss.
“Yeah, well, deal with it, honey,” he growls back. “It’s how you have this entire life, you ungrateful bitch.”
My dad’s never been the overly affectionate type and has been downright cold to me plenty of times. But this is something new, and it hits me like a slap in the face.
“You wanted for nothing growing up, Nicole,” he mutters. “Brand new Mercedes at sixteen? All the clothes and shit you ever needed? You think every kid gets that growing up?”
“I know every kid doesn’t get that,” I spit back. “If I’d known when I was a fucking child that you made your money this way though, I’d never have taken a dime from you.”
He rolls his eyes.
“The best private schools, the best college, an in with a dream job at the courthouse? A now Harvard fucking Law, Nicole?” he sneers. “Where exactly do you think that money comes from? A fucking tree?”
“Keep your money,” I hiss.
“No!” he roars. “No! Listen to me, Nicole. Whatever this little…” he glares at Killian as he wags a finger between us. “This little fling of yours? We’re going to never speak of it, and it won’t hurt you when you finally find a husband.”
Killian snorts, and my dad whips his head around to glare daggers at him.
“Yes? Something funny, you fucking ape?”
“Yeah, there is,” he growls, grinning at my dad. “I’m just amused how little you understand your own daughter.”
“Like you do?”
“Yeah,” I whisper heatedly, looking at Killian as I say it. “Like he does.”
Owen sighs. “Okay, enough with the family bullshit, Leonard?” he turns and levels his gaze at Killian. “It’s crossroads time, brother. You want in or out, Killian?”
“Fuck you Owen.”
“In or out,” he snarls. “Brother.”
“In with your little pathetic mutiny?” Killian sneers. “Fuck no.”
Owen growls. “Out doesn’t end well for you, just as a heads up.”
Killian nods slowly and then leans forward, looking Owen dead in the eye.
“Fuck. You.”
“Goddamnit, Killian!” Owen hisses through clenched teeth. He swears, shaking his head violently before suddenly, he whips his gaze up, cocks the hammer back on the gun, and jams it right in Killian’s face, and my heart stops.
“I’m counting to three, Killian. And then I will put a bullet in your fucking head.”
Killian swallows, and his eyes move to mine, holding my gaze and letting something wild flash between us before he turns back to Owen.
“I owe you a lot, I know,” he growls. “But I owe the Bastards everything.”
“So help them! Help us!” Owen hisses.
“This isn’t the Bastards, asshole,” Killian growls. “This is you grabbing power.”
Owen takes a deep, measured breath.
“I’m done with this, so this is the last time I’m fucking saying it, Killian. Are you in or are you out?”
Killian says nothing, and Owen’s face darkens.
“One.”
My dad looks white as he shifts his weight nervously and glances furtively at Owen.
“Now, hang on one sec—”
“Shut the fuck up, Leonard,” Owen hisses. “You work for them same as me, so shut the fuck up.”
His gaze shifts back to Killian.
“Two.”
Killian smiles thinly.
“Eat a dick, Owen.”
“I’m going to blow your brains out right fucking here,” Owen snarls. “You want that? In front of her? Last chance, brother. Two and half!”
Suddenly, everything around me goes into slow motion. I see my father fidgeting in slow motion. I see Owen’s hand clench the gun in slow motion, his finger tightening dangerously as his lips pull back in a sneer and his eyes turn wild. And then I turn, and I see the man I love.
And I know it in one second that it’s true. I see the man I love, in slow motion, looking death in the eye and not flinching. He turns slowly to me, and our eyes lock in the slow-motion world I’m in, and just like that, it all clicks, and I know exactly what I need to do. I know, because I know he’d do it, if that were me with a gun in my face.
In slow-motion, Owen’s deep, drawn out, slow-motion voice begins to drawl out the word “three,” and I turn. In slow-motion, like I’m underwater, I whirl, grab the whisky bottle from the counter, and I move before I can even think it through. I spin back, the bottle swings high in the air, and then I bring it down with every single ounce of strength in my body, right over Owen’s head.
The glass explodes, and suddenly, slow-motion evaporates, and everything goes rushing back into real time.
Owen grunts, the lights go out of his eyes, and he slumps to ground in a second. Shattered glass, whisky, and blood swirl around him, and Killian snarls as he lunges forward to kick the guns from his hands. He whirls, and my father gasps and goes white as a ghost as Killian slams him into the fridge.
He turns to me, our eyes locking as my mind still tries to process what I just did.
“Nicole,” he says quietly.
I just stare at him, barely blinking, barely breathing.
“Nicole!”
I gasp, shaken out of my numbness.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?” he says gently.
“I—yeah,” I nod, biting my lip. “Yeah, I am.”
“Can you grab my phone?”
I nod, rushing over to the counter, grabbing his phone, and handing it to him. He keeps one hand on my dad’s neck, pinning him to the refrigerator as he opens the phone with his other hand and hits a number.
“Hawk,” he growls after a second. “Hey brother, I need Grey—no, I know you’re on a run—Hawk, I know!” he roars, making my dad gasp.
“This is a nine-one-one, brother,” he hisses, his eyes wild. “I need him now.”
There’s a second of silence, and then I see Killian smile thinly.
“Grey,” he growls, turning to smile at me before he turns to glare at my father.
“We gotta talk.”
