Deliver Us from Evil (Deliver Us from Evil Trilogy Book Three) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books By Monica James

  Author’s Note

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Connect with Monica James

  Copyrighted Material

  DELIVER US FROM EVIL

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.

  Copyright © 2021 by Monica James

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the express, written consent of the author.

  Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

  Cover Model: Lochie Carey

  Editing: Editing 4 Indies

  Interior designed and formatted by:

  www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

  Follow me on:

  authormonicajames.com

  THE I SURRENDER SERIES

  I Surrender

  Surrender to Me

  Surrendered

  White

  SOMETHING LIKE NORMAL SERIES

  Something like Normal

  Something like Redemption

  Something like Love

  A HARD LOVE ROMANCE

  Dirty Dix

  Wicked Dix

  The Hunt

  MEMORIES FROM YESTERDAY DUET

  Forgetting You, Forgetting Me

  Forgetting You, Remembering Me

  SINS OF THE HEART DUET

  Absinthe of the Heart

  Defiance of the Heart

  ALL THE PRETTY THINGS TRILOGY

  Bad Saint

  Fallen Saint

  Forever My Saint

  The Devil’s Crown-Part One (Spin-Off)

  The Devil’s Crown-Part Two (Spin-Off)

  THE MONSTERS WITHIN DUET

  Bullseye

  Blowback

  DELIVER US FROM EVIL TRILOGY

  Thy Kingdom Come

  Into Temptation

  Deliver Us From Evil

  STANDALONE

  Mr. Write

  Chase the Butterflies

  Beyond the Roses

  CONTENT WARNING: Although I’ve consulted with many locals, please be mindful, this is a work of fiction. Places, events, and incidents are either the product of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  DELIVER US FROM EVIL is a DARK ROMANCE. It contains mature themes that might make some readers uncomfortable.

  Godspeed…

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have it. But I can pay ye—”

  Punch to the jaw.

  Kick to the ribs.

  Nothing hurts anymore. My mind, as well as my body, is numb to the pain.

  This is how I felt ten years ago. However, this is so much worse. Back then, I had hope, but now, I have none. Hope was lost a week ago when Babydoll was taken from me and I killed my best friend in cold blood.

  “Puck, I fucked up, so I did. I’m s-sorry. Please don’t kill me.”

  Those were Rory’s last words—begging for his life.

  But it didn’t make a difference. He’d made his choice as I did mine, and now, I must live with those choices.

  It’s because I once cared that I’m here, beating up a kid because he’s hooked on the shite the Kellys sold him. He curls himself into a ball, begging for mercy, but I don’t have any. I am dead inside.

  Dropping to one knee, I yank him up by the collar of his shirt, pressing us nose to nose. “I’m not interested in yer excuses. You have twenty-four hours to get the money you owe. If not, I will kill yer family and make ya watch.”

  “O-okay,” he whimpers, tears streaming down his face.

  I toss him onto the ground and turn away. Bystanders watch on, too afraid to intervene because word on the street is that Puck Kelly is back; and he is out for blood.

  Jumping into my truck, I calmly light a cigarette and drive away from the mess I made. It’s just one of many. That’s the consequence of being Sean Kelly’s errand boy.

  Clenching the steering wheel, I think how a week can change the course of everything. When I entered Connor’s old factory, I thought I had things sorted. The plan was far from perfect, but I thought if anyone would suffer the consequences, it would be me—I suppose in more ways than one, I have.

  I’ve lost my friends—one I murdered; the others see me as nothing but a monster. I’ve pushed my family aside in fear of them getting hurt. And I let down the only person who ever believed in me. Babydoll trusted me, and in return, she paid with her freedom.

  I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know if she’s alive. All I know is that my father, Sean Kelly, has the answer, which is why I’m forced to live this way—his prisoner. Until I get those answers, I’m at his mercy, which is why I refuse to show any.

  A week ago, I surrendered, something I promised to never do. But never before have I been placed into a position where my hands are tied. There is no compromise. No way out of this because I will do anything to protect Babydoll—even if that means selling my soul to the monster I call father.

  I can’t sleep.

  I can’t eat.

  I feel so hollow inside.

  Prison was nothing compared to the imprisonment I feel because being without Babydoll is a life sentence.

  I can’t even begin to think about what’s been done to her. My hope is Sean is holding her ransom, knowing I will do anything to keep her safe, knowing I will happily sacrifice my life for hers. But I don’t know anything anymore.

  Blind faith is what led me here, and it’s what leads me now as I drive to Sean’s house. I was right. He’s been in Belfast this entire time, watching and waiting like the predator he is.

  He was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike; and that time was when I was released from prison. He set the trap, and I played straight into his hands.

  I thought I outsmarted him—but I did everything to benefit him. I killed Brody. I weeded out the traitors. I did everything thinking it would benefit me, but in the end, all it did was make his empire stronger.

  Our associates believe the Kellys are back—that Sean and I are working together. They don’t know he holds a loaded gun to my head.

  When his modest home comes into view, I swallow down my disgust. I expected he lived somewhere fancy. But that would draw too much attention to him. He wanted to blend in. No one would suspect a vile monster living next door to them in this neighborhood.

  The bright red roses he has growing in his front garden have me inhaling sharply. It’s like he planted them as a fuck you to me. Peering down at the rose tattoo on the back of my hand, I’m hit with so many emotions that leave me nostalgic for something that’ll never be again.

  My ma is gone. And her rose brooch, the one I gave to Babydoll, that too is now gone. Everyone I’ve eve
r loved has been taken away, thanks to the bastard who stands on his front lawn, watering the roses like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  I park my truck and exit, clenching my fists when I see Sean. He smiles.

  “Bout ye, son? Are ye hungry? I’ve left ya some tea.”

  It takes all my willpower not to wrap the hose around his fucking neck and choke the life from him. But I can’t. Until I know where Babydoll is, I’m his fucking dog.

  “Don’t call me son,” I firmly reply, walking past him into his gaff. “And I don’t want any fucking dinner.”

  When I smell the unmistakable fragrance of a beef stew, I shrug out of my jacket, unbelieving he was actually serious about tea. I shouldn’t be, however. This is all a big game to him. As he sees it, this is his time for payback. I fucked up his plans, and now he intends on returning the favor by fucking up my life.

  I reach for the bottle of whiskey and pour myself a large glass. But it’ll never be enough to fill this void.

  When Sean enters and sees me drinking, he shakes his head. “I’m worried ’bout yer drinkin’.”

  Throwing back the contents, I pour myself another glass. “We’re not doin’ this,” I state, shaking my head, incredulous.

  “Doin’ what?” He has the gall to ask.

  “Doin’ this concerned father act. In case y’ve forgotten, I’m here ’cause I have no other choice.”

  “No one is holdin’ ya prisoner,” he counters, washing his hands in the sink. “Ya can leave any time ya want.”

  Gripping the glass in my hand, I measure my breaths before I impale it into his jugular. “I do that and what happens to Cami? Where is she? What have ya done with her?”

  Sean continues lathering his hands with soap, ignoring me.

  “I’ve done what ya wanted. I promised my loyalty to ya. What else do ya want me to fucking do?” I exclaim, my temper intensifying.

  Sean calmly turns off the taps and dries his hands on a tea towel. It’s a floral pattern, for fuck’s sake. This would be laughable if not for the fact he is holding the woman I love prisoner. Or, so I hope.

  “Yer word means nothin’ to me, cub. Ya proved that when ya tried to double-cross me. But in time, if you prove yer loyalty, y’ll get what ya want.”

  What I want is his head.

  “I’ve done ya a favor. In time, y’ll see Rory—”

  Slamming my glass onto the kitchen counter, I shatter it in my hand. “Don’tcha ever speak his name. Don’t ever,” I warn dangerously low.

  The hot sensation and the drip…drip…drip onto the counter confirms I’ve cut my hand, but the blood is a reminder I’m still alive.

  “He was a traitor, Puck,” he says, not knowing when to shut his mouth. “He was the one who betrayed ye. He was given a choice. I never forced his hand. Just how no one forced yours when ya shot him right between the eyes.”

  “Please don’t kill me.”

  Rory’s words haunt me every single day. When I try to sleep, those words rob me of any comfort because I don’t deserve any. I killed my best friend in cold blood. He was unarmed, and I fucking shot him like a dog.

  I am a fucking murderer. Aye, I’ve killed before, but Rory’s death is the only one for which I have any remorse.

  “Y’ll see I’m not the enemy here,” he says, which has a crazed laugh leaving me.

  “That’s all I fucking see,” I reply, reaching for the tea towel and wrapping it around my hand. “What the fuck is wrong with ya? We are not friends. We are enemies. And I would happily use yer wee spatula over there to carve out yer tongue.”

  I understand he wants to appear like every Joe Bloggs, but his kitchen looks like something out of an Ulster Tatler Interiors magazine. It sickens me.

  His mouth twitches. He finds this fucking hilarious. “I understand yer mad. But we wouldn’t be here if ya didn’t try to kill me every chance ya got.”

  “You killed my ma,” I snarl, eyeing him fiercely. “And Connor. Ya wanted to steal my legacy. I spent ten years in prison because of ye. Ya got Ethan hooked on drugs. Ya beat up Hannah. Ya kidnapped Eva and Ethan. And y’ve got my fucking girl.

  “Of course, I want to kill ya. Are ye fucking thick?”

  Sean nods, accepting my slurs because he can’t deny them. “In time—”

  “Say in time once more, I fucking dare ya,” I interrupt, jaw clenched.

  “In time, ye will—”

  However, he doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because I elbow him in the face swiftly. His nose cracks, and the noise, it sings to my debauchery, and I can’t stop. Reaching for a silver corkscrew on the bench, I don’t think twice before I jam it into his thigh.

  Just as I reach for a pair of scissors, Sean laughs sharply. “She’ll pay for yer temper, Punky. I promise ya that.”

  Does this mean she is alive?

  All it would take is imbedding these scissors into the side of this throat. Like a warm knife slicing through butter, they would enter easily, and I could end this all. But as we stand in his kitchen in the ultimate standoff, I know he’s not bluffing.

  I kill him, and I will never find Babydoll.

  With a pained breath, I drop the scissors by my feet, defeated—in every sense of the word.

  Sean rips out the corkscrew, tossing it into the sink. He’ll live, sadly. “I want ya to do somethin’ for me,” he says, and I know this isn’t optional. “Seein’ as yer so eager to kill someone. I want ya to kill Liam Doyle.”

  I knew it would always come to this.

  Sean doesn’t need him anymore. He got what he wanted from him, and as usual, he’s sending someone to do his dirty work. But this work I do not mind.

  “I was plannin’ on doin’ that anyway.”

  “Grand.” He leans against the counter as his beige pant leg begins to stain red. “But not before the wee party he’s throwin’.”

  “What party?”

  “With Brody dead, he is desperately tryin’ to get as many men on his side. Powerful men. I want those men on our team. It’s a VIP event, but I’ll make the arrangements to get ya in.”

  “This didn’t work for either Brody or you last time, aul’ lad,” I remind him. “This is why we’re here.”

  Sean smirks, once again proving he’s thought this through. “Last time, I didn’t have my son on my team. What ya did to Brody…it’s made ye a celebrity. Yer public execution of Ireland and Northern Ireland’s bossman has made you notorious.

  “No one will want to fuck with us. They’re afraid of us, and we will use that fear to our advantage.”

  If I could take it back, I would.

  Killing Brody was supposed to be a calling to Sean, and it was. But it also called to the hundreds of other psychopaths Ireland and Northern Ireland have bred.

  “I do this, and I want to see Cami,” I demand, tired of his games.

  Sean mulls over my order but shakes his head. “I can’t trust ye, Puck. I’m sorry, lad. The fact I have a hole in my leg ’cause ya stabbed me proves this.”

  My anger is so close to boiling point, it’s getting harder and harder to control. “How do I know she’s even alive?”

  “I give ya my word that she is,” he affirms, which is the first time he’s done so.

  “Yer word means nothin’ to me,” I spit. “I want to see her. I promised I would do what ya wanted. Just let her go. I have nothin’ left. What can I offer her? Ye don’t need her anymore.”

  Sean mulls over my comment, watching for any signs of deceit. “Kill Liam, and I’ll give ye what ya want.”

  This time, I’m the one who looks at him with watchful eyes. “Y’ll let her go?”

  Sean tongues his cheek as he has chosen his words wisely for a reason. “Do what I ask, and I’ll deliver. I promise ya that.”

  The way he is avoiding the question makes me nervous. I need to anticipate everything when it comes to Sean, and I wish I could believe he would deliver her alive, but I can’t. He’s given me nothing to tip the scales eith
er way.

  “All right. I’ll do what ya want. But if any harm comes to Cami, all bets are off. I will destroy ye. I will find who or what ya love most in this world and make them pay for yer sins.”

  He smirks, the sight a diabolical display. “Ya can try, Puck, but I have no ties. I’ve lived a lonely existence for a reason…that’s why I’m stronger than ye. The only person I care for is you…so if yer going to destroy anyone, it’s going to be yerself.”

  I always wondered why Sean never got married. Or even had a girlfriend for that fact. Now I know why. He knew emotions are the downfall of any leader. He has been plotting this for years.

  “I’m already defeated, Father,” I state, leveling him. “Ya made sure of that when ya destroyed everything, everyone I’ve ever loved.”

  “One day, when ya want to listen, I’ll tell ya about yer past. It’s what y’ve fought so hard for, is it not? Ya wanted to know who yer ma was and how she could love a monster like me. By telling ya this, Puck, it’ll help ye understand who ye are.”

  I don’t bother replying because he’s baiting me.

  Turning my back, I take the whiskey bottle with me as I walk out the door. Once in my truck, I commence the drive home on autopilot. I am so lost right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be found. In the past, I would have spoken to Rory and Cian, who would have helped me see reason.

  But I’m truly alone in this.

  The castle stands unfinished; a visualization of what could be. As I ascend the drive and park in front of my gaff, I notice the kitchen light is on.

  Someone is in my home.

  Reaching for my gun from the console, I exit the truck with caution. I doubt an enemy would announce their presence, but stranger things have happened, like Rory betraying me right in this very spot. I open the front door, which is unlocked, and with my gun raised, I enter.

  Who I see has me lowering my gun with a sigh. “What are ya doing here?”

  Hannah stands from the couch, wringing her hands in front of her. “If I’d called, would ya have let me in?”

  She has a point.