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

Closing the door, I ignore her and walk into the kitchen. Empty whiskey bottles are scattered on the counter, and I finished the one I snared from Sean’s on the drive here, so I open the freezer and retrieve a bottle of vodka.

  “You shouldn’t be here. Go home.”

  The bluntness to my tone has Hannah flinching, but she doesn’t back down. “Please don’t shut me out, Punky. We’re all hurtin’ too. It was Rory’s funeral today.”

  Her admission has me opening the vodka bottle and drawing it to my lips.

  “It was a lovely service. Lots of people paid their respects.”

  “Closed casket, I presume?” I say, savoring the burn of the vodka as it hits my empty stomach.

  Cian is the only one who knows what really happened to Rory. Sean wasn’t lying when he said the peelers are on his side. Constable Shane Moore is just as crooked as his father was. He was the one who labeled Rory’s death as a robbery gone wrong.

  The reporters bought it because of the ransacked state of Rory’s flat.

  But those closest to Rory know the truth. As do those who are, or were, closest to me. They know I murdered my best friend in cold blood.

  “Don’t be like that,” Hannah scolds, horrified I would be making jokes. “Yer best mate is dead. Y’ve got to be feelin’ somethin’.”

  “The only thing I’m feelin’ is annoyed that yer here, Hannah. Don’t ya have friends ye can annoy?”

  “Puck,” she gasps, taking a step back. “Why are ye being so mean?”

  “If ya don’t like it here, then ye can always leave,” I say, wiping the spilled vodka from my lips with the back of my hand. “I’d prefer it.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know this is not you. What happened to Cami? We have a right to know.”

  No one knows that Rory was the one who betrayed us. All they know is that he took Babydoll away, saying he was coming to meet me, but neither returned.

  No one questioned him, and why would they? They trusted him. We all did.

  “Eva wants to know what happened to her sister,” Hannah says, never giving up. Her tenacity is what set me free. I wish she’d left me to rot. “Stop treatin’ us like wee kids!”

  “Ya are wee kids,” I correct, angered they got involved in the first place. “Go home, Hannah. I want to be alone.”

  She stands her ground. “That’s all y’ll be Puck if ya continue pushin’ us away. Yer being a martyr, and I know that’s because ye think we’re in danger. I’ll call on ye tomorrow.”

  There’s no point arguing because Hannah is as stubborn as me.

  The moment she leaves, I brace the bench and inhale sharply. Hannah won’t give up, which is why I reach into my pocket for my mobile. I dial Fiona.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want ya to keep yer daughter away from me,” I state bluntly. The sharp intake of breath hints I’ve caught Fiona off guard. “She isn’t welcome here anymore.”

  “All right then. I’ll let her know,” Fiona finally says when she can find her voice.

  “Cheers, thanks for that.” I hang up, not interested in small talk.

  It’s a long shot, but I have to try something. I won’t be responsible for yet another person being hurt. So many people have been brought into this mess, trusting that I knew what the fuck I was doing. But I didn’t. I still don’t.

  My mobile chimes, and when I see a text message from Ron Brady, I sigh.

  Ron proved to be a loyal ally. He, Logan, and Ronan did. But I have nothing to offer them. They were fighting for a new Belfast, but I don’t even know what that is anymore. I’m not the leader for them.

  I don’t read the message. Instead, I decide to shower and attempt to sleep.

  The moment I walk into my bedroom, I’m hit with a flood of memories. This place was a home because of the people inside it. But alone, it’s just an empty shell of what it once was.

  With Cami in my bed, I believed I was capable of anything. She was my reason to go on. Without her, the fight in me is slowly dying. I know those looking on want me to fight, but I’ve been fighting my entire life.

  I am so fucking tired.

  There is only so much a man can take before he reaches his breaking point. And this is what Sean wanted.

  He’s pushed me time and time again, building me up and giving me hope, only to tear me back down. He knew taking Cami would be my tipping point, and by using Rory to implement his plan…I’m broken.

  Turning the taps on in the shower, I strip off and step under the spray, not bothering to adjust the temperature. Bracing my hands to the tiles, I bow my head, hoping the scorching water will wash away my sins.

  It doesn’t, and I know that’s because the worst is yet to come.

  Thanks to yet another sleepless night, I’m drinking my third coffee, and it’s not even eight o’clock. This is my life now, however.

  I simply function on autopilot.

  The knock on the door puts me on edge because lately, I don’t know who to expect on my doorstep. With a gun concealed in the small of my back, I open the door, but I won’t need it because it’s Darcy.

  She smiles, but it’s strained because, just like everyone else, she too is in the dark about what happened that night, the night she was here and oblivious to Rory’s plans.

  “Morning, Puck,” she says. “I’m sorry to just pop round without calling first, but I have the new will for ye to sign.”

  Opening the door wider, I step aside, granting her permission to enter.

  She enters, casually looking around my gaff, which is a shambles, but doesn’t comment on its boggin’ state. She places her leather briefcase on the kitchen bench and opens it, retrieving a document.

  “I just need ye to sign here,” she instructs, her hands shaking as she places the paperwork in front of me.

  I hate that she’s frightened of me, but I’m the one who’s shut everyone out. No one knows what to expect anymore.

  “I changed everything, as per yer instructions. By signing this, yer giving everything to Sean.” She looks at me, ensuring this is what I really want. There is no turning back once I sign on the dotted line.

  This was another one of Sean’s power play moves. Everything Connor left me, he wants. The money, the castle, the factory—all of it. He wants to ensure I know he owns me. But I can never forget.

  Taking the pen from her, I’m about to sign without delay, because I’ll happily give Sean my possessions if it brings me one step closer to finding Babydoll, but Darcy slams her hand over the page.

  “Puck, don’t do this,” she pleads, surprising me. “There’s got to be another way. I don’t know what he’s done, but please don’t sign this.”

  “Are ye speaking as my lawyer or as my friend?”

  “I’m yer friend first and foremost,” she says. “Let me help ya. My father can—”

  But I shake my head. “Enough people have stuck their necks out for me, Darcy. I won’t allow it. This is what I want.”

  “I doubt that,” she argues stubbornly. “Yer always lookin’ after others. What about you? It’s one of the many things I like about ye, Puck Kelly. Yer noble, even if ya don’t believe it.”

  I appreciate her words, but nobility has fucked me royally. I won’t make the same mistake again.

  Removing her hand, she watches with tears in her eyes as I sign my life away. “Thank you, Darcy. I’ll talk to ye soon.”

  It’s a not-so-subtle hint that I’m not interested in speaking about this further.

  She sighs, realizing I’m a lost cause.

  After gathering all the paperwork, she files it into her briefcase. I walk to the door and open it. With nothing left to say, she leaves and doesn’t turn back.

  Closing the door, I lean my forehead against it, utter fatigue rocking me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I have no direction.

  My mobile rings, a loud shrill which alerts me that I’m being summoned. I answer without looking who the caller is.

  “Mornin’, son. I need ye to come down to the factory. I’m callin’ a meeting.”

  Gritting my teeth at his continuous use of the word son, I reply, “Why?”

  “’Cause it’s time everyone knew of our plans.”

  “And what plans are those?”

  “I want the men to see we’re unified. That we’re a team now.”

  With a scoff, I say, “I don’t think they’re expectin’ a public family reunion.” But I know this isn’t optional.

  For this to work, Sean needs everyone on our side. The split between the Doyles and the Kellys took a toll on the men. They don’t know who to trust. Sean wants them to believe he and I are in an equal partnership to ensure another uprising doesn’t occur.

  This means the men who remain loyal to the Doyles are a threat. Now I understand why killing Liam is so important to Sean. He wants all competition eliminated and done with haste.

  “All right then. I’ll be there.”

  “Grand. I need ye to do something for me first.”

  Of course, he does.

  “I will text ya the address.” And he hangs up.

  When a text comes through a second later with an address in a shady neighborhood, I know I’ll be expected to spill blood. Gathering my supplies, I peer at the face paints on my coffee table. I remember how brutal Babydoll looked, wearing a face that matched mine.

  I’ve always found solace in the painted mask I wear. It’s been a part of me since I was five years old. I always felt split right down the middle, like it was just as much a part of me as my natural face. But I don’t see it that way any longer.

  That mask and the horror it reflects is who I now am. I’ve never felt more connected to it than I do now, and I know that’s because sooner or later, that face will replace my own—I
will be the monster that mask represents.

  Once I have everything I need, I lock my door and get into my truck. This once belonged to Cian. He offered it to me without thought because that’s what best friends do. And I thanked him by killing our best friend.

  Starting the engine, I reach into the console for a cigarette. I wasn’t much for smoking, but now, it’s the only thing that calms me down. I don’t need the GPS and commence my drive to the derelict neighborhood Sean wants me to visit.

  I can’t help but feel like every day is Groundhog Day. I’ve lived this life before. Being the muscle for Connor, and then for myself when I thought I could beat Sean. I believed it would be different the second time around.

  I was wrong.

  Peering at the vacant gaff ahead, I sigh as I kill the engine. Literally anything awaits me.

  Grabbing my things, I throw on my hood and lower my chin. The last thing I need is eyewitnesses. The house has been abandoned long ago if the dated graffiti is anything to go by. The door is unlocked. The moment I step inside, the smell of piss and stale cigarettes hit me.

  I don’t draw a weapon. I carefully search each room, but the gaff is small, and when I reach the last bedroom at the end of the hallway, I brace myself for who’s inside. Opening the door slowly, I gasp when I see who the person tied to a chair in the middle of the boggin’ room is.

  I haven’t braced for shite.

  “Orla?”

  Beneath that shaggy brown hair, I know it’s her.

  I’m transported back in time, when I was in her home and using her for my own personal gain. She had no idea I was there because Connor sent me. She has no idea I know what happened to her dad.

  I haven’t thought about Orla or her father, Nolen Ryan, who Sean murdered in fear of him telling me the truth in a long time. At the time, I thought Sean was looking out for me, but I know now Sean only looks out for one person, and that’s himself.

  Her chin is drooped, but when she hears my voice, she slowly meets my eyes. “Puck?” she asks, as if she’s seen a ghost.

  In some ways, she has, as we are clearly not the same people we were all those years ago.

  Orla is thin, sickly thin, and that’s ’cause she’s hooked on whatever shite she’s put into her body. If Sean has her here, it’s because she hasn’t paid up. She has a debt to pay. But these kinds of situations are reserved for those who have been given more than one chance.

  Orla is on her last leg.

  “Are ye here to help me?”

  When I lower my eyes, she nods, biting her cracked lips.

  “Please don’t kill me. I promise. I’m good for it. I just need m-more time.”

  This would be the time I roll up my sleeves and reach for my brass knuckles. But as I look at Orla, a shell of the person I once knew, I know that I cannot.

  “How’d ye get messed up in this shite, Orla?” I question, remembering the good girl she once was.

  She snivels, her bony body shuddering. “My da left us. Without a word. My ma thought he found another woman, but I knew he wouldn’t do that. He would have never left without a goodbye.”

  My heart clenches in my chest because she’s right.

  “I just wanted to numb the p-pain,” she sobs, pleading I believe her. “But I didn’t know when to stop. I promised myself just one more time. It’s been that way for ten years. Please…help me, Puck. Please don’t kill me.”

  “Please don’t kill me.”

  Rory’s plea echoes loudly, and I shake my head, hoping to expel these voices for good. But it seems to be a common occurrence—people pleading for their lives when I’m involved.

  “I’m not gonna kill ye, Orla.”

  “Yer not?” she sniffs, eyes wide.

  “Naw.” Hunting through my bag, I retrieve my knife.

  Orla’s relief soon turns to panic as she doesn’t know if I’m telling her the truth or not. Walking around her, I gently cut through the cable ties that bind her hands. The moment it snaps free, she sighs in relief.

  She shakes out her arms as she was bound tight. Her feet are untied, but she remains seated.

  “How much do you owe Sean?”

  She sucks her bottom lip. “Two thousand.”

  “Orla,” I scold, shaking my head. “Catch yerself on!”

  No wonder he sent me here.

  “I don’t have it, but I can get it to ya next week.”

  I know what that means—she’ll likely whore herself out. I don’t want that.

  “Ach, don’tcha be concernin’ yerself with that. I’ll sort it.”

  “Thank you, Punky. Ye were always a good man.”

  She wouldn’t think that if she knew what I did to her father.

  She stands, but I grip her bony arm—hard. “This is yer only warning, Orla. I don’t give second chances. Understood?”

  Her head bobbles as she nods jerkily.

  “Get off that shite. It’ll kill ya.”

  It pains me to see that it already has.

  Orla is just a walking zombie with her emaciated face covered in scabs and sunken eyes which lost their spark long ago. All she cares about is her next fix.

  There are different types of addicts—functioning addicts you’d never guess were hooked, and addicts like Orla, who society discarded long ago. These people exist because of Sean. He doesn’t care who he sells to, or how often. They are just walking pound signs to him.

  “I’m gonna check on ye, and so help me God, if y’ve gone back on yer word, I promise ya, A’ll do what I came here for.”

  My threat isn’t empty, and Orla knows it.

  Digging into my pocket for my wallet, I pull out a wad of twenties. Orla eyes the money like a hungry wolf.

  “This is to get ye home. Not to waste on smack.”

  She nods and snatches the money from my hand.

  In case she’s in doubt, I warn, “I’ll know if yer lyin’ ’cause who do ya think yer buyin’ the gear off? The Kellys. Don’tcha be forgettin’ it.”

  “Ye wouldn’t hurt me, Punky,” she says, and her confidence reveals she doesn’t know me at all.

  I lunge forward, and a cry leaves her when I twist her arm behind her back. “Don’t mistake me for the hero, Orla,” I warn, leveling her with a scowl. “’Cause I’m not. Fuck with me, and I swear, y’ll be just as dead as yer da.”

  Her eyes widen when she realizes what I mean by that comment. I won’t elaborate, but she can guess.

  I let her go, shoving her away. “Away now, before I change my mind.”

  She doesn’t need to be told twice and runs from the room, not turning back. I can only hope my warning wasn’t in vain, because I meant what I said—if I see her again, I’ll kill her. That’s why I needed to be harsh.

  The money she owes, I’ll pay it. If I come up empty-handed, Sean will know I let her go.

  Grabbing my bag, I peer around at the boggin’ surroundings, wondering how many of these shitholes Sean uses. Darcy gave me a list of houses such as this. I could always check them out. I don’t want to think Babydoll calls a place such as this home, but she’s got to be somewhere.

  My heart sinks at the thought.

  Walking to my truck, I jump in and drive to the factory. This pretense of playing happy families is an insult to anyone with half a brain. But Sean needs this public display to fortify his position and to warn off any potential rivals.

  I’m not sure who’s left. I’ve killed them all. Liam isn’t a worthy opponent because if he steps foot into Northern Ireland, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him regardless, and broadcast it for all to see—just like I did with his dad, Brody.

  It’s the one thing that makes me feel anything.

  When I arrive at the factory and see the number of cars parked, I shake my head in disgust. These men are the reason Sean thrives. If he had no one supporting him, things would be so much easier. I could overthrow him, just as I’d planned on doing. And just how he knew I would, which is why he has Babydoll.

  Parking the truck, I make my way toward the factory, comparing it to better times when Connor was alive. I didn’t know it then, but that time in my life was one which I actually now miss. I miss Connor. If he were alive, he’d know what to do.

  Me, however? I am so fucking lost.

  When I enter the factory and see the faces of men willing to sacrifice everything for me, I am hit with guilt and shame. I failed them. I promised them change, but instead, I’ve condemned them to a life serving the devil.