Liam: Branded Brothers (23 page)

They all turned to Jerry, who sat in silence for a couple of
moments as he interlocked his fingers. He shook his head and then cleared his
throat.

“I honestly don’t know,” he replied.

Ronan and Paul exchanged glances before Liam jumped in. “We
don’t know how they got wind of Jack’s death, but it doesn’t matter. All that
matters is that he’s here, and he’s looking to make sure his past doesn’t come
back to haunt him. It gives us the chance to hunt him down before he finds the
rest of us. If the FBI doesn’t know he’s here yet, they’re going to find out
pretty soon. He’s been on their most wanted list for a decade, and they haven’t
gotten him yet. If we don’t get Mickey, the FBI won’t get him either. He’ll
disappear and resurface again, looking for us. But next time, we won’t have the
advantage that we have now. He doesn’t know the truth didn’t die with Jack.”

“Well, maybe it should have,” Paul said, leaning forward in
his chair. “Hell, I can pretend I don’t know a damn thing.”

“Fuck that. It’s too late,” Ronan replied, rubbing his hands
together. “We either hunt or be hunted, and you damn well know which one I’ll
be doing.”

“I’ve got a room at the Copper Leaf right across the street
from where Jerry said Mickey and his guys have been spotted.” Liam sifted
through the pictures and pulled out a photo of The Blarney Stone. “We’re going
to stake out the place tonight. According to Jerry, for the past two nights,
he’s gone out at nine both nights into the alleyway by himself to make a phone
call. He’s out there for maybe one or two minutes and then goes back in. It’s
the only chance we have of getting him. Are you in?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in,” Ronan said. They both glanced over at Paul
who was rubbing his hands along his jeans.

“I don’t know.” Paul shook his head.

“You said you were looking for some excitement in your
life,” Charla teased. “This isn’t enough for you?”

“Not this kind of excitement,” Paul quipped. “The mafia is
some serious shit. And dangerous.”

“I don’t want you coming with us,” Liam quickly jumped in.
“I think you should stay back with Charla and Jerry.”

He turned toward Jerry. “You okay staying with Charla? I
don’t trust anyone else’s shot like I trust yours. I don’t want anyone even
coming close to this girl.” He put his hand on Charla’s leg.

Jerry nodded his head toward Paul. “Yeah, I’ll stay back
here and watch over these two.”

“You’re not watching over me,” Paul quickly defended. “I can
take care of myself. I don’t even know why I have to stay here…”

“In case, they know more than we think they do,” Liam said.
“I don’t want you out there by yourself. Stay together where it’s safe.”

“I think you need another guy to make sure you can take down
Mickey,” Jerry said. “Maybe two. He’s not going down easy like the others
around Clark County. His thugs will be outside that bar the second those two
minutes are over.”

“I don’t trust anyone else.” Liam began sifting through the
photos again.

“You just met Ronan,” Jerry argued. “You trust him but not
my guys?”

“He’s my brother.”

Ronan placed his fist over his heart and cocked his head at
Jerry. “You don’t trust me, Jer?”

Jerry exhaled. “A hundred grand is up for grabs with his
arrest. I’d give you a three-way split if you get him.”

“Sounds like a good fuckin’ deal to me,” Ronan said.

Paul put his head into his hands and groaned. “What the hell
did I get myself into?”

Ronan reached over and slapped him on the back. “Cheer up,
baby bro. All you have to do is sit here and twiddle your thumbs all night. You
can leave all the hard stuff to your big bros. We’ll take care of you.” He let
out a low, visceral laugh.

“Exactly my point,” Paul said, taking his hands away from
his face. “And does anyone want to tell me why we’re not going to the police
with this? Because it seems like that would be the easiest and safest thing to
do. What most sane people would do in a situation like this.”

“Because the police ain’t goin’ do shit,” Ronan replied.
“They never do what they say they’re gonna do. I learned the hard way, baby
bro.”

“Don’t call me baby bro,” Paul said. “I’m having a hard time
with the whole idea that you’re actually my brother.”

“Same to you.” Ronan laughed.

“Because the man who threatened me said he’d kill me if I
went to police,” Charla said softly to Paul, ignoring Ronan. “Believe me, there
was nothing else I wanted to do than drive to the police station after he let
me go. But the man was someone who keeps his promises. He will come and hunt me
down if I go to the police so I called Liam instead. He told me to give him
twenty-four hours so that’s what I’m doing. If things aren’t settled by
tomorrow afternoon, I’ll go to the police.”

“And what if we get Mickey? You think the man who broke into
the cottage is going to let you get off that easy? You think he’s going to
disappear?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know,” Charla said. “I assumed if Mickey got
arrested, his crew would get the hell out of town.”

“Maybe,” Ronan said. “Maybe not.”

“Maybe he’ll make good on his promise,” Paul added.

A shudder coursed through Charla’s body. She hadn’t thought
of the actual possibility he’d come after her anyway.

“He’s going to get the hell out here, just like Charla
said.” Liam squeezed her knee. “We’ll make sure of that.”

She swallowed hard, hoping like hell Liam was right, but a
man like the one back at the cottage would be the type of guy to prove him
wrong. She closed her eyes, trying to wipe away the vision of his piercing eyes
and twitching lips. She never wanted to see that man again.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Ronan stood up and clapped his
hands together. “Now where the fuck is that collection of yours?”

Chapter 13

Liam turned away from the window and
looked down at the flashing screen in his hand. He texted a response to Charla
and slid the phone into his back pocket. Two days ago, he never imagined he’d
send a message like the one he just sent Charla. Everything about her was
entirely unexpected, something Liam knew he couldn’t do without. He would do
anything to make sure no one laid a hand on her. Mickey was going down tonight,
one way or another.

“Everything all clear back at the apartment?” Ronan slid
open the chamber of his .22 and double-checked the rounds. He clicked it shut
and tucked it into a holster beneath his shirt.

“All clear,” Liam said, turning back to the window. There
was no sign of Mickey or his crew, but he didn’t exactly expect him to use the
front door. Someone who had evaded the FBI for more than ten years didn’t show
up like this in Blackwell and use front doors. He was calculated, keeping
himself out of view. So it struck Liam as odd that Mickey would go back to the
same bar for the past two nights unless there was a reason. Liam intended to
discover why.

“For now,” Ronan added, looking back at the alarm clock on
the nightstand. “It’s almost eight-thirty. You want to head over?”

“Yeah,” Liam said, looking at the street one last time
before meeting Ronan’s eyes. They all shared the same blue striking eyes as
Helen. A shot of adrenaline coursed through his body as he thought of the man
who shot her dead in the alley. He had altered the course of their lives
irrevocably. Because of him, Liam never had the opportunity to know Helen. He
never had the chance to make his biological father proud. Mickey took away the
relationship he could have had with Ronan and Paul as kids growing up. Mickey
had taken so much from all of them and it was time to make him pay.

“You ready to get this bastard?” Ronan slapped Liam’s
shoulder and held his hand there for a second before dropping it.

“Yeah.” Liam’s gut tightened. He would have no better
satisfaction than taking him down.

“Fuck yeah,” Ronan barked back as he thumped his fist over
his heart.

“We go in and we wait, you got it? Even if we see him, we
wait. Our only chance is to get him alone. He’s not going to go down easy,” Liam
said, studying his brother’s hard eyes.

“You kill our mom, you pay,” Ronan said.

Liam studied him, seeing his own anger mirrored in Ronan. It
was exactly why Jerry hesitated to tell them the whole story. He knew it would
put them over the edge. It would give them the fuel they needed to capture
Mickey. But Liam knew it better than anyone, they couldn’t let the rage dictate
their actions. He pointed his index finger into Ronan’s chest. “We stick to the
plan. No fucking deviating. We go in and out quietly. I take him down and you
pull up the van.”

“I fucking got it.” Ronan’s eyes steadied on Liam’s.

“Then let’s do this,” Liam said, leading them out of the
safety of the hotel room to The Blarney Stone.

***

Charla gazed out the front window of
the apartment, watching as two women and one man disappeared through the door
below her. The Dirty Leprechaun had another healthy crowd tonight, the dull
thud of the music and laughter rose through the floor. She wondered how Liam
slept at night, the stillness of the cottage still deep in her bones. She had
been so tired the night before, so comfortable in his bed, she barely noticed
the sound. She looked over at Paul and Jerry who sat next to each other on the
couch, watching a Cubs game. Jerry’s jacket was draped over the armrest,
exposing his holster that cradled his .9 millimeter against his ribs.

“Eight-forty-five,” Jerry answered without looking at her.

She sighed and turned back to the window. Waiting to hear
from Liam and Ronan felt like eternity. It’d been two hours since they left and
fifteen minutes since she last texted him. He’d reassured her everything was
going to be fine.

Fine
. She didn’t exactly feel fine. How could she
when someone had threatened to kill her less than twelve hours ago? She wrapped
her arms around herself and looked out the window again.

He knew my name. He knew my goddamn name.
What
else did he know?
She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything she’d
done after Jack’s death. Maybe she was missing something. Maybe there was
someone who knew more. She thought of the lawyer’s office. Gary seemed fine. He
read Jack’s will with no emotion, reciting the instructions he’d left for his
estate. Gary had said Jack changed his will a week after she’d arrived on his
doorstep. She was to sell everything and deliver the note to Liam Murphy. That
was it.

I have to be missing something.
She opened her eyes,
gazing out the open window again. The warm summer breeze brushed against her
face, carrying the sound of a man’s laughter below. She looked down to see a
man open his wallet and tuck a piece of paper in it. Then he slipped the wallet
into his back pocket and grabbed the hand of a woman as they walked down the
street.

Charla watched them disappear into the night, the dusk
swallowing their silhouettes as they crossed the street onto the other block.
Then she turned back to Jerry and Paul, still sitting on the couch next to each
other watching the game. The crack of the bat echoed from the TV, followed by
the cheer of the crowd.

“Alright, alright.” Paul waved his beer at Jerry before he
took a drink. “That’s what we needed.”

“It’s not about the money,” Charla whispered, taking a step
toward the living room. “It can’t be about the money. He wants something else.”

She stepped in front of the TV with her hands on her hips,
oblivious to Paul’s craned neck. “He wants something else.”

“Move, Charla,” Paul said, waving her out of the way. “I
want to see the replay.”

Jerry was silent, watching Charla pace back and forth in
front of the TV. “He wants to know the truth is buried with Jack. But I didn’t
bury Jack, I spread his ashes on the lake,” she muttered to herself. “There
must be something else he has. Something that would incriminate Mickey.”

“Come on, Charla,” Paul said, clearly agitated. He stood up
and took a few steps over to see the TV. “There it is. That a boy.”

“Charla…” Jerry said, leaning forward with his eyes intent
on her. “What is it?”

She stopped and stared at Jerry for a second before
muttering something neither of them could hear. Then she disappeared into Liam’s
bedroom. She grabbed the photo of Helen and Jack off Liam’s dresser and sat
down on the bed. She flipped it around when Jerry appeared in the doorway.

“What is it?” he asked.

Paul appeared behind him. “Did I say something? I was just
trying to see the replay…”

“It’s not that,” she said, waving him off. She held up the
picture frame. “It’s this. It’s this picture.”

“It’s a picture of Helen and Jack,” Jerry said, taking a
step closer. “I’ve seen it a half a dozen times. It was taken the day after
they got married.”

“It’s not the actual picture,” she said, flipping the frame
around again to finish peeling the tabs back. She tucked her nail underneath
the cardboard to pop it out. It was still there, just where Liam had left it.
“It’s this. It has to be this.”

She held up the thin piece of paper, its edges worn and
yellow. “It’s a receipt from Legends Diner dated back to 1990. Jerry, that’s
the year you said Jack showed up at your door. What month was it?”

“June,” he said, sitting down next to her. “He showed up at
my door on the night of June 17, 1990. I’ll never forget that date.”

“This is dated June 12, 1990,” she said, holding out the
receipt to him. “Do you know the restaurant?”

“It was a place down the street on the edge of my
neighborhood,” he said, leaning over to scan the receipt. “A little diner where
some of the mafia guys would hang out.”

Paul stepped into the bedroom with his phone in his hand,
typing furiously. “The restaurant is still open. Let me do one more thing
here…” He frowned and tapped through his screens.