The Monster (Boston Belles 3)

“No…” I turned to face both my brothers “…I’ll do it. He won’t suspect me.”

“I suspect you.” Hunter’s eyes flared in alarm. “No offense, sis, but even Rooney knows Auntie Ash is in lurveeee with Uncle Sam. And I don’t mean you being patriotic toward the US of A.”

“But see, that’s what makes it so perfect,” I said desperately. “He will never see me as a threat or think I could harm him.”

“I don’t want him anywhere near you,” Cillian hissed.

“Well, tough luck, big bro. I’m twenty-seven. You can’t shelter me forever.”

“Wanna bet?” Hunter grinned. I shot him a look. Cillian sighed. We all wanted to wrap this up and go about our days.

“Fine. Ash, you can sniff around Sam. Just remember it is frowned upon to have sex with your target,” Cillian clipped. “I’ll check the Devon angle.”

“And I’ll pray for both your souls.” Hunter did the sign of the cross, rolling his eyes. “Because both of y’all are dumbasses who watch too much CSI. It’s Jane. She wanted to get back at Da for sticking his dick in the wrong hole and things got a little bit out of hand. Not the first time she did something drastic and threw a fit. Remember when he gifted her the butterfly garden after she found out he’d been screwing her own sister? Not that I ever liked this particular auntie, but she threw his Rolex collection into the food processor and set it to high.”

We had a butterfly garden at our house, built by my father to show Jane Fitzpatrick his undying love for her. A love that came with the price of $670,000 worth of luxury vintage watches he parted ways with.

“Thanks for the little trip down memory lane to remind me I am the spawn of two of the most disgusting people to ever grace the planet. Now, if that is all, I’d like to go back to running my company.” Cillian put out his cigar, standing up and walking briskly toward the window where I stood. “May the best man win, Aisling. You think it’s Sam, Hunter thinks it’s Mother, and I think Gerald has been spending too much time at the medicine cabinet and had an oopsie.”

But it wasn’t accidental. I knew.

Because Athair would never make such a mistake. He loved himself too much to overdose. As someone living under the same roof as him, I knew he was careful with his prescription drugs.

This was intentional.

All men at the table were cunning, smart, and capable, but only one of them had murdered someone before, to the extent of my knowledge, and would go to such extreme lengths with such ease.

Sam.

Gerald Fitzpatrick was a goddamn mess.

Everything about him screamed depression. He lost weight, a lot of it—at least forty pounds—had dark circles around his eyes, and looked like he hadn’t slept or showered in days.

He was a dead man walking, and I savored every moment of watching him like this.

“The hostile takeover for FMK Petroleum is well underway.” Cillian paced Gerald’s office, hands behind his back. “We just need to finalize the small print.”

FMK Petroleum had been buying off the oil fields Royal Pipelines had their eyes on for months. The Fitzpatricks were just the type of people to squash any competition before it became a threat. Monopoly was the Fitzpatrick game of choice, no doubt about that.

I knew that there were congressmen who wanted to see Gerald and his sons go down in flames for setting the pace and rules for the oil industry. Especially the Texas folks. Nobody hated the Fitzpatricks more than the Texans.

The Irish, New England outsiders who took over the industry.

“Samuel, are you ready to go?” Gerald asked.

I nodded curtly.

“Their CEO won’t say no to the deal. I dug up too much dirt on him. By the time I’m done, he’ll be happy to sell you his shares for a fucking Costco membership.”

“That’s my boy.” Gerald smiled weakly.

Fuck you, old man.

The stab of rage I felt each time he called me “my boy” was enough to make me snap.

“In terms of the paperwork, we’ve done our due diligence,” Devon, who sat next to Hunter, added. “All that’s left is to hope the CEO has pull with the shareholders.”

We talked shop a few more minutes before everyone said their goodbyes, shook hands, and drifted out of the room. All of them except Gerald and me.

I waited until the front door to Gerald’s study was closed and the coast was clear—as clear as it could be. Nix had eavesdropped on me once in this house, and I didn’t trust her not to do it again. Hell, I didn’t trust her with a fucking Espresso machine. She was both an ally and an adversary, depending on the day. I suspected she wasn’t even home. I hadn’t seen her Prius when I parked in front of the house. It was likely she had a shift of whatever the fuck she did for a living—note to self: find out and torment her with it.