The Monster (Boston Belles 3)

Suddenly, I had a really bad headache. Because through foggy memory, I did remember Donnie. A tall, blond fuckboy. I remembered internally referring to him as Captain Potato Head for having the combined IQ and wit of a used condom. He was the first person to give me a cigarette.

“Hey, Cat’s kid, bring me the pack of Marlboros over there, will ya?”

I did as I was told, mostly because I was too distracted to tell him to fuck off. The man left the pack open, jerking it in my direction.

“Here, boy, take one. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Oh, you will, buddy. With your fucked-up life, cigarettes are a question of when, not if.”

“Explain the letters.” I turned to Gerald, the biting pain of being played closing in on my throat again. This time not by Aisling, who was at least smart and intelligent, but by Cat, whom I wouldn’t trust with a goddamn Snickers bar.

All the pieces of the puzzle were falling together.

“Easily, Sam.” Gerald poured himself more whiskey, seeming more relaxed than he had in weeks. I knew he was telling the truth, and it fucking killed me. “Sometime after Donnie roughed her up, Cat realized her line of work was just too dangerous. She asked me for money. A lot of it. To keep silent. I said no, and that’s when the blackmailing began. Each and every one of her letters was part of an extortion scheme. She threatened to out us, to spread terrible lies, to ensure Jane knew about what we were. What we did. She wanted to skip town, but she never wanted to take you, Sam. You weren’t in her plans. Not even for a second. At some point, I realized she wasn’t worth the heat I was about to get from Jane. I became open to giving her money. I kept asking her how she could leave you behind. Tried to convince her to take you with her—kids need their mothers. By God, Sam, she just wouldn’t. Finally, I handed her 150k just so she would shut up and leave me alone. I remember the day she left. She was so happy, and you know what, son? So was I. She almost cost me everything. I’m not going to lie, Sam, seeing the back of your mother as she skipped town was one of my favorite sights. It should have been a happy day for you, too.”

I began peeling the soft paper around the cigarette pack, feeling like a thirteen-year-old again.

“You never told me about your history with my mother,” I said coldly.

“No. Not because I did something horrible to her but because I didn’t want you to think I see you as the spawn of this money-grabbing idiot. I didn’t want our professional relationship to be tainted by that. Besides, I truly didn’t and don’t see you as Cat’s. You are a Brennan through and through. A Brennan is the best thing a person in Boston can be, other than a Fitzpatrick. You had a good childhood once she gave you up. You shouldn’t be thinking about her. Not for one second.”

“I don’t,” I hissed. “I’m thinking about how you wronged me.”

“I didn’t know you,” Gerald emphasized. “You were a kid. Still, I felt some sort of responsibility toward you. After I’d heard Cat had left, I looked you up. Found out that Sparrow sent you to this fancy Montessori school. I had my driver drive around it sometimes to see if I could spot you during recess. Sometimes I did. You sat in the middle of a circle, and all the boys looked up to you, captivated by you. You became strong, and prominent, and unbeatable. After a while, I was satisfied with how it all turned out. Pleased with my decision to give the wretched woman what she wanted to leave you behind. It worked out well for you.”

“So well you later on hired me as the help.”

“No, as my fixer,” Gerald corrected. “A savvy businessman whose expertise I needed and was willing to pay for handsomely. Admittedly, I wasn’t surprised to see you on my doorstep. I stitched together the Sailor and Hunter plan with Troy, tightening our ties with the Brennans had always been the plan for me. You were too prominent a family in Boston for me not to acknowledge you somehow. But I hired you because you were the best in the business and not for any other reason.”

There was silence. I knew more needed to be said, but I wasn’t sure what. I believed Gerald, and that should have been enough. I should have felt some sort of relief or contentment with this information.

Cautiously, Gerald continued, drawing a circle with his index finger around his tumbler of whiskey.

“But I have a feeling this doesn’t have much to do with Catalina and me. You wanted a reason for me to become your enemy. Otherwise, you would have come straight to me with those letters. What’s going on, Sam?”