Vicious Hearts: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

The door to Gail’s SoHo apartment is already cracked open when I approach. Gun out, my pulse boiling like napalm in my veins, I ease it open with my foot.

The smell hits me first.

Rot.

Poison.

And death, hanging in the air like a thick, toxic fog.

But I ignore that for now as I move on. I walk slowly, trying to keep myself focused—trying to keep myself from wondering if Una is still alive.

She has to be.

She fucking has to be.

I clear the entryway, then the light-filled, windowed hall beyond before it empties into a tasteful living room with a huge art collection on the walls, complete with what’s pretty clearly an original Warhol above the mantel.

My jaw grits.

Yeah, I think I know now whose money paid for all this.

Seamus’.

When he was in his prime as the Irish mob’s top hired gun, the man was making bank hand over fist. Dorsey even mentioned to me once that tens of millions were wired into offshore accounts and friendly foreign banks the minute O’Conor was picked up by the police. Hardly any of it’s been recovered.

Apparently, some—or a lot—of it has.

She loved him.

Gail, the brilliant young criminal psychiatrist who sat down with Seamus O’Conor in his court-appointed sessions, fell the fuck in love with him.

Gail, who years later petitioned the DOJ and the FBI to let her study him at Coal Creek.

Not to write a book.

To be with him. To do his bidding. To use her position to bring his fucking children to that place. So he could mold them, and train them, and abuse them.

That same Gail who channeled her fervor for the late monster Seamus O’Conor to become his avenging angel named Apostle.

Given that Seamus was an insane religious zealot who legitimately thought his methods of brutally killing the innocent somehow washed away the sins of the wicked—or who he decided was “the wicked”—Gail’s decision to pick the term for a disciple of Jesus as her nom-du-revenge makes perfect sense.

She must have used her vast library of audio recordings she made of Seamus during those Coal Creek days to painstakingly put together a voice emulator, which she used to scare the living hell out of Una over the phone.

She terrified Una into hunting down me and my family by threatening Finn, who I’m guessing she already knew was dead. She rigged that cake to blow, to send the message and sow fear. She sent that wrecking ball crashing down onto Neve’s car.

She did all of this because she loved Seamus.

For the first time maybe ever, I’m fucking terrified. Because I know what I’m prepared to do for my love.

And now I’m wondering just what Gail is prepared to do for hers.

I clear the kitchen next. Or, I think I clear it. I’m about to move on, when something catches my eye. I whirl, snarling, the gun coming up.

Bones meows as he steps out of the pantry.

Jesus fuck. I glare at him, pulling the gun back as I bring a finger up to my lips.

“We’re in here, Cillian!”

The voice is cheerful and peppy. Near laughter in its delightedness.

No. Insane. That’s what it really is.

When I was young, before Lorcan taught me about focusing and channeling my violence and darkness, and before my parents knew what to even do with me, I spent a few weeks here and there at quiet, discreet, expensive institutions.

I’ve heard people speak like this—in that near manic voice—more times than I care to remember.

“In the study, Cillian!” Gail calls brightly again. “We’re all here, and we can’t wait for you to join us!”

All.

My teeth grind.

What the fuck is she talking about.

I move out of the kitchen, the smell only getting worse and worse as I approach a door that’s cracked open.

“Come in, Cillian. Slowly, now.”

I push open the door, and I walk into—

Jesus Mary and Joseph and all the saints…

The first thing I see, lying in the near corner, is Neve, hogtied and gagged on the floor next to a table.

Why is she here.

I want to scream. I want to scream at her, asking her what the fuck she’s doing here too. But there’s no time. I push the door further open, and something rips inside my chest.

Una is on her knees, kneeling on a high-backed chair—a gag across her mouth, hands tied behind her, tears streaming down her face. Gail stands behind her, a gun barrel jammed against the head of the woman I love.

Past them, even I flinch at the pure horror hanging on the wall.

The dead one—nailed to the wall in a Crucifixion of Christ pose, because of course she did—is Seamus. A very dead, very rotting, very decomposing and disgusting Seamus.

It’s the very much still alive man, bound to a newer, makeshift cross next to him on the same wall, that really yanks my attention.

Ares.

Oh, fuck.

There’s a ringing sound in my ears and a numbness in my chest as I try and focus on something in this hellish room to ground me, with three of the people I love the most in this world in trouble. My eyes lock onto Una’s—so big and blue and full of tears and pain and terror.

Mine green, narrowed, and full of vengeance.

“Put the gun on the floor, Cillian.”

My gaze snaps to Gail, staring lethally at me, completely calm.

“Now, if you would, please? Slowly.”

I grit my teeth, easing down to lay my gun onto the floor.

“Kick it over here.”

I glare at her.

“Now, Mr. Kildare.”

My toe connects, sending the gun skittering across the room to land by the legs of the chair Una’s sitting on.

Gail smiles warmly at me, the perfect hostess. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Kildare!” Then her smile evaporates instantly, her eyes going dark. “You snake.”

“Gail,” I growl quietly, my eyes sliding back to Una’s. “Whatever the fuck this is, it’s not about—”

“Her?” Gail blurts, nodding her chin at Una. She grins. “Oh, but it is! You see, this is my daughter!”

Holy fuck.

It couldn’t be. And yet…

They met earlier, before Coal Creek

Before Una was born…

“Well, stepmother, at least.”

Thank fucking God.

Gail smiles a dazed, wild smile. “No one knew that dear Seamus and I got married while he was locked in that dreadful prison, just like Jesus in Pontius Pilate’s dungeon.”

“What do you fucking want,” I hiss. I glance at Neve, trying to tell her with my eyes that it’s going to be okay. That I’ll save her—her and Ares.

I glance at him next, and my brow furrows as I still.

“What the fuck is that, Gail.”

There are tubes coming out of Ares’ arm closest to Seamus’ corpse—three of them, pricked into him with IV needles and ending in three more needles dangling above the floor at the other end.

Gail smiles. “Precious life blood, Cillian. For my dear Seamus.”

I suddenly and horribly realize that I’ve vastly underestimated just exactly how abominably insane this woman is.

“That’s how I get him back, you see. By letting him drink the blood of the devil who killed him.”

Fuck.

My gaze rises to Ares’ face. He’s gagged as well—conscious, but only partially, and he looks bleary-eyed. I’m guessing the blood trickling down the side of his skull has something to do with that. His gaze finds mine, though, and that seems to wake him up a little. I give him a quick nod of my chin before I turn back to Neve on the floor.

Then violence surges through my bloodstream like a black tidal wave as I turn back to Gail, and the gun pointed at Una’s head.

“Let her—”

“Shut. UP!” she screeches. “She will watch as her father is avenged and reborn! When the blood of that fucking man,” she sneers, glaring at Ares, “flows! The blood of the man who killed my dear Seamus! The beautiful man that I loved—

“Seamus was a fucking monster, Gail,” I snarl.

“He was mine and I loved him!” She raves back. “And this piece of shit put a bullet through him!”

“Love?” I sneer, purposefully goading her. “You loved him? Your true love murdered and tortured children. Did you know that?”

“Lies!”

“No, facts,” I snarl. “That woman over there?” I gesture to Neve. “He had her tied to a fucking crucifix, ready to bleed her out until she died.”

Gail’s lips curl. “She—”

“She was nine years old, Gail!” I snap.

She blinks quickly, but her eyes quickly narrow again viciously. “Seamus knew what she was, and what she’d become! Kildare blood is poison! And just like my love, I will rid the world of every single—”

“Lose the fucking crazy and tell me what you fucking want,” I bark at her.

My eyes dart to Una’s and lock on them again.

You will not die here.

Gail smiles thinly. “So impatient. Fine.”

She nods to the table next to me. I turn, my eyes dragging over the six cheap flip phones…the remote control I’m betting set off either the cake or cut the cable on the wrecking ball…a small first aid kit…candid photos of Una and I…until they land on the big, gleaming, deadly sharp, military-grade knife.

“Oh good, you noticed it. Pick it up.”

I stiffen, my eyes darting to Una.

“It’s not a trap, Cillian,” Gail laughs before jamming the barrel of the gun even harder against Una’s temple. “Pick. It. Up.”

My fingers curl around it. I heft the weight as I lift it, turning back to them.

“What the fuck is this.”

She smiles. “My sacrifice to God. The blood of the innocent washes away the sins of the wicked. And the blood of the wicked cleanses and renders undone the persecution of the innocent.”

My eyes stay fixed on her as the psycho Seamus-babble vomits from her mouth.

“I’ll bleed Neve to death later, as Seamus intended.”

“You go anywhere fucking near my niece and I’ll—”

“And dear Una over here…” Gail pushes on as if I hadn’t said anything. “Well, she’ll finally truly see. She’ll see past the veil you’ve put over her—”

“Listen to me, you crazy cunt,” I snarl.

I need to keep her talking. I need to keep her focused on me, not Una. Not Neve. Not Ares.

Me. Keep the rage on me.

Gail’s lips curl. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. All I’m hearing is a bunch of re-runs of Seamus’ lunatic talk from a crazy bitch who smells like she’s been fucking his corpse in the apartment his blood money bought her.”

Her face turns livid. “You disgusting, vile—”

“What the fuck am I doing here with this fucking knife, Gail?!” I roar. “Unless there was more to your lunatic ranting and ravings. Because honestly, I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“You want to know what you’re doing with the knife, Cillian?” She smiles. “Goodness, that’s the easy part.”

Her smile widens to a sickening degree.

“You’re going to cut your own throat.”

Una screams through her gag, fighting to get free. But she’s bound tightly to the chair, and Gail just giggles as she presses the gun to Una’s head.

My eyes burn as they lock onto Gail’s.

“And why would I do that, Gail?”

She shrugs. “Because if you don’t, well…” She sighs, turning her attention to Una.

Fuck.

“Eyes on me, Gail,” I snarl. “Look at me.”

She doesn’t.

“I want to spare her, Cillian. I really do. I mean, she’s my true love’s daughter. His blood.” Slowly, her crazy eyes slide back to me. “But you have to help me there. Kill yourself. Or I’ll kill her. It’s that simple.”

There’s nothing simple about any of this. There are too many variables. Too many other potential and probable victims.

I breathe, channeling all the hate and the violence and the darkness inside of me as my eyes drag to Neve. To Ares. To Una, where they burn into hers.

The thing is, I would.

I would cut my own throat to save her life. But Gail isn’t stable. Or remotely in touch with reality. And there’s no doubt in my mind that she could very well kill the woman I love anyway.

I exhale slowly.

Then inhale again.

Focus.

I have to focus past an unfamiliar feeling surging in my soul while the concept of failing Una and letting her get hurt or killed edges insidiously into my mind.

I’m pretty sure that unfamiliar feeling is remorse.

My teeth grit.

Yeah, not fucking today.

I turn to glance at Neve, her eyes so big and filled with tears of pain and fear as she looks at me. My gaze slips to Ares.

Then Una.

You will not die here, none of you.

Quietly, hefting the weight of the knife in my hands, I turn back to Ares tied to the cross. He’s looking at me, and the knife in my hand, and I watch him slowly shake his head.

“Cillian…” he mumbles through his gag. Though it sounds more like “kuhleenn”. His head shakes slowly side to side. “Shull kuil ushh hnnywhay.”

She’ll kill us anyway.

Fire churns in my heart and my mind works as I heft the knife again.

“I’m afraid we’re a bit pressed for time here, Cillian,” Gail snaps. “You have five seconds. Do it.”

My gaze slides to Neve, sobbing on the floor. Neve, who’s been through so much. Who’s already had to do this once—watch her husband almost die.

“Five.”

My eyes move back to Una, whom I never saw coming.

Who changed me.

Who makes me fucking feel in ways I didn’t think I was chemically wired to be able to feel.

Whom I love, more than I’ve ever loved anything, or anyone, in my life.

“Four.”

Who will not. Fucking. Die. Here.

“I love you,” I murmur quietly to her, our eyes locked. She sobs, wrenching and choking as the tears wrack her body and flow hot and fast down her cheeks.

My gaze moves to Ares, and stays there.

This is a very bad idea. There are a million ways it could go terribly, terribly wrong. But I am not watching any of them die.

“Three, Cillian.”

I heft the knife in my hand, testing its weight, bringing the blade to my bare throat.

Gail grins maniacally.

“Seamus taught you well, Gail.”

She beams, her eyes shining with glee and pride and twisted love.

“You missed something, though.”

I start to grin like the fucking psychopath that I am.

“You’re trying to fight crazy with the wrong. Fucking. Crazy person.”

In one motion, I whip the knife back and throw it.

…Right at Ares.

He roars as it sinks blade-first into his thigh, blood spurting out. Neve screams into her gag, kicking and thrashing on the ground as Ares writhes in agony.

Gail turns white.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

She whirls back to me, looking like she’s about to explode. Neve is still screaming and sobbing.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU—”

“That,” I hiss savagely, “is his femoral artery. You want a goddamn blood sacrifice to bring Seamus’ rotten fucking corpse back to life?!” I snarl. “Well, your sacrifice has about a minute before he bleeds out every drop of that blood you need.”

Gail starts to hyperventilate. Her eyes are darting all over the place, staring at me, at the dead body on the wall behind her, at Ares, at Una, Neve, back to me. Her shoulders start to heave.

“You—you—you…!”

“Psychopath,” I hiss. “That’s the word you’re looking for. And you’ve got about forty-five seconds, Gail.”

My eyes drop to the little first aid kit on the table.

“Throw that over here!!” she screeches at me.

“Oh, this?”

I smile darkly, lifting it gently. “This one?”

“NOW, asshole!!” Gail screams, shoving the gun against Una’s head.

“No problem,” I shrug, tossing it across the room where it lands at Ares’ feet. “There you go.”

Gail stiffens, her face white as she looks between me and the first aid kit ten feet away from her with Ares’ blood dripping all over it as he writhes and groans.

I can see the wheels turning in her sick mind. She’ll have to move the gun away from Una to get it.

“Tick-fucking-tock, Gail!” I roar. “Twenty-five seconds! I dunno, he’s looking pretty fucking pale to me, you crazy bitch.”

“Shut up! SHUT. UP!”

“His heart is going to stop in ten seconds.”

She’s panting, her shoulders heaving as she hyperventilates.

“The blood of the innocent…wickedness. The sins of the world. And I shall fear no evil…”

The river of crazy words starts burbling out of her again, and my lips curl wickedly.

“TEN. FUCKING. SECONDS. GAIL! It’s now or never! If he dies, you can fucking say goodbye to your goddamn beloved—”

“NOOO!”

There it is.

That’s it.

That’s her breaking.

And suddenly, Gail makes her move. She bolts for the first aid kit. But I’m faster. And the second that fucking gun leaves Una’s head, I’m rushing across the room as fast as I can.

I hit Gail so hard, I feel something snap in her spine as we go crashing into the wall behind her with a sickening, wet scrunch-ing sound. Gail gurgles and chokes, and suddenly goes limp against me.

I frown, pulling back before I stiffen.

The end of the big spike that’s been pinning Seamus’s dead, decaying feet to the wall is now protruding clean through Gail’s ripped-open neck. Her eyes go dim.

Then it’s over.

It’s all over.

I grab Una, yanking off the gag her as she sobs and shakes.

“Please!” she chokes. “Help them!”

I rush to Neve, but she wrenches away from me the second I pull her gag off and start working on freeing her wrists.

“GET ARES!!!” she screams in a voice that breaks my heart. “GET HIM! GET HIM!!” Fuck, she believed me.

“Neve, he’s fine—”

“FUCK YOU!” she sobs. “GET HIM—!”

“NEVE,” I hiss, grabbing her face in my hands as our eyes lock. “I’m fucking crazy. But I’m not that fucking crazy.”

I stand and walk over to where Ares is writhing on the cross and yank his gag off.

“You fucking PSYCHO Irish motherfucker!!” he spits at me, blood still leaking out of his leg.

I grin. “I’ll give you that one.”

I don’t give him any warning. I just reach down and yank the knife out of his thigh, making him groan as a fresh wave of blood spills out. His face is chalk white as he stares down at the wound.

“Is that seriously my fucking femoral artery!?”

I chuckle quietly. “If it was, Ares, you’d already be dead.” I kick open the first aid kit I threw over earlier, letting the band-aids, a roll of gauze, a pack of aspirin, and a fucking pair of nail clippers roll out. “And you wouldn’t get saved by a fucking band-aid.”

I glance up, grinning as I pat his cheek.

“Just a scratch. Toughen up, God of War.”

“Fuck you, Cillian.”

I chuckle, using the knife to cut him down, just as Neve lurches over, apparently having wriggled the rest of the way out of her own binds. She slams past me into him, holding him tight as her eyes dart to mine. She still looks pissed, which is fine. But her lips curl up a little at the corners.

I’ll take that.

Una almost collapses as I cut her free. I catch her in my arms, scooping her up against my chest as her arms wrap tightly around me.

“I love you so much,” she chokes, sobbing into me.

I hold her tight with one arm, using my other to help Neve prop Ares up on his one good leg.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”