“Thanks. My shoulder’s starting to act up.”
“Because you haven’t taken anything for it since last night.”
“I wanted to be clear when I talked to Francis and I had a feeling Lavender would stick his nose in it,” Speed explained before washing the pills down with several large gulps. He felt like he could finish the pitcher. He was sweating under his robe and couldn’t wait to shed his clothes and pass out. His shoulder was screaming and he was exhausted after a night of tossing and turning over the call to Francis.
“Can you blame him?” Hawk asked. He took the glass so he could refill it. “You omitted something pretty crucial and you’ve got him and Reginald convinced you’re hiding something else. Who likes getting blindsided?Twice,” he added with a hard look at Speed.
“I’ve never said he was wrong,” Speed conceded. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like him or like having him in my business. And it isn’tmy businessto make his life easier by sharing things that are personal, even if he thinks it is. Lavender isn’t God, no matter how much he wants us all to believe it,” he said, earning a suffering groan from Hawk.
“Just don’t give him another reason to shoot you,” he requested but Speed gave Hawk a pained grimace.
“I really can’t promise that.”
ChapterTwo
Four days later…
“Let go of me, Lane!”Lavender roared. He was snarling and thrashing as he fought to get free but Lane had one arm flung around Lavender’s neck and the other was wrapped around his middle. Blake silently prayed Lane could hold on and keep Lavender pinned against the door.
They had been enjoying the Cubs game with Toly and Wilder, and Blake was living the dream, trying out the new grill on the living room terrace, when Lavender kicked open the front door. Thank God for Lane’s reflexes. He sensed danger and tackled Lavender before he could make good on his threat to murder Speed as soon as he got his hands on him. Everyone had gotten between them but Speed was still reclining on the sofa.
“Fuck, I’m scared,” Blake whispered to Speed and edged closer. He was still holding up his tongs as if Lavender might confuse him as a threat. “I don’t know what you’ve done but this looks bad.”
“It’s bad.” Speed nodded and licked his lips nervously. “You should get out while you can,” he advised.
“What?” Blake’s brows fell as he stared back at Speed in horror. “I’m not leaving you! Although, it would be nice to know what it is we’re getting murdered for,” he muttered and glared at Speed before smiling at Lavender. “I don’t know what he did but we can talk this out,” Blake said and slowly set the tongs on the coffee table and slid his other hand out of the silicone oven mitt.
“There’s no talking this out if Reginald’s right,” Lavender said, then sneered as he shook his head in disgust. “And of course, he’s fucking right! He’s always fucking right and this one was staring straight at us this whole fucking time!” He screamed. The muscles in his neck strained and his fingers curled into claws as he reached for Speed.
“I don’t know how long I can hold him,” Lane warned. Wilder cracked his knuckles and shook out his shoulders as he got ready.
“We gotta do this carefully because he’s a slippery motherfucker,” Wilder whispered to Lane, making Blake even more nervous. Then, Toly gasped as he turned to Speed.
“Mickey Winterstone was Frank Leary’s father?” Toly’s eyes were huge behind his glasses.
“No,” Blake said and shook his head. “I thought his mom…” But Blake realized that no one had ever thought to ask who Francis’s father was or what had happened to him. Speed hummed loudly as he bit down on his lips, his eyes watering with what Blake knew was hatred and spite. Lavender cackled furiously while his arms flailed.
“He fucking told us!‘Mickey loves Francis like he’s his blood!’” Lavender was spitting as he pointed at Speed. “I’m so tired of the games, Speed!”
“You’re tired?” Speed shook his head, incredulous and defiant. “You’ve been sticking your nose in my business and trying to uncover all my secrets for the last few months but now you’re tired? Try living with this shit for thirty years. You think Mickey was a dirtbag now? You’re not going to love him after you hear about how he treated Mary Elaine. Mickey was a monster and it was hell, living under his thumb. And he was just as cruel to the people he said he loved as the people he terrorized on the streets. You couldn’t do a fuckin’ thing about it, though. You just looked the other way and kept your head down.”
“She was vital and you hid her from us!” Lavender yelled but Speed smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Mickey didn’t think she was shit and she got swept under the rug but I like to think she bit him in the ass, in the end. She was just a kid and he was almost twice her age when she had Francis,” he informed them, then let out a hard, sarcastic laugh. “The family covered it up because they had the good sense to be ashamed but Mickey didn’t give a fuck. He wanted that girl. Even if she was just fifteen and his first cousin. He said the fucking royals did shit like that all the time and at least she was Irish. Mickey said it was better than diluting his good Irish blood and that he’d take care of his kid. And he sure did take care of Francis. Didn’t give a fuck about Mary after she was knocked up. But Francis didn’t care, he worshiped the ground Mickey walked on.”
Lane was appalled as he watched Speed out of the corner of his eye. “You kept that from us because you knew there was no way we’d go along with any of this if we found out Leary was Winterstone’s son.”
“I did,” Speed said and held up his right hand. “And I’m not asking you to defend me. Let him go and let me deal with the consequences.”
“And stand back while he kills you?” Lane asked. “You might be feeling guilty but I’m not going to help you punish yourself like this.”
That made Speed laugh. He clutched his shoulder and shook his head. “I said I’d accept the consequences because I know that what I did was wrong but I don’t feel guilty. I did what I had to do and gave you all the privilege of being impartial and unbiased when you decided to help me take Mickey down. Thehitmanisn’t having an attack of conscience, he’s mad because he thinks I outplayed him again.”
“Stop treating this like it’s a fucking game, Speed!” Lavender pleaded, then sagged against Lane. “I swear I will not kill Speed. Will you please let me go?” He asked quietly.
“No bodily injury,” Lane stipulated before he cleared his throat. “Yet,” he added with a hard look at Speed. Lavender huffed and nodded.
“I will not harm Speed. Physically,” he promised so Lane gave Lavender’s back a few steadying pats before he released him. Lavender tugged at the front of his coat and smoothed his sleeves and lapels. “This isn’t a fucking game, Speed,” he restated calmly with a bow of his head at the sofa. Speed sighed as he sat forward and rested his right elbow on his knee.