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Part 1
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We must all fear evil men, but there is another kind of evil that we must fear most and that is the indifference of good men.
"In breaking news tonight, the body of Lawrence Yates was found in an alley off of Mayfair Street – two blocks from Williams Park. Yates was convicted in 1996 of sexual assault of a child, served five years and was released on parole in 2001. It is know that there were two witnesses at the scene. Names are not being released and the police department is looking for anyone with informat…" the television said before it was clicked off.
"Did you hear that, Conner? Someone's doin' a copycat," a lilted Irish voice commented. The light haired man looked up at his dark haired twin.
"No one's poachin' the mission, Murph. It was one person… besides we're lyin' low for now," his own Irish lilt answered.
"What?! Did ya make this decision without conversin' with me about it?" Murphy asked his brother while throwing his lanky body next to his on the busted out couch.
"Think about it, Murph… the whole fuckin' city knows who we are. We lay low, maybe go ta New York like we've been sayin', they stop talkin' and we live how we need to," Conner said before standing up.
"But what about what we're doin' here, Conner?" Murphy asked, almost eager to return to their previous activity. Conner sighed as he looked out the loft window.
"Evil will always exist, Murph. The bad will still be bad two weeks, two months, two decades from now," he explained. Murphy held back what he had wanted to say and really looked at his brother. The way he stood, the way he talked, the way he looked… it all portrayed a tired man. He'd been that way since they buried their father. Out of the two of them, Conner was the idealist. He was the one with the vision of a better place, a good place. He was the one that dreamed that things could be better. He, Murphy, was the cynical realist. The world was full of evil and would continue to be so. This reversal of roles of sorts frightened him.
"Conner…" Murphy started. When his brother turned to look at him, he noticed the dark circles beneath Conner's eyes. The usually bright, unmarred face looked weary and the blue eyes looked older than their 28 years. "Have ya slept at all this week?" Conner shook his head.
"Not much," he admitted as he unconsciously caressed the now-healed scars around his wrists. Murphy closed his eyes at the memory of almost dying and the miracle of his brother saving him… and the fear of almost losing him in the process. Sometimes, his brother amazed him. With that thought, Murphy stood up and clasped his hands together.
"I know a perfect sleep aid… let's go down ta McGinty's and have a pint…" he suggested. It took Conner a few seconds before responding. The last time they'd been in McGinty's, Rocco had been with them. Good ol' Roc. Almost as dumb as one in some situations… but he had been the best of friends. And they had watched him die. However, Roc's last words to them pulled Conner from the past. Don't ever stop.
"Well, what are ya waitin' fer boyo? The moss ta grow on yer arse? Let's go," Conner taunted with a smile. It was that smile, strained yet genuine, that kicked Murphy in his ass and had him chasing his brother out the door.
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"C'mon me girl, put some life into it!" Aidan 'Mac' McGinty called to his adopted niece. The girl in question turned her jade eyes to the bar and doubled her effort. It had been forever since she'd done an Irish dance. She laughingly doubled her effort. A thin redhead looped an arm over her shoulders and they danced together.
"Mac said put life into it," she said to her friend and coworker as she continued to dance, putting more bounce into her step.
"Then let's make it wish it were dead," the redheaded woman laughed. Step, hop, hop, step… The music, and all action in the bar, stopped as the front door chimed open. She turned and for a second, the only thing she could see were a beautiful pair of pale blue eyes. She didn't even register the face on which those eyes sat. After a second, her eyes shifted over the rest of him. Light brown hair worn slightly longer than perfectly groomed, lanky frame, simple black shirt and a pair of jeans. The look on his face intrigued her more than anything else. Even from across the room she could see the exhaustion. It wasn't really a physical exhaustion. It was an exhaustion of the spirit.
"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" her friend Fiona asked as she stepped up to her friend. Kiera turned to the redheaded woman.
"I was thinking that exact thing," she said. Fiona wiggled her eyebrows as she looked over the two newcomers.
"Fresh meat?" she replied, a mischievous look in her eye. Kiera shook her head with a smile.
"Fi, you're married and have a beautiful little boy at home," she chuckled. Fiona shrugged her slim shoulders.
"Doesn't mean I can't look… I like the dark-haired one," she said conspiratorially before picking up her tray from a nearby booth. Kiera's eyes stayed trained on the other man.
"You would," Kiera murmured as the object of her observation looked at her and then looked back to the bar.
"Boys!" her uncle cried out and rushed to where the two men stood at the bar. Grins lit up both newcomers' faces. "I didn't think I would ever see you again!" A round of hugs commenced as Kiera watched from where she stood. It seemed like almost everyone in the bar knew the two men.
"Aw, Mac. Ya know we canna resist yer fine establishment for long. Now, how's Doc doin'?" the man inquired about her great-uncle in an accented voice. Mac took a deep breath.
"He's doin' better, boys. The Turrets has been getting worse since the heart attack, but he's same old Doc. The poor sisters at the hospital… they've had to cross themselves batty with him around. Ya know, he would love to see you two troublemakers sometime," he said patting the men's shoulders.
"Aye, we will stop by Mac… now, how 'bout a pint for me brother and I?" the other man added. Kiera took stock of the other man, just finally realizing his presence. He was darker than his brother was. Dark hair, darker eyes… but similar build… and he had a Cindy Crawford-style spot over his lip in the left side. He was a bit intense looking. She could see why he caught Fiona's eye. She watched as they got along famously with the only 'family' in this world that she had left. Sucking up her first bit of unease at seeing the two of them, she made her way to where the three men stood.
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Out of the corner of his eye, Murphy saw a woman walking in their direction. She had a tough look about her. Something about her presence called to him.
"Ah, me girl. I want you to meet some good friends o' mine," Mac said as he pulled the brunette woman under his arm. Murphy narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched her take a quick perusal of Conner and then of him. Did she know who they were? She looked like she did. Taking matters into his own hands, he turned on the charm and took her hand.
"And who might ya be?" he murmured as he laid a quick kiss on her knuckles. Amused green eyes met his as she took her hand back.
"I'll answer when you tell me who you are and why you know my uncle," she said smartly back. Conner laughed softly and put an arm around his brother's shoulder.
"Forgive his charm," he said looking directly at her. "His name's Murphy. Me name is Conner… we go way back with your uncle… and great-uncle." Kiera eyed him carefully before turning and doing the same to Murphy. He just smirked back with a wink. Leaving the final judgment to Mac, she turned to look at him.
"They're good boys, Kiera. These here boys saved Doc's bar from those filthy Russians and got a little roughed up in the process. He and I both owe a debt to these boys," he reassured. Kiera could see Conner unconsciously rubbing his wrists out of the corner of her eye.
"No debt if ya hand us a pint. Kiera. What a pretty name," Murphy said, holding out his hand. After a second she took it and gave it a squeeze.
"It's Kiernan. My friends call me Kiera," she said before she took Conner's hand as well.
"So, we friends?" he asked. Again, Kiera's eyes ran over the two men. At closer inspection, she could see they had matching tattoos on their necks. Various others were on their hands. She was certain that there were more that she couldn't see since they both wore long sleeves. But they looked friendly and trustworthy. The former was good enough for now. The latter, she'd have to wait and see.
"I suppose we are," she said with a small smile. Murphy smiled back at her as her gaze met his. Kiera made her way behind the bar with Mac and proceeded to serve the two men their requested drinks. Murphy knew that he would have to watch her. There was something here that didn't meet the eye. She laughed at something Conner had said to another patron. Aye, he would have to watch her. Not that it was a pain or anything. She was a beautiful woman. Be that as it may, beautiful women were often more trouble than they let on.
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"And so, there we was bein' polite and all, and the fucker clocked our bud Roc. Now Conner and me, see, we couldn't let that go… so, we took that bastard down a notch as well as his friends. Taught them a lesson, we did," a more-than-slightly inebriated Murphy was telling Kiera. The two sat in a booth in the corner talking and watching Conner and the rest of the bar do what drunken Irishmen did best – sing badly, dance around foolishly, and laugh loudly.
"Taught them a lesson? How exactly?" Kiera asked with a twinkle in her eye. Murphy hooted out a laugh.
"Ooohooo, the lass wants the gory details! Well… beer bottles can be marvelous weapons… and so can the alcohol inside them. I'm sure our friend Boris didn't sit comfortably that whole night," Murphy said as he sat back against the seat. Kiera drew her own conclusions as Murphy pointedly lit a match for his cigarette.
"From what my Mac says, this place was trashed by the time you boys were done with it all. And he and Doc still love you two… what happened next?" she asked, knowing full well there was more to the story. Murphy looked back to her.
"How do ya know there's more?" he asked. She shrugged her shoulders.
"My uncles love this bar more than anything in the world. The fact that you two are still in it says a lot," she said. Murphy laughed again.
"Fine, fine. Well, Conner and I were both fairly sloshed. We didn't exactly run them for a loop when we left. They found us the next morning… surprised us, they did. They grabbed Conner with every fuckin' intention of killin' him… but they cuffed him to the loo and told him they'd kill me first. Pussies. I can't be sure what happened to him after that since they took me outside but they certainly underestimated Conner – I did too, for that matter. Next thing I know, they have a gun in me face and it's rainin' toilets. Conner had scraped his arms raw pulling that bit of porcelain out of the fuckin' floor. From six floors up he bombed the man holding me and jumped onto the other one. Six fuckin' floors! And he survived for me ta tell about it," Murphy said looking to where his brother stood, admiration and love apparent. Kiera followed his eyes across the bar to the now laughing man. Conner caught her eyes and smiled, lifting his beer to them in acknowledgement. Murphy laughed and lifted his drink as well.
"He knows we're talking about him," he noted. Kiera still watched the other man.
"Is that why he keeps rubbing his wrists?" she asked unexpectedly, remembering from earlier. Murphy's serious look returned.
"Noticed that, did ya?" he asked. She nodded. Murphy sighed as he looked down at his drink. "It's a habit that has started only recently. I've noticed that he does it a lot when he's upset or uncomfortable. Ever since Doc had his attack and our da passed on he's been like that a lot." Kiera absorbed the knowledge as she finished off her drink. A silence fell over the table. It was obvious that the current subject was an uncomfortable one for Murph, so Kiera let it drop.
"Well, aren't you two just the life o' the party," a voice said. Kiera looked up as a beer was set in front of her and Conner sat in the booth next to his brother. They made a startling pair sitting together. They looked good – dangerous almost, and she was strangely comforted by that fact.
"So, who's the oldest?" she asked breaking the silence. The two brothers looked at each other with smiles.
"Twins," they both said at the same time. Kiera's eyes went wide in surprise, and then she laughed.
"Same question stands," she said. Again, the two brothers looked at each other. This time they shrugged.
"Don't know," Murphy said. Kiera laughed again.
"Oh, come on. You do too," she said. Conner shook his head.
"No, actually, we don't. Ma never told us… she still won't. She likes to hold the fact that we don't know over our heads. I personally think she just likes to call and argue with us over it. But even then, she never wants it to be an issue with us," he said. Kiera nodded as she took in the two men again. Out of the two of them, Conner seemed to be the older one – the protector. Murphy still looked up to him in ways and depended on him. They were both very good looking, both very intelligent, yet Conner seemed more mature – more in control. There was an undeniable bond between the two men – Mama McManus had been right to make whatever was between them a non-issue. It had made her two sons closer. As she came to that conclusion, a round of drinks had been placed in front of them. All three of them looked up to Mac in question. He smiled and pointed to a man at the end of the bar. He was very clean cut, with a thousand dollar suit and slicked back hair. His coat was neatly folded over his arm and he was leaning against the bar, watching them. The McManus brothers looked him over and then looked at each other.
"Don't know him, meself. Do you, Murph?" Conner asked. Murphy shook his head. They looked across the table to see Kiera get up.
"I need some fresh air. I will be right back," she said almost as an after thought as she walked towards the door. The brothers watched closely as the strange man nonchalantly followed the brunette out the front door. Murphy waited for Conner to turn back to him.
"You know what they say 'bout funny feelin's," the dark haired man said. Conner nodded as he took a big swig from his complimentary drink and stood up. Murphy followed suit and the two headed towards the door. At Mac's worried look, the two men nodded reassuringly and Murphy did a little boxer's dance, punching his arms out.
"Now, where do ya suppose they went?" Conner asked as he and Murphy emerged from the bar. Looking both ways, they saw only a few stumbling drunks. Murphy looked to his left again and saw an alleyway about a half a block down. Swatting Conner's shoulder, he indicated the direction. Conner nodded and followed.
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"Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone, Will?" Kiera asked as she followed the man around the corner into the alleyway. As soon as the darkness enveloped the two, she knew she was in trouble. Stupid! Three men grabbed her from behind – two holding her arms and the third with an arm around her neck.
"Now, Kiernan… this seems to be the only way I can get you to talk to me," the man in the suit said. The stream of curses that came out of her mouth only caused the four men in her presence to laugh.
"Kiera, Kiera, Kiera… such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl," he said as he reached forward to caress her cheek. She tried to flinch back but the other man just tightened his hold on her neck. "What would your ma say?" he taunted, mocking her slight accent. Kiera kicked out her legs at him, hoping to connect. He only laughed again when she missed. The three men holding her tightened their grips and suddenly a fist connected with her face. Another followed into her stomach. After the stars in her vision receded she found herself on her hands and knees on the ground.
"Want to try that again, the fair way, Will?" she asked, spitting blood to the ground. The pain was abating and she was dying to pay the now-grinning man back in spades.
"Oh, Kiera. Not everything is solved by fighting… you should know that by now," Will taunted again. This man was dangerous… this man knew her past. Hell, he was the only thing linking her to her past.
"So says he with the lackies," she kicked back, pointedly looking at the three goons. She took Will's offered hand and stood up. As soon as she was steady she whipped her hand from his searching grip. "What do you want?" she spat out and backed away.
"Just to talk," he said. The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking surprised all five of the alley's occupants.
"I don't think that was just talkin', now was it? Do ya think it was, Murph?" Conner asked his brother, pointing his gun at the pretty boy.
"Fuck, if that was just talkin', then I've been doin' it wrong," Murph said, watching the three other men carefully. When they moved to attack the two brothers, Conner stepped closer to Will.
"Oh no. Don't think ya want ta do that. What will the big wigs do when ya bring this one home with a hole in his head? Give ya a kiss and a fuckin' paycheck?" Conner asked. The three guys stopped in their tracks. Will looked over at Kiera with a sneer.
"You won't always have a goon squad with you, girl. We'll have our talk yet. Not to worry," he said. "Let's go." With that, the thugs walked by Conner and Murphy. When Will ventured past, Murphy whipped a fist into his gut. When he stood up to retaliate, Conner was in his face with the gun under his chin.
"Not too bright, are ya? Consider it a payback… and now it's time fer ya ta leave me friend, before ya get yerself into more trouble," Conner said menacingly. Kiera watched as Will glared at the two men and turned to return to the street. With a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, two sets of blue eyes were watching her.
"Mind tellin' us what that was about?" Murphy asked. Kiera reached a hand up and touched the spot where a monster bruise would be tomorrow morning.
"Just a couple of friends getting reacquainted," she said. Conner smirked.
"Right, and me ma is the Virgin Mary," he said. Kiera sighed again as she began walking towards the bar again.
"Let's just say that Will and the people he works for are bad men… and they like being bad men. It's all about power for them, always has, always will be," she said. Pausing, she looked at her reflection in a window. Her shirt was spattered with her blood. A bruise was already starting on her left cheek. She touched it again softly.
"I can't go in like this. My uncle…" A hand rested on her shoulder.
"C'mon, we'll get yer stuff, tell Mac yer a' right, and then get ya home," Murphy said as he led them to the front door of McGinty's. Kiera nodded as she sat down against the wall. Murphy went inside, set on his mission and Conner sat down next to Kiera to wait. Pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket, he offered her one. She took it.
"Do they know where ya live?" Conner asked seriously while lighting both of their cigarettes.
"Probably," Kiera answered after taking a drag on the cigarette. Conner nodded.
"Can you stay at Mac's?" he asked after a few minutes. Kiera held back a tear that threatened to spill over her cheek.
"They know I would go to him… I can't involve him… they're ruthless," she said. Conner nodded again. Silence fell for a while as the two thought over what happened. Flicking his cigarette, Conner stood up. He offered Kiera his hand. She took it and stood up as well. He didn't let go of her hand yet.
"That settles it then. You'll stay with us tonight, then we'll figure something out for ya," he said turning back to look at her. He lifted a hand and lightly touched her bruised cheek. "And we need to get some ice on that for ya, as well." Their eyes locked and she smiled.
"Thank you… all I need is tonight… I have people I need to call tomorrow. As much as I hate to involve them, they'd be able to help me out," she said. Conner smiled back as he dropped her hand. Murphy made his way out of the bar and towards the two. Handing the bag he had to Kiera, he observed the pair.
"What's going on?" he asked them. Kiera smiled at him in thanks as she reached into her bag.
"She's gonna stay with us tonight," Conner said, looking at his brother. The eye contact communicated everything.
"Shit," Murphy swore. "I didn't even think about that… She probably can't go back to her place for a while…" Kiera nodded sadly. Conner turned to face her again.
"It's obviously a little more than friends getting reacquainted, isn't it?" he asked.
"A bit…" she answered.
"Are ya going to tell us what it was that made these bastards come after ya?" he asked. It took Kiera a few seconds to answer.
"Maybe…" she evaded. Conner sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. She laid a hand on his arm.
"They don't know who you are… and you helped me out tonight… as I said, that's all I need. You don't have to get involved at all… this is my problem and I'm dealing with it… it may take awhile, but it will be solved," she reassured him. Conner shook his head.
"You need help… we'll help," he said. Murphy nodded his head as she looked between the two.
"Aye, we'll help… you're stuck with us," he said with a smile. Kiera shook her head.
"I can't have you guys do that. You'll be on their hit list before you know it if they haven't put you on it already. I can't have that on my conscience," she said.
"What do we care what list we're on? We've been on a few already… They're certainly on our fuckin' list. Next time I see them, I'll show them what's fuckin' what," Murphy said, grabbing Conner's gun and sighting it. Kiera laughed as she took the gun from Murphy and handed it back to a smiling Conner. Murphy, with all of his energy and enthusiasm, reminded her of an overanxious kid.
"We'd best go, before you cause any trouble," Kiera said. Murphy laughed.
"Me? Cause trouble? I'm a bloody saint," he said, causing Conner to laugh, at both the absurdity and irony of the statement.
"A'right then, St. Murph… let's show the lass some McManus hospitality," Conner said, leading the way.
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"He's out like a light," Kiera said as she laid a blanket over the collapsed form of Murphy.
"At least ya got some water in 'im," Conner laughed as he made his way to the kitchen. Kiera noted the damp spots on the blanket and the man in the bed.
"It was a fight all the way, though," she said as a hand lay on her shoulder. Looking back, she saw Conner. He smiled as he handed her a piece of cloth with ice in it.
"He loved every second of it… don't ya worry," he said with a bigger grin. Kiera shook her head as she took the proffered ice. With a sigh, she sat down on the couch and placed the ice gingerly over her sore skin. Conner looked over at her and studied her for a few moments as she rested against the back of the couch. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and she was borrowing one of his black t-shirts. She wore minimal makeup and a small, simple nose-stud sparkled when it caught the light. In all she was a very attractive woman. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was her soul that he saw in her green eyes. It called to him in a way that he had never experienced with another person. It was almost a mirror to his own soul. He didn't know her, but he wanted to. And that was what bothered him the most. In his twenty-eight years, he hadn't known anyone… except Murphy… except Roc. Murphy is his brother and Roc… was dead. It was better that he didn't know anyone.
"You're not alone, you know," Kiera's voice echoed his thoughts, startling him.
"What?" he asked, almost defensively, as he looked over at her again. She smiled softly as she got up and walked to him.
"I said that you're not alone," she responded. His eyes locked on hers.
"What makes ya think…" he started.
"The look on your face," she cut him off. "The look of hopelessness, sadness, guilt, regret…loneliness…"
"What does any of that have ta do with me?" he asked before turning to look out the window.
"You don't have to hide it, Conner. I see it because, deep down, I feel it," she said. "I feel the same thing."
"Why would ya feel all that?" he asked, stepping closer to her, wanting to know how she could possibly see the two of them as the same. She smiled as she gently ran a hand over his cheek.
"We all have lives people know nothing about… our dirty little secrets, if you will. We all have a dark side. No one is perfect. When did you lose your father?" she asked suddenly, finding the edge of the couch and sitting on it. Conner was silent, adjusting to the twist in the conversation. She'd about given up on an answer when he finally spoke.
"About five months ago," he said, looking at her.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Whatever for? It wasna your fault," he said. She wanted to ask him how it happened but she knew she should not press.
"Still, I'm sorry," she said. The look on her face told him that she understood.
"What about your family? Where are they?" he asked. Kiera took a large swallow to get past the large lump in her throat.
"My mother and sister are dead," she said. The shock registering on his face told her that he had been expecting anything but that. "And my father… I don't know… he could be dead, and he'd be a better person for it." The conviction on her face told a larger story than the words.
"Now, I'm sorry," he said as he sat down on the couch next to her.
"It's okay. As you said before, it's not your fault," she said. "So, what do you do?" Conner laughed at her sudden change of subject again.
"Well, up until a year or so ago, Murph and I pretty much worked the odd jobs. The last one we worked was in a meat packing plant… then a trick of fate had us talking ta the police," he said. Kiera nodded.
"The Russian incident," she clarified.
"Murph told ya, did he?" he asked. She nodded with a smile and reached over to gently run a finger over the red scars. His hands jerked away unconsciously.
"I almost lost me brother that day," he said hoarsely after a second or two.
"You don't like to remember that," she stated more than asked. He turned his head swiftly to look at her.
"Would you?" he asked. Kiera shook her head.
"All of us have memories that we would like to forget," she said sadly. "Some more so than others. But there is nothing we can do about it, or should do about it. Murphy is alive and safe. Anyways, the past and how we react to it dictates what our future will be. If that day hadn't happened, you wouldn't be where you are now. You wouldn't be as strong as you are now or have the beliefs you have now. You wouldn't be the Conner McManus that is sitting in front of me right now." There was only a brief hesitation.
"That would probably be a good thing," he said softly. Again, Kiera shook her head.
"How can you say that? You've done good things. Why would you want to change that?" she asked. Conner looked over at her seriously and thought over what she just said.
"You may not realize how lucky you are to have your brother… to have someone that loves you so much. He'd do anything for you. It's a special bond to have, and you'll never be alone," she continued. Taking his silence as discomfort, she decided to change the subject.
"Anyways, we're off topic. We were talking about what you did… and talking to the police," she prompted. Conner brought his mind back to the conversation.
"Ah, the police… what an interesting day that was," he said. Kiera chuckled.
"I remember reading about it in the papers… what did they call you? 'The Saints of South Boston'?" she asked with a laugh. He winced and then watched her closely to see if she would make the other connections… the connections to the 'other' Saints. He wondered slightly what she would do if he told her all about that. Would she run? Would she go to the police? Would she pat him on the back and say 'fuck 'em all'? Agent Smecker was a good man, on the side of law… yet he continuously sided with him and Murphy. Christ, he even helped them take out Papa Joe Yakavetta. When she looked back at him, eager to hear his response, he relaxed.
"Aye, the Saints of South Boston. To this day, I don't know what caused them to put us front page. It was ridiculous, to be honest. All we did was get into a fuckin' bar fight, get ourselves into trouble, and then had to fight our way out of it. It was nothing spectacular," he said.
"Oh, yes. Nothing spectacular. You only took out two of the most feared mob soldiers in town… in the most unconventional of ways, no less… and to make the story sweeter, it was because the brothers McManus were protecting each other. No, I don't think that's a fine story at all," she said with a teasing smile. He shook his head.
"Ah well, so after all of that mess, the agent in charge of the investigation asked for our help on a few of his cases. Murph and I can speak five languages, so, he needed a few contacts. Ever since, both the FBI and the city police have called us on. And speakin' of the police, we should go down there tomorrow and file a report on that friend of yours," Conner concluded. Kiera just shook her head.
"Conner, you know as well as I do that it won't do one bit of fucking good. They have their hands so tied up in protocol and procedures that whatever they could get on Will, he'd wiggle out of it anyways. They try, really they do, but it just never does any good," she said, frustration sneaking into her voice. Conner was shocked to hear her echo his own silent thoughts.
"Anyways, it's been a late night. You should get some sleep," Kiera noted, bringing an end to the conversation as she curled herself into the side of the couch to get comfortable. Conner stood, took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
"Me mother would have me head if she knew you were plannin' on sleepin' on that lump o' nothin' and I didn't do anything about it," he said as he pulled her to one of the simple mattress sets that sat on the floor. It wasn't much, but it was all they needed.
"I'm not going to kick you out of your bed, Conner, so you can sleep on that lump o' nothing. Not because I was stupid enough to be… well… stupid," she said as she leaned back to keep him from pulling her.
"Get in it, lass, or I'll put ya in it," he said. Green glare met blue glare. Two sets of arms crossed. When he didn't move, Kiera sighed and sat down on the mattress.
"You Irish are a stubborn lot," she said. He hunched down next to her with a smile. He trailed a finger softly around the bruise before he reached down and pulled the blankets up.
"Aye, we're stubborn… but stubborn for good reason. Now, get some sleep," he said while pulling the blankets around her. Her hand caught his before it dropped away. Her fingers ran over the tattooed letters along his left trigger finger. 'Veritas'. Truth.
"Wouldn't it be nice if everyone could have the same ideals in this world?" she asked softly. Not expecting an answer, she closed her eyes.
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A muffled scream brought Conner upright from his makeshift bed on the couch. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn light. Murphy was still dead to the world on his bed, but the other bed… the blankets had been thrown off it and it was empty. Panicked, he looked around and spotted a huddled figure in the corner. Conner slowly made his way over to where a shaking, but still sleeping woman sat. Her arms covered her head and legs drawn up to her chest. Conner took both of her hands in his and tried to shake her shoulder. Her face shot up and there were tears flowing freely from her eyes. The bruise on her cheek, ugly in the light, was even uglier in the dark.
"No, don't… I… no, please, no…" she grated out hoarsely. She pulled at her arms, trying to free them from Conner's grip. Increasing his grip, he shook her slightly.
"Kiera, wake up," he said softly. She tried to back away from him and into the wall. He didn't let her move. "Kiernan, wake up. You're dreamin', lass." His voice, louder now, caused her to open her eyes. The tears continued their trails down her cheeks, but he was sure she was unaware of it.
"There now, you're a' right," he said as he rubbed her arms. Her watery, panicked eyes sought his. After a second, she fell into his arms bonelessly. Sobs silently racked her body as he picked her up and sat down onto the mattress. There wasn't much he could say that would get through to her at this point, so he stayed silent as he wrapped his arms around her and held her. After a few minutes, her shaking stopped and her arms loosened from around him.
"I'm sorry," she said as she sat back. Conner reached forward and wiped the sweat-drenched hair from her cheek and forehead.
"Must have been one hell of a nightmare," he said softly. Kiera nodded with a shaky sigh.
"Yeah, nightmare… I'm sorry I got all weepy on you," she said, just now realizing that he was bare-chested.
"Everyone's entitled to get a little weepy now and again… I think you were justified," he said cheerfully. "Now, you best get some real rest." He helped her get situated on the bed but as he stood she gripped his hand.
"I… would you… could you maybe stay here for a few minutes," she asked, looking away, embarrassed. He sat back down and looked at her. He could still see the lingering fear as he slowly lay down next to her. She smiled gratefully as she curled into his side and draped the blanket over the two of them. It took Conner a while to adjust to the feeling of a woman next to him. It wasn't a feeling he liked to indulge in, but as he fell asleep, he couldn't help but think that it felt nice.
*********************************
"Well, Holy Hell," Murphy commented as he woke up rubbing his head. A Mack truck must have Riverdanced on his head during the night. He turned to his side to see a blanketed form still in the bed next to him. The curves hidden under the blanket told Murph that it wasn't his brother… but from the looks of it, the bed had surely had two occupants during the night. With a frown Murph sat up and rubbed his face. Conner was no where to be found… which meant he was up on the roof for a fresh air smoke break. Groaning with the effort, Murph stood up.
"Good morning, Murphy," a sleepy voice said. He smiled to himself.
"Top o' the mornin' to ya, Kiera," he answered. He was rewarded with a stellar grin.
"So predictable. I knew you were going to say that," she said with a laugh and a stretch.
"Are ya always in such a good mood when you wake up?" he asked with mock shock. Kiera grinned again.
"I wouldn't know. There's usually no one around to tell me whether or not I am," she said with a wink. He shook his head.
"Your loss… or their loss. I'm not quite sure…" he said while scratching his head. She laughed again. He looked too cute with hangover bed head.
"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked carefully. He actually glowered at her.
"Like fresh picked daisies… what do ya think I feel like?" he asked. Kiera held up her hands in surrender.
"Hey, you do this often enough to know what to expect. Which leads me to ask, are you always in such a good mood when you wake up?" she inquired with a raised brow. He shook his head.
"You'd have to ask Conner, I guess," he said.
"Speaking of which, where is your brother?" she asked. He raised his own brow at her question and then thought about his answer.
"He's out," he said carefully. The look on her face almost seemed to be disappointment.
"Oh. Well, I need to get going to see my friends. Um, tell him thank you for me, okay? He'll know what I mean," she said as she stood up.
"Thank you?" Murphy asked as she collected her things. She smiled as she slung her bag over her shoulder.
"Yeah. He helped me," she said. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek.
"And thank you too, for your help," she added. He raised a hand to his cheek.
"What did I do besides get to know me bottle a little too well?" he asked.
"For your white knight act, for your companionship, for your hospitality… that's plenty to thank you for," she said as she headed to the door.
"Okay then," he started, but she cut him off with a wave.
"Thank you, and I'd better go. I'll miss them if I stay too much longer. Tell Conner 'bye' for me. Bye," she called as she shut the door. He scratched his head and looked at the door for a few minutes more. As he put on his robe, he realized that she'd artfully taken advantage of his slowed brain function and neglected to mention how they could find her later.
"Fuckin' shit," he muttered to himself before he decided to climb up to the roof.
"Good mornin'," his brother's voice said as he made his way up the last stair.
"Good fuckin' mornin'," he answered as he leaned against the ledge and took the cigarette his brother had waiting for him.
"I see someone woke up before the hangover faeries could find him," Conner said in a bright voice.
"Oh fuck you, Mr. I-Never-Had-A-Fuckin'-Hangover," Murphy growled.
"I think I get it from ma," Conner continued to taunt. Murphy narrowed his eyes.
"Kiera said to say thank you… she said you'd know what I meant. Do I want to know what I meant?" he asked causing Conner to stiffen.
"She left?" he asked. Murphy nodded. "Did she say where she was goin'?"
"Of course not. All she said was that she had to get to her friend's house. I wasn't exactly thinkin' properly enough to give her the fuckin' Spanish Inquisition," Murphy said, taking a drag on his cigarette. Conner just nodded.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" Murphy asked his still silent brother. Conner turned to him and flicked his cigarette over the side of the building.
"There's nothin' to tell," Conner said.
"Fuck that. She wouldn't say thank you if there was nothin' to tell," Murphy countered.
"There isn't. And if you see her before I do, tell her she's welcome," Conner said before heading off the roof.
"Fuck you!" Murphy cried before flicking his cigarette off the building and running after his brother.
*********************************
Kiera walked up the sidewalk to a small but neatly kept suburban house. This was where her best friend Fiona, her husband Kurt and their three-year old son Rory lived. Fiona had been the one to give her a chance back in the darker days. She'd been a waitress at McGinty's and had talked Uncle Doc to give Kiera a job. Fiona was the only other person in all of Boston that knew Kiernan Shannon's past. Kiera knocked on the door, hoping that she hadn't missed them. The Bradley's started their days early and it was nearly 10:00 already. When there was no answer, she found her way to the back. There was always a spare key in the potted plant by the door. Kiera smiled when she found the key in the designated space. God bless Fiona and her domesticated ways.
As she walked towards the back door, she felt a slight sense of unease come over her. Normally when she felt that way she would find her gun, but she didn't want to scare Rory if he was home. When she reached the door, she knew immediately that something was wrong. The entire knob had been removed and the door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open she followed her sense of unease through the kitchen. With a short cry of anguish, rage and fear she entered the living room. The normally pristine space was a mess of splattered crimson. Kurt lay on his side supported by a large chair, a gaping hole in the back of his head. Fiona was stretched out in the middle of the room, bullet holes riddling her torso. And Rory… she rushed to Rory's side and held the tiny body in her arms, trying to will his life back. A ring of bruises circled his throat and his tiny body was a broken mess. One bullet had been carefully placed through his right temple. Angry tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized that this innocent life had suffered greatly before he died. She continued to cry as she rocked the small boy in her arms and wished death upon those who had hurt him. A sudden, yet almost inaudible moan caused Kiera to jump. It had come from Fiona… Kiera jumped up and rushed to her friend's side.
"Fi… don't move," Kiera said as she pulled out her cell phone. Fiona's hand grabbed Kiera's – her eyes imploring.
"Will… it was Will… message…" The words struggled out of Fiona's lips. Kiera tightened her grip on her hand.
"Stay with me, Fi. You're going to be alright… I'm going to call for help… Just stay quiet and keeping breathing slowly," Kiera said, trying to be calm as Fiona's eyes slowly closed. There was a slow pulse, but she needed to hurry. There wasn't much time.
*********************************
"Conner, it's good to see you again," Agent Paul Smecker said as he shook the Irishman's hand. "Where's Murphy?" Conner smiled.
"He's found Detective Greenly. They had an unfinished poker score to settle," he said. At Smecker's raised brow, Conner shrugged. "Don't ask." Smecker smiled.
"Okay, I won't. Anyways, it's good you came by. I have a few questions that I should ask you," the FBI agent said. Conner made a face as he followed the agent into one of the questioning rooms.
"Okay, then. Shoot," Conner said with a grin. Smecker chuckled as he closed the door.
"Nice. Anyways, I'm sure you've heard about the Yates murder," he started. Conner nodded.
"Of course. It was all over the news last night and the papers today," he said. Smecker nodded as he took out a plastic bag.
"Would you have any idea what this is? Does it have any symbolism or connection to the church?" he asked. Conner took the bag from the man and looked at the item. It was a simple gold piece formed into the shape of a pair of hands praying. It was like a piece off a necklace or a bracelet.
"Well, it obviously has a religious significance, but nothing recognized throughout the church like a cross or anything. Was this found on the body?" Conner asked, the prayer instilled in his youth ringing in his ears.
And shepherds we shall be, for thee, my lord, for thee…
"It was found on the forehead," Smecker answered. Conner nodded as he continued to study the piece.
"It has to have a personal meaning then," he said. Smecker nodded.
"That's what I've been leaning towards," he agreed. Conner looked up, his blue eyes serious.
"Do ya think this may be a variation of a copycat?" he asked, his brow twisting in concern. Smecker watched the young man in front of him. He knew that Conner worried about what would happen to him and his brother should they ever be connected to The Saints. This murder, and any similar that would follow, would bring that story back like a wildfire. The two men would have to go into hiding.
"Conner, I wish I could tell you either way… but we'll have to wait this one out. If another one turns up, then we'll start drawing conclusions. Right now, all we have is this," Smecker said. Conner nodded slowly.
"Just make sure you let us know," Conner said. Smecker smiled.
"It's not just your ass anymore, remember?" he said to the worried Irishman. Conner smiled.
"We never did thank you properly for all that, did we?" he said. Smecker sat down and thought for a second.
"Well, no, actually. You didn't. I think I should be offended. Anyways, how are you two holding up?" the agent asked, noting the strained look in the man's eyes. Conner laughed slightly.
"Murph's fuckin' fine. In fact, he keeps pesterin' me about gettin' back into it, ya know? I wish I could just say 'go fer it boyo', but he's me fuckin' brother. I can't let him go into it alone," he said, rubbing a hand over his face.
"And you? What about you?" Smecker asked. A side of Conner's lip twitched up slightly.
"I don't know. When I think about it, I just don't feel anything anymore. In the beginning, it felt good. It felt right, ya know? We were wiping out the scum and we were fuckin' good at it, too. But after da died, the voice stopped ringing in me ear. Da always said that most people fear and respect the fabled hammer of God – we were that hammer… and then all of a sudden it felt like I shouldn't have to be it anymore," Conner tried to explain. Smecker nodded.
"It was like the responsibility of it all fell away after your father died," he clarified. Conner nodded as he looked down at the marred skin on his wrists.
"I think about it now and I don't feel it. I don't feel right, I don't feel wrong. I don't feel guilty, either. Not really. Yet at the same time, it seems like I feel everything," he tried to explain, knowing he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Smecker smiled softly but stayed silent. After a few minutes, he shifted in his chair and spoke.
"We'll get this straightened out, Conner. Whatever is happening, we'll figure it out and let you know, okay? And we'll keep whatever we can out of the press." Conner nodded as he stood up.
"I suppose I should go drag me brother out of here before he swipes all of the department's money," Conner said with a smile. Smecker shook his head.
"The guys here should know by now to never bluff an emotional Irishman. I've lost count on how many times guns have been drawn," Smecker bemoaned. Conner laughed.
"Yeah, well, me brother tends to be a bit gun happy now and again," he said. Smecker laughed as he stuck out his hand. Conner took it.
"Thanks for coming down and taking a look at this. It's good to have you around again," Smecker commented.
"Same here, and I must say, I do like that suit," Conner teased as he pointed to the impeccably pressed coal-black ensemble the agent wore. Smecker just shrugged.
"What can I say? Being gay has its advantages… but it doesn't mean I need to flaunt it," he said as he caught Conner's smirk.
"Whatever ya say," he said. All of a sudden, a uniformed officer rushed in the door.
"Agent Smecker… we have a homicide over on Lawrence. The woman who found them called it in a few minutes ago. We have squads en route right now," he said in a rush. Smecker was out of the room in an instant and pulling on his suit jacket. Conner followed the man out of the questioning room.
"Do you think it may be connected?" he asked. Smecker looked over his shoulder at him as they rushed out of the station doors.
"I honestly don't know, but ride with me. If I need your help, you'll be there," he said. Conner knew that Smecker was bending the rules again as he slid into the man's car.
"Where d'ya think you're going without me?" Murphy's voice rang out as he scrambled after the two.
"Well then, get your fuckin' ass in the car!" Conner called behind him.
It took them a little over twenty minutes to get to the scene due to traffic. When they got there, the coroner's team was in the process of removing two bodies. Both Conner and Murphy sucked in a breath when they saw who was accompanying the second, smaller gurney. The two men jumped out of the car before it had even stopped.
"Kiera!" Conner cried, rushing towards the somber woman.
"What the fuck happened?" Murphy asked as he closed in on the woman. She held out bloodstained hands telling him to stop. Her eyes focused on Smecker and she walked completely by the two concerned Irishmen.
"I gave my statement to the cop inside. You ask me even one fucking question about what happened and I will kill you with my bare hands. Do you understand me?" she asked the light haired man. Knowing that Fiona was on her way to the hospital had calmed the woman somewhat… but she knew she was about to break. Smecker's eyes locked on hers and he immediately recognized the seething anger, the aching guilt, and fear that enveloped the woman. It was the guilt that intrigued him – it could answer many of his questions.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he gently laid a hand on her upper arm. He could feel it shaking.
"Am I okay? I'm walking out of here, aren't I? But those people aren't. Fiona will never get to hold that little boy again… that innocent, helpless little boy. She will never get to kiss her husband again; he will never get to tell her he loves her again. Rory will never get to go to school, or get a dog, or go on a date… They're not okay," she finished softly. A hundred different emotions crossed over her face in the space of a second before it settled on stony anger. She shrugged Smecker's arm off her and started towards her car. She got about twenty feet before a strong grip held her in place and turned her.
"Where do ya think yer goin'?" Conner asked. It took her a second to focus on the man's face. Conner's beautiful face. Another emotion slipped over her features before she willed the anger back. Knowing Kiera had gotten Fiona hurt and her family killed. Kiera would not allow it to happen to Conner or to Murphy.
"Leave me the fuck alone," she growled out as she tried to turn back around. Conner's grip turned her to face him again.
"I'm not about ta let ya go off and do what ya think ya have ta do," he growled back.
"You don't have to let me do anything," she threatened as her fists clenched. Conner let his hands slide down her arms and grip her wrists. He brought them up to where he could see them.
"Not now," he said. He could see the need for vengeance warring with the sadness in her eyes as she struggled to get out of his grip. "You're not thinkin' clearly." Kiera shook her head.
"I'm thinking perfectly," she said softly as she ceased her struggle. Conner released her hands.
"Are you?" he asked as Smecker and Murphy watched the conversation with extreme interest. Kiera sighed as she stepped back out of Conner's reach.
"You can either come with me… or forget you ever saw me," she said as she started walking backwards to her car. Conner's eyes stayed locked on her as he contemplated her state of mind. After a second, Conner started walking after her. Her eyes acknowledged his decision and she turned back to her car, allowing him to follow. Murphy made to follow his brother, but Smecker stopped him.
"Call me in an hour," was all he said.
"What the fuck?" Murphy asked. Smecker grabbed his arm.
"Call me in a fucking hour, Murphy. I have a bad feeling and I want to know that the three of you are okay. So, call me in one goddamn fucking hour, no more, no less. Got it?" he asked harshly. Murphy eyed the agent thoughtfully before nodding and running after Conner. The car started off before Murphy could get in it. He banged on the roof as he opened the door and jumped in.
"What the fuck is it with you people? Always leavin' me behind," he cried indignantly. Conner's eyes never left Kiera's face.
"Murph… shut it," he said. Murphy's eyes narrowed at his brother and was about to reply until he saw the two guns on the dashboard, and the one that his brother was loading.
"Shit," he murmured before taking out his own gun and checking it. Things were going to happen… and he couldn't help the rush of excitement that ran through his body.
*********************************
It took Conner a few moments to get his nerves under control. He had an idea of what was running through Kiera's head, but he had no clue as to what she was planning. Conner turned to look at his brother and he could almost see the waves of eager anticipation flowing off him. Turning back around to face the front, he closed his eyes.
"I can drop you two off at your place," her voice broke the silence. Conner didn't look at her, but Murphy sat forward, resting his arms on both of the seats.
"We told ya that yer fuckin' stuck with us," he said. She looked over at Conner. When he didn't respond, she looked back at the road. Murphy caught the sad look that crossed her face. Silence ensued for the rest of the ride.
As Kiera slowed down the car ten minutes later, Murphy sat forward again.
"So, where we goin'?" he asked. She pointed out the window to a mansion. As mansions go, it was modest, but it was a mansion just the same.
"And why are we here?" Murphy continued to question. She didn't answer – only picked up the two guns on the dashboard and opened her car door. Murphy looked at Conner, who was watching Kiera make her way to the house with a concerned look on his face.
"She'll get herself killed," he muttered before opening his door and getting out after her. Murphy rolled his eyes as he followed his brother.
"Well, the way this ship's runnin', someone's gonna get fuckin' killed," he said to himself as he ran to catch up to Conner.
*********************************
When Conner and Murphy caught up to Kiera, she had already burst through the door and was standing with Will against the wall, a gun against his chin. The two men took out their guns and proceeded to look for other henchmen since they'd already stepped over two prone bodies.
"Why Fiona, Will?" Kiera asked the frightened man. Will… It was Will… message… It took him a second to answer.
"Because… he… he wanted… you to know that he… he… was watching you," he stammered. Kiera pressed the gun harder into his chin.
"Who is 'he' and why is he watching me?" she asked harshly as Conner and Murphy stepped behind her, backing her up. Will gulped audibly.
"I don't know… all he said to me was… that it was supposed to be a message… a late birthday present," he continued to stammer. Kiera frowned. Her birthday had been a week ago… the only person that knew that was Fiona.
"Where is he?" she choked out. Will didn't say anything. Kiera stepped back quickly, aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. Will fell to the ground with a pained yelp grasping his thigh. She leaned down and pressed the gun to his temple.
"Where is he, Will? Tell me, or you'll have a matching set," she growled.
"He's… he's in the… the back room… you'll need the code to get in…" he said. Kiera's eyes hardened.
"Give it to me…" she said. He rattled off the number and the words barely got past his lips when she rammed the gun into his temple, knocking him out cold. She stalked her way back to the location Will had mentioned, Conner and Murphy following closely. She punched the code into a keypad on the wall. A buzz sounded from the door lock and she pushed it open. Raising her gun, she strode into the room with every intention of killing whoever was in there. A figure stood facing the window.
"Will, I need the guards to do a sweep o' the premises," the figure said as he turned around. Kiera's eyes went wide and her gun lowered as she recognized the man in front of her. Conner and Murphy came to stand next to her, guns drawn.
"What the fuck?" Murphy asked as he watched her angry façade crumble to one of complete shock and then to horror. The man by the window just smiled without a trace of the surprise Kiera felt.
"Well, well, well me girl. Don't ya have a hug and a kiss fer yer dear ol' da?" the man asked. All of a sudden, Kiera's world went black.