INTO TEMPTATION (Deliver Us from Evil #2)

Six-2

At first, all I hear is background noise, like the caller is at a pub with a rowdy crowd, but through that, there is no mistaking a voice I’d recognize even in the pits of hell.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Babydoll slurs before the line goes dead.

I listen to the message three more times, in case I missed anything, and when I hear the faint tolling of a bell tower, I know where she is. I have no idea what her message means, but I’m not about to wait around to find out.

The sensible thing to do would be to call Rory, but if Babydoll called me without him knowing, then I don’t want to upset either of them. Grabbing the truck keys off the wooden dining table Hannah surprised me with today, I quickly sprint to Cian’s truck.

I don’t have a current license, but I don’t care. I have a sinking feeling in my guts that something is wrong. All that matters is getting to Babydoll. I don’t think twice as I slip the key into the ignition, put the truck into gear, and rake down the drive.

The tolling bell hints that Babydoll is somewhere near Queen’s Square. There are many pubs around there, but I will search every one until I find her. I could message Hannah and ask for Babydoll’s number. But I don’t want anyone involved in this.

I try my best to keep to the speed limit, but the farther I travel, the more anxious I become to find Babydoll. The drive takes me half the amount of time it would if I drove legally, and I park in the first space I find.

Locking the car, I quickly use the map on my phone to locate the nearest pubs as things have changed in ten years. There are places I can remember, and others that I can’t.

I start at the first pub I can find and work my way through a dozen or so, coming up empty. But that doesn’t deter me as I continue searching for Babydoll. She’s got to be here.

I notice a lot of places I used to know are closed down. I wonder what happened as some businesses have been here for decades.

One place which still stands is Bull and Crow, an Irish pub that has been around for generations. The place is jammers—just as I remember it being. Cian, Rory, and I frequented this pub, and when I scan the room and see her sitting in a red booth alone, it seems Babydoll does as well.

Half a dozen empty pint glasses litter the table, and I wonder if she’s alone. Maybe she’s here with friends? I decide to wait just in case.

I sit at the bar, discreetly watching Babydoll, who nurses a pint as she stares blankly ahead. It appears she’s lost in another world.

“Puck Kelly?” a familiar voice says in awe.

Peering up, I see Ollie Molony, the owner of Bull and Crow standing behind the bar.

Ollie was a good friend of Connor’s, but he never once outed us when we came in here, drinking underage. For that, we respected him.

“Ollie.” I smile, extending my hand and shaking his over the bar. “Good to see ya again.”

“I don’t believe my eyes. Look at ya,” he says, his brown eyes taking in ten years’ worth of change. “Let me get ye a pint.”

But I wave my hand. “Naw, I’m here to pick up my friend.”

He arches a brow, and when I turn my attention to Babydoll, he sighs. “The wee lass has been ’ere for hours. I thought Rory would be comin’, but she’s been drinkin’ alone…which is never a good thing.”

“That’s the truth, so it is,” I agree, looking at her. “It was good seein’ ye, Ollie.”

I go to stand, but he reaches across the bar and grips my wrist. I peer down, confused. There is a desperation beneath his touch.

“Could I trouble ya for a moment?”

“Course. Is everythin’ all right?”

Ollie ensures no one is earwiggin’ as he leans in close. “Are ya back?”

He doesn’t want to say too much as no matter how careful one is, someone is always listening.

“Maybe. But it’s a long road ahead. What Connor left behind…it’s gone.”

“We want to help,” he shares softly, his eyes darting around the room.

“Help?”

Ollie nods. “That fucker, Brody Doyle, he’s bleedin’ us dry. But if we don’t do business with him, then yer the enemy. Just take a look around, Punky, and y’ll see what happened to those who rebelled.”

That explains what happened to the businesses which are no more.

“What’s he want with youse?”

“With the Kellys gone, we’ve been at the mercy of other rival families, wantin’ to take control. Brody has offered us protection, for a fee, of course.”

“That fucker,” I mumble under my breath. “How much?”

“Half of our monthly earnin’s,” he reveals with regret. “We’re barely pullin’ through. But if we don’t pay, we’ll end up like the rest of them who said no to the Doyles. Liam Doyle is just as bad as his father.”

The Doyles are offering “protection,” but the truth is, this is an extortion racket. Ollie doesn’t pay, and he’s open to attack from the Doyles, as well as others who want to take over Belfast.

“What a f*****g mess,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

I never knew what Connor actually did for this town. I now see it was a lot. When he ruled, there were no rivalries because everyone knew not to f**k with the Kellys. But everything has turned to shite since his death.

I never respected the aul’ lad, but that’s starting to slowly change.

“We never wanted to side with him, but my wee grandkids—”

“It’s all right, Ollie,” I say, cutting him off. “There’s no need to explain.”

There are no hard feelings. No one knows the truth. They all thought I was sent to prison for organizing the death of many men, including Sean and Connor. I’m sure my friends defended my honor, but with Brody tainting my name and putting the fear of God into friends and foe, I was soon a forgotten memory.

“I never believed what the papers said. We all knew ye’d never steal from yer da and hurt him.”

“Thank you, Ollie. I appreciate that. Yer right. Brody Doyle set me up. He blackmailed me. I didn’t have much of a choice but to disappear.”

I regret that decision as I should have fought harder. But at the time, I believed I deserved to be sent to prison as punishment for the deaths of Sean and Connor. Sean knew me too well and realized this was the only way to get rid of me for good.

If only I knew the real story, how things would have turned out differently.

“I f*****g knew it!” he declares, slamming his fist on the bar. “Y’ve always been a good lad, Punky, and now, yer a man, a man yer da would be proud of. Whatever ya need from me, know that my loyalties are with ya.”

I don’t know how to respond to his claim, so I nod, needing a moment to take it all in.

If Brody is extorting Ollie, I’m certain he’s doing it to many others, and this is what I need to use to reinstate the Kelly name.

Connor never exploited his friends—he took care of them as well as Belfast. But now, this town is a f*****g mess. Brody has no ties to Belfast. It’s merely a place of business for him. But this is my home, and I’m taking it back.

Ollie is someone I trust. He has no reason to lie to me.

“Tell those who will listen that I’m back,” I state firmly, adrenaline and hope coursing through my veins. “And that I’m goin’ to return Belfast to her former glory. I’m the new leader now, and I will protect yousens against them Doyles, and any other fucker who wants to take what is rightfully mine. What is ours.”

I can’t let Ollie know about Sean.

“Now we’re suckin’ diesel!” Ollie hollers, his eyes wild with excitement.

“A’ll be in touch soon. There are a few things I need to arrange. But don’tcha be worryin’ ’bout anythin’. Brody Doyle’s days are numbered.”

I shake Ollie’s hand, as this conversation is over for now. When we talk next, it’ll be away from prying ears.

I leave Ollie smiling, the man I knew returning because I’ve just given him something we’ve all been robbed of, thanks to Brody Doyle—hope.

Someone who isn’t smiling, however, is Babydoll, who still hasn’t noticed I’m here. She simply sits like a statue, occasionally sipping her pint.

Taking a seat opposite her, I lean back in the booth. “Drinkin’ alone is minus craic, Babydoll. And from the looks of it, I think y’ve had enough alone time.”

She snaps from her daze, her glassy eyes attempting to focus on me. She is completely blootered. “What makes you think I’m alone? And I’ll be the judge of when I’ve had enough.”

She draws the glass to her lips, spilling most of the pint down the front of her dress as she attempts to act like she’s in control.

“All right.” I reach over the table and lower her hand. “That’s enough. I’m takin’ ye home.”

She recoils violently, her drink sloshing all over her and the table. She’s a mess—both inside and out.

“Why are you even here?” she slurs angrily, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

“’Cause ya called me,” I retort softly.

“I did not,” she argues, but we both know that’s not true. “I don’t even know your number.”

“Fine then, ya didn’t call me and yer not absolutely hammered. Let’s go.”

I go to stand, but Babydoll leans back, folding her arms across her chest in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I hate your stupid face.”

“Aye, I hate my stupid face too,” I agree, wishing for this conversation to be over with. “So the sooner we leave, the sooner ya can stop lookin’ at it.”

She merely turns her cheek, refusing to budge.

Leaning across the table slowly, I grip her chin and turn her face so our lips are inches apart. A breathless whimper escapes her. Every part of me wants to eat her alive.

“You can either come willingly…”

“Or?” she challenges, her sweet breath tempting me to lean forward and steal it from her.

“Or I’ll throw ya over my shoulder and carry ye out, kickin’ and screamin’.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she snarls, eyes narrowed.

A smirk spreads from cheek to cheek, as this dare is one I will take great pleasure in seeing through.

When I lunge for her, she yelps and scoots across the booth. “Don’t touch me you f*****g savage.”

The moment she stands, she almost falls on her arse. I reach out and grip her forearm, ignoring the way my body responds to her because right now, all I need to focus on is getting her out of here. We’ve caused enough of a scene.

She thankfully lets me help her through the crowd as we walk toward the exit. The moment we’re outside, she shrugs from my hold and commences a stagger. I stand back, shaking my head in amusement at the spectacle.

She groans in annoyance and leans against the wall as she fumbles, attempting to take off her high heels. All she manages to do is sway from side to side.

“Ach, let me help.”

Before she can protest, I drop to a squat and roughly take off one shoe. She has no choice but to place a hand on my shoulder for balance. I repeat the action with the other shoe, but when I look up, I’m left speechless because the look in her eyes sets me on fire.