Ruthless People (31 page)

“My father told me once that the world wanted Kate Middleton or the first lady, someone
to kiss babies and write big checks on your behalf.” She said it slowly, but I still
didn’t understand.

“You want to write a check?” Why would that get her so excited?

“Yes.” She smirked, looking back outside. “To the men and women of the Chicago PD
who were injured during those terrible fires. After all, how can they afford all those
bills? I even think we should do it in person. I bet our favorite Superintendent and
commissioner, Officer Patterson, will be there as well to console the families.”

Dear God, I loved my wife.

“Take us to St. John’s Medical Hospital.” I smiled alongside her, reaching into my
jacket for my checkbook.

“Should I make it rich or obnoxiously rich?” I asked, wondering how many zeros to
put in the space.

“Obnoxiously rich, of course. Something only a Callahan can do.” She grinned, looking
toward Adriana. “Adriana, how fast can you leak it to the press?”

“Ten minutes. If you would like to change, I brought clothing. It’s in the back,”
she answered, already dialing.

She had standby clothes?

Mel nodded, taking off her seatbelt as she climbed into trunk of the car.

“Seriously? How un-first-lady-like?” I grinned, looking back at her.

“Shut the fuck up, you Irish asshole and keep your eyes forward.”

“Why? I’ve seen it all before?” She smirked. “We wouldn’t want our driver peeking,
would we?” My eyes narrowed at the man behind the steering wheel. At her words, he
visibly tensed. She knew I would watch him like a hawk, which would stop me from staring
at her.

I would have to make her pay later on tonight.

MELODY

“The Chicago Police Department is important to the wellbeing of this city. My husband
and I do not want our men and women in uniform to worry about the medical bills or
their livelihoods after protecting us. It is my great honor to present this check
for nineteen million dollars to our commissioner and superintendent, Officer Patterson.”
I smiled into the cameras that stood in the ER wing of St. John’s Hospital. Officer
Patterson glared at me with a mixture of hate, anger, and disgust. But he took the
money anyway.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Callahan,” he said, practically sneering through his teeth.
“I’m sure this will help the families who lost love ones and those injured, overwhelmingly
so.”

Liam smirked beside me. “It was such a tragedy. Those old factories should be checked.
Aren’t they also known for their crime? Are the police looking into this?”

Commissioner Patterson opened his mouth, but the reporters heard Liam’s questions
and jumped on him.

“Commissioner Patterson, is this going to be one of the things you plan on fixing
in Chicago?”

“Commissioner, is there going to be an investigation?”

“Is it true your house was also destroyed?”

“Rumor has it that this was a terrorist attack?”

“Did this have anything to do with your investigation of Flight 735?” That caught
my attention, and Liam’s apparently because his jaw tightened.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a hospital, and we do not want to bother any of the
patients that are here in need of medical attention,” Commissioner Patterson told
them all as politely as he could.

A doctor stepped forward as the reporters fanned out. She looked almost star struck
as she stared into Liam’s eyes.

Could she still be a doctor if I cut off her hands?

“Mr. Callahan, I’m Dr. Amy Lewis, thank you so much for the donation. Your family
has been so kind to the patients of this hospital as well as the staff. It would be
our honor to show you around. I’m sure the victims of this accident would love to
meet you,” she gushed, while I tried not to vomit in my mouth.

“I don’t believe that would be a good idea,” Commissioner Patterson stated, causing
the whole staff to look at him like he was crazy . . . most likely because he was.

“It’s been a
difficult
couple of days. They may need their rest.”

“I assure you, we are doing or best for every patient her,” Dr. Lewis replied, but
only because she wanted to spend more time with my husband.

Stepping in front of Liam, I smiled like I was in a fucking Crest commercial. “Of
course, I would love to meet them. Sweetheart, do you have time?”

Liam raised an eyebrow at me. “Anything you wish, my love.”

Dr. Amy Lewis looked like she came in her scrubs at the sound of his voice.
I wonder if I can smash her
head in?

“Where are we going first?”

She seemed startled by my voice, as if she had forgotten I was still here. I felt
my hand slide to the back of my pants toward my knife when Liam grabbed me, pulling
me into his arms.

“Control yourself, love,” he hissed into my ear.

Taking a deep breath, we followed the stupid bitch as she led us toward another part
of the hospital.

“This is our burn unit where many of the officers are being treated,” she replied,
moving down the hall as if she were putting the men on display.

I wasn’t sure what it was that made me stop in front of one of the officer’s rooms.
Maybe it was all the flowers, cards, and balloons. Or maybe it was the small girl
who sat in her mother’s lap, laughing with her burned father that did it. The side
of his face was wrapped in bandages along with both of his arms, but he was still
alert.

Stepping in, the family froze and looked to us.

“Officer Pope, this is Mr. and Mrs. Callahan. As of a few moments ago, they have paid
off all your bills,” Dr. Amy-what’s-her-face stated, joyfully.

The woman in the chair broke out into sobs before running up and giving me a hug.
I was not a hugger. However, I couldn’t be myself.

“Thank you so very much. You have no idea how much this means to my family,” she cried,
stepping back to adjust herself and pick up her daughter.

“Anything to help. I can’t imagine the life you live,” I said softly. “Always worrying
if your husband will get wounded, or even worse. It’s the least we can do.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” She wiped her face, turning to her daughter. “Tell
Mrs. Callahan, thank you, sweetheart.”

The small girl hid behind her hair. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go tell Grandpapa the good news,” she replied, looking back to her husband
for a moment, who nodded slowly.

“There’s that first lady,” Liam whispered, kissing the back of my head and handing
me a cup of coffee.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan,” Dr. Amy, the whore, called out.

“Liam, I will stay,” I told him. He gave me an odd look before exiting with the rest
of them.

Officer Pope simply glared at me, and I knew he had an idea of who we really were
underneath the public mask.

“I have no idea why people choose to become police officers.” I frowned, looking over
his burnt skin, half of his face was basically melted off.

“Someone has to put people like you away,” he struggled to say.

Raising an eyebrow, I smiled. “That’s never going to happen, and if it were, it wouldn’t
be you. I’ve seen better looking beef jerky.”

“I could have a wire,” he hissed out, and I rolled my eyes while reaching over to
push on his wrapped skin. He cried out softly.

“You don’t have a wire, and even if you did, I have a frequency jammer. If that didn’t
work, then I would kidnap your family until you confess to tampering evidence to falsely
arrest me.” I wasn’t an idiot, and after all, we were in a hospital full of cops.

His eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Don’t you have guilt? Or are you
all just heartless, cold-blooded snakes? Your drugs kill dozens of people in this
city alone, just in one week. God knows how many people die in this country just so
you can make a buck. You all are sick. How the hell do you sleep at night?”

“Who did you lose?” I asked him, taking a sip of my coffee. His words didn’t bother
me.

“You don’t give a damn.”

“Nope, not at all.” I smiled. “You see, you’re blaming me for something that isn’t
my fault. Do you blame a bartender for giving someone a drink? No, because he is supplying
a demand. No one is forcing anyone to do or take anything. Whoever died, it was on
them and their family. They should have gotten their shit together. Their family should
have stood by them. Instead, you look for someone to blame.”

“You must be fucked up in the head to think like that. There ain’t any justification
for what you people do,” he snapped, looking away. “You insult us more by pretending
you’re good Catholic folk. You don’t care about God. I don’t think you even believe
in Him.”

“I do. I care about God, and I do believe in Him.” I really did. “However, I know
why I was created. God needs me. What would happen if there weren’t people like me?
If the world were perfect, if everything was the way you wished it to be, then why
would you pray? God needs me, because without us, you forget about Him. He is on my
side, not yours.”

“We will see about that. The commissioner has his eye on you all. He won’t rest until
you are all in jail!”

“Then I’ll rip out his eyes and put him six feet under. You should thank God you are
in here, because after tomorrow, Chicago will never be the same. You can tell the
commissioner I said that,” I replied, leaving the coffee cup with my lipstick imprint
on the counter before turning to leave.

“By the way, I sleep perfectly fine at night. It’s all about the thread count.”

I smiled at him once more before leaving. Chicago would burn, and they would know
it was their fault. Once the smoke cleared and the dust settled, we would rebuild.
But we would own this motherfucking city.

Stepping into the corner, I placed a call.

“Put Officer Pope and his family on the list.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

TWENTY-THREE

“Courage is the power to let go of the familiar.”

~ Raymond Lindquist

SEDRIC

“I believe your son and his wife just dismissed me.” My nose flared as I clutched
onto the phone in my hands.

“Why is it whenever they do something wrong, they magically become ‘mine’?” my wife
asked as she dressed.

“Because . . .”

“Choose your words carefully, dear.”

Walking up behind her, I grabbed her waist pulling her to me. “I ruled once. I was
king, and yet my own children are dismissing me as if I were a butler. When did I
fall so far?”

She laughed, turning back to me. “My dear, you were king, and when you were, no one
could speak a word to you. Your word was law, and those around you listened. Neither
your sons nor I could talk you out of anything you wished. But you gave up your crown
because it no longer fit. In doing so, you agreed to allow Liam and Mel to rule as
they wished.”

“They may bloody well destroy this family.” I pouted as she kissed me.

“Then let them. We have more than enough independently to leave and never be found
if we wish. However, you and I both know they aren’t destroying this family.” She
was right, but I didn’t like it.

“I just wish they would—”

“No. You promised me you would only get involved if they asked. They haven’t, so stay
the fuck out of it. You have done your part. I just want my husband.”

Staring into her eyes, I nodded before grabbing hold of her shirt and ripping it from
her body. Buttons popped off her like bullets.

“Then have him, because he definitely wants you,” I whispered before ripping her bra
off her as well. Her breasts jiggled free, and I smirked to myself before taking them
into my mouth.

She moaned my name, and the last thing on my mind was my children, or their chaos.

TWENTY-FOUR

“We don’t murder, we kill . . .
You don’t murder animals, you kill them.”

~ Samuel Fuller

MELODY

Flipping on the television, I couldn’t help but grin.

“Three weeks ago, Commissioner Patterson, you stood before us all and promised to
make this city safe! You promised that you would put an end to the blood and corruption,
but instead, all you have done is made it worse! For three weeks, it has been raining
blood! The death count is up to twenty-seven that we know of. Most of them innocent
people who just want to live their lives in peace. People are dying left and right!
You did this!”
A
man yelled out in the crowd.

“My son was walking home for school. He walked that same path every day and then . . .”
A mother sobbed
with a photo of her son in her hands.

“Twenty-seven in the suburbs, fifty-four in the city, two a day in the most poverty
stricken parts of the city. Commissioner Patterson, is this the new normal?”
a reporter asked.

Commissioner Patterson looked old, tired, and stressed as he tried to find the words.