Free Shannon by Shara Azod Page B

he knew D’Andre, but he hadn’t told her Shannon had already been working for him. Shay had to admit she was kind of glad, but more than a little antsy at the current moment.
    As soon as they left Home, the place Shannon had created for street kids, the unwanted, drug orphans, the abused, he had taken her to a refurbished eighteenth-century brownstone. This part of South Boston, West 4th Street, was far different from the working-class and more questionable sections he’d taken her to over the two months she’d been with him. It was better even than the neighborhoods Sugar Babies and the Ritz were in. The place had a walk-out balcony and a rooftop one. It was sparsely furnished and looked completely unlived in. At least it had. Little by little, Shannon had taken her into other parts of Boston for furniture, art, knickknacks, anything and everything needed to make this house a home. He had even arranged for her clothes to be packed up from her old home and brought here.
    Shay wasn’t stupid. She knew he had done it in broad daylight on purpose, making a show out of giving D’Andre the house (which was in her name), and all the furnishings. Only her personal items were removed. And she had been right there watching the burly South Boston guys move her things with loving care. He’d done it on purpose, sending a message to Jean-Paul and to Junior. She was still here, and she was protected.
    Tonight things were coming to a head. Junior had cops trailing them, following everywhere she and Shannon went. He wanted Jean-Paul to come for her. And tonight he had.
    It was just before midnight when Fionn and Conall let themselves into the house, then huddled with Shannon, D’Andre and Mickey. Every once and a while one of the men would cast a look in her direction, then go back to whispering furiously among themselves. Finally, Shannon walked over to her.
    “The cop is outside, waiting with two other unmarked cars. We made a call in to Kieran. He can take care of the cops.” Shannon looked unsure, which was so not like him. For a brief moment, Shay was worried.
    “Junior is well known,” she hedged. “Respected. I don’t want you to get—”
    “We aren’t going to get into any trouble,” Shannon cut her off. “That’s what Kieran is for. We are just waiting for him. I just want you to know—baby, I know you want Jean-Paul, but it is important that D’Andre take him back to Mattapan and take care of him there. It has to be done that way.”
    Intellectually she knew that. But damn, she wanted to kill the rat bastard herself! He took away her only family. But she knew the way these things worked. D’Andre needed to establish himself.
    “You could run Mattapan yourself,” D’Andre cut in. “I would gladly work for you.”
    Shannon opened his mouth but Shay cut him off. The agreement was tentative; there was no need to push it. “I think my place is here,” she reassured him. “But I want Junior if it’s possible. He is the one who pulled the trigger.”
    “If we’re going to do this, it needs to be now,” Fionn said, glancing at his watch.
    “Can’t kill the cops until we have cover from Kieran,” Conall cut in, looking at his watch also. “Don’t know where the fuck he is though.”
    “Patience was never one of your virtues.” Kieran entered dressed like a predator in a suit. No one would’ve guessed under the three-piece tailored get-up and wool overcoat, the man was all tatted up like he’d spent years in a federal prison. “I’m guessing the guys waiting outside are the problem?” A long heartfelt sigh escaped him. “I swear, if you weren’t my brothers…”
    “I think I will go invite them in,” Fionn stated, a malicious gleam in his eyes. It was kinda disturbing to see how eager Fionn was to get to this. Conall and Kieran seemed almost stoic, Shannon mad as hell, but Fionn? He was like a kid at Disneyland.
    Within seconds, Junior and four other cops entered, followed by Jean-Paul.