Page 42 of Mine
His eyes search mine, probably checking to see if he’s terrifying me.
Worryingly—he isn’t.
I knew what he was the second I saw him.
I just didn’t expect him to be so open about it.
Or to be so damn dark and alluring.
‘What about the drugs?’ I force a neutral tone, even though this is the real crux of my resentment towards him—and subsequently—myself. I need to know.
‘What about them?’ He tips his head to the side curiously.
‘Despite what you do, you seem to have some sort of sense of morality, so why do you push poison on the streets?’
Frown lines crease his forehead. ‘I don’t push poison on the streets. If anything, I limit it.’
I scoff. ‘Oh, come on, Dom. Don’t bullshit me. You know where I grew up.’ I exhale heavily. ‘Do you have any idea how many kids from Greenhills are hooked on crack? Selling their own bodies for their next hit. My own brother…’ I trail off.
The silence that falls between us is deafening. I push my chair back with my thighs and stand, but his huge hand darts out across the table, pinning me in position. His dark eyes light with understanding. His fingers squeeze mine and a million volts of electricity shoot through me. ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.’
‘So you fucking should be,’ I spit.
‘It’s not what you think, truly it’s not.’ He shakes his head. ‘And, sweetheart, I feel your pain. I can relate more than you’ll ever know.’
‘I doubt it,’ I snap. Rage roils deep in my chest. How dare he?
This is exactly the reminder I needed.
He stares unwaveringly at me. ‘My sister died of an overdose too.’
‘What?’ My voice cracks. I sit again before my knees buckle beneath me.
‘Keira was ten years older than me. The previous syndicate got her hooked on heroin, then sold her to the highest bidder. She overdosed before he could get his grubby hands on her. Maybe it was a blessing.’
My skin goes cold. ‘Why do you import it then?’
‘I don’t. Heroin is a hard limit for us. But drugs are always going to be in demand, Aoife.’ His pupils bore into my soul, silently willing me to understand.
‘I hate them.’ I admit. And I want to hate him, but I can’t.
Especially not now.
He’s not the same beast I thought he was.
‘Me too. But drugs aren’t something I created or something I can eliminate. What Icancontrol is what comes into my city. The products that move through my routes are pure, not cut with rat poison. Not bulked out with fentanyl. Not laced with whatever cheap toxin some street dealer thinks will stretch his margin. If people are going to use, they’re going to use. I certainly don’t push it on anyone.’ He cracks his knuckles one by one. ‘I simply ensure they’re not dying because some greedy bastard decided to dilute it with something lethal.’
‘You’re still supplying it.’ Anger flares in my chest as I attempt to pull my hand away from his, but he refuses to let me go.
‘We regulate it.’ He says, finally. ‘Try to keep heroin out of the city. We don’t move anything designed purely to hook and hollow people out. We permit the supply of cocaine, cannabis, party drugs. The supply is controlled, as is the purity. We try to ensure kids aren’t targeted. No schools. No estates.’
My eyes narrow shifting to the double doors overlooking the pool and the lavish grounds. ‘And the money?’
‘A large percentage of the profits goes straight back intothe communities that would otherwise get chewed up by it.’ He follows my line of sight. ‘Rehab centres. Youth clubs. Legal aid for women trying to get out. Some of it goes into property.’
‘Like this one?’
‘It’s a way to clean the money.’ He shrugs. ‘If we step out of that market, someone worse steps in. Someone who doesn’t care what the drugs are cut with. Someone who doesn’t give a damn who overdoses. I’m sorry about your brother, Aoife.’ He exhales heavily, his thumb sweeping over the pulse point on my wrist, the same way he did in the bar. ‘It’s lives like his, and Keira’s, that we’re trying to save.’ His stare is unapologetic.
