Saving 6: Boys of Tommen #3

DECEMBER 24TH 2004

AOIFE

JOEY DISAPPEARED after that and I hadn’t been able to get ahold of him since.

By late Christmas Eve night, I was frantic with worry, and, after searching every one of his haunts and hangouts, including his house, I found myself standing at the front door of a house that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

After several rounds of incessant knocking, the door finally swung inwards, and I was greeted with the sight of a man I hated almost as much as Teddy Lynch.

Maybe even more.

“Is he here?’ I asked shakily. Adrenalin was pumping through my body at a rapid rate, making me shiver and tremble, but I forced myself to stand tall. I refused to back down from this piece of shit. ‘What am I saying? Of course he’s here. It’s the only place left for him to go.”

Shane smiled cruelly. ‘Who?’

Bastard.

‘You damn well know who,’ I hissed through clenched teeth, glaring up at his bloodshot eyes. ‘Send him out.’

He smirked.

He actually fucking smirked at me.

‘Go home, princess.’ Catching ahold of the cigarette that was balancing between his lips, Shane stubbed it out with his fingers and placed the long butt behind his ear. ‘There’s nothing left here for you.’

Like hell there wasn’t.

He moved to shut the door in my face, but I stuck my foot in the doorway to block him.

‘You have something that belongs to me,” I hissed, chest heaving now. “And I’m not going anywhere until I get him back, you jumped-up, fucking scumbag!’

“Fiery little ride aren’t ya?” he mused, taking my measure. “I can see the appeal. No wonder Lynchy lets you bust his balls. You must be a firecracker in the bedroom.”

“Listen, prick, you can send my boyfriend out here, or I can come in and get him.” Narrowing my eyes, I pushed at the door as hard as I could, forcing him to take several steps into his hallway. ‘Either way, I’m not leaving without him.’

Shane’s hand shot out faster than I anticipated, fingers wrapping around my throat. ‘What did you say to me?’

“Let…go…of…my…throat…and…I’ll…say…it…again…asshole,” I choked out, clawing my nails into his beefy hand.

‘Have you any idea who you’re talking to?’ he mused, eyes dancing with a mixture of malice and heat. ”Hmm?” He squeezed, not tight enough to choke me – more like scare me.

Unwilling to back down, I glared right back at him, daring him with my eyes to do whatever he had to do because I wasn’t leaving.

After a tense stare down, a laugh tore from his throat and he released me.

‘You’re a crazy bitch,’ he chuckled, swinging the door inwards and gesturing for me to come inside. ‘By all means, be my guest.’

“Joey?” Furious, I barged past him and stalked down the dilapidated hallway, stepping over empty beer cans and cigarette butts, throwing doors open as I went, feeling more frantic with every step I took. “Joey?”

“He can’t hear you, princess,” Shane chuckled from behind me. “He’s not here right now.”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, rushing in and out of every room downstairs before bolting up the staircase and starting the same process up there.

On the last door, when I’d given up hope, I stumbled upon my worst nightmare.

There was a stained mattress on the floor.

Alongside the mattress was a metal spoon with some dark, syrupy looking stains, a lighter, and a tiny plastic bag with some brownish powder inside.

Strewn on top of the filthy mattress was my boyfriend, with his eyes rolling back in his head, and a needle dangling from the crook of his arm.

My heart, the same heart I didn’t think could be broken any more than it already had, cracked into a bazillion more pieces.

“Joe.” My hand sprang up to cover my mouth, as I battled with the image my mind was assuring me wasn’t a nightmare, but reality. “Joey!”

Nothing.

‘We were supposed to be spending the day together,’ I cried, stumbling towards him. The smell of his sorrow was all around me and I honestly felt like I was going to die of a broken heart as I felt myself hemorrhage from the inside.

Kicking the contraband away from his body, like it would somehow make everything better, I knelt down beside him and undid the tie that was cutting off the circulation in his arm. “Joe, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Sniffling back a sob, I gingerly reached out and pulled the syringe out of his arm before throwing it at the other side of the room. “Joe?”

Soft groaning was the only response I got.

‘Get up,’ I begged, pulling on his shoulders in my pathetic attempt to get him up.

“Molloy.”

“It’s me,” I cried, tears falling fast now, as I managed to pull him into a sitting position. “I’m here, Joe.”

“Aoife.”

“You’ve got to come with me, okay?” Sniffling back another sob, I managed to get him to drag himself to his feet. “I’m going to take you someplace safe, okay?”

“Molloy.”

“I’ve got you.” Hooking one arm around his back, I draped his arm over my shoulder and unsteadily dragged him towards the door. “It’s okay, Joe. Just lean on me. I’ve got you.”

How I managed to get us both down the staircase in one piece was beyond me, but I didn’t have time to think about it, because Shane and his goons were waiting for us in the hallway, which put me even more on edge than I already was.

“You know, you should really let him sleep it off,” Shane offered with a snicker. “Poor lad can’t even get high without the missus busting his bollocks.”

“For fuck’s sake, Holland, don’t be a dick. Can’t you see the poor girl is in a bad way over her lad,” another much bigger, much older, bearded man, with a distinctive Belfast accent said. He then walked over to where I was attempting to hold up a semi-comatose Joey, and hoisted him upright. “Where’s your car, love?” he asked. “I’ll carry him over to it for you.”

As much as I wanted to tell them all to go to hell, I needed the help.

“It’s outside,” I sniffled, and then moved for the door, only to quickly glance over my shoulder to make sure the man was following me with Joey.

Thankfully, he was.

Hurrying over to my car, I quickly unlocked the passenger door and swung it open.

“W-will he b-be okay?” I heard myself ask, feeling acutely small and young in that moment. “Should I t-take him t-to the h-hospital?”

Here I was, on Christmas Eve night, bawling like a baby on the side of the road, while some beefed-up gangster put my boyfriend in the car for me.

Jesus Christ…

“No, love, he’ll be grand and so he will,” the big man assured me as he settled Joey into the passenger seat. He even went as far as fastening his seatbelt around him. “Take him someplace safe and let him sleep it off.”

“Was that…” Shaking my head, I exhaled a ragged breath and strangled out, “Heroin?”

The man didn’t answer.

“What do I do?” Another harsh cry escaped me. “How do I h-help him?”

“He’ll be grand,” the man told me. “He’s not too far gone to be pulled back. And with a lass like you in his corner, he’ll come right. Don’t you worry.”

I stared up at him, feeling a wave of anger, curiosity, and gratitude wash over me. “Why did you help me tonight?”

“Because I was your lad here once upon a time, and I wish somebody had helped my wife before I became what I am, and she became my ex.”

And then he turned around and walked back inside the house, leaving me alone with Joey.

Hiccupping out another sob, I rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Shaking like a leaf, I slowly fastened my seatbelt and stuck the key in the ignition.

“She’s pregnant,” Joey whispered from beside me, lips mashing together clumsily.

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Jesus.

I was so reeling that I honestly didn’t know what to say.

Groaning in pain, he slurred. “I’m…sorry, Molloy. So fucking…sorry…”

“I know you are,” I sniffled, cranking the engine. “I know, Joe.”

“I…love…” I felt my body tense when he clumsily reached across the car and tried to pat my thigh. “You…Molloy….”

Tell me when you’re sober,” I replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It won’t count tonight.”

“Why won’t it count, Molloy?”

“Because you won’t remember it,” I whispered sadly.