Michael Clifford Novels & Stories

Jeffrey, feeling a bit at a loss with Liam's indifference, went on, "That Clifford guy Karpos was talking about? You might not know him, but he's the big fish when it comes to the shady side of this town, and Karpos is just one of his guys. "And get this—Clifford's also the local arms dealer, packing enough heavy artillery to make anyone think twice. Even the military here tends to tread lightly around him." While the rest of the group in the private room turned pale at the news, Liam, Cirocco, and Calum remained as cool as cucumbers. With a scoff, Liam said, "Heavy artillery? If Clifford's got a death wish, he knows where to find me!"

My pulse thudded in my throat. Claire slid off the stool, her heels clicking against the tile. "You really think he’d waste half a million on that dying woman?" Her voice was syrup-sweet, poison underneath. "Face it, Lily. No one wants you. Not even him." Michael’s jaw twitched. "Enough." But Claire wasn’t done. She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume—something floral, expensive, choking. "You’re pathetic. Running back here like he’d ever—"