Mick Rory Novels & Stories

He let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Still wound up, Robbie?" Rory asked. "You volunteering to help?" I shot back, my voice dripping with the same sarcasm. Rory smirked, his eyes glinting with a dangerous kind of mischief. He took a step toward me, his tongue flicking over his teeth. "How about I sink my fangs into it?" Rory said. "I bet I could satisfy you so well you’d never be able to get it up again."

Ethan stood a few feet away, a smoking rifle held loosely in his hands, his face devoid of remorse, replaced by a cold, calculating emptiness. Beside him, impeccably dressed and smiling with the predatory joy of a man who has won his ultimate game, was Mikhail. “Oh, Alkali,” Mikhail said, his voice a smooth, venomous purr. “How the mighty have fallen.” But I didn't hear him. All I could see was Rory’s lifeless body on the gravel, and the world dissolved into an absolute, blinding red. No, not again! That was all my mind said as I clutched over Rory still surprisingly mute.

Toad demanded as the office door opened. “Because you’ll want to keep the bloodshed contained.” The Mick said as he entered the room. “I don’t know her in her new life, but as the next head of the Giovani family, Sophia is not someone I want mad at me. My boys are at your disposal.” Michael O’Flaherty, the leader of the Irish mafia and simply known as The Mick, was a man in his fifties with graying red hair and bright blue eyes. Laugh lines and crows’ feet graced his face that did not have his usual easy smile.

And from the looks of it, he seemed very interested in it. Suddenly he smiled, not a creepy, perverted smile but rather a warm one. One Rory had never received from him. Honestly, he didn’t understand how he could be nice to everyone but him. He tried to rack his brain for just about anything and everything he had done to garner his hate, but he couldn’t think of it. It wasn’t as though my mummy was cheating with his father when his mother was still alive. And she had even died a while before they met. And he was Irish, not American. Ireland was on the other side of the world.

NATHAN I try to concentrate my anger into a clenched fist. "Collins?" I say. The guy next to her turns to me first. "Ryan?" She widens her eyes and waves to the two people behind me. I stare at her, letting her know that I want an explanation. "Michael, this is Nathan Ryan, my boss. Mr. Ryan, Michael Grey, an old friend." Grey? That name... The Grey from the party? The college buddy.

A brunette, Marie said as she stepped into the room. She unlocked the handcuffs and tossed them towards the intern, "You should know any metallic object can't go into the MRI." Harry nodded and scurried out of the room. "Jesus!" Doctor Greg exclaimed, "Why do I always have such unlucky and clumsy interns!" "He'll learn soon enough," Marie said. "He had better except he enjoys interning on the street." Doctor Greg snapped before moving towards Trevor. "Who are you, Mr Trevor Saint Williamson?" He murmured, staring at him intently.

She sounded angry, and Rory could tell she was lying about her feelings vanishing. Miles was the type of guy she would never allow her friend to end up with. He had piercings all over his mouth and face, and the tattoos had to be the worst, which she didn't mind but Caro had been a victim of violence. Miles had physically and emotionally tortured her, and if Rory had a gun, she would have shot Miles to prevent her friend from having to go through those awful experiences again.

“Marcus… can I speak to you? Man to man?” Ava snapped her head around. “Rory—” “No,” Rory said firmly. “I need to get something clear.” The room sucked in a breath. Marcus nodded. “Alright.” Rory led him to the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. The room watched, collectively holding their breath. “Listen,” Rory said plainly. “My sister been through a lot. Men who looked good on paper. Men who talked big. Men who broke things.” Marcus nodded slowly. “I understand.”

My body was ready to turn around until I finally remembered what my main purpose here was. "Do you still have something to say?" she asked when she noticed my sudden halt in movement. "I want to apologize about Marcel Monaghan," I said quietly, a little worried. Rory sighed. She leaned forward and looked at me. "We've already got River Lynch. I thought the Marcel Monaghan thing was behind us. But, Mia ...." Rory paused her sentence, making me sick to my stomach. I set my ears and heart intently. "You remember, don't you, the purpose of you working with me?"