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“Nice hat, Doyle.” I smirked at the old cloth top hat that sat on his gray head. “What the hell do you want?”
Placing his pipe in his mouth once more, he sucked in deeply and blew the smoke into our faces. “You met the Briars. In fact, it has come to my attention you nearly killed one. Your week is over, and it’s best if your family returns to the depths of Hell from which you came.”
“Or what?” I asked, grabbing the pipe from his mouth. “What will you do if my family and I decide to spend a few more days, maybe even months, here?”
His nostrils flared and I could almost hear his bones crack and pop as he tried to stand up straight.
“You’re playing with fire, young man.” He spat at my feet. The moment he did, a crowd of men slowly came around us. Even the stupid fucker that I had shot through the foot held his gun pointedly at our side.
“We’re from hell, remember?” Mel replied, her eyes scanning over each black rifle. “When you’re born of fire, it can’t hurt you.”
“So young, so foolish,” he said dangerously as he slowly pulled out a photo from his jacket pocket. “You think you can come to our country and walk on water? Think you’re untouchable? Folks are gunnin’ for you while you’re gunnin’ folks down. All it takes is one, before others step up against you. Go home. Get your filth out of my country because you won’t make it another night here.”
Turning towards my father, he simply laughed at me, shaking his head at the fool in front of us. My mother being my mother looked bored and annoyed, clenching her gift in her hand.
Glancing down at my wife, she just nodded. Before he could even blink, my fist collided with the side of Doyle’s wrinkled face. His top hat flew from his head, rolling onto my feet. Pulling the gun from its holster, I grasped hold of his collar and stuck the barrel in his eye.
“Cousin, is this fool trying to blackmail me?” I sneered, digging in deeper into his eye.
Declan frowned, the same expression on his face as our mother. “I believe so. I wonder if he knows he has no men to back up his threats.”
With his one free eye, he glanced around at the men he thought supported him. The man who I shot earlier limped over, grabbing Doyle’s top hat and handed it over to Mel.
“Where’s your fucking loyalty?” he yelled, struggling under me.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Mel replied, dusting off his hat before placing it on her head. “With us.”
Pulling his face closer to mine, I held his throat tightly. “You’re shit out of luck.”
“One day…” he struggled to speak.
“Spare me the sanctimonious bullshit, Doyle. I’ve heard it all before. Ireland does not need you. This town does not need you, and when your blood splatters over its streets, it will be the rain and nothing else that washes it away.”
“Liam,” my mother called, stepping forward. “It’s Sunday.”
Staring at my watch in anger, I pulled my gun from his eye before smacking his cheeks softly.
“How lucky you are, Old Man Doyle.”
Rising from the ground, I fought the urge to kick the living shit out of him; old man or not, he had threatened the wrong family. Pushing himself off the ground, he dusted himself off, glancing around at us all before backing away slowly. The very few men still loyal to him helped him into his truck at the end of the street before taking off.
The only proof that there was ever a festival taking place throughout the streets were the lights that dangled in the winds, the scattered bottles on the sidewalks that were still dripping with rum, and the abandoned instruments that only moments earlier were alive with music.
“All we need is a tumbleweed blowing in the wind,” Coraline joked, from within Declan’s embrace.
Something was off about those two.
“Somebody play for us before I forget it’s Sunday!” I bellowed, forcing what looked like Dylan, Monte, and Jinx to the stage.
Taking my wife’s hand in mine, I pulled her towards the music.
“Who did you kill?” she asked as we danced.
“You said you didn’t want to know about this.”
Her lips tightened into a straight line. I wondered for how much longer she could handle being in the dark. Sighing deeply, she glanced around at the new men—the men who had conveniently jumped sides, the men without loyalty—and it was like I could read her thoughts.
“We don’t kill on Sundays,” I reminded her.
“We don’t,” she replied, “but others at our disposal never made such a commitment.”
Grabbing the top hat from her head, I placed it on my own. “Poor Old Man Doyle.”
“Not just him, all of them. We don’t need new people and I sure as hell don’t trust men who would so easily betray their own.”
Precisely.
“What shall we do?” I asked, twirling her around quickly.
“It’s Sunday, Liam. We follow examples from the Bible on Sundays. And I distinctly remember a passage about slaying men in their sleep. All that alcohol should be kicking in soon. Irish or not, you people need sleep.” She grinned, wrapping her hands around my neck.
“So it is written, so it shall be done,” I said as the music ended. Breaking apart, we stood and applauded in the empty streets of Killeshin.
“Declan,” she whispered, leaning over to him. “Gather the men—our men—and kill them all, I don’t care how. We leave at sunrise; I believe Liam has gotten all he needs.”
They would learn, all of them. Here in Ireland, back in the States, and all across the globe.
This wasn’t a game. This was our fucking family, and nothing trumped family.
TWENTY
“What is a king to a God? What is God to a king?”
—J.J McAvoy
DECLAN
Shoving my knife into my boot, I pulled open our trunk and sifted through Coraline’s clothes in order to find my new guns.
“I thought we didn’t kill on Sundays?” she asked me, gathering up our things around the room.
“Melody and Liam don’t. I’m not sure why. It is as though they really believe God appreciates it,” I muttered as I loaded bullets.
Laughing, she came over and wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. “You speak for God now?”
Rolling my eyes at her, I grabbed my silencers. “No, but a murder at 11:59 p.m. and one at midnight is still murder.”
“It never bothers you?” she whispered into my ear.
I didn’t answer; I just loaded.
“Declan.”
“No, Coraline, it has never bothered me. It never will bother me. I want us to be safe,” I replied, looking into her eyes. “I enjoy knowing that our family is safe, I enjoy being a reason why our family is feared.”
She simply nodded. “Can I come?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Declan, I said I may be pregnant. I can fire a gun. I’m good. You know it.” She groaned, releasing her hold on me. I missed her touch.
Rising to my feet, I kissed her, as I grabbed her thighs to lift her up and press her against the wall.
“We can have this fight after we get you to a doctor, G.I Jane.” Dropping her, she scowled but it disappeared when my lips met hers.
