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“Lock the door behind me again. Same rules apply. I’m not back by dusk, you head back to the city.”
This time her nod was quiet, her meekness visible. The sassy bitch who’d fired back at me at every opportunity just a few days earlier was well out of sight.
Surprisingly, I was looking forward to her return.
I was off quickly, slipping into the Merc and driving away with a screech of tires as she watched from the doorstep, arms wrapped around her chest.
I called up the navigation on my cell and sped towards my destination. I had my own membership to Hanborough Park, nobody would question my arrival.
There wasn’t even the faintest sliver of uncertainty in me as I pulled up into the golf course parking lot. I was as sure of my actions as I’d been of anything in my life. My fingers were already itching to pull the trigger and deliver revenge on behalf of the woman I loved.
“Good morning,” I said to the guy at the check-in desk when I stepped into reception.
“Good morning, Mr. Morelli, sir,” he offered and waved me on through. He was new to the position. I’d never seen him before.
New enough not to know that you keep Morellis and Constantines apart at all costs.
I used that to my advantage.
“I’m here to meet up with Colonel Hardwick. Could you please tell me which hole he’s on?”
He gave me a happy little smile. “Last time I heard they were at hole four, but I’m not sure.”
I would have to take his advice and hope for the best. Hole four was very isolated. There wouldn’t be a passerby for quite some time—at least I hoped not.
“Thank you,” I said to the fool who’d shared their privacy, and then I walked on through.
I knew where I was headed. My pace was quick and determined, ensuring I stayed on the edges of the course and out of view of the stragglers of golfers in the distance. Every single moment I could delay people identifying me as the culprit behind this attack was a tick for our odds of managing to reach the UK.
I couldn’t take a golf cart, but I’d been walking no more than ten minutes when the two pieces of shit appeared on the horizon. I slowed down my pace, being more sure than ever to keep hidden as I approached. They were talking heatedly. I could see the waving of their arms, golf clearly the last thing on their minds.
I knew then, beyond all doubt, that they were aware Reverend Lynch had encountered some… difficulties.
I kept to the rough as I walked, heart thumping and blood ice cold and burning bright with the promise of vengeance. My gun was aching to fire and my fingers were aching to set the bullets free, right into the guts of them.
I slipped on my leather gloves and was already holding the gun when I appeared in view. They were talking so intently that they didn’t notice me until I was close enough that they could hear me clear my throat.
Both sick fucks jumped a mile when they saw me there, starting backwards once they registered it was me.
Hardwick stepped away from Lionel Constantine, clearly happy to abandon him for his demise. So much for friendship and loyalty. He was clearly ready to run, his hands held up in front of him as I stepped up closer.
“This is between you two,” he told me. “I’ll leave you to your family dispute and head on to the next hole.”
“Get the hell fucking back here,” I snarled at him. “This has plenty to do with the both of you, you disgusting piece of shit.”
I watched his mind whirring. I smirked as I saw the pieces come together for him, while Lionel Constantine was still staring on in mute horror.
“You’re attacking the fellowship, yes?” Hardwick announced, his wavering voice scared enough to set my heart alight. “The fellowship has nothing against the Morellis, I can assure you of that.”
“This isn’t about the fucking Morellis,” I told him with a vicious smile. “This is to do with Elaine.”
“Elaine?!” Hardwick gasped. “You mean Elaine Constantine?”
That’s when Lionel found his voice. “You just killed Elaine Constantine,” he said, and there wasn’t even the slightest hint of anger in his voice. “What the fuck has that got to do with coming after the fellowship?”
I laughed to myself at their ridiculous attempt at feigning ignorance.
“You know exactly what coming after the fellowship has to do with Elaine Constantine,” I told them. “You fucking abused Elaine Constantine when she was a pure little girl, you sick cunts.”
I pointed the gun at them, silencer already in place. Their shock was evident, but not nearly so evident as their fear. They were absolutely petrified. Their own doom looming loud and clear.
