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Herno shitattitude would be admirable if she wasn’t the mother of a dirty fucking rat.
The guy moves to her side. “Drop the pretence. We know you have our son, and I have a good idea as to why, but I couldn’t give a shit about that. Hand Ethan over to us, and you’ll never have to see him again.”
“I could kill him and never have to see him again.”
They don’t even flinch, which irritates me. They’re impressively calm, and it makes me wonder what they know that I don’t? Calm people in these situations tend to have a card up their sleeve.
“You have one chance to give him to us, or I’ll make one call and your club will be swarming with agents.”
And there it is. In my opinion, they’re playing it early, but it’s a threat that carries weight.
“You think that scares us? Your son has already brought a fed to our door, and it’s only a matter of time before more show up.”
The guy frowns, seeming confused.
“That’s not true. I made enquires on our way here with an old colleague, and no one is looking into your club.”
With the need for a cigarette growing, I nod for the prospect to open the gate.
“My guys will search you, and then we’ll carry on this conversation inside.”
Moving forward, Sparky and Slade pat them both down and step back, satisfied they’re clean.
“We’re not stupid, and this isn’t our first fight with a club like yours. Give us our son, and we’ll leave as quietly as we arrived,” the woman says.
Ignoring her, I head for the bar, the rat’s parents in tow.
I have seconds to work out how to play this.
“Who the fuck are they?” Pope bellows from his table, cleaning his gun.
“Brothers, meet the rat’s mommy and daddy,” I yell out, loud enough to be heard by everyone. “They want him back, but like I’ve already told them, he’s not here.”
“Cut the shit—” the woman starts, but is cut off when two British gangsters walk through the door.
“Sorry to interrupt. Seeing as we were passing through, I thought we’d pop in.”
Jamie Boy waltzes across the bar, followed by a man I’m assuming is the King we’ve yet to meet in person—Austin Hayward.
What the fuck are they doing here?
“Why don’t you wait in my office while I deal with—”
“We’d rather wait here,” Jamie Boy interjects, a smile I don’t like forming on his lips.
Ethan’s father whispers in the woman’s ear, and Austin narrows his eyes.
“It’s fucking rude to whisper. What are you, twelve?”
“So is murdering police officers. By the way, how is your uncle?” the guy snaps.
Jamie Boy chuckles lightly. “He’s well. We’ll be sure to pass on your best wishes.”
A moment of silence passes between them, and I step in to calm the situation.
“I’m sure your son will be in contact when he can.”
“We’re not leaving without him. You have ten minutes, or he makes a call. And, if anything should happen to stop us from making that call, we have reassurances in place, so tick tock. Time’s a wastin’.”
