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“If yer uncle finds out, he’ll kill us,” Cian says, limping as we head toward the warehouse.
He’s still wounded, but insisted to come with Rory and me. I agreed because he deserves to be here after the lamping he took. Besides, tonight is the time for change in more ways than one.
Liam Doyle sent me a text early this morning with where I was to meet them tonight. They plan on intercepting the lorry on a backroad, a road which would only be known by someone who works for us. That’s why Uncle Sean was in such a hurry to haul arse. We need everything in place to ensure our ambush doesn’t fail.
But I need to do something before I go, and Uncle Sean cannot know what that is.
The warehouse is packed with our men, and their “leader,” Connor, is giving his usual bullshit speech about loyalty. He believes this is the way to keep them in line. That this is enough to keep them loyal. But he’s about to see what a true leader is.
We enter the abandoned warehouse, which, thanks to Patrick Duffy, is now Connor’s new secret lair. Lorries come and go from the premises, picking up gear which comes off the boats. It’s risky because sooner or later, the peelers will be onto us.
But Connor believes changing location is the smart way to operate, and in most cases, it may be, but not with the organization we run. We need to have no ties, no links to our name. We can’t gather in the masses any longer because this gives Chief Constable Moore a paper trail.
We need to operate incognito.
Our online dealings have had no issues, and this is the way to go from here going forward. It’s time for change.
Connor doesn’t know that, however. But he will.
“How ’bout ye give me some warnin’ next time,” Connor says to Danny, who is Ronan’s mate.
He’s just the man I want to talk to.
“Bout ye, Puck?” he says when we come up behind Connor. He’s hoping to take the heat off himself. But he’s got a lot to learn.
Connor turns, surprised to see me and the boys, as we don’t usually attend his “sermons.”
He’s been keeping scarce since the party, probably consoling Fiona, who’s awful scundered that her perfect party was ruined by the peelers. She can pretend the money she spends isn’t dirty money, but others aren’t as easily fooled.
The Kellys’ front—us being a family who struck it rich legally—is all bullshit. Everyone knows it, but no one has the bollocks to say it. Not until Connor made an enemy out of Chief Constable Moore.
“What’re ye doin’ here?” he says under his breath, but I have no interest in playing happy families.
I push past Connor and punch Danny square in the face. The men gasp, confused with what’s going on. Danny cups his jaw, knowing better than to fight back.
“Now that I have yer attention,” I say, standing in front of the men. “We need to ’ave a wee yarn.”
Connor grabs my arm, attempting to pull me in line, but I’m done being his little bitch.
“Ye made a right bags of this, Connor.” I coolly remove my arm from his grip, leaving him scundered in front of the men he’s supposed to rule.
“Don’t give me any of yer guff,” he warns, but I laugh in response.
“Or what?”
Connor is not used to me talking back, and he definitely isn’t used to me disobeying him.
“Yousens may have noticed that we’re a couple of lads short?” The men look around at one another, unsure what’s going on. “Bout ye, Danny? Missin’ yer man, Ronan?”
Danny soon realizes what this is about. “Catch yerself on. I know nothin’.”
Clucking my tongue, I calmly fold my arms across my chest. “Now, I know that yer lyin’. I think yousens are, and the reason for that is ’cause I know Ronan and Nolen were double-crossin’ arseholes.”
“Shut yer gub or ah’ll shut it fer ye,” Connor furiously whispers. But he doesn’t seem to understand this isn’t his gig anymore.
“Give it a lash. I dare ye,” I reply, and for the first time in my life, I see that Connor is afeared of me.
“Yer a rocket,” Danny exclaims, looking at Connor for backup. But Connor stays quiet.
