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“Y’ve got some bollocks on ya, lad,” Aidan says, slapping me on the back as though we’re friends.
“What can I say, I missed y’all,” I reply with a grin.
Liam clicks his glass against mine. “Cheers, mate.”
I drink my stout, waiting for Liam to make the first move. Me being here is enough of a hint that I want in on whatever he’s offering. And he takes the bait.
“Glad that yer here. I have a proposition for ya.”
Nodding, I gesture that he’s to go on.
“Someone didn’t pay my family for a service we provided,” he explains, deliberately leaving out what that service is. “I’d take care of it myself, but—”
“Say no more,” I interrupt, wanting him to know no further explanation is needed. A good dog doesn’t ask questions.
Aidan is pleased with my loyalty. “Are ye busy now?”
Throwing back my drink, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Nope.”
“Grand. Ye animal, let us go then.”
Aidan and Liam exchange a look between them. I don’t know what it means, but I’ll take my chances.
“Thanks, Mike. I won’t forget it. Aidan will make sure ya get paid for yer troubles. I’ll call ya tomorrow.” And I know that he will.
He’ll want to know if I had the balls to do whatever it is they want me to do. But little does he know, I’m about to go rogue. We shake hands, and I follow Aidan through the crowd.
Cian and Rory are sitting by the window, and when they see me, I nod subtly. They know to give it a couple of minutes before they follow.
Aidan exits the pub, and the lights on a red Audi parked out front flash, hinting this is our ride. We get in, not saying a word. He starts the engine and takes off into the night. The GPS on my phone is synced with Cian and Rory’s phones, so they can track where we’re going.
“How ya liking Ireland?” he asks, making small talk.
“Love it,” I reply, mentally taking note of landmarks in case I need to retrace my steps. “The boys and I were thinking of going to Belfast next week.”
Aidan laughs, but it’s not in happiness. “That place is a dead loss. Y’d be better off going to Scotland,” he sarcastically says as both options in his opinion are as bad as the other.
“Oh, you’ve been?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Ack, not for a very long time.”
“Why not?” Mike from America asks, while Punky from Northern Ireland sits back and waits for this fucker to sign his own execution order.
“’Cause I wouldn’t take a slash on thon place if it were on fire. It’s filled with nothing but maggots. Good fer nothin’Protestants.”
Sitting on my fists to stop myself from connecting his forehead with the steering wheel, I coax him to elaborate. “Oh, so this is a religious thing? You’re Catholic?”
“Aye, that I am. But naw, religion is just an ounce of why I hate that place. There is a certain family there that think they’re the quality. But they’re nothin’ but ignorant culchies. Not a word of a lie. It’s easy thinkin’ yer a dab hand at selling the gear in a city the size of Belfast.
“There’s no competition, well, so they think not.”
I mentally count to three before I reply. “Competition? Is that where we’re going tonight?”
Aidan turns to look at me briefly, smirking. “Ye cute hoor. That’s the element. Too bad yer leaving so soon. We could really use someone like yerself.
“My family value honesty and loyalty, somethin’ the Kellys know nothing about.”
He mistakes my silence as me lost in translation, but in reality, I can’t speak in fear I’m going to kill this fucker with my bare hands.Myfamily, meaning the Doyles. So which Doyle is he?
