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I tore up behind him and clamped an arm around his throat, landing three hard punches into his gut with my other fist. His feet kicked backwards at me, catching my shins with the wooden heel of his shoe as I grimaced. Fucking McGowans. I may have stood taller and broader than him, but shit, he was like a demon possessed. It was a shame I needed him alive, really. It’s much easier to just take a guy out. So much cleaner.
His breath became more ragged as I increased the pressure around his neck, his fingers gripping desperately at the arm of my suit jacket as I squeezed the remaining breath from him.
Just as his body finally went limp, I let go of him, grabbed my gun, spun him and clocked him on the temple with it.
Lights out kiddo.
CHAPTER THREE
MAEVE
Harold Thompson stared at me from his spot at the bar, though Cameron had disappeared. He was a sullen piece of work, that one.
I’d thrown up twice in the car on the way to the party, but I had to admit walking in and feeling all those eyes on me felt good. Being younger than Esther had always left me feeling somewhat overlooked. But walking in filled with as much fake bravado as I could muster sent electricity through me. I could only imagine feeling like that every day.
Sure, I’d known what it felt like to be desired. I’d had my share of flings over the years, but never had I felt imbibed with power. No wonder people got addicted to it.
It had taken every ounce of tolerance I’d had to let Harold lay his lips on me without slapping the shit-eating grin off of his face. The utter contempt his son, Cameron, had looked at me with gave me chills. He was like a man shaped ice sculpture, beautiful but utterly devoid of humanity.
We’d left the party after an hour of schmoozing, with Logan ensuring he didn’t agree to any of Harold’s requests, but didn’t outright deny them, either.
The car ride home was quiet, all of us exhausted from the charade of being in control when we were anything but. Mac had disappeared long before we left and I looked at the text I’d received again.
Found some entertainment for the night - see you tomorrow. M.
Mac was always a bit unpredictable and hell, we knew he was furious. I’d half expected him to try to take out the Thompson clan at the party all on his own. But to just leave? Well, it wasn’t like him to go without a bit of dramatic flair. Maybe he’d gone beyond furious. The weird little M signature was passive aggressive as hell, too. A night to cool off would probably be best.
‘You did good, Maeve,’ Logan said from the seat across from me. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you.’
‘Full of surprises. Maybe you should let me be involved more.’
‘No. This was a one off to keep him hoping until we can get to the skeletons hiding deep in his closet.’ Logan glanced at his phone before shoving it in his pocket. ‘I can’t believe Mac just took off.’
‘You know him. He just needs to cool off,’ Ewen said.
‘Still, we were supposed to be showing a united front.’ Logan’s mouth turned down at the corners. He was still trying to perfect his new control. Our brother Malcolm Jr was meant to take the reins, and although it wasn’t unheard of for a second son to end up at the top, he certainly hadn’t expected to be there.
‘United when it suits you,’ I said as I watched the changing cityscape whizz past as we headed to the suburbs toward our gated mansion.
‘Leave off it, Maeve. Don’t ruin it by sulking.’
I sighed as I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Instagram. My feed was awash with pictures from the evening. Mostly couple shots or groups of girlfriends smiling at the camera. I even saw one or two of me in the background. Maybe if Esther saw that I had raided her wardrobe, she’d be mad enough to come home. The dress had been new with tags on it and I’d coveted it since Esther had tried it on once at home. I hoped she was furious.
Then I spotted Cameron behind a group of smiling people in a photo on my feed. His face was in that tense, dour expression he always seemed to have had in the few times I’d seen him. He had never directed it my way, heck I didn’t even know if he’d realised I was there. As much as it pained me, I had to admit that he wasn’t bad to look at. He had the air of a young Sean Connery, unfortunately with none of the charm.
As the car turned into our long driveway and made it past the security and double locked entries, I slid further into my heated seat.
The evening had been for nothing. My brothers still didn’t want me to be a cog in their machine.
The next morning, a host of commotion rampaging throughout the house woke me with a start. Raised voices clashed with slammed doors and the sounds of many footsteps filtering through the large open foyer below. Pulling on some clothes, I popped my head out of my bedroom door and looked out at the circus below.
Men swarmed in far greater numbers than were ever in our home. Most of the business undertaken here was for our closest circle of people, my immediate family, and our trusted men. They talked any other business out in the myriad of backrooms of our various business fronts.
Something big must have happened. With a dry mouth and a hollow feeling in my stomach, I headed down into the foray.
I found Jack, one of our security guys, leaning next to the main entry.
‘What’s going on? Did Dad die?’
