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I pull up in front and park. A few men are standing outside. They greet me with a nod which I reciprocate.
Inside the club is busier. If the outside looks rundown, the inside is destroyed. The grenade Ava threw ripped up the dance floor, and the bar is littered with bullet holes.
I stroll to Beiste, who is talking to a few of the younger men, “Everyone has their instructions. No one is to be alone at any point. Stay in clusters of three.
“Yes, sir,” one of them says.
“You’re dismissed,” Beiste says.
“Hey,” I greet Beiste once I reach him. “Looks like you have everything under control here.”
“We’re spread thin but holding. Our problem now is the Irish.”
“What is the problem? Cillian is dead.”
I eat my cockiness when he replies, “We can’t find them. It’s like they’ve disappeared, which we know is impossible. Cillian is dead, and they will want blood.”
“I know. Marco and his men are coming.”
“Have you heard anything about Ava?” he asks, his tone high with hope.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Oliver isn’t answering.”
“No news isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“Or it could be that they’re both dead,” I bark before I can stop myself.
“Your wife is a fighter. See what she did just to save Oliver. She isn’t the innocent, fragile girl we met two years ago. Ava won’t go down without a fight, and neither will Oliver.” I know he’s trying to comfort me, but nothing can. Not until Ava is back in my arms, where she belongs. “I’m assuming you have some sort of plan. What are you thinking?”
“My father needs to die. If I cut the head off the snake, everything else will fall in place.”
He misses the humor in my tone. “What about the Irish?”
“What about them?”
“Cillian might be dead, but they’re still a threat.”
“We will deal with them once I kill my father.”
I should’ve killed him at the docks when I had the chance, but a part of me hoped things would’ve played out differently, even when I knew nothing would change.
“How do you plan to kill your father? I’m sure he’s gone into hiding.” I’m shocked about his knowledge. “Angus called.”
“Ready the men. He doesn’t have many places to hide.” I’m interrupted by a loud bang, followed by the sound of bullets.
I race for the nearest laptop to view the security cameras.
“Guess the Irish are not hiding anymore,” Beiste says.
“Guess not. Time to finish them all.”
ChapterThirty-Three
Oliver
Taking a cab to the warehouse would give me away. Instead, I take a cab to my house before running upstairs to fill a bag with my available weapons. There’s a parking structure near the warehouse. The top level of that should provide a good vantage point.
My cell rings. It’s Viktor.
