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"I'm Tynan O'Connor. Ya got a problem with it?" I seethe.
He slowly puts his hands in the air. "No, sir. I'm sorry, Mr. O'Connor. I didn't realize it was ya. It...it was the car," he stammers.
"Aye, don't make the mistake again," I warn, still pissed, and take off.
The rain starts to come down. It pours so hard I can barely see out the windows. It takes additional time to get to the pub. I'm a block away when my phone beeps. I glance at it, and more rage fills me.
Brogan: She won't leave. Do ya want me to use force?
Me: No. Don't ya dare lay a hand on my wife.
I call Alaina. "How the fuck could ya let my wife leave?"
She replies, "What are ya talking about? She said she was going to her room to sleep."
"She didn't. She's at the pub with Malachy."
Alaina says nothing.
Helplessness fills me. For some reason, it feels good to attack someone. So I accuse, "Seriously, Alaina? Ya couldn't do one thing for me?"
"I didn't know. I'm sorry. I've been scouring more security tapes. We can send Brogan there."
"He's already there!"
"He is?"
"How the fuck don't ya know this, Alaina?"
She doesn't respond.
I veer to the left. "I need more men at the pub."
"We have no men to send. They're all at the docks."
More tension fills the air.
"Aye. I know," I reply, then hang up, pissed at the world.
I call Malachy's phone. He answers, drunk. "What do ya want?"
"What do I want? Ya fucking imbecile. Ya get away from my wife right now."
He slurs, "She's my daughter. She was mine before yours."
I hurl, "She's mine now. So I mean it. Ya better get away from her."
He taunts, "Or what?"
Enraged, I scream, "Or what? I'll teach ya what, ya worthless old man!"
He chuckles and then hangs up on me.
I try to call back, but it just goes to his voicemail. "Goddammit!" I scream, driving faster, slamming my hand on the steering wheel.
I pass a few more blocks, then come to a dead stop. I cry out, "What the fuck?"
A traffic jam fills the road. It's impossible to get around it. Cars line all sides of the street, with barely an inch between the bumpers.
