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“How many Fangs have you killed, Slick? My total is thirty-nine. Have you put down that many alone? No? Has anyone in Rage? No? Do not fuckin’ tell me I am out of my depth. Rage ain’t got no idea who or what I am. I could kill you right now, and nobody would blink. No one would realise you’re dead until the waitress came to kick you out. You have Artemis, big deal. I’m worse than her. Far worse. Don’t make the mistake of treating me as an airhead again. As if I don’t understand what I’m up against. You did not see my mother and grandfather, you patronising bastard,” Siobhan snapped in a low voice.
“Siobhan…”
“The name is Irish; can you manage to remember that?”
“Look, I get I’ve upset you. And I didn’t mean to, but with you running around on your own, who has your back?” Slick said, trying to come at Irish from a different angle.
“I have my back. Do you believe I discover shit and rush off without a plan? Oh yeah, of course I do. Because I have tits and ovaries, right? Clearly, according to the males in Rage, I’m not capable,” Siobhan sneered.
Slick sighed. Siobhan—no, Irish—was as stubborn as hell. He had completely approached this wrong. Whatever Slick said had put her and her strengths down.
Irish bit savagely into her burger, and Slick winced. By the expression on her face, Irish was imaging all the things she could do to him, and they weren’t good.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Don’t fuck my words around. I’m merely showing some concern. Every move, I have a brother behind me,” Slick pointed out.
“Do you? So, where’s your backup now? Slick, I could kill you, and Rage wouldn’t know until the cops contact them about your body. See, this is the insult I meant, the patronising bastard bit. Because I’ve tits and ovaries, I’m not a threat. But if you met with a Fanger, you’d have backup. But me, no, not a threat, and don’t need anyone supporting you,” Irish snapped.
“Didn’t think of it that way. Thought more along the lines of you’ve come to our rescue several times now, so why the fuck would you want to harm us?”
He felt slightly stung. Irish was correct. Slick had underestimated her because of her gender. Slick hadn’t consciously made that decision, but he had.
“If I have someone cover my back, then I have to worry about them, too. Alone, I can use whatever means necessary to escape a trap. If somebody’s with me, then I can’t leave them. You have to realise, I don’t need anyone. If Fangs captured me, sure, they could torture me or worse, but I’ve nothing left to lose. If Fangs take my backup, then I wouldn’t let Fangs torture them while keeping my mouth shut. At the end of the day, I am best off alone,” Irish said, eating calmly.
Slick shook his head in disbelief. This woman was a true loner.
“And what about sharing information?”
“Sure, we can share, if it’s relevant to Rage or your allies. But don’t expect me to become bosom buddies. Slick, I’m doing this for one reason: revenge. Once I have it, Rage and I won’t cross again. Fury rode at the head of the convoy that left my home, and I’ll not stop until he’s dead—and those who hurt my family are buried along with him,” Irish hissed.
“Rage could support your efforts,” Slick pushed.
Irish snorted. “More like I’ve been supporting Rage.”
“Why bother if it’s so difficult?” Slick demanded.
“Because of Grandad. Even though he quit Rage, Grandad kept tabs on you. He celebrated on a weekend binge when Drake took the club back. You can take the guy out of Rage, but not Rage out of the man. Grandad was still loyal to Rage, but his priorities were family. Fury had a hard-on for Grandad because he was denied access to my dad and because Grandad put his family first.”
“And you call yourself Irish to honour him?”
“Yes. Plus, Grandad was Irish, if you remember. Which means Dad and I are of Irish descent. Mom was also born in Ireland and moved here when she was about ten,” Irish explained.
“Oh, we all remember that accent,” Slick said with a small smile.
Irish shoved the last fry into her mouth. “Are we done now? You go your way, and I’ll go mine.”
“Irish, you still have a family. If you reach out, Rage will be there,” Slick stated.
Deep down, he knew Irish wouldn’t. This woman had the stubborn streak of the Irish and her grandad’s, too. If Irish hadn’t wanted to move on something, he hadn’t. Slick well remembered that about the man.
“If I need you, then I’ll be already dead,” Irish said as she slid out from the booth. She threw thirty bucks down on the table. “And I pay for myself.”
Before Slick could utter another word, she vanished through the door.
Sighing, he ran a hand over his face and wondered what to do next.
Summer
I opened the door, prepared for the usual complaints. The wicked witches started before I’d even taken my coat off.
