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An hour and two delicious cookies later, soft on the inside, crispy on the edges as promised, I’m pulling up to the Castle, brushing crumbs from my trousers as I climb out of the truck.
This Kings Castle, otherwise known as the Bayne-Burnes house, is a collaborative effort of our two families. For the past decade, we men have taken to restoring this abandoned Gothic cathedral to be our headquarters. Our mafia is the Kings, as we are the ones who rule this island.
With the help of the professor, I obtained a grant from the historical society to help renovate it for our purposes. The younger boys apprentice with the older men who know the craft, while their brothers fish and farm for the earnings. Eamon’s soon to become a master carpenter, having been put to work at fifteen.
When we’re done, yeah, we’ll have to offer tours to outsiders as per the agreement the professor made to get the grant, but ten years later and we’ve got a meeting room, kitchen, and bedrooms. Bathrooms are next. Unfortunately for the men staying here, they’re still using the port-a-johns out back. It was the best way to keep the tourists at bay longer.
Our other forms of income?
Let’s just say some of our lines of earnings are not exactly professor-approved. We are an island. We use the water to our advantage. We have a successful underground “business” running arms up and down the coasts of Scotland, Ireland, and England.
Oftentimes arms are smuggled in coolers, topped with ice and locally caught haddock or bass. I keep Eamon and the younger ones like Jonjo away from the smuggling, choosing to train and employ them as carpenters, electricians, and plumbers. The Castle is not only their home but their workplace as well.
Eamon greets me outside, slapping his palm into mine.
“Glad you made it.” He’s got a twinkle in his eye, lit by the drama of our situation. He glances over his shoulder up at the house. “I don’t think anyone’s onto us.”
“If you keep carrying on like this, you’re gonna raise suspicions just walking around. Quit looking over your shoulder all nervous-like.” I throw a heavy arm over his shoulder, guiding us up to the house. I can smell the steak. “Come on. My stomach is rumbling.”
We bypass the house, going straight for the backyard. The green grass has been freshly cut, the scent lingering in the chilly breeze. Worn-in aluminum-framed lawn chairs dot the yard. Bruce’s manning the grill in a black apron that says KISS THE COOK, his dusty red baseball cap on backward, flipping a juicy T-bone with the long-pronged grilling fork he holds. He gives me a wave. “Ten minutes till chow, boss!”
Cal, current head of our once rival family, approaches me. He’s called a Burnes to my Bayne, as he’s a Callum to my Cailean. Confusing, especially when both names can be shortened to Cal.
The eldest of my clan, people took to calling me Bayne when my dad passed anyway. It stuck and I’m grateful for that ‘cause now it works well. He’s Callum and I’m Bayne and no one gets our names crossed.
I’m greeted with handshakes, slaps on the back, and general boys-will-be-boys shit talk, mostly about how I haven’t had a woman in so long.
“You ain’t had a woman in so long,” Callum rubs a hand down his long, Viking beard, a devilish look flashing in his bright green eyes. “You’re practically a born-again virgin.”
“You like your teeth?” I ask him over the laugh of the rowdy crowd.
He flashes the shiny white teeth we all know he’s so proud of. “Hell, yes I like my teeth.”
“Then that’ll be the last time you call me a virgin,” I say. “If you want to keep them.”
The group breaks out in good-natured laughs. All here know that for now, the Baynes and the Burneses have called a truce, made a pact, and sworn our allegiance to one another. Collectively, we are the Kings. And though we may fear we’re one good fistfight away from potentially breaking our bond, fragile in its decade-old newness, right now we are one loyal unit.
We eat steak, the meat melting like butter in our mouths. We wash it down with cans of icy beer Eamon’s stashed in coolers. He prefers it cold. We’re packing it up to take everything inside, making me think I’m in the clear, when Burnes pulls me to the side, a fresh beer for each of us in his hands.
He takes a long drag of his beer, looking out over the hill before he speaks. “I’ve got to ask you a question.”
Word moves fast on the island. Spiders crawl up the base of my spine. I know what’s he’s going to ask before he even opens his mouth back up again. “Go on then,” I say.
“Tell me.” His light brow narrows as he studies my face, a calculating intelligence behind his piercing green irises. “Have you heard anything about this witness? The American girl from LA?”
“Aye.” I wet my dry mouth with a sip of cold beer. “I’ve heard rumors.”
“What have you heard?”
“What have you heard?”
He sharpens his gaze. “I heard that you’re not as close to a born-again virgin as we thought.”
“I thought I told you not to say that if you want to keep your teeth.”
He flashes his white smile at me. “So you did.” He lowers his voice, moving a step closer to me. “We all know we were unlucky that night. That there was one set of curious eyes out there in the fields. And they belong to the girl. Now, if you know where she is, you need to let us Burnes know. We can’t risk keeping a witness around. You get what I’m saying?”
I don’t meet his eye. “I hear you.”
