The Untouchables(56)

“Call me a cunt again, I dare you. And I will pull your tongue from your ass…or is it arse? So take your foucking face and bad breath and bugger off, because we both know you can’t do shit,” I told him.

“Looks like the Italian cunt…”

Before Doyle’s man could finish, a bullet went through his foot and Liam took a step forward, pulling me to his side as the man screamed. Guns went up, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Declan and Sedric put Evelyn and Coraline in the car.

“She warned you.” Liam sighed. I knew he didn’t want this, but we sure as hell couldn’t allow this to fly either. It was better to put a stop to it now.

“Enough,” Old Man Doyle said, pushing off the bus. “Aren’t you tired of putting bullets in your own kind, Callahan?”

“Shamus killed himself like a coward.” I said.

An amused Declan added, “It was a bullet though.”

None of them found it funny. Old Man Doyle blew the smoke through his nose as his jaw tensed.

“Is that the lie you’re all telling? Shamus offed himself? You must think us the king of fools. Shamus was kin,” he sneered at Liam, who shrugged.

“My kin. Not yours. The affairs amongst my family do not concern you,” Liam said. “As my wife said, as my father said weeks ago; Shamus took his own life. I want to know why, and we think the Briars holds the key to that. That is all. Point me in the right direction, keep your dogs on their leashes, and the Callahan fortune will still flow through the town as it always has. Your wives don’t want to bury their husbands and children, so step down and be the lesser but alive man.”

He spit at the ground in front of us before turning back to his beat-up old bus, which Mr. Foucking was using for support.

“You have a week, Callahan, and then we want you gone. Or else.” They got into their cars, leaving us standing there among blood stained grass.

“Have you lost your fucking mind Melody? What happened to charm?” Liam roared.

“Foucking Liam. Foucking we’re in Ireland, try to fit in.” I smiled before walking to the car.

Damn my feet hurt.





LIAM

I could feel my eyebrow twitching as I watched her walk away from me.

“I enjoy her when she’s pregnant. She’s absolutely hilarious.” My father laughed, stepping up right beside me.

“Would you like a bullet through your foot as well?” I yelled, waving my gun at him. “It’s like she’s fucking high.”

“Foucking, brother,” Declan said, watching the men as they finished loading all our things. “You have to admit, she was charming. They may not have shown it, but they were all surprised by her, some lusted—”

“Finish that sentence and I will actually have to kill my kinsmen,” I hissed, leaving them both laughing. I could see them both drunk off their asses for the rest of this trip.

Ripping the door open, Mel’s brown eyes snapped up to me. She stared at me as if she were shocked I came into the car. Noticing the stream of text messages that were buzzing in, I sat down.

“What?”

“The President was just assassinated, and not by us.”

Foucking Christ, can’t I get a break.





SEVENTEEN

“The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”

—Gloria Steinem





NEAL

Walking into Liam and Mel’s office, I tried my best not to groan at the phone call awaiting me. All of Chicago was basically scared shitless while the rest of the damn country was in mourning. Of all the places the President could have been gunned down, why the fuck did it have to be here?

Pulling off my tie, I dropped it onto the desk before I took a seat. It was odd looking at this office—my father’s and now Liam’s—from this position. I had never noticed how cluttered and dark the study was. Everything here, from the cherry wood desk, to the bookshelves that covered both walls, and even the small bar stocked with Liam’s Brandy along with Mel’s wine, was vintage. The dark leather chair my ass now graced was brought in from Italy as if my mother knew years ago an Italian would be siting in it.

“Power looks good on you, baby,” Olivia called from the doors, pulling me out of my own thoughts.

I leaned back to stare at her. “Really? Do I have my grey hairs yet?”

“Neal, they’ve only been gone for a week,” she replied, walking over to me and seductively playing with the pearls around her neck. She looked dangerous in black; it seemed to bounce up into her blue eyes and brew storms.

“Only a week and the President gets wacked in our city, meaning we can’t operate with the feds tearing this city apart for the killer.” Which meant moving our products just got harder. The bosses were going to be pissed.