The graveside service is mercifully brief, the priest moving through the prayer as if aware that we are all ready for this farce to be over.
Fairview Lawn Cemetery is situated on a large hill, elaborate tombstones marching down the slope in tidy rows. Some of the victims of the Titanic were buried here. Our family’s plot is in the upper section, with beautiful, tall trees guarding the stones of my parents and grandparents.
I hate that we have to bury Uncle Bastard here. He doesn’t deserve to be near my parents.
Someone is sobbing loudly and before anyone can react, a pretty twenty-something pushes through the crowd.
“My love, I can’t live without you!” she wails, draping herself over the casket and knocking off the huge spray of flowers. “Don’t leavemeee!”
Zed and I glance at each other, puzzled, and it’s Elana who leans in. “That’s Caroline Manwell, I went to school with her.” Her eyes widen. “How does she know Uncle Bas- I mean, Uncle William?”
Lachlan whispers in my ear. “She’s the mistress.”
Oh.
Oh, this is some awkward shit.
“Hey, Caroline, right?” I say kindly, “I’m um, I’m sorry for your loss. Why don’t you come sit over here with us?”
Her puffy, tear-streaked face looks up, surprise halting her loud weeping for a moment. “That would be nice,” she sniffled. Twoof the guards lift her bodily off the casket and I try to support her weight as we walk back to my staring family. My heels are sinking into the grass and Lachlan stands up, his amusement clear as he hoists me up in one huge arm and her in the other as the casket is lowered into the ground.
That’s when the shooting starts.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In which we find that the graveside service is shot to hell and no one is getting the tasty funeral potatoes.
Lachlan…
I dinna expect the bullets to fly at the graveyard, but it dinna mean we’re not prepared.
Hauling both women fast enough that their feet leave the grass, I get them behind the safety of three massive oaks, two guards with their guns held up step in to cover them.
Zed and Elana are pulled to safety and the other mourners scatter, screaming souls draped in black trying to avoid being the next one in a casket.
Tapping my earpiece, I ask, “Monroe, what do ya’ see?”
“Fifteen men, most behind the row of cars to the south, five coming through the hedges to your left,” he says succinctly, never stopping firing his gun. Good man. I’m beginning to like him.
“Try to keep one of them alive,” I say, then start shooting at the hedges. One poor bastard is caught up in the thorns, shooting wildly into the sky as he tries to free himself. The others are better trained, I hear a shout of pain and see that the poor priest got it in the leg.
“Someone pull him out of there!”
My wife is suddenly at my side, legs shoulder width apart, arms in the correct position and firing, hitting one of the gunmen inthe neck. A huge arterial spray splashes the man next to him in gore, and I shoot him as he tries to wipe the blood from his eyes.
“Are ya’ insane!” I shout, “Get your arse back behind the tree or you’ll not be sittin’ for a month!”
She ignores me, picking off one of the attackers moving forward from the concealment of the cars. “I can fire a gun. To your right!”
I shoot the man in the chest, barely taking my gaze from her. “Do as I say! We’ve planned for this. Go cover your family.”
Her lips thin, but she knows I’m right and she’s gone, moving swiftly in her tight black dress and heels back to the trees. One of our security men has pulled the priest to safety, and the mourners are long gone, running in all directions and diving into cars. Since a good half of these people are crime family royalty, their own bodyguards are doing a fine job of protecting them.
“Keep one alive!” I shout into my headset when the numbers dwindle down to a couple of gunmen left firing their weapons. One is hit in the chest and his shirt is soggy with blood. The other, seeing he’s outnumbered, starts moving backward.
“Don’t try it,” I shout, “put the feckin’ gun down and we won’t kill you.”
Of course, I’m going to kill him.
