Maybe my tone isn’t sincere enough, because after looking around wildly, he pulls a small black canister from his jacket, flips a switch on top, and throws it.
“Everybody down!”I roar, racing to cover Aria with my body.
The grenade lands in the grave and there’s a wet sort of explosion as the chairs, flowers, grass, and a nearby tombstone are decorated with bits of Uncle Bastard.
The cemetery is quiet again as my men check for survivors to question. The cheerful birdsong from the trees above us mocks the whole messy scene.
With shaky legs, Aria comes to me, leaning against my side and I put my arm around her. Twisted pieces of metal from the coffin are scattered everywhere, bodies draped over tombstones and the priest is sobbing as Monroe deftly bandages his leg.
There’s blood and mud all over my suit, and a couple of chunks of what I’m sure are Uncle Bastard. I think the one clinging to my tie might be his ear.
“At least he’s never looked better,” I offer.
“You are just…” she falls silent, staring at what’s left of the gravesite.
***
We’re on the way home when everyone’s phone lights up with a circus of bells and whistles and chimes.
“Wait, they’re attacking the estate, too?” Zed groans, reading his texts while I put in a call to the team I have guarding the house.
“Gregor, what’s happening?”
“At least twenty, maybe more. They’re good, effective,” he shouts as I hear the rapid fire of semi-automatics in the background. “The feckers weren’t expecting this kind of response, we’ll have them surrounded- Fuck!”
There’s an explosion loud enough to short out the speaker of my phone for a moment. “Gregor!”
“I’m here,” he pants, “they blew a hole in the west side of the house, five men made it inside.”
“Chase those feckers down,” I growl. “Can this goddamn car go any faster?” I shout at the driver. He’s one of the King’s personal chauffeurs, but I’ve seen arthritic-ridden grandmas drive faster than this.
Zed’s got his arm around Elana, whispering in her ear as she cries, and Marcus, who looks a little gray, holds Aria’s hand.
“You okay, brother?”
“Yes,” he says, “but I’ve never touched a gun, so I won’t have your back on this one. I’ll be too busy trying not to wet myself.”
“You keep an eye on Aria and Elana,” I nod.
My wife’s pretty pink lips are open and ready to argue about her excellent shooting skills and courage under fire and I put my hand over her mouth. “You are stayin’ here in this bulletproof car, do ya’ hear me now? Don’t make me handcuff you to the door.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses, a bit muffled.
“Take care o’ your people,” I say, stuffing my jacket pocket with extra rounds and pulling another Glock out from under the seat. “Gregor, are ya’ in the house?”
It’s hard to hear over the barrage of gunfire, these feckers were just playin’ around at the funeral. “Aye,” he shouts, “front door is cleared, come on in.”
I empty the clip on the first gun on my way into the house, spraying the trees with bullets. A man drops out of his perch, sightless eyes staring into the sky.
“Location?” I murmur into my headset.
“We have them cornered in the library,” Gregor says. “They’re running a cover fire while two of the men are breaking into thesafe and the computer. Wait, there’s a secret room, one of them just found the door.”
“We have to assume they know of a back way out,” I say, “set the room on fire if you have to but they can’t get any further.”
These arseholes are in Aria’s office - her Da’s old one - and I listen carefully in the hall just outside. There’s a thump on the other side of the wall and muffled cursing. I shoot through the wall - a good thick wall, well-made, that - because it takes another clip before I hear a body hitting the floor.
“You got the guy on the computer,” Gregor reports, “we’re down to two more in the study. Wait. Make that one.”
