“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, nothing changes in this family,” Uncle Cameron mumbled, clipping his seatbelt.
***
“Six entrances,” I point to the image on the screen used for meetings on the jet. “Our men in Belfast gave us some excellent images to work with. Cavendish’s guards are surprisingly sloppy, given the expense of the goods. He is en route, he’ll be there just as we land, and surveillance counted twenty-six men in the warehouse, six of them are Kellys.”
“Howdidwe not manage to kill ‘em all?” Ethan asks, looking irritated.
“They’re Irish,” Logan says wisely. He’s sitting next to Dad and they’re comparing guns and questioning which has the bigger bullets. “The only people who procreate more than the Scottish are the Irish. Like rabbits, they are.”
“The only thing that matters here is taking out Cavendish,” I interrupt impatiently. “Yes, the drones are important but he needs to be a fucking corpse before anything else.”
Uncle Cameron nods at me, eyes warm. “Understood. Show us the plan for breaching the perimeter defense.”
***
“That fucking Cavendish is mighty confident, aye?” Kai murmurs. “This is half the number of guards they should have for a meeting like this.” He’s crouched next to me in the weeds in the north corner of the lot. The Belfast muggy heat bears down on us and Duncan on my other side wipes his forehead.
“I hope we wrap this up quickly,” Duncan checks his watch. “I’ve got a lass waiting for me at home.”
Michael raises a brow. “There’s a woman who can tolerate ye?”
“You’d be surprised how often that happens,” Duncan says dryly, “but if this runs on too long, I’m gonna get a skelp instead of a poke.”
“You’re a true romantic,” I sigh. “Focus on the fucking plan and you’ll get home in time for Miss Right For Tonight.”
“Cavendish is late, the sloppy prick,” Michael complains. “Since his potential buyers are sitting in the warehouse with his stolen goods and a handful of his uneasy guards, you’d think he’d be early.”
Our earpieces crackle to life. “He’s here,” Kai says, “the listening devices in the warehouse are working perfectly.”
“Thank you. Everyone, headsets on and guns ready.” This isn’t my first raid, it’s not even my twentieth. But it is the first one where I’ll kill my father-in-law. Cavendish doesn’t deserve the title of father.
The Bentley carrying Cavendish pulls into the parking lot and I shake my head. Arrogant ass, bringing in all kinds of attention by driving a fucking Bentley through a grimy section of town like this. The doors open for him, quickly slamming shut.
“Here we go…” Kai murmured.
“You’re late.” The thick Irish accent tells me it’s one of the elder Kellys.’ They’d talk in Irish all the time if anyone outside of Ireland could understand them. “We’ve been sittin’ here with our thumbs up our arses.”
“Apologies,” Cavendish says smoothly, his glee and entitlement dripping from every syllable. “I think you’ll find this meeting is worth your time. Fifty million pounds worth of military-grade drones, capable of carrying multiple sources of firepower, including-”
“And we buy these drones and the MacTavishes swarm into Belfast and the shooting starts again.” A younger voice this time, likely Darragh, since we’ve killed all the other brothers.
“They’ll be too busy to worry about a minor stolen shipment,” Cavendish says confidently. “They’re about to have the full might of my syndicate, the Matsumori Yakuza and several other families rain down on them like fire in Hell. A MacTavish murdering his own wife? My sweet daughter Afton? That betrays everything the alliance stands for.”
Darragh does not sound impressed. “We heard sheeasilyescaped an attempt a week or so ago.”
That gets Cavendish going and I signal for everyone to be ready to move in. “Today’s encounter won’t. Afton trusts this man.”
“Fuck!” I whisper,“Now.Get in therenow.”Three points of access blow, thanks to Dad’s beloved C4. I’m on the run, not waiting for anyone else.
Half the Kelly men are flattened on the concrete from the blast of the C4, and my family has guns pointed on the rest of them in seconds. “Drop the guns, ye Irish pricks,” Uncle Cameron says briskly. “If we take them off ye, I’m shooting ye for the extra effort.”
The red haze is rising in the back of my mind, fists slamming eagerly against the wall I build to hold it. Cavendish’s expensive suit is covered in soot, his mouth open loosely in shock. Grabbing his tie, I yank it up, sending him on tiptoe and already gasping for air.
“Who did you send after my wife?”
He gives me an ugly smile, his face beet-red. “It’s too late, you pathetic fool. He’s already on the ground. We coordinated this.”He’s almost giggling, thinking he’s won. Thinking he could take my wife from me and-
“Of course.” I nod. “Of course it would be him.”
