We barely shut the doors, and Ronin’s driving like we’re testing out the newest SUV on a track.
“What’s the rush?” Rafferty says, digging through the pile of snacks, looking for chocolate.
“Johnny called. Apparently, someone found Tally’s backpack and handed it in to O’Malley’s,” Tynan says without looking up from his phone. His lack of excitement at the fact is more to do with how close he is to losing it too. Four of us going off won’t be good.
We’ve got all our contacts on the streets looking for our wife, and there’s been a constant stream of possible sightings we need to work through. At the same time, though, it’s like everyone’s gone mad. If we needed any more goddamn signs that Tally being taken was part of something bigger, it was that.
Dialing through to the guards we’ve trusted with Paddy and Jeanie’s welfare, I listen to a few of them giving me the same rundown. It helps allay some of the stress, but not all of it.
Ronin drives up on the middle island of the road outside O’Malley’s. It’s not conventional and is sure to piss off a lot of people, but we’re not here to make friends.
Climbing out of the BMW, we stand shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the road, watching a lot of people we’ve known since we were small lads drinking in a Kelly establishment.
“Is it me, or do they look like they’re celebrating?” I ask, reaching under my jacket for my guns.
Without making a sound, the rest of my pack are doing the same. Though Tynan’s never been a fan of guns, so he slides on a pair of knuckles. New, by the looks, and not made of brass like they usually are.
He notices me looking down at them, and I get an odd shrug and a small dip of his head before he sighs. A slight blush hits his face as he holds up the knuckle dusters. The engraving of our wife’s name is a mighty fine touch.
“Might go test them out, then.” He winks and starts strolling over towards the door.
I got it wrong; he’s not ashamed of his obsession with her. He’s just full of fucking vengeance.
And we were right. The crowd at O’Malley’s was having an impromptu celebration.
Ronin and Tynan enter a couple of steps before Rafferty and I. A couple of Kelly supporters, who’ve always been nothing more than paid thugs, finish off their pints, then stand to face us, baseball bats and chains in their hands.
“And this is why you always bring a gun to a fight,” I lean down and say at Tynan. Loud enough for the room to hear, but it’s also a private conversation, so I'm not worried if my discussion with my packmate makes them uncomfortable.
Ronin doesn’t give anyone the chance to explain themselves. He just steps in front of Rafferty and takes out the biggest targets in the room. They drop like the sack of shits they are, and those people that stand to rush to their assistance also get themselves killed.
“This shite stops now. You’re either with the O’Connors, or you’re going to see the Lord. Them’s your choices.” Ronin tips his head, looking more relaxed than he is. Lulling them until he belts out a bark, demanding the traitors show themselves, ripping their submission from them.
As they fall to their knees, a victim of his insatiable appetite for retribution, the traitors are delivered back to God for judgment.
Women don’t get touched, even though there’s a few of them with foreheads to the ground. Rafferty and Tynan will remembereach one of them. Once the dust has settled, we’ll go “talk” about where their loyalties lie.
Johnny ducked down behind the bar as soon as we entered, and it’s exactly where Tynan finds him.
“Where’s my wife’s bag?”
Though it’s not a simple question, it’s more.Where’s, punch.My, punch.Wife’s, punch.Bag, punch.
And poor Johnny won’t be doing any public speaking anytime soon, but he still has the ability to point his finger to where the right prick has my wife’s bag and all her possessions spread out like they’ve been having show-and-tell.
Tynan doesn’t miss it, and the injustice of it has our Beta doing his own version of show-and-tell, showcasing why he was a champion boxer for a long, long time.
Johnny might not be able to move that fucking finger of his for a while. But he does have the strength to roll over and start crawling away, which is interesting.
Ronin’s phone goes off with Paddy’s distinctive ringtone, which seems like a fitting end to our visit. Rafferty rushes over to collect Tal’s belongings before returning to Ronin’s side.
The two of them leave, checking our coast is clear before Tynan and I join them waiting at the door.
Swinging in Tynan’s bloody fist is an expensive bottle of bourbon. The cheeky git winks at me again, opening the lid, then pushing in a hastily rolled-up wad of paper napkins.
He pulls out a lighter from his pocket, and with the same fluid-like movement his brother possesses, he has it lit and sailing over the top of the bar straight into the glass shelving holding all the spirits.
The explosion of glass proceeds the enormous, near-deafeningwhooshas the alcohol ignites.
