“Early Sunday morning now.”
“Shit. I’ve lost huge chunks of time.”
“We’re all feeling the strain,” Johnny says, leaving me with a high-calorie protein bar and a bottle of vitamin water so he can update and get ready himself. “Black’s making his move, but the O’Connors and their allies are out making theirs too.”
“The tech being down isn’t helping,” Cat says from behind me, the sound of her nails racing across her keyboard like rain on a tin roof.
“What is going on there?”
“We’ve got jammers in place getting ready for today, but on top of that, a couple of lads were off their heads after a rave and stole a tractor. They don’t have much of a recollection of their actions, but either way, they managed some damage to Ireland’s entire network that’s potentially going to take weeks to fix.” Cat’s talking while working, not looking up.
She slides over her updo for a one-ear headphone, which looks pretty funny, considering how she’s dressed. Before I get the chance to rib her over it, she flips the bird at me.
“Black’s on the move,” she says. And my stomach drops.
If he decides to come back to this room, we’ll move on to Plan B, C, or D. He’s not getting away, but the more evidence we have on him, particularly colluding with Oscar and O’Leary, the better.
“Keep your eyes on him.” Johnny takes the lead. It will be his call on what path we take and when.
The time passes surprisingly fast as we wait.
“Mass is starting.” Johnny breaks the silence, finally giving the command we’ve been waiting for. “All the players are in position. They’ve split up. We work as a team, disarming as we go. The Fanning brothers are first to the pickup vans. Doyle goes once the other two are safely tucked in. Black is last.”
I go to tell him again to check, but he beats me.
“The National Office for Child Safety are in position. All roads are blocked, Murphy. Oscar won’t get away this time. Neither will the other two. I know you know this, but I’ll repeat myself because you’re my favorite—our objective is different from everyone else here. I need you focused so we can take down these dirty fucking cops.”
I blow out a steadying and slow exhale.
“Do we need to go through it again?” His question isn’t targeted to me, but the longer we’ve been here, the more I think my role here has changed. “Tally, is your head in the game?”
He’d rip me a new one and pull me off the job if he didn’t think I was in the right headspace. But at the same time, he’s waiting for me to tell him if I’m in or if I need to be pulled. “I’m good.”
I know my head is in the game. I’m just not sure about my heart.
Chapter Fifty-Six
KEEGAN
The inside of the cathedral is like a tinderbox, and everyone is waiting for it to go up. There’s no peace to be had this morning, despite the replacement priest's suggestion otherwise.
Paddy’s insistence every person involved in the Irish attend Sunday Mass is not how I would handle this situation. At all. I understand where he’s coming from; we are a formidable and cohesive organization, able to withstand any kind of pressure, including from within. But I still think he’s a stubborn fool, out of touch with how shit is done these days.
My phone vibrates in my suit pocket. Tynan’s eyes sweep over me, in case it’s news. It is, but it’s fucking hours old. The telcos are as much a mess as the streets are.
The only good that’s happened of late is Paddy revising his wording when it comes to our wife and the murder of Arthur Kelly. The amendment makes any injury made to Tally, when someone does find her, an act punishable by her Pack.
I wish he would have revoked his order completely. He won’t, because he thinks we are blinded by the magic of good pussy. As a result of that wee comment of his, I can’t look at Paddy without wanting to beat him senseless. The rage in my chest at him, and these last few days, is festering.
I stink of aggression, and every time I blink my eyes, I lose a little more of my control. I just need my Pack back together, and then everything in my life has reason.
Reading the most recent blast of texts gives me none of the answers I was hoping for. A new wave of frustration hitting, I restart my pacing. The echo of each step I take is loud and makes it hard for those listening to the bullshit sermon. Without even checking over my shoulder, I can feel Paddy’s furious stare. He can eat shit, for all I care. I’m here, doing what he wants.
Seriously, me pacing up and down one side of the cathedral is me being respectful and the least of his problems.
I could go stand with Ty because, like me, there’s no way he’s sitting down in a pew near Paddy or Jeanie today. Not even Ronin’s sisters could placate him enough to forgive Paddy’s bullshit call to action. Tally is innocent of slitting Arthur's throat, something Paddy would know if he listened to our proof. But he’s still stubbornly listening to what’s left of his “inner circle,” as opposed to his own flesh and blood.
Ronin stands suddenly from his spot next to Maeve and his other sisters, his eyes catching mine, and he uses his hand to tell me to do a sweep of the room. Around us, the congregation comes alive, with people shuffling in their seats. Those involved in the Irish subtly check the room, too, patting down their weapons, just in case.
