It can only mean one thing: he is serious about this person. Whoever she is.
It’s been two hours since I rang him, and he’s not even here yet. Where the hell is he?
Not in Dublin anyway, that’s for damn sure.
And seeing as he was with his mystery girl when I called and was forced away from her to deal with this shit, I’m betting that he’s not in the best of form either.
I’m just about ready to ring Aiden again when the door opens and in walks my brother, all insincere smiles and that lovely spark of murder in his eyes. These idiots at the bar have no idea what they’re in for. It’s like releasing Tommy Shelby at the two burglars from Home Alone. I can practically hear the chaos and destruction that’s about to unfold.
Aiden’s long yet unhurried strides suggest a simmering anger beneath his composed exterior. His clenched fists and tightened jawline reveal the shit-storm waiting to erupt.
He barely glances in the direction of Walsh’s goons, silently ordering them to follow him.
I better go too and help block the exits.
As I trail behind Aiden, several eyes watch us as we pass through the restaurant and make our way past the tables. Security gives us the nod—the one that means they’re ready to turn the back into a battlefield if necessary. Instead of banking right, he takes a sharp turn left into the extension that’s still under construction. Aiden bought out the adjoining building a few weeks ago; it’s nothing but broken walls, loose wires,and plastic wrap.
Oh, someone is getting skewered like a kebab.
Our footsteps crunch on the plastic wrap as we navigate through the maze of debris. Aiden leads us far enough in that we are out of earshot and sight of the door we entered through. The air is thick with the smell of dust and moisture, a stark contrast to the polished and controlled atmosphere of the main building. Aiden stops abruptly, his eyes scanning the area, searching for any signs of movement or hidden threats.
“There had better be a good reason for you showing up at my establishment with guns,” he growls, spinning to see the two men standing behind him.
They both wear dark suits and sunglasses, but unlike my brother, theirs aren’t tailored to fit their frames. The taller man smirks, revealing a chipped tooth as he steps forward. “Relax, AJ,” he says with a hint of arrogance. “We’re just here to deliver a message from the boss.”
“And Walsh couldn’t move his fat arse far enough to come here and deliver it himself? Or is he searching for his bollocks in that big house of his?” Aiden snaps.
The taller man’s smirk fades slightly. “Walsh has more important matters to attend to.”
“Yeah, getting cleared out by his ex-wife, as far as I’ve heard. Is it true she fucked his brother? That one’s got to sting.”
“You want to watch your mouth,” the short one snarls.
Aiden’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “You gonna make me?”
Shorty grabs his Colt from his holster and points it at Aiden’s chest. In the same breath, Aiden has his gun pointed back at Shorty, his finger hovering over the trigger, and I’vemine pointed at the lanky one who attempts to draw his gun, then thinks better of it.
“What’s the message?” I pull back the slide of my Glock, ready to fire if necessary.
Aiden doesn’t so much as flare a nostril all the while staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Two men went missing from your club,” the tall one says, looking directly at Aiden. “We know you’re involved,” he continues.
Aiden remains unfazed, his expression unreadable.
My eyes narrow to slits. “What do you mean, you know he’s involved? Because he owns a nightclub, he’s suddenly responsible for what every person does in or around it?”
He sighs and mumbles a few words to the guy pointing a gun at my brother, who reluctantly lowers his weapon. “We heard you spoke with the gardaí.”
“I provided them with CCTV footage,” Aiden replies calmly. “Is this my involvement? My warning? Did Walsh make them disappear?”
“One of them was Walsh’s cousin.”
I rub at my temples, following my brother’s lead by lowering my weapon, but not without keeping a firm grip on it. “Will you just spit it out already!”
“I think they’re saying,” Aiden turns his gaze towards me, “that Walsh’s cousin is a known rapist, or at least, known enough to his cousin and his men that clearly protect him.” He turns back to the two men, smirking cruelly. “He’s a missing person now, and they want to know if yours truly,” he gestures to himself, “had anything to do with it.”
“Did you?” the short one demands, his pockmarked skin glistening with sweat.
