There’s the understatement of the century.
I follow him up the old wooden staircase, the creaking echoing through the otherwise silent pub. Walsh might not show his ugly face here, but I glimpse several of his men, all acting like a pack of hungry lions surrounding a wounded gazelle. I force myself not to laugh; these lads are too stupid to realise that they’re surrounding the wrong prey. Aiden doesn’t need me here; he doesn’t need the lads out back in the van or the ones staged across the road watching the comings and goings of the pub. He sure as hell doesn’t need the sniper on the roof two blocks away, but this is a simple power play.
While David Walsh thinks that he can spook AJ with everyday drug addicts, street thugs, and hired muscle, my brother knows better. He’s playing the long game, letting them think they have the upper hand by seemingly coming here with just me as backup. One signal from him, and this entire building will turn into a funeral pyre, with all of Walsh’s men trapped inside.
Tugging his suit jacket straight, AJ flashes a confident smile at two glaring men and steps into the function room.
Several men are sitting around a large table, their eyes following AJ’s every move. I have to give it to him; he doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at the murderous glares directed his way.
“This better be good,” he declares, ignoring the seat at the head of the table and opting to stand at the opposite end. “I’ve got better things to be doing than looking at your ugly mugs,” he sniffs the air, his nose crinkling in offense. “And being forced to inhale your putrid stench is not one of them.”
He’s not wrong. Lynx Africa, mixed with severe body odour, is not a pleasant combination.
“David wants—”
AJ holds up his hand, stopping the man with pustules littering his chin and neck from continuing. “Walsh has no say in this. If he wanted to give his two cents, then he should have had the balls to meet me in person.”
“My cousin is a busy man.”
I turn to see a tall man with a scar running down his cheek. His slimy grin brings all of my attention to his snaggle tooth.
“He doesn’t have time for petty squabbles.”
I snort at the mention of “busy man.”
My brother clearly finds it amusing, though his face does not reveal any hint of a smile. “Busy?” He steps to the table, his perfectly tailored suit in stark contrast to the hoodies and jeans of the other men in the room. “Doing what exactly?” His eyebrow arches into his hairline. “Smoking weed, snorting coke… sitting on his fat arse, thinking he’s God’s gift to women because he has junkies falling at his feet to suck his cock when they can’t pay for their next fix?” AJ’s gaze flits to me, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s a real busy man right there.”
“Terms,” I demand, meeting the cousin’s unflinching glare. “Or we walk.”
“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he sucks on his yellow teeth before leaning back in his chair. “Faggot.”
He’s howling a split second later, gun smoke wafts across the room and up my nostrils. I turn to see my brother, gun in hand, his eyes blazing with fury.
“If you ever speak to my brother like that again, the next one will be between your eyes.”
The cousin’s shoulder oozes blood, he clutches the wound, his face contorted in pain and shock. “You shot me!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I grunt.
One of Walsh’s men reaches for his gun, then thinks better of it when AJ turns his Glock on him without pulling his gaze from the sobbing, grunting mess in the chair directly across from me. “Do it, and you’ll end up like your friend here.” AJ doesn’t snarl, he doesn’t bare his teeth, he shows zero signs of anger, which makes his threat all the more chilling. “Terms, now.”
“Tell your men to stand down.” The cousin hisses through his teeth.
“No.”
“No?”
Several men in the room shift uncomfortably.
“I said terms, not negotiations,” AJ replies, his eyes never leaving the cousin’s face.
“Those are the terms,” the cousin states firmly, his voice unwavering. “Either they stand down or we do this the hard way.”
“The hard way.” AJ’s eyebrows rise slightly. “If Walsh wanted it rough, all he needed to do was ask,” he smirks, then pulls the trigger twice, taking down the men on either side of the cousin before turning the gun on him. “You tell that fat prick from me that he was begging for an arse lashing before he sent those idiots to my home,” AJ’s finger tightens on the trigger, his gaze cold and unyielding. “He put my girl in danger, and that’s not something I take lightly.” The knife in his belt peeks out from behind his jacket as he changes his stance. Another power play. “So here’s my terms: either he leaves the country never to return, or I’ll make sure he never sees the light of day again.”
Sweat beads on the cousin’s forehead, he’s trying desperately to staunch the bleeding from his shoulder. “He’s never going to leave.”
AJ’s grip on the gun tightens, his expression hardening. “Then he’s made his choice,” he says calmly before pulling the trigger without hesitation, taking down the man by the window before he even has a chance to react.
