Page 18 of Thy Kingdom Come
When the Duffys’ mansion comes into view, I put all thoughts on hold because I need to get through this fucking tea first. Parking my Jeep, I send Cian and Rory a quick text, telling them to be ready for my call. I can only hope tonight is over with soon.
I don’t even have a chance to ring the doorbell before the door opens, and I’m greeted by a butler. “Can I take your—” He peers at my clothes and just smiles uncomfortably instead.
Entering the grand foyer and whistling an annoying tune, he gestures that my dad and Mr. Duffy are in the living room. I can hear my da laughing, which is a rare occurrence, but I know it’s all for show. He’s a lickarse as he clearly wants something from Patrick Duffy.
At a guess, I’d say he wants in on his business.
Patrick’s construction company is very valuable to my da, and not just financially. To have access to abandoned buildings and neighborhoods where Dad can run his operations would benefit him immensely, especially now that he’s unsure if Chief Constable Moore will turn a blind eye to the Kellys illegal dealings.
My dad’s most effective means of drug transportation has been concealing cannabis in loads of vegetables on lorries. The drivers are aware of what they’re doing. Nolen Ryan is one of those drivers, which is why Dad wants him dealt with.
If he can’t be trusted with his religious beliefs, how can he be trusted with transporting over 600 kilos of cannabis?
Uncle Sean and Dad take care of the logistics while I deal with anyone who dares to defy them. There are a few, but the Kelly name is notorious in Northern Ireland. So most know better than to challenge a Kelly.
I enter the living room, and the moment Patrick sees me, his eyes widen. “What happened?”
Dad speaks for me before I can. “Karate. The wee lad forgot to dodge,” he playfully says. This is believable because I am a black belt, and it could be assumed someone got in a lucky shot. But because of my reputation, Patrick will probably guess I got into a fight, but he’d never anticipate with who.
“Ack, yer poor critter.”
Dad looks at me, hinting I’m to play along with his wee fairy tale, so I merely nod.
“Darcy and my wife are still getting ready. Can I get you a drink?”
I shake my head. “Naw, I’m all right.”
My dad is sulking for whatever reason, but that reason can wait because something strange happens. I don’t know how to explain it, other than that bubble of excitement that wells in yer stomach before a fight—that’s what I feel.
When I turn around and see the reason, I don’t know whether to be happy or rippin’ because this bold doll has been on my mind since the moment we met. And she shouldn’t be because Babydoll is a fucking thief.
Her fear is clear when she sees me, and the tray of drinks she holds falters in her hands. But she soon recovers, not wanting to make a scene. Patrick and Dad seem unaware of what’s happening.
“Ack, hurry, love,” Patrick orders, annoyed she’s taking so long.
Babydoll nods, avoiding eye contact with me as she offers her tray to Patrick and Dad. My dad looks at Babydoll, obviously liking what he sees.
On instinct, I curl my hands into fists by my side, wanting to punch the aul’ lad for looking at her that way. She’s in yet another costume, but I eat her up all the same.
Her black dress with a white collar is about a size too big, but regardless, she’s parful looking. Her white apron angers me because she’s too good to be serving ballbags like Patrick Duffy. Is this why she stole from me? Does she need the money?
The fact she appears to be the Duffys’ new housekeeper confirms that she does.
“Who’s this, then?” asks Dad, taking a glass of champagne from the silver tray Babydoll holds.
“This is Poppy,” Patrick reveals with a smile; a smile I want to slap from his bake. “She just moved here from London. She came highly recommended by the Clerys.”
“Is that right, love?” Da asks with a grin.
Babydoll nods nervously.
Under the bright lights, her blonde hair glows, but her dark eyebrows reveal her natural hair color is light brown. It’s my job to notice these things. Knowing the enemy is what a smart predator does because that’s what Babydoll is.
I keep calm, not wanting to alert anyone to the fact that I’m about to corner Babydoll and demand she give me back what she stole.
“Hi,” Darcy says as she enters the room, oblivious to what’s going on as she politely gives my dad a kiss on the cheek.
Babydoll quickly makes a beeline for the exit, but I think not. She’s not getting away, not again. Discreetly reaching out, I snare her wrist, stopping her. The glasses on the tray rattle. She licks her lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly.