Page 66 of Thy Kingdom Come
“The Kellys are our rival family. The Protestant fuckers who think they’re better than us. But they have no idea shit’s about to hit the fan.”
Adrenaline courses through me because it seems I’ve hit the jackpot. Pushing my murderous urges aside, I need to focus because this is the start of something good.
“Good luck to them then,” I reply, and the ballbag falls for it as he grins smugly.
We drive for about thirty minutes, and there is definitely a change in scenery. The city life is long gone. Everyone is locked away safely in their houses, and the only ones remaining out here in the darkness are monsters like us.
“All y’ll see are bogtrotters out here,” Aidan says as we pass a sign saying Ratoath. I catalogue it, along with everything else I’ve learned tonight.
“Where do you live?” I ask casually.
“Dalkey. All mi family’s there. My brother, Brody, owns a property on one and a half acres. I live not too far away,” he brags, but all I hear is the wordbrother.
So, Aidan is Liam’s uncle, Brody’s brother. The tattoo hidden below my shirt sleeve itches—a psychological response to what tonight holds. I never anticipated this. This really is too good to be true.
Aidan turns down a dark street, and instantly, the quaint village vibe is replaced with desolation, and when I see an abandoned house up ahead, I know the tour is over. Shite is about to get real.
He parks the car and turns to me. “This wee fucker deserves no mercy. Let us see what yer made of then.”
He’ll be experiencing that firsthand soon enough, but I nod coolly. I know better than to ask questions and reach for the backpack I packed “just in case.”
We exit the car, the closing doors echoing out here in the silence. There are no houses nearby, but still, this is hardly ideal. Sloppy work on the Doyles’ behalf, but then I have a thought; maybe they don’t care who sees or hears them, and that’s because they own this fucking town.
That makes what I plan on doing wild craic.
I follow Aidan who unlocks the front door. When he turns on a light, I’m surprised there’s electricity, but focus on my surroundings because if this is a kill house, then I need to memorize every nook and cranny.
I’m not an eejit. I know this is a test to see if they can trust me. I’m here to do their dirty work, and if I prove valuable, they just may not kill me. But I’m disposable, so I need to make my mark.
Aidan turns over his shoulder, eyes animated when we walk down the hallway and hear the unmistakable sound of someone’s gagged cries for help. I have no idea what I’m walking into. Aidan opens the door, and the person I see bound to a chair in the middle of the bedroom—which resembles a squatter’s den—clarifies what shite hitting the fan really means.
A black T-shirt serves as a blindfold, and a dirty rag is shoved into his mouth, gagging him, but without a doubt in that chair is Ronan Murray—one of my men. A fucking traitor.
Connor thought Nolen Ryan was the only traitor among us; he thought wrong.
This isn’t good. This is a reflection on our leadership. If two men had no issues consorting with the enemy, then this means they don’t respect us. They don’t fear the consequences of what happens when doing business with a Doyle.
Something needs to change because I fear Nolen and Ronan are just the start of many.
But now, I need to deal with this shitshow because Mike from America isn’t supposed to know who this man is.
“Hello, Ronan,” Aidan happily says, announcing our arrival.
Ronan’s cries are muffled around the gag, so Aidan reaches out and roughly removes it. Ronan moves his jaw from side to side, while I’m seconds away from tearing out his traitorous tongue.
“I don’t know anything!” Ronan pleads, which sickens me more than I already am.
“Ach, don’t lie to me. We’re past this. Yer job was easy—deliver us the Kelly gear.”
So Ronan was the man Connor wanted me to “talk” to. I didn’t get a chance to ask who because I had other pressing matters to deal with, like finding out that I may not be a Kelly. But regardless of who I am, Ronan betrayed me.
He betrayed Cian, Rory, and I, and that cannot go unpunished.
“I tried mi best, but Connor knew I was a couple of kilos short. I can’t keep comin’ up short.”
“Not my problem,” Aidan replies, unmoved. “Ya said ya could do this.”
He did? Why did he seek the Doyles out in the first place? More money? I don’t understand any of this.