Page 33 of Owned By the Mafia
As soon as I’m outside on the street, I can hear the noise at the pub. I march over there, shotgun in hand. I glance to my right as Jarryd falls into step with me, a machete in each hand.
We don’t take threats to our brothers lightly. Even my wee soft-hands baby brother will defend us to the death.
When I walk in, I pause. Ronan and Daniel are behind the counter, and most of our men are pressing around, shouting at Ronan. They accuse him of betraying them. They shout that he has sided with the enemy and now that enemy is killing them. That he does nothing while they die. That he isn’t fit to lead. Someone raises a baseball bat, and I raise my shotgun, shooting a hole into the ceiling.
“For fucks sake, Robbie, I’ve just had that fixed,” Ronan grumbles and the air feels less tense.
Everyone’s eyes are on me. “Ronan not loyal to ya? Is that what you think? Ronan has spent his entire life, every decision, and every cent on this family of which he counts each of you. When you fall, he weeps as though he’s lost his own brother. He’s always chosen us, and he always will. Times are fucking changing, and sometimes you have to play a defensive move to advance. Everything he has chosen is in the interest of this family without a thought of himself. He doesn’t hide in some rich, high-walled estate like the other families. He’s here, living with us. You stand here and accuse my brother of betraying his family when only last night you sat here while he blessed the food he had made for you. He feeds you, clothes you, looks after your families.”
I can see a lot of regret among the faces looking at me; some still angry, but a lot are coming to their senses and losing the mob mentality.
“Ronan is furious for all fallen brothers and their families. He hurts for them. He knows they were there because they served the family as we all do. We all take care of each other, but don’t you for one fucking minute think Ronan won’t find the cunts that did this. They will not have a quick death. Ronan will show them the might of the Irish and teach our new partners what torture actually looks like.”
I look around, and a few of the men are still grumbling. I don’t give a fuck. “I’ve spent all week looking into who it can be, who is attacking us. It’s not just us lads. It’s men from each of the families. Someone is doing this, and you know I’ll find them, and when I do, they will fucking pay. They will pay over and over, a hundred times, for every life of our family they’ve taken from us.”
A silence hangs in the air before one of the lads in the front turns to Ronan. “Sorry, Ronan. We was just upset, we was.”
Ronan nods. “Aye, it’s fine, lads. These things happen, and we must communicate as a family. Go home, spend some time with your wives and children, and if you don’t have a wife, go find one. We’ll sort this out in a jiff.”
The men grumble their apologies as they file out and mumble to me that they trust me to be true to my word.
I nod, standing there with my shotgun in the crook of my arm. Jarryd lights a cigarette, passes it to me, and I take a deep drag.
“You could have been president,” my baby brother says once everyone is out of earshot.
“He could have, but thank God he isn’t,” Daniel says, removing his hand from inside his jacket, where he no doubt has a gun.
Ronan sighs, crossing his arms. He leans back and looks at me. “I’m surprised the shouting didn’t rouse you from your sleep, and Daniel had to call. Where are Aiden and Callum?”
I look around. “Sorry, I thought Daniel would call them to get them down here. I didn’t think to call them. I was on a mission.”
“A mission for Freedom. What are you, William Wallace?” Jarryd jokes.
“Call me a Scotsman’s name again, and this shotgun is going up your ass,” I growl, and my baby brother shifts to move closer to my other brothers.
Daniel looks at me. “When should I have called them? I barely had time to call you, you little shit. Late night?”
“Work.” I don’t elaborate; thankfully, Daniel and Jarryd take the hint. Ronan, on the other hand, gives me a strange look and tilts his head.
Fuck, he knew I was going to speak to Dina. I clear my throat and stand straight. “I should go get showered and changed for work. I’ve got a lot to do today.”
I turn to the door as it opens and see my best friend standing there. Aiden looks pale and is holding his hand over his stomach, blood seeping down his front.
It’s as though time freezes. It feels like we’re standing still for hours, but it’s probably a second or two before Aiden starts to fall forward.
I drop my gun and sink to my knees to catch him before his head hits the ground. I look into his eyes. “It’s okay. We’re going to get you to the hospital.”
His eyes search mine desperately. “Italians.”
He breathes the word before his eyes close. We scramble to get him to a car, and the four of us race with him to the hospital. We get him onto a gurney and rush in after the doctors, who take him straight for surgery.
I pace up and down until Ronan grabs me by the arm and forces me to sit down. Daniel is speaking with the doctors who are friends of his so they don’t call the police. I can smell Aiden’s blood on me, and I’m worried. He may have seen who the traitor was. He could tell us who did this, if nothing else. But most of all, I hope my best friend survives.
I take out my phone, unable to sit still. I need to check on Dina and let her know what’s happening.
Her phone rings, and I frown until she picks up, her voice calm and cool, “Robbie.”
“Dina. Aiden’s been attacked. Whoever is doing this is close to the family, which means we have a huge problem.”