“Aye,” he says.
“Didn’t hurt the child?”
A man wearing a torn green shirt shakes his head. “No, but if the brat cries again, I fucking will, and gladly.” He spits on the ground. “Easy as pie, like taking out their feckin’ spy.”
The men laugh. So he’s planning on hurting my child and he had a hand in Eve’s death?
He’ll go first.
“You stay here and keep guard while we assemble,” one of the older men says. I’m assuming he’s Captain or similar in rank.
“Aye,” the bastard who fucking planned to hurt my child says.
The others leave, and I roll gently from my hiding spot. He takes a step toward the church and yawns widely. He’s an easy target. My silencer’s in place. I cock my gun. With perfect, practiced precision, I pull the trigger. My aim is sure, hitting him straight between the eyes. He doesn’t have time to scream as his body twitches and slumps to the ground.
One down.
Inside the church, the O’Gregor clan begins to assemble. I know every last motherfucker in there. I’ve watched them, tracked them, hacked into their private accounts with the express intent of fucking things up. And now it’s time.
They killed my woman. They took my daughter. The O’Gregors will pay.
Their meeting is nothing like ours, with the easy camaraderie of the McCarthy clan and clear leadership with Keenan as chief and Cormac as captain. Once Guy O’Gregor calls the meeting to order, a row begins with the first two men sitting in the front. I know who they are. The bastards were fucking a pair of women at a local seedy club not two hours ago. I’ve tracked them, watched how sloppy they are with their financial transactions and pursuits, their biggest priorities sticking their filthy cocks in whomever they can find. Disgusting.
They bicker back and forth, one sneering at the other, until O’Gregor’s had enough and barks at them. They slump in their seats and seethe.
One of the men talks back to O’Gregor, questioning a decision and shaking his head when O’Gregor gives him an answer he doesn’t like. These men disgust me. They talk about the people in their city who’ve overdosed with their illicit drugs with no regret whatsoever. It’s simply business, as they talk about who to set up next for their sales.
“Found a few,” one thin, scrawny guy at the back says.
“You want us to hire fucking teens?” O’Gregor asks. As if that’s stopped him before? Sheena’s brother Tiernan was only sixteen when the O’Gregors hired him as a runner.
“Why not? They have no jobs or ties yet and we can pay them half of what we paid the others.”
O’Gregor nods. “Good point.”
My God, they disgust me.
No one mentions Breena and Maeve, hidden in the confessional. I don’t see the top of her shoe anymore. I wonder if Maeve took her in there on purpose. My hand shakes on my gun, with the need to kill those responsible for abducting them. And for the first time since I came, I wish my brothers were here with me. It was fucking stupid to come here alone.
I turn around and sit with my back to the church. I pull out my phone and check my tracking. The majority of the men are here, though some are heading down to the dock, preparing to intercept another transaction.
I send O’Gregor a message on my burner phone. I hear him inside, pausing mid-sentence.
“Bloody hell, boys,” he says, his voice laced with greedy anticipation. “Our day has arrived. Just got a message, offering a discount on an early shipment if we send our men now.”
One of the men speaks up. “Guy, you sure you can trust them? Seems awfully convenient, doesn’t it?”
Fucker.
“He hasn’t let us down yet.” My stomach clenches. He’s right. I fucking haven’t. To solidify our connection and instill confidence in our communication, I’ve given him everything he’s needed, and there were plenty of times doing so went against my gut instinct, my core values. I’ve compromised myself in my pursuit of justice.
I’d do it again.
“Go,” Guy says. “I want all of you to follow my lead.”
I hear the scraping of chairs and men getting to their feet and realize I’m not in the best hiding place. They’re going to see their dead clan member on the ground, and they’ll be looking for the one responsible.
I quickly drag the body under the cover of overgrown brush, then slink away to where I’ve mapped my sniper position. I’ve got the ammo, the targets, and a clear shot. I watch them as they leave, one by one, only four all together. O’Gregor’s inner circle is much smaller than the McCarthys, but this doesn’t surprise me at all.
I raise the gun to my shoulder, take aim, and just as I’m about to pull the trigger, feel someone grab me from behind. I fall to the ground. I come up fighting, and deck whoever’s had the fucking bollox to grab me. I blink in surprise when I see Lachlan doubled over, wheezing.