Thy Kingdom Come

Until I find out for certain just who she is, just who I am, I need to treat what Co

Rory is too hung up on Darcy to make this convincing, so that leaves Cian. I know girls back home consider him a ride, so I just need Erin to think the same. He looks grand in jeans and a shirt, which allows Erin to see he works out.

When we’re next in line, Erin does a double take when she sees me. Her smile reveals she’s happy that I’m here.

“Ack, this is a bad idea,” Cian whispers into my ear. “She’s thick as champ over ya.”

“Keep ’er lit. This’ll work,” I reply, waving at Erin.

“Mike from America,” she says when we walk up to the bar.

“Erin from Dublin,” I reply playfully. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce my friends. This is Kanga and Paul.”

She politely nods, but makes it clear she’s not interested in either of them. “What can I get ya then?”

It’s almost impossible to believe she could be my sister. We look nothing alike, but that doesn’t mean we’re not related. My stomach churns at the thought.

“Blonde with a black skirt,” Cian says in his staged Australian accent.

Erin smirks as she commences pouring our pints of stout. “Yer Irish is deadly. Massive.”

Cian leans forward, laying on the charm. “I’m full of surprises, love.”

Rory rolls his eyes while I chuckle. He’s slipped into the role of Casanova easily.

“Is your brother, Liam, in?” I ask casually, but Erin seems to think nothing is by chance when her brother is involved.

“Whatcha want with him?”

I don’t get a chance to reply because the devil himself speaks for me. “Mike, it’s been donkey’s years,” Liam says with cheek.

Reining in the need to headbutt him, I turn to my right and offer him my hand. “You don’t call, you don’t write. I thought we shared a moment when I kicked your brother’s ass.”

Liam shakes my hand, bursting into laughter. “I like ya, bucko. Hugh is still pissing blood after ya clocked him good.”

I shrug, unmoved.

“I’ve been meaning to call ya. ’Ave a pint with me.”

Erin slams our drinks onto the bar, making it clear she doesn’t approve. Liam ignores her however and gestures I’m to follow him. I leave Cian and Rory to milk any information out of Erin and casually walk to where Liam and Aidan are sitting.

As Aidan raises his glass in salute and his tattoo shines under the light, I decide then and there that I’m going to kill him. Liam and Hugh share the same ink as him, but they’re too young to be the man who attacked my ma.

This has me guessing that this tattoo is a rite of passage as such; I just need to find out what that rite of passage is.

“Sup, boys,” I say, taking a seat at the table.

“Y’ve got some bollocks on ya, lad,” Aidan says, slapping me on the back as though we’re friends.

“What can I say, I missed y’all,” I reply with a grin.

Liam clicks his glass against mine. “Cheers, mate.”

I drink my stout, waiting for Liam to make the first move. Me being here is enough of a hint that I want in on whatever he’s offering. And he takes the bait.

“Glad that yer here. I have a proposition for ya.”

Nodding, I gesture that he’s to go on.

“Someone didn’t pay my family for a service we provided,” he explains, deliberately leaving out what that service is. “I’d take care of it myself, but—”

“Say no more,” I interrupt, wanting him to know no further explanation is needed. A good dog doesn’t ask questions.

Aidan is pleased with my loyalty. “Are ye busy now?”

Throwing back my drink, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Nope.”

“Grand. Ye animal, let us go then.”

Aidan and Liam exchange a look between them. I don’t know what it means, but I’ll take my chances.

“Thanks, Mike. I won’t forget it. Aidan will make sure ya get paid for yer troubles. I’ll call ya tomorrow.” And I know that he will.

He’ll want to know if I had the balls to do whatever it is they want me to do. But little does he know, I’m about to go rogue. We shake hands, and I follow Aidan through the crowd.

Cian and Rory are sitting by the window, and when they see me, I nod subtly. They know to give it a couple of minutes before they follow.

Aidan exits the pub, and the lights on a red Audi parked out front flash, hinting this is our ride. We get in, not saying a word. He starts the engine and takes off into the night. The GPS on my phone is synced with Cian and Rory’s phones, so they can track where we’re going.

“How ya liking Ireland?” he asks, making small talk.

“Love it,” I reply, mentally taking note of landmarks in case I need to retrace my steps. “The boys and I were thinking of going to Belfast next week.”

Aidan laughs, but it’s not in happiness. “That place is a dead loss. Y’d be better off going to Scotland,” he sarcastically says as both options in his opinion are as bad as the other.

“Oh, you’ve been?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Ack, not for a very long time.”

“Why not?” Mike from America asks, while Punky from Northern Ireland sits back and waits for this fucker to sign his own execution order.

“’Cause I wouldn’t take a slash on thon place if it were on fire. It’s filled with nothing but maggots. Good fer nothin’ Protestants.”

Sitting on my fists to stop myself from co

“Aye, that I am. But naw, religion is just an ounce of why I hate that place. There is a certain family there that think they’re the quality. But they’re nothin’ but ignorant culchies. Not a word of a lie. It’s easy thinkin’ yer a dab hand at selling the gear in a city the size of Belfast.

“There’s no competition, well, so they think not.”

I mentally count to three before I reply. “Competition? Is that where we’re going tonight?”

Aidan turns to look at me briefly, smirking. “Ye cute hoor. That’s the element. Too bad yer leaving so soon. We could really use someone like yerself.

“My family value honesty and loyalty, somethin’ the Kellys know nothing about.”

He mistakes my silence as me lost in translation, but in reality, I can’t speak in fear I’m going to kill this fucker with my bare hands. My family, meaning the Doyles. So which Doyle is he?

“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 word brother.

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.