Thy Kingdom Come

Clenching my fists under the table, Brody has just confirmed what I already knew. He and Aidan took my ma’s life. If what he says is truth, does that mean he’s my da? Did he kill my ma, knowing I was his son?

My hatred for this cunt continues to grow. Dad or not, I’m going to do unto him what I did to his brother. What he did to my ma.

This is a test. The Doyles know if I say no, then my story is rubbish. But if I do this, then their trust in me will strengthen. I’ll be able to infiltrate their operations even more than I already have. I’ll be able to save Uncle Sean.

“What’s in it for me?” I question because that’s the only reason any stranger would agree to this.

“How about twenty-five thousand American dollars?”

For that amount of money, this isn’t as simple as Brody makes it out to be. There’s a reason they want me there. And I plan on finding out what that reason is.

With a smirk, I say, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Good, lad,” Brody replies, his excitement suffocating me. “Liam will letcha know the details closer to the day.”

Of course, he will. They wouldn’t want me to get cold feet and chicken out. Or worse yet, dob them into the peelers.

“No problem.”

Our conversation is done. “I’ll be seein’ ya soon.”

And he hangs up.

“If y’ll excuse me.” Liam doesn’t give me a chance to reply as he gets up, leaving me alone.

I don’t care why he’s pissed off. I got what I wanted—to gain access to the Doyles and make them pay accordingly. But for that to happen, I need to do one thing…and that’s come clean to Uncle Sean. I need to tell him everything, and I need to do that now.

There is no easy way to do this because I know Uncle Sean is going to be ragin’ either way. Aye, I’m coming to him with information which will give us the upper hand, but how I got that information is going to leave Uncle Sean wired to the moon.

He’s in his office, which is in the opposite wing to Co

He opens the door, and when he sees me, he arches a brow. “Whatta ye knockin’ for? Yer always welcome.”

“I’m not too sure y’ll think that once I tell ye what I did.”

He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he opens the door wider, permitting me entry as he walks to the table in the corner of the room that has his bottle of scotch. He pours two glasses as I close the door.

“What did ya do now?” he asks, offering me a glass.

Accepting, I throw it back before revealing it all. “I was in Dublin tonight. Meetin’ up with Liam Doyle.”

Uncle Sean pauses mid sip of his scotch.

“I’ve been undercover, I guess ya could call it. They think I’m Mike from America. They trust me. I killed Aidan Doyle.”

Uncle Sean doesn’t speak. He slumps into his leather chair, gutted.

“I found an address in Co

The less he speaks, the more I do.

“I earned their trust by wi

Uncle Sean places the empty glass onto his desk, his eyes void of emotion. I’ve never seen him like this. “Uncle Sean?”

“Aye, cub?” he says, and I wonder if he’s gone into shock.

“Are ye all right?”

He rocks in his chair, considering my question, and what he asks next confirms he’s shook. “Why d’ya call him Co

After everything I’ve just revealed, this is what concerns him the most?

“I don’t know that. He’s never been a father to me.”

“Is that why ye did this? To get back at him?”

“Course not,” I argue, shaking my head. “I did this ’cause no one in this fuckin’ family has told me the truth! I was sick of being lied to. Can’t ye even try to understand that?”

“Yer a buck eejit, so ya are,” he says, finally addressing the issue at hand. “Do ye have any idea what y’ve done? Is this why ya knew the peelers were raidin’ us?”

“No, that was someone else.” And that someone, I will never rat on.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Puck!” he exclaims. “What a dog’s di

“Aye, sure, this is it.”

“I’m just needin’ a minute.” He shakes his head at my dismissive response.

I give him some time because I know this is a lot to take in, but he needs to know it all.

“Ronan was workin’ for the Doyles. He double crossed us.”

Uncle Sean’s eyes narrow. “And how would ya know that?”

“’Cause I was sent by the Doyles to take care of him. He was stealin’ from us. Giving our gear to the Doyles. I think they want Northern Ireland as their own. They’re recruitin’ our men who are disloyal because we’ve allowed it.

“For them to do this, they don’t fear or respect us, and it’ll only be a matter of time before the Doyles get their wish. I think they have someone here in Belfast workin’ for them. They’re sellin’ our stolen gear, testing the waters to see how easy it’ll be.”

I didn’t understand why they wanted our drugs when they had their own, but this must be why.

To have control of all ports—here and in Dublin—gives them total power. They can import gear into Belfast and sell here without risking driving across the border and being caught by the peelers. The less movement, the better.

We all know that. Every time a lorry goes out, we’re at risk of being caught. Or one of the drivers betraying us. But if the Doyles had co

“Why do ya think that?” Uncle Sean asks, and I’m thankful he’s listening and not giving me a lecture.

“Why else are they interested in our gear? They’ve got their own contacts, their own drugs in Dublin. But takin’ our men, our drugs, that gives them knowledge into how we run our business. They want to set up base here. And they need an inside man to do that.”

I ca

“What of Ronan?”

“I let him go as I needed a scapegoat for Aidan’s murder.” I decide to leave out Cian’s and Rory’s involvement in this.

“Yer some pup, Punky,” Uncle Sean says in a tone which sounds like praise. “What ya did was stupid and very dangerous, but ye did good.”

The relief I feel is overwhelming. I should have known that no matter what, Uncle Sean would stick by me.

“So what’s the plan then?”

Uncle Sean appears deep in thought, staring straight through me. “We do what those fuckers want. We go, and then we ambush them. They think yer someone else. We have the advantage here.”

“Brody, he says to me that he…that he took ma.”

Uncle Sean squeezes his eyes shut. I know this is a lot to take in.

“Aidan was the other man who was there. That’s why I killed him. He deserved to die, and I’d do it again given half the chance.”

“Ya told me there were three men. Who else was there?” he asks, reopening his eyes. He looks knackered.

“I don’t know. But I’ll find that out. This tattoo”—I hold up my wrist—“Aidan told me every Doyle gets one when they kill a Protestant. Have ya heard that?”

“I have not,” he replies angrily. “I ca