Page 110 of Soulless Saint

“So,” Séamas started. “I have an offer to make you that I think you’ll find quite fair.”

I fucking doubted that.

“Twenty percent.”

Dad lifted a brow. He usually only asked for fifteen percent of the take from the gangs who operated on his territory. If it wasn’t our plan to kill this bastard and his men here and now, it’d be a tempting offer to consider.

“I—”

“And a life of your choosing,” Séamas offered. “I’ll make it quick and painless.”

Wait. This fucker wasn’t offering up one of his men in exchange for having killed ours. He wasn’t offering Dad twenty percent of his gang’s take. He was demanding both.

Dad seemed to come to the realization at the same time and laughed, aiming his rifle at Séamas ó Súilleabháin with a dark chuckle. “Tempting,” he slung back sarcastically. “But I have a counter offer.”

Séamas grinned.

“You and your men bend the knee here and now and I’ll think about letting you walk out of this canyon alive.”

“I always lead with my best offer, Damien,” Séamas taunted. “Take it or suffer the consequences.”

Dad clicked off the safety on his rifle and fire ignited down my spine, ready for a fight, even if the odds were stacked against Séamas and his tiny ass crew of four.

“Ah, ah,” Séamas warned, moving slowly as he unbuttoned the leather vest he was wearing to reveal enough C4 strapped to his chest to blow us all to kingdom come.

I snarled, taking a step back.

“Hold your fire!” Damien roared as every gun behind us clicked with the sounds of safeties being switched off, hammers being cocked back.

“If my heart stops, it detonates. So does the bomb my crew placed at your safehouse.”

Becca’s face snapped into my mind, the M&M pressed between her fingers, poised just before putting it in her mouth. Up in fucking flames that burned so hot they tinted my vision red.

“You’re bluffing,” Kaleb growled.

“What was that address, Pauly?” Séamas called back to one of his four men.

“1322 Hightower Street.”

“1322 Hightower Street,” Séamas repeated as if we didn’t hear his man ourselves.

My grip tightened on the butt of my rifle, and it took every ounce of my willpower to stay rooted to the spot and not gut this bastard where he stood.

I didn’t think it was possible for his men to have rigged the safehouse with explosives without our noticing but there was no way to be certain. “I will end you,” I hissed and the Irishman cocked his head at me.

“No, son, you won’t.”

My nostrils flared, and an aching heat fanned over my back, bathing my chest in a cold sweat. I’d never wanted to kill someone as badly as I did right now.

“Don’t hurt them.” It was Ma who spoke this time. “Those people at the safe house are innocent. They have nothing to do with this.”

“You let your woman speak for your crew?” Séamas asked, completely ignoring Ma.

Dad bristled. “She’s my wife,” he snarled. “And she has bigger balls than any man I’ve ever met.”

“That so? Then maybe she’ll do the choosing for us. I’m assuming you’ve reconsidered my generous offer? Twenty percent of your take, payable to the Sons on the first and fifteenth day of every month. I’ll need to take one life now—call it a deposit—and another every time you fail to comply.”

“Hardin,” I heard Ma whisper low, almost inaudible, her voice pulling me back from the edge. How did I get my knife in my hand?

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