Page 94 of Truths

“Make it hurt.”

Smiling, Dax sighs. “I plan to. I plan to make sure he knows exactly why I'm inflicting the pain I am before slowly watching the life leave his eyes. I want to be the last thing that asshole ever sees.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Griffin's Beach

Psycho

Sitting in the Irish restaurant with Jennings, Psycho looks around the dimly lit place. They have men strategically placed around the area should things go south, but he realizes this is the first time he's ever been in a real Irish restaurant. Sure, he's been in Irish pubs, but this is authentic. Too authentic.

He scans the menu and wrinkles his nose. “This is a front, right? To launder money? I can't believe anyone would actually eat here.”

Jennings chuckles as he looks over the menu. “No, they eat here. I wouldn't count out a money laundering scheme with it, though. It'd be easy enough to do.”

“I wouldn't eat half this shit,” he says. “Which kind of says a lot right there.”

“Not a big Irish food fan, either. Whiskey, sure. As long as it's the good stuff.”

“Oh, I just had an idea.”

Eyes wide, the Griffin's Beach President stares in horror. “Do I want to know?”

“So, they have blood sausage here. Made with blood from a pig or a cow. But what if... and hear me out here. What if I learned how to make sausage, and I used our enemy's blood in it? Then, we can feed it to them.”

“You want to force someone into cannibalism?”

“I'm not forcing them to eat the human flesh... wait. Maybe I can get Venom's meat grinder-”

“Stop,” Jennings says. “For the love of God, please, just stop.”

Shrugging, he smiles as he leans back and continues to think of all the things he could do with an idea as good as this one. It's not like people don't expect it from him already. Besides, he has to keep things fresh and new. Interesting. He has new competition.

A dark-haired man with freckles walks into the restaurant wearing a very expensive tailored suit, and there's no doubt this man is the one known only as O'Connor. He walks to the table and sits down across from them as three large men in dark suits stand beside them with guns in their hands.

“Excessive much, don't you think?” Psycho asks and thinks of at least four ways he can kill all three men before they get a shot off. “We're not here to kill you.”

“I'm meeting with a motorcycle club who worked with a man who tried to have me killed,” he says with a slight accent. “I learned my lesson to be safe rather than sorry.”

Jennings nods his head. “I suppose that's fair, although that's kind of what we're here to talk to you about.”

“Don't feel like ordering? It'll be on the house,” he says. “I suppose we should exchange names. I'm Collin O'Connor.”

“Jennings Molloy, and this is Psycho.”

Collin raises his eyebrow. “Psycho?”

“Trust me, it fits.”

“And you think the gunmen are excessive?”

Smiling, Psycho bites his lower lip. “I like you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“If I didn't like you, I'd have taken all three of your henchmen out already.”

Annoyed, Jennings shoots him a look, and he lifts his hands in the air. Jennings turns to Collin and says, “We didn't come here to eat. We need to talk about a mutual enemy.”

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