Page 32 of Fearless

Clever bitch.

“So the leader of the country is smarter than a pair of street-reared reprobates. Hardly a shock, is it?”

Cole laughs and rubs his temple in his hands. “Aye, you might be right.”

I lean back in my chair. Of course I’m right. The cow outsmarted us.

This whole weekend has been for nothing.

We’re going to lose everything that makes us money. When the law goes through, and she legalizes drugs, people won’t call up their local friendly psychopaths to get their fix. No. Everything will be above board, with factories and pharmaceutical production lines and a seventy-percent tax rate. Corporate lawyers and a board of directors and shares on the motherfucking stock market.

The Hendry twins can’t compete with that level of operation.

“At least we still have the nightclub,” I tell him.

He narrows his eyes at me, and I don’t miss the clench in his fist. “You’re giving up?”

“There’s nothing to give up. It’s already over.”

Cole shakes his head and starts pacing the room again. Always a bad sign. “This is your problem. Black-and-white Kill. You know it wouldn’t hurt you to care about something for once in your life! We’re not giving up! We’ll pry this all back from her cold dead hands if we have to.”

I laugh at him. “And her replacement? And their replacement? I wonder how many life sentences I can actually serve in prison before you realize this is fucking stupid.”

“Alright, alright,” he says. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

He sits down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk and presses his fingertips together in a steeple.

“You’re going to hit her up. Make an absolute mess of her. Black and blue. Hell, cut all her hair off for extra effect. Then we arrange a little FaceTime. We makehergive the demands. None of this PR bullshit—that was always going to be a losing battle because that’s not what we do. No, we do this the old-fashioned way.”

He leans back, a giant smirk on his face.

“Aye, good idea,” I tell him. “Brilliant. And when she says she’s with Cillian who owns Asylum nightclub? And the police come and bust my front door in? I’m sure you’ll run the business just fine with me rotting in a jail cell.”

His face drops. “It’s the only way.”

I sigh, images of Meisie all beaten and broken running through my mind like a bad porno on the dark web. I shouldn’t care. I’ve never cared about anyone in my life before, except Cole. But for some reason, I can’t deal with the thought of her going through that.

It’s not even about the consequences. I probablyshouldbe rotting in a jail cell, Christ knows I’ve done enough shit in my life to warrant that.

No. For whatever reason this is about me not having the balls to completely fuck up this girl’s life.

But I do realize I might have to fuck it up temporarily.

“No,” I tell him. “We’ll go back to the original idea.”

“That failed spectacularly.”

I shake my head. “Not the car crash. We’ll make sure Mum knows exactly what little Meisie has gotten herself into.”

Cole stares at me, his straight face slowly turning into a smile. Then, as if he’s bored already, he gets up from the desk and stretches. “I need a drink.”

“Knock yourself out,” I tell him.

He’s already making for the office door. “I fully intend to.”

My eyes drift back to the TV. Ford is gone now, but the news reporter is still bleating on outside her house. I stare at him and try to make myselffeelsomething. Anger. Rage. Even mild annoyance.

But I can’t.

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