Page 122 of What Lies Within

“No shit.” Second in as many days. “I mean, why the fuck’d you turncoat?”

He steps closer to Terry’s body and crouches down, nudging at his boss’s neck with two fingers.

“Pretty sure he ain’t about to rise like Jesus and come after you.”

“Stranger things have happened.” He stands, apparently satisfied Terry’s gone.

Although I'm unsure what part of the fucker's head sprayed over the adjacent trees makes him think otherwise. I'm four feet from the asshole's bare toes, and even I can tell he's dead. Gone. Dispatched to the great ever after.

Although, for a sinner like him, I can’t imagine it’d be that great.

"You gonna answer me?" I ask, checking how many bullets remain in the magazine.Two.

“You going to give me my weapon back?”

I drop the bullets into my palm, slide the magazine home, and then pass it over. "Sure."

“Take it this wasn’t gesture enough that I don’t intend to kill you.” Ronan nods toward the body.

“Stranger things have happened.” I throw his words back at him.

Fucker grins. “You got a plan for what to do with him now?”

“You?” I hitch an eyebrow.

He glances at the problem again. "Can't make it look like a fall now." Ronan scrubs a hand over his chin. "He's too vain for it to be a suicide. Argh." He offers a disgruntled sound and sets both hands atop his head. "You ready for this, Tyke?"

I know what he alludes to—war.

Terry's death won't pass as an accident or non-suspicious in any way, which means somebody must take responsibility for the death. Either I do and endure the ensuing power struggle that comes with assuming such dominance over the underworld hierarchy, Ronan takes the fall and faces retribution from Terry's devout, or the internal politics that'll come from the need for a new head of the cartel.

"I don't need this," I say. "I got no designs on being the biggest dog in the yard or watching people cower at my feet. But if you keep this in-house, you know what the assumed outcome will be, don’t you?”

“Connor takes the reins. Aye.”

“Kid doesn’t want that,” I offer, unsure why I feel it pertinent to protect that fucker’s hopes and dreams. “He’s got no interest in bein’ his father.”

"I know." Ronan meets my eye and holds it with calm authority. "I agreed to do this on one condition." He glances at Terry.

Fucker continues to stare at the sky with his one remaining eye.

“What was that?”

“The mob leave the kid alone.”

“You.” I huff a laugh. “They turnedyou.” Gianni said he’d take care of the problem, but I assumed that meant with his own men. “How long?”

"We need to sort this out." Ronan nods to Terry, then glances back up the track. "Sound travels well in the valley, as I'm sure you've noticed. A perk of settling ourselves here. Can't say how long it'll be before we 'ave company."

Thought had crossed my mind as well. If the guards back at the house are worth their salt, they’ll be down here to assess the situation, even if they do believe Ronan capable of holding his own.

“Two bullets aren’t going to help much.” I shake the evidence in my hand. “Not like you to be so unprepared.”

“Who said I was?” He nods down the path. “We got to carry this son of a bitch two hundred or so yards that way, and we’ll be golden.”

“Yeah?” All that surrounds us are trees and more fucking trees.

“Trust me.”

---