Page 45 of Shattered Union

“Like I give a fuck. Who the hell hasn’t fucked her?” I snap. “But if he thinks for a fucking second he’s taking my boy…” I shake my head. Just the fucking thought makes me want to kill him.

“Easy.” He grins through the rear-view mirror. “Mal doesn’t need bloodshed.”

I roll my eyes. My son is just like me. The blood and gore don’t bother him. He’s spoken to Jerry Houlihan twice since he found out he’s his biological dad. He’s meeting him this week and asked me to talk to him first. He’s invited us to his birthday party next week. Something I don’t want to attend, but will, for my son.

The rest of the car journey is quiet. I know Mike’s on edge. He hates the unknown, and I didn’t tell him who I was meeting until we were halfway here. My granda has set it up, he’s acting as a go-between. He thinks it’ll go smoother if he was there and it was at his restaurant. No one disrespects Henry Gallagher.

Mike rolls to a stop outside my granda’s restaurant and I open the door and slide out. Buttoning up my suit jacket, I move toward the entrance. I hear a car door open and I know Michael has exited the vehicle and is taking up point on the perimeter. Just to be on the safe side.

The door to the restaurant opens as I reach it.

“Boss,” John says, bowing his head slightly.

I am the Boss; I’ve earned that title. But my granda is the king and he will be until the day he dies and then, I’ll become king. Although, I’m pretty sure Makenna would give me a run for my money. My sister is the strongest person I know. She runs her men like a well-oiled machine. Every single one of them are loyal to her just as mine are to me. We respect our men and in return they respect us.

That’s something we all learned from my granda. You earn the loyalty from your men. You show them you’re willing to fight alongside them. To have their backs and they’ll return it in kind.

"There he is," my granda says as he rises to his feet. "Denny, you remember Jerry."

I nod as I move toward the table. "I do." I can't keep the contempt out of my voice.

"Denis," Jerry says with a smarmy smile.

I grit my teeth. I want to fly over the table and take this arsehole by his neck and snap it in half.

"Denny, calm," Granda snaps. His eyes flashing with anger. "Now, we're here for one reason only. Our Malcolm. He's all that matters here."

Jerry nods. "When I met Zoe, I did not know she was your wife. Had I known, I wouldn't have slept with her."

I shrug. "You're not the first and certainly not the last," I tell him and his eyebrows knit together. "But Henry's right. This is for Mal."

God, this is fucking shite.

"I did not know I had a son..."

"My son," I snarl at him. "Malcolm is my fucking son."

His lips thin, but he nods in agreement. "Yeah," he breathes. "Malcolm is your son. Nothing is going to change. I just want to be a part of his life and this means we are going to have to call a truce."

I grit my teeth. Fuck’s sake.

"Mal's already made it clear, no matter what, he's on your side. If it were to come between the two of us, he'd choose you every single time."

Pride fills me. God, my kids are the fucking shit.

"Do you know what it's like? To find out you have a child. That you're a father and you have to play second fiddle to someone else?"

I scrub a hand over my face. "I can't imagine what it's like." I don't want to fucking know, either.

"I get it, you're his father, but I'm still going to be a part of his life. I'm not going to step on anyone's toes, I just want to know my son."

Fucking bastard. He had to go there.

This is for Malcolm.

I lift my hand for him to shake. "Truce," I tell him. Not happy about it, but doing it for my son.

He clasps my hand, and we shake. "Truce."

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