Page 8 of Shattered Union

"Find the fecking thing, Denny, find it and then end this shit once and for all."

I agree. The sooner this is over, the fucking better. "I'm on it, her cards are marked."

He nods, satisfied by my answer. "Good, now, Danny's heading to New York to see Makenna, she's getting married. I don't trust Zoe not to do anything while we're gone. Until I have someone watching her, we do not leave."

I clench my jaw. Not in the least bit happy that I'll not be with my sister on her wedding day, but there's nothing I can do about it. I may be the head of the organisation here in Ireland, my granda is still the head of the family.

"When the time is right, we'll all be going over."

I sigh, not happy about it in the slightest. "Sound. Will Killian be going over?" I ask regarding my uncle, who's the head of the IRA in New York, but he mostly travels. He's always been a roamer, never one to settle for too long.

"I'm not sure. Now, I've a meeting with Sean Kelly Snr," he spits his name out and I smirk. That'll be a fun meeting. "If you need me, call."

"Grand. I'll talk to you soon."

"Slán," he replies and turns away and walks toward his car.[Goodbye]

"Slán," I say a little louder so he can hear me. He gives me a slight nod. Not once do his steps falter.

I glance down at the grave we've been standing at and, as always, sadness hits me. My granda had a soft spot for my ma, said she was like a second daughter. My fucking da loved my ma. She was the love of his life. He told me his biggest regret was not fighting for her. She was the shit. Yet, she never got to see what her son and grandkids became. She'd have been proud as fuck.

Once Granda's back in his car, I head toward mine. God, I can't wait to see Callie, it's been almost two days since I last saw her and that's too fucking long.

Thirty minutes later, and Mike is pulling up outside her house. Her car’s not parked out front, so I sit and wait. I should have called her and told her I was coming, but I needed to get the fuck out of the house.

Michael’s phone rings and I send Callie a text asking if she’s busy. If I don’t hear from her within ten minutes, I’ll go to the other house I have, the one I bring Callie to. It’s a home I’ve had for almost twenty years. Things between Zoe and I have never been great, and I needed a place to get away. My children all know where the house is located, they’ve all stayed there with me occasionally. Sometimes, Chloe will stop there on the way home from school just to get the hell away from Zoe.

“Boss,” Michael says, and hands his phone back to me.

“Yeah,” I say roughly. I’m getting antsy waiting for Callie to respond.

“We’ve got a problem,” Colin tells me. He’s one of my Captains here in Dublin.

“What?” I sit up straighter and wait for the bad fucking news.

“Jerry Houlihan has tapped into Spain’s resources for the good stuff,” Colin says. He’s speaking in code, just in case the Gardaí have our phones tapped. All my men have code words for things. The good stuff is cocaine. The biggest seller here in Ireland.

Malcolm has made a name for himself in Spain. Granda and I sent him there with one goal. Take over the drug trade and my boy excelled. Not only has he taken over the trade, he’s become the biggest kingpin in Europe. Anyone who wants drugs, they go through Malcolm.

“I’ll talk to Mal and see what the hell’s going on.”

“Sound, boss. Jer’s guys are laughing it up in the pub. Thinking they’re the shit. Bastards,” he spits.

Jerry Houlihan is a bastard. He runs the biggest gang in Dublin, he and his men love a good gunfight. They don’t give a fuck who’s a bystander in that shit and they’ve frequently taken out innocent people.

I end the call, my anger coursing through my veins. Fucking Houlihan. The man’s been a thorn in my side for the past four years. He’s the reason the Gardaí are on my arse constantly. Those fuckers are always on the news. Innocent people dying, it’s a sure-fire way to gain the public's interest and put them in a fucking sour mood. Especially when you kill a loving mam of four kids under the age of ten. Stupid fucking cunts.

“Your mood’s about to drastically improve,” Mike comments, and I look in the direction he’s glancing and see Callie’s BMW pulling into her driveway. “Call me if you need me.” He’s got a huge grin on his face. When I’m with Callie, it gives him time to go in search of a willing woman of his own to spend the night with.

She climbs out of her car and waits for me to reach her. As soon as I do, she sidles up close and the weight of her breasts against my chest feels fucking good. Her lips touch mine, and I can’t hold back, I slide my hand down to her arse and pull her further into me. She’s a sexual being, always close to me whether it be her pressed against me, holding my hand, or just being in close proximity to me. It’s not something I’ve ever done with another woman, but with Callie, it comes easy.

“Hey, handsome,” she says, her eyes bright with happiness. “This is a pleasant surprise. Everything okay?”

My woman is far from fucking stupid. She doesn't know what I do for a living but she gets the vibe it’s far from legit and whenever I leave her she always tells me to be safe. Never had that before. Fuck, even Ma never used to say that shit. But Callie, she’s been doing it since we sorted our shit out.

“Yeah, babe, everything’s grand.”

Her smile widens. “Well then,” she begins, her eyes alight with humour. “You came just at the right time. I may have gone a little crazy when I went to Penneys.”

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