Page 7 of Shattered Union

I've had enough of this shit. As soon as I'm out of sight of the girls, my hand wraps around Zoe's throat. Pregnant or not, this bitch needs to fucking learn her place—realise who the hell she's talking to.

"Keep fucking pushing me, Zoe. Do it. I fucking dare you. We both know where you'll end up."

Fear creeps into her eyes. She shudders beneath my touch and she swallows harshly. But as quickly as the fear came, it's gone and now it's replaced by defiance. Her lips twist into a smug grin. "You kill me, Denis, and you know what'll happen. Your golden boy will end up behind bars."

I release her neck in disgust. "That's your fucking son," I hiss at her. "You're a fucking piece of work, Zoe. You fucking disgust me."

She raises a brow. "You only married me for him. You didn't even try to love me."

My jaw clenches. "Bullshit," I snarl at her. "That's utter fucking bullshit. Is that the crap you feed yourself to make you feel like less of a cunt? You caused all this shit, bitch. You wanted this lifestyle, you wanted to be the queen. The only problem with that, Zoe, you never belonged here. You don't know the rules and eventually, it's all going to catch up to you and I, for one, will be fucking dancing on your grave when it does."

She raises her hand and I pre-empt her. My fingers close in around her wrist. "Let go of me," she hisses. "You are a bastard, Denis Gallagher. A mother-fucking bastard."

"I never claimed to be otherwise. Now are we done?"

She narrows her eyes. "Not by a fucking long shot. Who is she?"

"For fuck's sake, Zoe, I am not you," I snap. I should have realised she'd suspect I had met someone.

"You had better not be fucking around on me, Denis. You know what'll happen," she threatens me.

I've had enough. I push into her space, backing her up against the wall. "This is the last time I say this. Do not fucking test me. I'm so fucking close to killing you. Keep pushing me and you'll not see tomorrow."

I leave her standing against the wall with her chest heaving and walk out of the house. The sooner I find that fucking thumb drive, the better.

Michael is waiting for me outside, the car idling at the curb. I open the door, not once looking back at the house. I don't need to; I know she's staring at my retreating back. No doubt trying to plot my demise.

"Where to, boss?" Michael asks as soon as I'm seated.

"Callie's," I instruct.

In the past week, Callie has become important to me. I'm falling head first for the silver-haired beauty. I just can't push away the gnawing in my gut. I haven't told her about my work, who I truly am, and she doesn’t know I'm married. I sort of lied to her about Zoe. I told her about my kids and made it out like I was divorced from the crazy fucking bitch. Callie's sweet and she always asks how the girls are. There's going to be carnage when she finds out the truth. I'm just hoping Zoe will be dead by then.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I search my contacts until I find my granda's number. I hit dial and listen to it ring.

"Dia dhuit," he answers in Irish.[Hello]

"Hey, we've got a problem," I tell him and hear his heavy sigh. "She's got dirt on Danny boy."

"Meet me at the grave in twenty minutes and don't be late," he says, his anger palpable. He doesn't wait for a response, he never does.

"Change of plan, Mike."

He nods. He already knows where to go and makes a quick turn and then heads toward the graveyard. It's where we go when we don't want to be overheard.

The Gardaí are on our case constantly. They're always trying to have our phones tapped or they're following us. Each week it's someone new. They think we're fucking stupid, that we won't spot the tail, nor will we realise someone is watching us.

Fifteen minutes later, and Michael is pulling into the cemetery. Granda's already here. His men are fanned out around the perimeter, watching, waiting, ready in case something happens.

"Tell me, boy, what's that fecking whore done now?"

Granda's the reason I didn’t kill her thirteen years ago. He told me marriage is sacred, and since I impregnated her, I had to live with the consequences. And now here we are and there's fuck all I can do until I find that fecking thumb drive.

I tell him everything I've uncovered, and his jaw tightens. "She has to die."

I chuckle. "No need to tell me, Granda, I've been saying this shit since almost day one."

He turns his steely gaze on me and a lesser man would quake in their boots. My granda built the Clann from the ground up. He's the original Mafia man. Because of him, the Gallagher name is feared worldwide.

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