Page 7 of Hateful Union

Thank fuck for that. “Who’s shipment was taken?”

“Funnily enough, that was a shipment that was staying here in Spain, the one we use as a decoy in case the cops get a whiff of the operation.” Ah, so that’s why he’s smirking. “That particular truck had about five hundred Euros worth of product on board.”

Whereas both the trucks that are on the way to my father and Danny have around about twenty million worth of drugs onboard.

“How would you deal with the Silvers, Christian?” I ask knowing that my right-hand man is a sadistic son-of-a-bitch and will want his pound of flesh.

His grin no doubt matches mine. “We hit him where it hurts.”

I still, “I’m not taking his wife.” I don’t do that shit unless I absolutely have to. He stole five hundred grand worth of product, that does not equate to me taking his wife.

“I wasn’t talking about the wife. The daughter on the other hand…”

“I’m not fucking kidnapping anyone.” Christ. What the fuck is with this guy? He knows we don’t do this shit.

His grin widens, “Boss, I wasn’t talking about kidnapping her. I was merely suggesting you fuck with her instead. The Silver men are extremely protective of her. Finding out that you’re fucking with his daughter. Well…” he lets the words hang in the air.

If they find out that I’ve been tormenting his daughter, he’ll lose the plot and start a war. Sounds fucking perfect.

“Find out everything you can about the daughter. I want to know every detail. Where she goes, who she sees, what fucking size clothes she wears. Not a detail to be missed out.”

Christian smirks. “On it. I’ll have Greg work on it, knowing him, he’ll have it for you by tomorrow.”

“I want to know where she is now.” It’s time to start getting into the Silvers’ heads.

Thirty minutes later, I’m walking into a shitty dive bar. Loud music, cheap booze, and drunken arseholes. The intel I received told me Raylee Silver’s here. As soon as I hit the bar, a woman saunters over to me, her hips swaying and her lips pouty. She’s beautiful, but not my type. I brush her off with a dismissive look and that pout turns into a snarl. Yeah, definitely not my type.

Christian takes the seat at the bar beside me, “I’ve done a sweep and she’s sitting in the back booth with a man and a woman. I’m fairly sure that’s Mayer Banks that’s with her.” He tips his head in the direction where Raylee is sitting.

Of course when I look in that direction she’s surrounded by men. Raylee may be the daughter of an arsehole, but she’s gorgeous. I just can’t help but wonder how much like her old man she is? Especially as she’s with Mayer. That man is just as bad as her father, maybe even worse.

I order a drink and ignore the wary glances that I’m receiving from those that know who I am. I’m not here to cause a fight, I’m here for one specific reason. Taunting Raylee. Letting her know that she’s not safe from me. That her family isn’t.

When I’m done with Raylee, she’s going to know what it means to get on the wrong side of a Gallagher.

“We have movement,” Christian mutters so that only I can hear him.

My mouth waters as I watch her walk towards the bar, a bright smile on her face. The red dress plastered to her body as though it was sculpted for her. The dress ties around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, a script tattoo on her left shoulder, but she’s too far away that I can’t make out the words. The dress hits a couple of inches above her knees, leaving those amazing fucking legs bare. My gaze moves to her feet and she’s wearing red heels. Damn, the woman has a thing for the colour red.

As she hits the bar, I see the very moment she spots me. Those golden-brown eyes of hers sharpen and her lips curl up at the sides. Why the hell do I find that fucking sexy?

“Problem?” I drawl, my Irish accent thick and heavy.

She runs her gaze over me before shaking her head. Once again, dismissing me. Damn, this woman has balls. She orders her drink from the bartender and turns back to face me. “So, you’re Malcolm Gallagher.” The absolute disgust in her voice has me smiling. “Something funny?” she queries with a raised brow.

“You are, darling,” I fire back and her lips purse.

She narrows her eyes. “I am not your darling,” she snaps.

This could be a hell of a lot easier than I thought.

“Hmm. So, you’re the princess of the Silver family.”

She shrugs, not in the least bit perturbed. “Yeah, so?”

She’s staring at me as though she’s not afraid. Doesn’t she know that I’m her worst motherfucking nightmare?

“I’m merely curious,” I begin and watch as she tenses. Her eyes narrowing and her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. “How similar to your old man are you?”

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