CHAPTER 21 #2
Expletives rang out around the room, some of them bitching and panicking when Kelly’s men, armed and stoic, blocked off the dining room doors.
I heard a few ask why their weapons were confiscated and mine weren’t.
Heard a couple more cursing Kelly in native tongue I guess they figured I’m not fluent in.
“The fuck is this, O’Brien?!” Seamus asked, staring down the barrel of my gun.
“Take the lad’s advice and sit at the end of the table if ‘ye wanna keep ‘yer head. Everybody park their arse in a chair. The merge starts now.”
I once remember imagining Hell like a sea of faces. Every person, damned and cast out for their sins, all burning and screaming together for eternity. Every pair of eyes pleading for mercy. Every hand outstretched for a savior that wasn’t coming. Every mouth wide open in agony.
Yeah, this table is that.
And I guess I’m the Devil. The coy little minx, dressed in red, that passed their judgment and holds all their short puppet strings.
I sat at Kelly’s right, Declan right beside me as I crossed one leg over and dangled my expensive heel over the marble floor. My finger rested on the trigger as my stolen ‘pew-pew’ gleamed in the chandelier light. I smirked down the table at my…‘betters’.
“It’s tradition for us all to come together to unite houses and maintain business.
A good many of ‘ye, aren’t strangers to the practice.
We merge to keep the machine oiled. That’s why we observe certain House Rules.
” Kelly took a sip of whiskey from his glass and shook his head as he lowered it back to the table.
“It’s come to my attention that some of ‘ye…have been observin’ rules of your own. ”
One thin man with a full dark mustache and slicked back hair leaned forward. “As is our right, O’Brien. What one house does behind closed doors is their own business. Who is she to make decisions on our behalf?”
“What’s your name?” I demanded.
He peered down the table at me like he’d kill me with one look. “Angus McCreary.”
“Pleasure,” I smiled sweetly. “I make no decisions on your behalf, cherub. This merge is simply business. I came to make a proposition to every house at this table.”
One heavy-set woman, clearly pure Irish and straight outta the pub, made herself known.
She had little makeup on, hair pinned back to tame tight red curls, and her dress, while slightly pretty, wasn’t even pressed before she threw it on.
It’s obvious to me that she couldn’t care less what I have to say.
“This is comin’ from a lass that can’t even ‘figger out what banner to ride under?
‘Ya think we dunno about your inheritance? That you’re not just a Byrne anymore?
‘Ye don’t even know which house you represent, lass. Are we expected to take ‘ye seriously?”
How cute.
“How’s this for serious, dearest? I wouldn’t have this inheritance, or this extra last name if it hadn’t been forced on me.
But since you couldn’t wait to play the cards, I guess I’ll go ahead and deal out.
” I glanced at Annette, who nodded once, and then straightened myself in my chair.
“You talk about a fucking chair like I should earn it…like my American blood isn’t worthy and it taints the Irish half that’s still pumping through me.
And you call yourselves pure, but you’re nothing but a bunch of sellouts. ”
Several mumbles started floating around the table. I ignored them.
“Jonas O’Dell meant to use me. Didn’t work out so good for him.
Didn’t work out good for any of them, actually.
You started coloring outside the lines. And you’re all sloppy fucks.
You got in a nastier bed with Russia than the girls forced to fuck in them against their will.
The Irish doesn’t deal in pussy…unless it’s legal and consensual.
That means the girls seek you out…and get paid for what they choose to do.
You could have done porn. You could have done escorts.
Something legal and legitimate. But…you’re cheap.
And disgusting. And you think my blood is what defiles an Irish name? ”
“And it’s different from using innocents as collateral, is it?” Angus barked. “We spill blood for unpaid debts, and ‘yer cryin’ over something you’ve been known to spread for free?”
I couldn’t even stop him. Truthfully…I wouldn’t have anyway.
Declan snatched my gun off the table and Angus’s forehead exploded, splattering his neighbor’s faces as his slinky body thumped, face-down onto the table. Silence.
“The rules you know are just as dead tonight as this motherfucker. Anybody says another word in disrespect…the next bullet will have your name carved into it.” He didn’t sit back down.
He stood behind my chair, gun in hand, while everybody tried not to stare at the gaping exit hole in the back of Angus’s skull.
“We don’t make business outta collateral,” Kelly piped up. “Collateral ties up loose ends. ‘Ye bring shame to your house for sellin’ stolen humans into servitude.”
“The proposition is simple. I’m using every last cent of the O’Dell inheritance to buy the girls from you.
You’ll sign your business over with a bill of sale, get slightly less than what Jonas promised you…
and you live the rest of your pathetic lives, satisfied with guns and cocaine.
” I raised my chin and looked down my nose at all of them.
“The other option…is laying in the middle of the table. My sister’s in the mortuary business.
I fill her caskets…she makes ‘em look pretty. But if your casket’s still open, I didn’t do a good enough job.
” I leaned forward and my mouth curled into the most heinous smile I could manage. “None of you…will have an open casket.”
Kelly waved his fingers at his men, and several started passing out paperwork and pens. “‘Ye have five minutes to decide.” Signatures scratched angrily across paper and one man at the very end of the table spoke up.
“Why do we all not get these papers?”
“Because, mate. Not all of you made it your business to sell little girls,” Declan answered. “Doesn’t mean you’re safe, though. You’ve got different papers to sign.”
The men gathered the documents, passing new ones out to the leftover houses, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as they started reading over them.
“Oh, that proposition is the same, by the way,” I smiled. “That buys me your loyalty…along with your grave if you fail to put your John Hancock on the line. Shit, sorry…that’s an American thing…it means you sign your name or you fucking die.”
Annette grinned as pens moved hesitantly. I met eyes with her and nodded once. She waved her hand this time…papers were gathered and a gun with a single bullet was given to everyone that had the second document. Five of Kelly’s men surrounded my chair, blocking me from the rest of the table.
“Begin,” Annette said, simply. “If you can’t bring yourself to do it, use the bullet on your own head.”
There were screams.
There were expletives.
There were gunshots.
And when it all went silent, Kelly’s men moved away.
It was like raising a curtain at a grand theater.
Brother turned on brother. Ally turned on ally.
Annette’s white tablecloth was painted red.
The emptied guns clattered to the floor, most of the men that used them refusing to look at me.
I just forced them to turn on their friends.
I rose from my chair, pulling an envelope from the bodice of my dress, and I handed it to Kelly.
“As agreed,” I smiled.
“Pleasure, Little Queen,” Annette winked.
“Sorry about the mess.”
She put a palm up, clearly unfazed, and I shook hands with them both before Declan helped me up onto my chair…and then up onto the table.
“What’s a merge without a merge, lads?” Kelly smiled. “Pay your respects to our successor.”
The train of my dress dragged through blood. The toe of my heels kicked glass and heads that were in my way as I walked with purpose down the middle.
“Your money is being wired as we speak. I’m sure it’s enough to make you think twice before any of you wanna forget your place. House Byrne will always be above you.”
I didn’t even look at the ones left alive as one of Kelly’s men helped me back down to make my grand exit. Dec offered his arm and I took it before tipping my chin over my shoulder, winking and sporting a smile that nightmares are made of.
“Slán.”
Clack…clack…clack…clack.