47. Ronan
Chapter 47
Ronan
I sit low in the front seat of my SUV and watch the gate to the trucking depot. It’s late, after midnight on a Tuesday, and the whole block is quiet. There’s not much going on past the chain-link fence, only a smattering of rusty cars left there to rot, and a single semi in good condition standing out among the overgrown weed-strewn pavement.
We planned this for two days. Mostly it was Valentina’s idea with some input from Julien and the uncles, and now that we’re here, I feel only the excitement of anticipation. I keep the secure text channels open to Niall and the other cousins, but mostly I sit and I wait, even though I’m bored out of my mind.
I think about Valentina to pass the time. I think about her mouth on mine. I think about her laughter in the shower. I think about the way her body feels pressed against mine, and how easy it is to tell her things I never thought I’d tell anybody. My insecurities, my fears. My worry that I’ll never be enough for the family. She listens and understands, and she doesn’t feed me a bunch of bullshit about how everything’s going to be okay.
Instead, she tells me how we’ll fix it together. How she’s in this with me. How she’s by my side, no matter what happens, and it’s her belief in me that gives me more strength than I thought I had.
My phone buzzes. It’s Niall, calling on an encrypted line. “He’s on the way,” he says when I answer. “You all good?”
“I’m good. Took him long enough. The asshole’s going to be late.”
“I bet he’s doing it on purpose. Make them sweat a little.”
“Yeah, well, I’m ready to get this over with.”
“Five minutes out. Keep your eyes peeled.”
We end the call, and I reach across to where my gun’s sitting on the passenger seat. I pull back the slide and make sure it’s loaded.
A few minutes later, a car appears on the quiet, dead block. I sink down low to make sure he doesn’t spot me as it pulls up to the fence. Two men get out, drag the gate open, and get back in. They roll down the long driveway and disappear into the depot.
I do nothing. I hate this part. It’s all waiting, waiting, waiting, while everyone else has a role to play. But that’s how I’m doing things these days. I can’t just rush out with my guns blazing and hope that life works out the way it’s supposed to. That’s what Gregory tried, and that dumb fuck’s dead as hell now.
Instead, I’m trusting my people and playing it smart.
Ten minutes later, the growl of a semi-truck rumbling down the driveway drifts through the windows. I watch it pause at the street before turning left, going nice and slow. I can’t make out the men in the cab, but it doesn’t matter. I know exactly who they are.
I text Niall that the plan’s on and the package is in motion. Then I start my engine and follow the semi at a conservative distance, only coming into view when it’s stopped at a light or slowing down to make a wide turn. Otherwise, I try to keep on a parallel track, taking a slightly different route to our final destination south of the city. It helps that I know exactly where they’re taking the goods and I have a few different routes mapped out in my head, depending on which they take. Lucky for me, nobody’s getting creative tonight, and the half-hour drive goes very smoothly.
Munster, Illinois, is one of those post-industrial towns around the southern part of Chicago. It’s clinging on to life, despite most of the factories in the region closing down, since it’s cheaper to live out in the good old suburbs than it is to live in the big bad city. Most of the little neighborhoods around here look exactly the same with the same style houses and all the same businesses. Strip malls appear and disappear like ghosts. The truck ahead turns into one of those big parking lots out front of a quiet chain grocery store, shut down for the evening, though there are already a few cars parked nearby. I pass by and circle around before finding a good parking spot on the street behind the store. When I get out, Niall’s already waiting for me on the grass in a small stand of bushes.
“Everyone ready?” I ask him. Six cousins linger nearby, all dressed in black and Kevlar vests.
“We’re all good. Julien’s in position.”
“What are the chances that French bastard comes through?” I glare toward the front of the building where the exchange is going down.
“He seems to genuinely want to marry one of our girls.” Niall doesn’t sound happy as he says it. “Either way, we’ll find out.”
I grunt in response and gesture at his guys. I start handing out orders, and the boys scramble into position. Two of them go back the way I came, heading into the car dealership that butts up against the parking lot. One climbs a service ladder with a rifle strapped to his back, the scope gleaming in the moonlight. The rest of them are with me and Niall, and we creep along the delivery ramp and around the side of the store until the front lot comes into view.
There’s a large fence along the left side of the lot blocking it from the dealership. The semi is parked next to the fence, not all that far away from where I’m crouched with Niall and the soldiers. Nobody notices us; they’re too busy discussing the business deal allegedly going down in that circle of hardened criminals.
Julien’s there, talking with his hands, gesturing back and forth from the truck to his SUVs. He’s got a few guards at his back, looking lazy and tired. But all I can do is stare at Cormac.
I haven’t seen the bastard since he betrayed me. I thought I might see something on his face, some sign that he felt guilty or regretted his decision, but there’s only a smarmy grin and an air of confidence. It drives me fucking crazy, the bastard. But standing behind him with a group of cousins is Seamus, arms crossed over his chest, trying to seem intimidating.
Anger flows through me. I’m pissed as hell that Cormac would go through all this fucking trouble only to turn around and sell the drugs off at the first chance he got. The dumb shithead should hold onto the product as leverage, but he’s probably thinking the money will be a better resource in a civil war. In his mind, I’m the real target, not the drugs, not anything else, and if unloading all that premium cargo means he can afford body armor and ammunition, then he must be more than willing.
Because that’s what this has always been about. One man’s ego, one man’s pride.
I wait a few more minutes and let the discussion settle in. Julien’s doing a good job trying to haggle the price. I can tell Cormac’s getting frustrated. He wanted this to be quick and easy, but that’s not part of the plan. Only he has no clue.
Finally, one of the cousins breaks off from the group and heads toward the back of the truck. Julien seems satisfied, and he’s standing with his hands on his hips, his shoulders back, staring down Cormac. That position is the sign: now’s the time to move in.
I nod at Niall. He nods back. I push myself up from my crouched position in the shadows and stride forward before picking up the pace into a quick jog.
The soldiers follow behind. I’m not sure who spots us first, but someone in the group of cousins points, and suddenly guns are drawn.
I already have my weapon out. Cormac’s shouting, and Julien’s people have their pistols aimed as I approach the chaos. None of my cousins know what to do—they’re all looking at Cormac for their next move, and Cormac seems completely frozen, his weapon moving from me to Julien and back again, his mouth open in a furious snarl.
“You fucked me,” he shouts at Julien as I join the Frenchman’s group. “You fucking fucked me.”
“Gun down, Cormac. It’s finished.” The men I sent around into the dealership hop off the fence and land on the side of their traitor cousins, guns drawn and leveled, flanking them. “You’re surrounded.”
Cormac’s snarl turns into a vicious grin. “You wouldn’t dare kill us. You wouldn’t fucking dare hurt your precious little family, would you, Ronan?”
I hold up my left hand and point.
A rifle crack splits the night. One of the windows on the truck shatters, blown out by a sniper shot from the roof of the grocery store.
The traitor cousins flinch and half of them kneel down, covering their heads as if that’ll help.
But Cormac doesn’t move. He keeps his gun aimed.
“Lower your weapons,” I bark at them. “You’re surrounded. You’re outgunned. This is fucking over.”
“Nobody move.” Cormac’s voice is steady and calm, and the traitor cousins seem like they’re not sure what to do. “You’re wrong, Ronan. You’re so fucking wrong. What don’t you understand yet? You’re not the boss the family needs. All of this could’ve been avoided if only you had understood what your people actually wanted from the start instead of forcing change on them. I want to bring the family back to its roots. I want to save the Hayes Group. If you open fire, you’ll just prove that you’re as bad as I always knew you were.”
Cormac stares me down. I stare right back. He’s bluffing and full of shit, but I can tell it has some effect on his traitor cousins. They begin to stand back up, their guns still in their hands, and if Cormac convinces them to make some final stand here and now, it’s going to be a fucking bloodbath. I might not want to kill them, but Julien won’t have any problem emptying his clip in all their skulls.
“That’s enough.” Seamus speaks, clear and sharp. He steps forward and presses the barrel of his gun against Cormac’s head. “This is over.”
Another quiet moment. Cormac’s mouth drops open as he glances back. Seamus only stares at him, expression hard, and surprise turns to more rage as Cormac realizes he’s been betrayed.
“You idiot,” Cormac says.
“Everyone, it’s done,” Seamus says over Cormac’s protest. “Put down your guns. The only person that has to get hurt here is Cormac. He’s been wrong from the start. He’s using you all, just like he used me, but I’m not letting it happen anymore. Put down your guns.”
“He’s right,” I say, stepping forward. “Only Cormac has to pay the price for this if you all lay down your weapons right now. We’re fucking family , even if Cormac wants to tear us all apart.”
Slowly, one by one, the traitor cousins realize there’s no reason to keep fighting. When the first of them drops his gun, that starts a cascade of clattering metal.
“Fuck you,” Cormac snarls. He jerks his gun forward, aiming it at me, but he’s too slow.
I pull the trigger. Red blooms on Cormac’s chest. Seamus steps aside and out of the way as Cormac gurgles at me, tries to squeeze his trigger, but doesn’t have the strength. I step forward and put the gun to his forehead.
“You took your shot, but you missed. You don’t get a second chance.”
I shoot him in the skull. Blood and brain matter spray the truck and the pavement as his corpse slumps to the ground.
The night is quiet after the gunshots. Nobody moves. Everyone’s staring at Cormac’s dead, ruined body, his face a bloody mess, his skull shattered into little pieces.
“Well, that’s over with,” Julien says and turns away to his cars. “Pleasure doing business with you all, boys.” He and his French compatriots disappear into their vehicles as I walk over to Seamus and squeeze his shoulder.
“You did the right thing,” I say softly. “I know that was hard, but it was right.”
“I don’t regret it.” He nods at me, but I can see the sorrow in his eyes. It’s not easy to kill a friend you once looked up to.
I nod at him and pat his shoulder as my loyal soldiers round up all the dropped guns and get the traitor cousins herded into the truck. Once they’re piled inside, Seamus gets behind the wheel and drives the whole lot of them back into the city, back to the Hayes Group warehouse, where they’ll put the drugs back where they belong.
Niall walks with me back behind the grocery store. We leave Cormac’s body where it fell. “This is going to be on the news,” he says, gesturing back at the corpse, lying alone in a parking lot. Abandoned in the end. “Everyone’s going to know.”
“Good. I want the whole city to hear about what happened tonight.”
“The heat’s going to be bad, you know that, right?”
“We’ll weather it. We always do.” I nod at Niall and he grins back.
“Guess I’ll see you at home,” he says, and our group splits back up as the sounds of sirens blaring in the distance draw closer and closer.