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“They’re traitors,” Uncle Brian says sharply. “Are we going soft on them now?”
“They’re our family,” Uncle Joseph shoots back. “You want to start killing them all? How many nephews do you have with Cormac right now?”
“They’re still traitors.” Uncle Brian’s jaw flexes. “Cormac stole that product because he wants to sit in Ronan’s chair there, and we’d be weak if we let him get anywhere near it.”
“Nobody’s saying that’s an option.” Uncle Joseph shakes his head and glares around the room. “We have to find a way to end this without bloodshed. These areour boyswe’re talking about, damn you all. What happens if we start murdering them? How can we ever put this mess back together?”
There are some nods of agreement and murmurs. I speak up before someone else can seize the momentum. “We’re past a clean fight, Uncle Joseph.” I feel their eyes on me, judging and weighing. Half of them are wondering if I have the ability to get us through this crisis without destroying the Group entirely. “There will be blood.”
“The French all but guarantee that.” Uncle Joseph seems unfazed. “I don’t trust that Julien.”
“You will when he’s married to an Irish girl,” I say and speak louder before he can cut in. “There will be blood, but the real trick will be how to minimize it. I’m not going to step down and give them what they want, but I also won’t slaughter them all if I can help it.”
“Nobody wants either of those options,” Uncle Joseph admits.
“There has to be another way,” Uncle Brian says. He looks around the room, but nobody seems keen on speaking up.
“The real problem here is Cormac,” I say softly. I sit up straight, demanding their respect and attention. “The others might believe him, but none of them put this rebellion together. He’s the clever one. He’s the dangerous one. At this point, his life is forfeit. I need you all to understand that. I know some of you are still hoping it doesn’t have to come to all that, but in Cormac’s case, it already has.”
Dead silence in the room. It’s not a good discussion, talking about murdering one of our own, but I need them to understand here and now before it goes further. Slowly, I see nods across the room.
“It’s a damn shame,” Uncle Joseph says. But he doesn’t try to argue.
We move on to other business. The uncles start talking strategy. I’m tired and ready for this to be over when there’s a knock at the door. Niall opens it, and one of the loyal cousins comes inside, a young kid named Patrick. He’s eighteen at most and seems very out of breath.
“Ronan,” he says, panting and sweating. “I just ran here from — John Bowman’s car lot, over on?—”
“We know where it is, boy,” Uncle Joseph snaps. “What the hell are you interrupting a meeting for?”
“Cormac hit it up.” Patrick’s eyes are wild with fear. “He did a real number on some of those cars. Bowman wants a word.”
I’m up and moving before the uncles can start arguing about what to do. Uncle Brian and Uncle Eddie follow. Niall’s right on my heels. Several more cousins are enlisted, all armed, and we take a small caravan of SUVs over to John Bowman’s place.
Patrick wasn’t kidding. Several of the vehicles were smashed up. Broken windows, cracked lights, dented doors and hoods. John Bowman is a big man, broad and heavyset, and he’s pacing around his lot like he wants to get a gun and start killing folks.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with your damn family, but you owe me for this mess.” Bowman glares at me, hands on his hips, and the asshole must be furious to dare talking to me that way. He’s been a loyal associate for decades, always paying his dues when needed, never shy about asking for favors, and I’d say our relationship has been a good one. But he’s pushing it.
“Careful,” I say, keeping very calm. That one word seems to put a little cold water on Bowman’s rage.
“You’re right. I apologize, Ronan, but I’m mad. You can tell I’m mad.”
“Tell me what happened.”
He gives us the story: two trucks’ worth of young Irish kids pulled up, started breaking shit, and gave him some wild threat. They said that if Bowman kept up his relationship with the Hayes Group, then they’d come back and would do even more damage. “They told me to spread the fucking word,” Bowman says, finishing by throwing his hands in the air. “Aren’t they your own boys, Ronan?”
“They’re mine,” Ronan confirms. “But we have some disagreements right now.” He steered the angry man away from the mess of his vehicles. “The Group will pay for all this damage and post a guy or two to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Assuming you can stay calm and keep this to yourself.”
“It’s a mess. You know it’s a mess. Whatever’s happening, it can’t spill over into the business community, you know that.”
“I understand. I totally understand.” We step into his office. Bowman sits behind his desk, shaking his head.
“This sort of thing never happened with your father,” he says, and that pisses me off more than anything else. “They said one other thing. I was too embarrassed to say it out there.”
“What’d they say?”
“They said you needed to step down.” Bowman has the good manners to look ashamed as he says it.
I want to shout. I want to slam this big fuck’s face onto the floor and make him lick my goddamn boots. Instead, I smile andmake nice, because that’s my best option at this point, but a deep unease settles in my guts.
