Declan
Swirling my rocks glass around, I watched the melting ice tumble around, suspended in my drink. Taking a sip, I hummed as the liquid fire raced down my throat. I was hoping that with a drink the shitty mood I was in would dull but after four rounds, it was only getting worse.
Desmond had called a meeting, demanding everyone show up at Moriarty's by eight. It was now almost ten and we were all stuffed in the damp basement waiting on him. The poor girl who was given the task of serving us was new and seemingly knew nothing about serving. A couple of the guys were being assholes towards her, making up fake drink names so that she would have to come back down empty-handed and tell them that that drink didn't exist. She was met by harsh laughs.
Brian and Rory, the ones who were being exceptional dickheads, were now starting to get handsy. Rory wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her down so she was sitting on his lap, making her drop the serving tray on the floor. She tried to bend over to pick it up but Brian took it as an opportunity to grab the back of her head and bring her face to face with him before sloppily kissing her. I watched Rory's hand slap her ass and then move up to the cropped, low-cut shirt that was her uniform so he could fondle her chest.
That's what set me off. In one explosive movement I was at their side, pulling Brian's head back by his hair so fast that he lost balance and fell backwards off of his chair and onto the floor.
"The fuck?" Rory yelled.
I grabbed the girl from his lap, ordering her to leave then I turned on the scrawny boy. He was new, maybe 18, and was acting like some kingpin. Walking around with a fake Boston-Irish accent, making it known who his daddy was and how he had women fighting over him. He was worse than some trust fund frat boy.
He shot to his feet and tried to square off with me but I had at least four inches on him and about a hundred pounds. He brought his hand back and threw the first punch which I dodged. The alcohol made him slow and sloppy. I uppercutted his jaw in one swift move that dropped him to the ground on his hands and knees. The sound of bone snapping and teeth chipping made the room fall silent as they watched Rory holding his fractured jaw.
He choked a few times before he coughed, spitting out pieces of his teeth. They bounced across the floor before stopping right in front of Desmond's custom leather dress shoes.
"Is t'ere a problem here, Deco?" He asked, pulling the fat cigar from his lips. His other hand was latched around the waitress's bicep, keeping her in place.
"Rory and Brian were giving the waitress a hard time." I answered, looking him square in the eye.
Desmonds' face turned to a disapproving one. "Tsk, tsk... Looks like one piece of ass has you forgetting just who the fuck ya are. You're not in charge here, boyo, I am. Ya don't get to beat up my men wit'out me giving ya the go ahead." The others, who were all standing at attention by their tables started to laugh.
Spinning the girl so that she was in front of him, he let go of her arm and whispered something in her ear. I could see her tense shoulders fall in defeat. She nodded her head, keeping her gaze down on the dirty floor and trudged towards the wooden stairs.
"And bring something sweet back for Rory." He called after her, winking.
He took another long drag from his cigar, walking closer to me so that he could blow the vile smelling cloud of smoke in my face. I stood, holding my ground and keeping my face as stoic as possible despite my eyes burning. I wouldn't show weakness. Not in front of the crew, not in front of Desmond.
Dez leaned in so he could speak into my ear without the rest of the family hearing. "Don't make me have to put ya on the shelf, Deco. I'll strip ya of everything you've worked so hard for."
"Don't ever get pussy whipped, lads." He said, pulling away from me and turning to everyone, smiling while hitting his open palm against my chest. "Sit down!" He barked at me.
I could see Nick behind him, smirking at the display Desmond had made of me in front of the whole crew. Looks like he's still in Dez's ear. He took up the empty chair across the table from me, keeping his eyes locked on the side of my face. His attempt at intimidation was childish. Instead, I kept my eyes trained on Desmond.
"It seems we've been going through a rough patch here, lads. First with Jimmy Donovan bein' in the hospital. He finally got that breathing tube out, by the way." He turned and looked to me when he said the last part, as if I wasn't checking in on him daily. "And now, we've had one of our warehouses blown up. Seven of our boys were killed."
Desmond spiked his cigar into the ground. Ash and sparks erupted once it made contact with the dusty cement floor. He slammed his closed fist into the nearest table to him. "SEVEN!"
He was breathing erratically, his body hunched over the table. The two guys that were sitting around it were leaning as far back away from Desmond as they could without making it too obvious.
The girl from before came back down holding a tray with an unopened bottle of Redbreast, a glass and some cloth towels. She walked to the table that Desmond was hunched over and set down the bottle and the rocks glass then worked to open and pour him a drink. He ripped it from her hands and downed the liquid before slamming the glass back down on he table. He smashed his index finger on the table, silently commanding her for another pour. With shaking hands, she obeyed.
"How t'e fuck are we lettin' t'em get away with t'is?" He seethed after swallowing hard. His Belfast accent coming out strong.
Everyone remained silent either from not having an answer or from being too scared to speak up. The waitress scurried over to Rory who had crawled back up into his chair from earlier. Drool mixed with blood was slowly leaking from the corner of his mouth. She moved so that she was sitting on his lap and gingerly started to clean up his face with the towels. His hands traveled up her thighs and under her skirt. She whipped her head around to Desmond with a pleading look but he did nothing but glare back as she accepted what was about to happen to her.
"You should ask Declan. He was there for both." Nick chimed in, taking Desmonds' attention away from the free show of Rory and the waitress.
Slowly my eyes rolled to the back of my head while I brought my own glass up to my lips. I finished my drink, welcoming the burn at the back of my throat. Upon opening my eyes, I saw Desmond straighten up and turn to look at me.
"T'at's right, dear nephew. He was."
I was beginning to feel like this wasn't a meeting after all, rather a trial. Why the fuck is Nick trying to pin this all on me and more importantly why is Desmond buying into this?
"Anything to say, Deco?" Desmond asked, feigning curiosity.
"Aye, maybe ya should be asking your dear nephew where he was during the attack." I shot back, mocking his Belfast accent. "As you said, seven of your men died yesterday. Tommy and I barely managed to get out, not without getting shot ourselves yet your dear nephew, Nick, doesn't have so much as a scratch on him. I'm a little curious of that myself."
Nicks' tongue rolled over his teeth behind his closed lips. He tried to hide his eyes as they bulged from my response. He wasn't expecting me to remain so calm, being put on blast by Desmond in front of everyone and he sure as fuck wasn't expecting me to throw it back on him. I was still trying to figure out how the hell he managed to escape unscathed. There was only two ways out of the building, the main door that we escaped from and the back door that they broke into.
The Russians who attacked us yesterday were smart- too smart. Before I drove up to New Hope, I went through the security footage from that afternoon. They were able to hack into our security and put on a few second loop of the empty alleyway that the camera faced so no one detected them as they broke in through the back of the building. It was a cliche straight out of some blockbuster spy movie but it worked. There are only four people in our syndicate who have access to the CCTV footage on our buildings including myself and Nick. One of them was killed yesterday in the fire and the other was Tommy.
Desmonds' eyes left mine momentarily to look at Nick who was clearly avoiding his gaze and looking at the top of his boots. Desmond cleared his throat. Was he annoyed that he hadn't thought to ask his precious nephew why he was untouched in this whole ordeal?
There was an uncomfortable silence that fell over the room. The only sounds were the whimpers and tiny sobs coming from the girl.
"Right. Well then, Deco. Did ya get any more information from the lass?" Desmond asked, his voice back to his normal calm one while he poured another drink.
"I managed some face time with Mikhail. I seemed to have made an impression, he invited Scar- the girl and I to the charity event that Wyndham Pharmaceuticals is holding next weekend. I can find out how they're affiliated with Wyndham." I answered making sure to give just enough to satisfy him.
He nodded his head in response before changing the subject entirely. He started to hound the newest soldiers about where the fuck his money was. Dez had made them all go out and get his 'protection payments' before our emergency meeting tonight. Unfortunately for them, most of the shops that they had to go to were already closed for the night. Dezzy knew this, he was testing them to see how loyal the new recruits were and how much easy cash he could squeeze.
When Desmond was done with the big dick act, he dismissed most of us. He removed the poor girl from Rory's lap and told her to go wash up and go home. She looked broken. She was held down by the stupid little prick for the whole meeting while he did what he wanted to her and others watched. The only reason Desmond allowed that was to make me acutely aware that I am not in charge. Fucking disgusting.
"Hey baby, I never got your name! When do you work next?" Rory called after her, his speech slurred from his swollen face. He sat laughing in his chair, leaning back against the backrest with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
"Rory, is it?" Desmond asked, running his hand down his suit jacket to try and get out some of the wrinkles.
Rory quickly uncrossed his ankles and sat up. "Y-yes... sir." He stuttered. I could see his two chipped teeth as he spoke. I wish he had choked on them.
"You're Cian's boy, aren't 'ya?"
Rory nodded his head, smiling wide. Rory thought he had it in with Desmond. Before Cian got himself killed, he used to be best friends with Desmond, they rose up through the ranks together and was slated to be Dezs' right hand man until he decided to rough up some Italian Don's girlfriend. He ended up dismembered and scattered on the bottom of the Queens river. They sent his wife the video.
For an old man, Desmond was still quite fast. In a split second, he had Rory knocked off his chair and on the floor, screaming. From the sound of the crack, it was either his nose or his brow bone that shattered on impact. He grabbed his face while he writhed in pain, blood flowing from between his fingers and pooling on the concrete floor.
"Ya treat any of my waitresses like t'at again and I'll be sending ya down to see your daddy." For good measure, he landed his custom leather shoes into the boys stomach. Blood erupted from his mouth, splattering all over Desmonds' jeans. Desmond's lip curled up in disgust. "Ya owe me a new pair of pants."
Leaving the basement, I came up to the main floor of the building. The bar area was packed with the normal crowd, a mix between college students and thirty-somethings with blasting pop music. It was well past eleven so most of them were already drunk. I found an empty table in one of the dark corners and sat down.
Within moments, a waitress was handing me a drink. "From Sean." She said with a smile and a wink. She turned fast so her skirt was able to swing up in the back just enough for me to get a glimpse. She was disappointed when I ignored her attempt and stormed off with a huff.
I lit up a cigarette and pulled out my phone from my coat pocket. Knowing I had no reception down in the basement, I expected to be bombarded with text messages once my phone connected but there was only one and it had my full attention. It was just my name sent from Scarlett two hours ago.
After I told her about the ambush at the warehouse, I was expecting her to go back to being scared of me. Hell, I was wanting her to. It would be so much easier on both of us if she was scared of me. I wasn't expecting her to hug me. I had pushed her off of me and bolted out of the door before she could say another word and it was killing me. I'm fucking pissed I'm letting this stupid girl get under my skin. She was just supposed to be an easier way to get to Mikhail and now here I am, acting like some love sick puppy being made a fool of in front of all the men I'm supposed to be in charge of.
"Hey Deco," one of the new recruits plopped down on the chair across from me followed by two others. The use of Desmonds' name for me set me on edge. I blew out smoke in his direction, my fingers tightened around the sweating glass in my hand to the point where it was about to break. My lip curled up in a scowl before I took a long tug of my drink.
"How's the Murphy girl?" The one named Ben asked not even trying to hide his smile.
"Yea, when should we be expect the wedding invitation?" Paul snickered.
I slammed the glass down on the table, cracking it from the force. I was over their school boy antics. The three of them stopped laughing as soon as I stood, leaning over the table, holding myself up with my hands. "It seems you three little cunts forgot just who the fuck I am. I'm in charge of you. I make the fucking rules. Last I checked, you three were in charge of wiping the shit from my boots."
Paul's hands came up in front of him to show he surrendered. "Deco man, hey we-"
My hand latched onto the collar of his shirt, dragging him out of his seat and over the table so that we were face to face. "Call me that again and I'll castrate you and make your friends here eat it."
"Mr. Byrne, sir, we're really sorry we didn't mean anything by it. We were just joking around." Noah stammered.
I let go of Pauls' shirt and he fell back down to his chair. The three of them were looking up at me wide eyed as I straightened my spine.
"Miss Murphy will be at work tomorrow from ten until seven. She has a cabinet door that must be fixed and is in need of a new table. You can pull together your cash and take care of that." I informed them.
"But Desmond gave us shit to do in the city tomorrow." Noah whined, like that would get me to change my mind.
"Then I suggest you manage your time well." I snapped, walking away from the three boys towards the door.
___________________________________________
Thoughts?
Vote & comment, I would love to hear what you think!
That little star really helps writers get their stories noticed, please give it a little click ;)