Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“What the hell just happened?” Ernie bellows as he charges in, the door hitting the wall behind it.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say calmly. “If you’ve come to toast the old man, then sit down and I’ll pour you a drink. If not, fuck off and leave me in peace.”
Ernie’s nostril flare dangerously. I couldn’t give a fuck. “Where the hell were you?”
“Burying my father,” I snarl, my men moving in behind my uncle, ready for the nod to eject him. The wave of confusion that travels across Ernie’s face is a novelty.
“He wasn’t in the coffin,” he breathes, realization dawning. The old man reaches for the doorframe to hold himself up. “I wanted to pay my respects, Danny. Say my goodbyes.”
I ignore his hurt and get up on unstable legs, collecting a fresh bottle of Scotch before retaking my seat. “It had to be done.”
“How could you?”
My fist meets the desk without thought, the bang echoing loudly. “Quite fucking easily. Someone wants me dead, Ernie, and today was the perfect opportunity for them to take me out. I know how this world works. The bigger, the more elaborate and daring the kill, the more satisfaction. No one knows that more than I do. So apologies if you’re a little put out that I’m still breathing.”
“You fooled them all. All those people there to see your father off.”
I scoff. None of them loved him like I did. None of them really cared. I bet most were just there to make sure the old heathen was definitely dead and buried.
Uncle Ernie’s face softens somewhat, and a rue smile slowly creeps onto his face. “You really are your father’s boy, aren’t you?” He shakes his head and limps over, his dodgy knee clearly giving him grief today. Slumping down in the chair, he points at the bottle in my hand. “Pour me one of those, for fuck’s sake.”
I pour some into two tumblers and slide them across the desk to Ernie and Brad, keeping the bottle for myself. “To Pops,” I say, raising my bottle to their glasses. They mumble their acknowledgements and neck their drinks with me.
“So hundreds of people just said their prayers to an empty coffin?” Ernie asks.
“Not quite,” Brad chips in, thumbing over his shoulder. I take the opportunity of him explaining to chug down more Scotch. “Don’t know if you noticed, but we’re kind of overrun with bricks after some fucker went nuclear on our asses.”
Ernie chuckles, thoroughly amused. “Well, I’ll be damned. So where is he?”
“Somewhere quiet and peaceful.” My words are becoming more slurred by the second, my eyes heavier, as I drink the Scotch like it’s water. “I’ll let you know where when the dust has settled.”
Ernie scoffs. “If you keep getting bombs hauled at you, that’s going to be a while.” He stands, creaking his way upright. “Be safe, Danny.”
“Always am, Unc,” I mumble, glugging down a few more inches of the amber stuff. He shakes his old head, a fond smile growing. “Call me. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
My nod is a little haphazard, the Scotch now on its way to controlling me completely. Good. I hope it knocks me out.
Ernie leaves, and my damn phone screams again. “Fuck off,” I slur, turning off my mobile and struggling to my feet. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be in my room.” I’m slightly aware of Brad’s poorly hidden amusement as I sway my way past him, my treasured bottle of Scotch held to my lips. I stumble to a stop just short of the door and frown, wiping at my mouth. “I haven’t got a room. Some fucker blew it up.” I turn toward Brad. “Who blew up my room?” I raise the bottle as he goes to speak. “Never mind. I’ll find out who, and I’ll shove my gun up their arse and rape them with it before I fire.” Brad flinches but keeps quiet. “I’ll be wherever I make it before I collapse.” I reach for the doorknob, missing it, having to close one eye to focus. I hear Brad chuckling from behind me. “Shut the fuck u—” My demand is cut short when the door flies open and smacks me in the face, sending me stumbling back in a daze. I land on my back with a thud, the impact winding me, as well as sending my Scotch flying. “Shit,” I curse, shuffling onto my side and grappling for the bottle rolling away from me.
“What’s going on?”
The sweet, familiar voice has my hand pausing in its search and my body rolling to my back again. I blink as I look up, the swaying vision of two bodies making my head spin. “Rose?” I ask, my hands coming up to my head and cupping each side, trying to stable my vision.