Thy Kingdom Come (Deliver Us From Evil Trilogy Book One)

by Monica James

  Maybe, just maybe, he can help me. I don’t know what else to do.

  I chain my bike in front of my flat and make my way inside. There is nothing special about this place, but he rented it for me with a purpose. I needed to be close to the Kellys.

  As I unlock my door, I see him sitting in my armchair, casually smoking a cigar. “Ack, finally, lass. Where ye been?”

  Tossing my keys into the bowl near the door, I shrug out of my coat, playing cool. “Where do you think? Doing your bidding, that’s where. Where have you been these past few days?”

  He ignores my jab. “Hugh’s dead,” he reveals, winding me. “Burned alive. But not before his face was painted like Aidan’s. When we got there, it was too late to save him. But we saw what was done to him.”

  Face painted?

  I remain calm, measuring my breaths because I think I know who’s responsible. I don’t think he is, however, because if he was, Punky wouldn’t be alive.

  “He was a knacker, but he was a good boyo.”

  I refuse to agree because Hugh Doyle was a sick motherfucker.

  “Ach, what’s done is done. I’m here to tell ya, yer gettin’ yer wish.”

  “What wish?” I ask, walking into the living room slowly.

  “To go home. Now, in fact.”

  I’ve clearly not heard him right. “W-what? Now? Like, right now?”

  He digs into his inner jacket pocket and produces a plane ticket. “Aye. Yer job ’ere is done. I’ll make sure yer ma gets what she needs.”

  The world begins to spin, but I quash down the urge to vomit. “But, what about—”

  “Enough now,” he warns, his cool demeanor swiftly replaced with the monster who was merely sleeping. “I’ll not tell ye again. Pack yer things.”

  This is happening too fast. I need more time.

  “From the looks of ya, ya’d think ya didn’t want to leave.”

  Is this a test?

  Hugh’s death was just the beginning, but the beginning of what?

  I need to warn Punky. If he said my job is done, then that means Punky’s life is in danger. They have everything they need to carry out whatever fate they think is owed to him. I don’t know what that is because they never told me.

  But I can guess that it ends with his death.

  All of this…because of a fucking name.

  “Awesome,” I say, slipping into the character I’ve been forced to become. I need to get out of here before it’s too late for Punky. “I’ll just go pack. Make sure my mom gets what was promised to her.”

  She’s the reason for this. She and my little sister are innocent victims in all of this.

  “Y’ve my word.”

  Turning on my heel, I don’t run as I don’t want to make a scene, but my heart is bursting from my chest as I enter my bedroom and reach for my suitcase. My hands tremble as I gather my minimal possessions. All I can think about is warning Punky.

  As I turn, I jump, startled to see him standing in the doorway. “You can go,” I say aloofly, gathering my cosmetics from the vanity. “I’ll catch a cab.”

  I tell myself to keep calm because he’s watching for any signs of deceit. One wrong move, and everyone will pay.

  “Naw,” he says with a sharp smile. “I’ll run ye over.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I counter, folding my T-shirts quickly. “I’m more than happy to—”

  But he makes clear this isn’t optional, and that’s because he knows me better than I think. Punky’s life isn’t the only one in danger—mine is too.

  “I won’t hear of it. Nothin’ but the best for my…daughter.”

  Oh, fuck me.

  “If yer uncle finds out, he’ll kill us,” Cian says, limping as we head toward the warehouse.

  He’s still wounded, but insisted to come with Rory and me. I agreed because he deserves to be here after the lamping he took. Besides, tonight is the time for change in more ways than one.

  Liam Doyle sent me a text early this morning with where I was to meet them tonight. They plan on intercepting the lorry on a backroad, a road which would only be known by someone who works for us. That’s why Uncle Sean was in such a hurry to haul arse. We need everything in place to ensure our ambush doesn’t fail.

  But I need to do something before I go, and Uncle Sean cannot know what that is.

  The warehouse is packed with our men, and their “leader,” Connor, is giving his usual bullshit speech about loyalty. He believes this is the way to keep them in line. That this is enough to keep them loyal. But he’s about to see what a true leader is.

  We enter the abandoned warehouse, which, thanks to Patrick Duffy, is now Connor’s new secret lair. Lorries come and go from the premises, picking up gear which comes off the boats. It’s risky because sooner or later, the peelers will be onto us.

  But Connor believes changing location is the smart way to operate, and in most cases, it may be, but not with the organization we run. We need to have no ties, no links to our name. We can’t gather in the masses any longer because this gives Chief Constable Moore a paper trail.

  We need to operate incognito.

  Our online dealings have had no issues, and this is the way to go from here going forward. It’s time for change.

  Connor doesn’t know that, however. But he will.

  “How ’bout ye give me some warnin’ next time,” Connor says to Danny, who is Ronan’s mate.

  He’s just the man I want to talk to.

  “Bout ye, Puck?” he says when we come up behind Connor. He’s hoping to take the heat off himself. But he’s got a lot to learn.

  Connor turns, surprised to see me and the boys, as we don’t usually attend his “sermons.”

  He’s been keeping scarce since the party, probably consoling Fiona, who’s awful scundered that her perfect party was ruined by the peelers. She can pretend the money she spends isn’t dirty money, but others aren’t as easily fooled.

  The Kellys’ front—us being a family who struck it rich legally—is all bullshit. Everyone knows it, but no one has the bollocks to say it. Not until Connor made an enemy out of Chief Constable Moore.

  “What’re ye doin’ here?” he says under his breath, but I have no interest in playing happy families.

  I push past Connor and punch Danny square in the face. The men gasp, confused with what’s going on. Danny cups his jaw, knowing better than to fight back.

  “Now that I have yer attention,” I say, standing in front of the men. “We need to ’ave a wee yarn.”

  Connor grabs my arm, attempting to pull me in line, but I’m done being his little bitch.

  “Ye made a right bags of this, Connor.” I coolly remove my arm from his grip, leaving him scundered in front of the men he’s supposed to rule.

  “Don’t give me any of yer guff,” he warns, but I laugh in response.

  “Or what?”

  Connor is not used to me talking back, and he definitely isn’t used to me disobeying him.

  “Yousens may have noticed that we’re a couple of lads short?” The men look around at one another, unsure what’s going on. “Bout ye, Danny? Missin’ yer man, Ronan?”

  Danny soon realizes what this is about. “Catch yerself on. I know nothin’.”

  Clucking my tongue, I calmly fold my arms across my chest. “Now, I know that yer lyin’. I think yousens are, and the reason for that is ’cause I know Ronan and Nolen were double-crossin’ arseholes.”

  “Shut yer gub or ah’ll shut it fer ye,” Connor furiously whispers. But he doesn’t seem to understand this isn’t his gig anymore.

  “Give it a lash. I dare ye,” I reply, and for the first time in my life, I see that Connor is afeared of me.

  “Yer a rocket,” Danny exclaims, looking at Connor for backup. But Connor stays quiet.

  “Aye, that I am,” I confirm with a sinister grin. “That’s why I had no issues barrin’ Ronan from Northern Ireland. If I see him again, I’ll do to him what was done to Nolen.”
<
br />   Silence.

  “This is yer first and only warnin’. If I catch ye, and I will catch ye, goin’ behind my back, I’ll do ya. That’s it. No second chances. Y’hear me? And anyone who thinks they can outsmart me…more power to ye.”

  Danny doesn’t seem convinced. “Thon boy sits down to pee,” he says, looking at his friends with a condescending grin. “That’s a cracker yarn, but how ’bout ye—”

  Before he has a chance to continue, I punch him in the nose, breaking it. He howls, putting an end to defying me.

  “Ronan was in business with the Doyles,” I reveal, silencing Danny’s cries. “And this was allowed because yousens don’t respect or fear Connor Kelly. But ya will respect me, or I’ll be breakin’ more than just yer noses.

  “I know who yer family are. I know where ye live. Trust me when I say, ye don’t want to fuck with me, lads. I don’t care about ye or yer families. Yer nothin’ but a worker who is easily replaced, and when I say replaced, I mean no one will ever find yer corpse.”

  And just like that, the atmosphere in the room changes. I can smell their fear.

  “Away now. We’re done. These wee meetin’s are no more. Ye do what I tell ya, or yer gone. Any questions?”

  Silence once more.

  “Didn’t think so. Fuck off now.”

  With blood pouring through Danny’s hands, he shouts, “Connor, yer gonna let this dirty blurt talk to us this way? Clean his clock!”

  Before Connor has a chance to reply, I reach for the gun in the small of my back and shoot Danny in the kneecap. He collapses to the ground, shrieking and writhing in pain.

  I look at Connor. “Is this the son ye’d be proud of? The son ye’d be proud to call yer own?”

  He is expressionless. “Y’heard the lad, fuck off then.”

  The men don’t know how to react, but soon realize this is a new empire in which there are new rules—my rules. They soon clear out, leaving me alone with Connor, the lads, and a gurning Danny.

  “What’s this about the Doyles?”

  Looking at Cian and Rory, I gesture that they’re to take Danny and dump him on his doorstep. Let his wife deal with him. They know what the plans are after that, so they nod.

  Gripping him by the collar, Cian drags Danny through the warehouse, whistling a jolly tune. Once they’re gone, Connor makes it clear that it’s time I explained.

  “The shipment of yokes and sneachta, the Doyles are comin’ into Belfast for it,” I bluntly reveal.

  “Yer jokin’ me?” Connor says, shaking his head.

  “Does it look like I’m jokin’?”

  Uncle Sean didn’t want Connor to know any of this. He knew what that would mean for me, but I’m not afraid of Connor anymore. This arsehole deserves to know that his empire is crumbling before his eyes.

  “How would ye know that?”

  It’s now or never…

  “’Cause I broke into yer office and found the address of the Doyles pub in Dublin hidden in yer drawer. I went there and became friends with the Doyles. They trusted me, and in return, I killed Aidan and Hugh Doyle for their mistake.

  “Liam and Brody think I’m an American, but someone has been tippin’ them off. That’s how they knew about our lorry. That’s how Ronan and Nolen thought it was okay to go behind our backs.

  “Someone almost killed Cian, thinking he was me. I don’t know who told them that. Erin Doyle is apparently involved, but I don’t buy it. So tonight, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. And I’m goin’ to avenge my ma.”

  Connor is shook. His anger has taken a back seat as he processes everything I just said.

  “Brody knows a Kelly took his brother, so he’s gonna take your brother.”

  “Sean knows about this?”

  I nod. “Aye. He knows it all.”

  “And ya didn’t think to tell me this?” he exclaims, fists bunched by his sides.

  “I’m tellin’ ya now,” I reply, unmoved by his theatrics.

  Connor advances with his fist raised, but I reach out and seize it in my palm. “Y’ll never raise a hand to me again. Or the twins. I’ll kill ye if ye do. Come with me. I’ve a lot to tell ya.”

  He fumbles over his feet as I push him away. “Ya speak to yer da this way?”

  I toss my head back, laughing. “Yer not my da. Ye never were. I’ve the test to prove it. I may not be a Kelly, but I’m the one who’s about to save this family. So quit yer yackin’, we’re away to the lorry.”

  I don’t wait for him as I turn on my heel and head for the car. His frantic footsteps reveal he’s following. I order Connor’s driver to go home as we won’t be needing him.

  As I get into my car, the passenger door is almost ripped from its hinges as Connor opens it. He gets in, ragin’.

  “Don’t forget yer seat belt,” I quip, unable to wipe the smile from my bake.

  He fights with it, but eventually gets it done up.

  Once we’re buckled up, I start our journey to where Uncle Sean and his reinforcements lay waiting in hiding. Liam is expecting me, so my face is one they’re expecting to see. The others, however, not so much.

  “Why’d ya have their address and not do anythin’ ’bout it?” I ask, deciding to fill the uncomfortable silence with even more awkwardness.

  “What did ya want me to do?”

  “Um, how ’bout the right thing: killin’ every last fucker who murdered yer wife?” I offer like it’s a no-brainer.

  “That’s not how this works, Puck.”

  “It worked a beezer for me,” I challenge, gripping the steering wheel. “But I suppose ye stopped carin’. Ya moved on with yer new life and that.”

  “I never forgot yer ma, contrary to what ye think. I loved her.”

  This would be the moment in a film or a book where the son forgives his father, and they work together and make amends for the past. But this is neither. This is my life, and no matter what Connor says, I’ll never forgive him for what he did.

  “So ya got the tests done?”

  “Aye, you are not the father,” I say, mimicking Maury Povich—Amber’s favorite daytime TV host. “That’s come as a huge relief, I can imagine.”

  “Naw, I can’t say that it has.”

  His comment unsettles me.

  “Why did ye have all that gear in yer bedroom? Y’know better than that. I can’t get my head around it.”

  Connor turns to me. “Aye, I do, which is why I didn’t put it there.”

  “I just cannot believe it. If ye didn’t put it there, then who did?”

  He shrugs, turning to look back out the windscreen, leaving me with this mankin’ feeling in my guts. I don’t want to believe him because if he didn’t do it, the only other person who knew about the gear was Babydoll.

  “Ya feelin’ all right?” Connor asks with a hint of sarcasm. “Minus craic altogether knowin’ y’ve been made a fool of.”

  Touché, fucker.

  Refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing me ragin’, I focus on the road and park the car where Uncle Sean directed me to. He has set up surveillance around the area, so the ambush will go off without a hitch. Looking at my watch, I see that it’s time to go.

  “Uncle Sean is comin’ in north from Old Brewery Lane. Meet him there.”

  I open the door, but Connor reaches out and grips my arm. “Yer goin’ alone?”

  “Aye,” I confirm. “I’m undercover, remember? I can’t exactly have ye taggin’ along.”

  “I don’t like this plan.”

  “Well, stay in the car then.” I yank my arm out from his grip. I don’t have time for this. I arm myself and open the door.

  “Puck!”

  He leaps from the car and runs to where I stand. “I’ll come with ye.”

  “That’s not happenin’, aul’ lad. I didn’t come this far for you to mess it up.” I slip on my hoodie, positioning it low. “If ye want to help, go find Uncle Sean, will ya.”

  “This feels wrong. Ye tell me y’ve killed Hugh and Ai
dan. No way Brody is coming to Belfast, alone.”

  “Uncle Sean has it sorted. It’s an ambush.”

  “And yer the bait? Is that it?”

  “Sure, this is it,” I reply angrily. “I brought ya here ’cause I wanted ye to see the mess y’ve made. If y’d sorted this years ago, then we wouldn’t be here. But I refuse to let those cunts walk into my country, thinkin’ they can steal from me!

  “I may not ’ave yer blood in my veins, but themens killed my mum, and they’re to pay for what they’ve done.”

  Connor doesn’t say a word. Maybe he knows this isn’t negotiable.

  With a sigh, he nods. “Ye may not be my chile, but y’ll always be a Kelly, Punky.”

  This is the first time he’s called me Punky. I don’t know what it means, but I can’t let sentiment get in the way.

  “I’ll go to yer uncle. Be careful.”

  He turns in the direction of where Uncle Sean will be waiting, but I stop him.

  “Here. Take it.” I offer him my gun, but he places a hand over mine.

  “Naw, I’ll be fine.”

  I don’t insist and watch as he treks through the long grass, knowing this landscape like the back of his hand as this route is his.

  Once he disappears, I inhale deeply, needing a second to compose myself. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for since I was locked in thon wardrobe and forced to watch my innocence be destroyed.

  I walk in the opposite direction of Connor, ready to meet Liam and whoever else he has with him. I want to think it’ll be Brody, but I’m not sure. Either way, a message will be sent to every Doyle left standing—don’t fuck with Puck Kelly. Belfast is mine.

  It’s a ten-minute walk which gives me more than enough time to think about what Connor said. If he didn’t put the drugs in the safe, who did?

  I refuse to believe it was Babydoll, but when it comes to her, I’ve a bad dose of denial. I know that. But I can’t believe she would plant drugs, only to tell me they’re there. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.

  Connor’s got to be lying. But I don’t think he is. However, when I see a black van ahead, I push away those thoughts and focus.

  Liam said he’d be waiting at this precise spot, exactly five minutes before the lorry was headed this way. His knowledge of the driver’s schedule has me guessing Ferris is also in cahoots with the Doyles. Or at the very least, in contact with whoever the rat is.