Chapter 79: Drummer Boys Sins Come to Bear Part 2

Here it is folks...the climax of all Bodie's desperate plans. It's long enough to be two chapters, but I didn't want to break the action....after this, its all downhill. Nothing left but the layers and layers of fallout....

Bodie

I fight to get to Row. It's not much of one, considering my hands are still tied. A few blows from Daemon puts me on my ass again, and then he picks up the lead pipe and delivers a few more across my exposed arms.

Then the pow of it hitting the back of my head and then...nothing.

When I come to, Connor is slapping me half-heartedly on the face. "Well, hello. You're not dead." He turns, "He's not dead!" Back to me, "Do you know me, man?"

"I know I'm going to kill you, you piece of fucking Irish shit," I growl.

I reach for him even though the slightest movement makes me nauseous. I grab him by the shirt and that's when I realize, they've cut my hands free.

"He's alright, not too damaged," Connor says, cheerfully, then to me, lower, he says. "We were just going to throw you in the shop shower back there, to revive you, but no need now. I'm glad you're not dead, Bodie. I like you. I hope it's not you, you know."

I don't know what the fuck he's talking about. I push away and try to rise. I get halfway to me feet, vomit, sit back down.

That's when I become aware that Darius is hovering near me, helplessly, anger and fear pouring off him like a July sun.

I reach out to him, and he grabs my hand. "I'm okay."

"Dad."

"I'm okay. It's okay."

It's so fucking not okay, but we're all still alive, and my hands are free now, so that's something.

I can hardly stand the light, but I force myself to look around. They've cut us all loose, but now Pat and Derrick and the three unnamed pricks that kidnapped us have guns instead of knives and other torture instruments.

To my surprise, Daemon is sitting in a chair and Derrick has a gun to his head. Row is slumped against the wall, Marley and TJ kneeling in front of her. TJ's t-shirt has become strips of bandages that TJ is wrapping around her hand. Marley is trying to help, but the pain from her burn must be bad, because she's mostly only using her other arm to provide assistance.

Row is watching without much expression, sweat pouring down her face, a whiskey bottle in her other hand. I watch her take a long swallow, and bang her head once against the wall. Then her eyes land on me.

"You have some serious fucking explaining to do. It better be good too, or I'm gonna kick your ass, and then I'm gonna let my brothers kick it all over again," she huffs at me.

It seems strange that I laugh, but I can't help it. Row del Marco. I love that girl like the little sister I never had. She's scared shitless just like the rest of us, but she refuses to show it.

"I'm more afraid of you than them," I tell her. That earns me a wan small that makes me want to cry, but of course I can't do that.

"Aye, that one has fire," Hugh says casually, of Row. "You have some Irish in you, Darlin'?"

"Fuck you, and all your limp dick Irish friends," she replies with fervor and all the Irish laugh. Except for Lorcan who bears down on Daemon.

"I should lynch you for that, you dumb coon bastard. We are not savages, and no one delivers permanent damage here, except at my order."

Everything coming out of Lorcan's mouth is bullshit right now. He just had Marley branded like an animal. He and Daemon are cut from the same filthy fucking cloth, but Lorcan's beef with Daemon is easy for me to see: Daemon doesn't know his "place."

He's a foot soldier in Lorcan's organization, a disposable drug dealer, hardly above a turf pusher. Worse than that, Daemon just offended Lorcan's fucked up "morality." If Daemon and Row's colors were reversed? Lorcan might still be unhappy that Daemon delivered punishment without approval, but I doubt Daemon would have a gun to his head right now.

God, I wish Lorcan would shoot him and save me the trouble. Then I look at my son, and I regret feeling like that. I don't want him to see that. Avery was bad enough, but I don't want Darius to see anymore death. Certainly not "family." Daemon is not his father, and he knows that, but he is Pat's son, and I don't want Daemon's death mirrored in his eyes every time Darius sees her.

Goddammit. If he ever sees her again.

Family. I have a strong desire to be with Marley and TJ and Darius and Row right now. I want us all on the same side of the room. I try to stand again, but the Irish prick guarding me makes his presence known by checking his chamber.

"I gotta get up," I tell the guy, "before I puke on your shoes."

He takes a step back. I try again, but the world spins and Darius grips my shoulder tight.

"Be still. Please," he implores. "What if you are hurt worse than you think? Like...Ashlynn...remember? Mom said she almost died after her brain injury. Something about a hemorrhage...he hit you a fucking lead pipe, Dad..." Darius growls, reminding me of Trace in his tone.

"I'm fine. Way fucking harder to kill than that," I promise him. I hold out a hand. "Help me up."

Once I'm on my feet, Lorcan looks at me casually, then over at the first aid, going on in the corner. "Get them back in the chairs. We're not done," he tells the goon squad. " And you," he turns on Daemon. "You don't wiggle a fucking finger without my say, do you understand? Not if you want to come out of this better than Avery Thompson."

Avery, I suddenly realize, has been dragged away. A long smear of blood points to his whereabouts—in the closet where they kept TJ earlier.

Daemon muscles forward toward Lorcan ignoring the gun at his head. "Do it. If you are closing down your operation because the law is closing in on you, you're leaving me and every guy like me holding the bag. I'd rather die than go back to prison."

"What...is he talking...about," I pant as I sit on the edge of the chair and hold my head.

Lorcan doesn't answer because the goons are putting Marley and Row back in their seats and Row is cursing in pain at being jostled. Lorcan watches Row with something like admiration, goes to the workbench, brings a fresh glass, takes her whiskey bottle from her, and pours her a nearly full measure.

"Use the glass, darlin'. It's so much more lady-like. We'll be taking you with us when we go, for the ransom from your billionare daddy, but don't worry. We'll be sure to get you a doctor as soon as possible. To make sure you aren't too damaged," he glares at Daemon again.

Row drinks greedily, eager to numb her pain. Lorcan offers Marley a glass, "I'm sorry about the burn. I imagine it stings as well, but it's not my fault, really. You should have taught your son not to lie." He turns to look at me,Darius, and TJ, seating in an arc. "But maybe you did your best. It's in their nature to be dishonest. You could have had a better man, with the way you look."

I see Marley's eyes flash and her hand move, and I know she's about to knock the glass from his hand.

"Marley!" I growl, but it's too late, she's already slapped at his hand and he's retaliated with a blow that splits her lip.

"You keep your goddamn hands off her!" TJ is halfway across the floor before the guns muscle him back. Lorcan stares at him like he's fascinated.

Then he looks down at Marley again. "You do inspire loyalty, don't you? Are they all in love with you?" He picks up a knife and points at me, TJ, then Daemon. Then he sidles closer to her. "Have you had all of them? What's that lovely phrase for the way they treat their whores? Tell me, Con, you keep up with these thugs. What do they call it these days?"

"A gang bang? Or running a train..." Con muses. He looks to me. "I'm not sure what they say, in this part of the country. Bodie? Which is more right in your ghetto?"

I just stare at him. "We are not friends, you racist motherfucker."

Hugh laughs. "My brother can be such a prick, can't he?"

"Feck off, gobshite," Con shoots back at Hugh.

Lorcan is impatient with the brothers. "Shut-up. We're running out of time. We've got to get in the air, but I want to finish this." He waggles the knife, at TJ and me.

"This is important. The lies they all keep from each other. Don't you see? That one," he points at me, "He won't lie if the truth will serve. He won't see them hurt...either one of the women or the boy. He loves them. But that one," he points at TJ. "I thought his brother would be his leverage," he extends the knife to Daemon.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Daemon growls, realizing that he was played.

Lorcan laughs at him. "Oh what, man? Do you honestly think we were bringing you in? Like an equal? No, you served two purposes only. You got us the girl we needed," he gestures at Row, "and you were also meant to be the leverage we need against that one," he points to TJ. "But now I'm not so sure. I think he loves Dr. Watkins more than he loves his own brother. Just how much more could be very useful to know, for when we get to the real interrogation."

Ah fuck me. I get it now. They know, for sure, that there's a leak to the feds from Sixmob. I don't know how they know, but Avery somehow put them onto it and with their resources, they've found out more than he would have ever been able to tell them. Now, Lorcan's cell are skipping out to protect the rest of the IRA. That's what the plane is for. They are probably headed to some part of the world where they can't be found or can't be extradited if they are. That's what Daemon meant, when he said they were closing down their operation.

They are just making a pit stop in Atlanta. A revenge pit stop, to murder the man that ratted them out. They just aren't sure if that man is me, or TJ.

What they do know is...one of us guilty, and one of us is going to die a horrible death in this room.

I look over at TJ, all bloodied and bruised, and I wonder if he's understanding what's going down, like I am. Right now, he's just focused on Marley, as Lorcan turns the knife back to her.

Goddamn. Is that they way I look, when I look at her? Like I would die for her?

I can see it so plain on his face right now. I wonder if Lorcan sees it so easily. TJ loves Shay and loves the family he made with her, but his heart beats for Marley.

Okay. That's good. She and Darius are gonna need him. To get through this, after I'm gone.

I accept the truth. The calvary's not coming, and all my deceptions and wrong doings have come full circle. I'm going to die here. My only regret is Marley and Darius will have to watch.

"Let's finish this like men," I say to Lorcan. "Quit fucking around with these games and have Derrick and Patty take the girls and Darius on the plane. I know you're taking them all, for ransom."

"I've told you all along, Bodie is a quick one," Connor says with a smile.

"Yes, I'm taking them all for ransom," Lorcan says. "But there's more to it than that. We both know it, don't we?"

"You think there's a rat in Sixmob." I'm just stalling now, hoping against hope for some miracle.

"Oh, I know there's a rat in Sixmob," Lorcan says gravely. "It was Thomas Rafferty's dying assurance."

I blink. That's not what I was expecting him to say. "Your boy Rafferty? He doesn't know shit about Sixmob."

"Ah, perhaps you don't shite about Rafferty," Lorcan counters. "I have to admit, I didn't know my own kin as well as I thought I did.

"Avery's blundering phone calls convinced me to look much more tightly at my own organization. One by one I slipped each of my cousins a little truth serum in their whiskey, and one by one I had a loyal whoor ask them a few sly questions during the middle of a dalliance. Connor and Hugh, and Patty and Derrick, and all the fellas here, and all the fellas back home, gave honest answers.

"All except Thomas Rafferty. He struggled to find his lies swimming in whiskey and truth serum during a long night at the brothel. Turns out he was MI-6."

I don't react in any way, but Varrick had told me there was another man on the inside. Said his cover was so deep, they would never blow it to have him do something so wasteful as testify. That's what the feds need me for.

"Rafferty's dead now of course, but before he died, he stumbled over a few questions I asked about you and your Sixmob associates. Under a lot of painful duress, he finally admitted there was a mole in your organization, but he didn't know who. And that was the truth, I believe.

"I've spent the last seventy two hours having every private investigator in the city find out everything there is to know about every one of your gang members. The truth of the matter is there are only two members of your gang that would ever be able to walk away from selling my drugs. Only you and your boy TJ here.

"The two of you are tight, aren't ya? He is high up the chain of Sixmob. And apparently, he has a bit of a beef with his brother, over the management of the boy. And I can easily see, how much pressure you're under, Bodie, living the double life of a rock star and drug thug. It wouldn't be surprising at all if you let information about us slip to TJ, your oldest most loyal friend...

"Yes, the mole is one of you, there's no point in lying about it. One of you has reported on me, and now me and all my boys are going to have to lay low for years in some third world hell hole, just holding onto hope that we can return home with new identities some day. So for that inconvenience, I will be knowing the truth. And I will be handing out the vengeance. No one crosses Sully Lorcan and lives to laugh about it."

I glare at the megomaniacal bastard. He and Daemon are two of a kind. Like Hitler and Mussolini.

Goddamn. This is really happening. Malik, Jalen, Sixmob, Varrick, the feds, they aren't coming. They aren't coming, and I am dying.

"Fine. Enough with the talk. Put Marley and Darius and Row on the plane and let's finish this like men. The answers you want, are right here," I tap my chest. "Put them on the fucking plane and I will tell you everything you want to know."

"You're a very cool one, Bodie. Con is right. So fucking smart, considering," he gestures at me. I guess he means considering my color.

"To be honest with you, it's not just your brains I am aware of. You're braver than most men. You might not break easy, under pressure. You might even take the blame that does not belong to you, out of guilt, or honor. No...I don't relish the women watching the ugly bits to come, but I'm not sure I would believe a word you said, without them present to take the punishment of lies. It is only them, keeping you honest. And I want the truth. The whole ugly truth. Which is why I'm much more interested in your friend here." He nods at TJ.

"It's your turn in our little game of truth or dare, TJ. I have a few follow up questions about the boy's paternity."

Lorcan sneers as he uses the knife to cut the bandage TJ carefully placed. Marley jerks like a wounded animal then gasps painfully as Lorcan runs the blade lightly over her oozing burn.

"Stop. Please," TJ says, a tear escaping the left eye, nearly swollen shut. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Is the boy your son?"

"No," he whispers. "But I love him like my own son."

Lorcan squints at TJ. "Truth, I think." He looks to Hugh for confirmation.

"Aye," Hugh agrees. I guess he's like Lorcan's human lie detector or something.

"And you love his mother? You're in love with this woman here?"

"I love my wife," TJ says firmly.

Lorcan and Hugh consult. Hugh tsks. "Not a lie, but a definite deflection. "Give her a little poke, for a half-truth," he suggests.

"No..." I growl, but Lorcan is prodding tip of his knife into Marley's raw, burned flesh and she cries out with an wet, sobby yell.

"Fine! I'm in love with her, okay?!?!" TJ yells. "I'm in love with Marley!" His own sob sounds just as painful as Marley's. I see their eyes meet. "I love you," he sobs to her. "I'm so fucking sorry. For this. For...everything. It's all my fault," he confesses to her. "You wouldn't be here right now, if it weren't for me..."

I sink inside. It's like a train wreck in slow motion. Lorcan is watching TJ with curiosity now, and I know he will keep going, probing TJ until he gets the whole truth. And the truth about me and Marley and TJ is the last thing Marley needs right now. I'm going to die and she's going to be angry at me, and being angry at TJ after I'm gone will be way too much for her. She and Darius will need him.

I have to get this over with before TJ makes Marley hate him.

"It's me, okay? I'm the rat! It's me. I'll tell you everything!"

Lorcan gives me the oddest look, but before he can say a word, Darius yells. "No! Wait! He's just saying that to protect me, because..." Darius looks at me with tears streaming, "because Bodie is my dad, but TJ has always been my dad, and...Bodie's like that. He...sacrifices for people..."

"That's definitely the boy's truth," Hugh nods at Darius.

"Shut the fuck up," Lorcan says to Darius. "And I'll get to you," he warns me. "Right now, I'm talking to this one," he stabs at TJ and grips Marley's shoulder tightly. "Why do you say this is all your fault? What did you do, TJ? Tell the truth, it will all go so much better for Marley and the boy..."

Tears are flowing down his face. He's not looking at Lorcan, but at her.

"I should have told you the truth, when you decided to keep him. If I had told you the truth...you would have told Bodie, and you would have had Ronna's help, not my mama's...you and Bodie would have still gone to UGA, and Ronna would have kept that baby for you, and Bodie would have still found his band, and three of you would have been a family out there in LA, far away from me, from Daemon, from Sixmob. You would have been free—all three of you—but I lied, because I couldn't let you go.

"I lied, and I held onto you, kept you in this life and Bodie came back to you anyway, and Daemon too, and now it's all fucked, because of me...I'm the only one, Jaz. Only I knew the truth from the beginning. Only I could have set you free from all this. Instead, I brought you all the way here...because I was selfish and I loved you, even when I knew you didn't love me..."

Marley's face has gone from a tight mask of pain to pale shock. She stares at him like he's some kind of animal she doesn't recognize and can't categorize as predator or prey. She looks at him like...he's a dragon. A creature completely beyond her concept.

"You...you switched the DNA samples on Darius' paternity test."

He closes his eyes, tears streaming. "I was sure the baby was Daemon's, but I wanted the result to say he was Bodie's. You said if he was Bodie's...you were going to give him up. I thought...I think I thought...if there was no baby, no child of yours, no nephew of mine between us...Daemon in jail, Bodie in jail..."

"You thought I would be with you," she whispers.

He nods.

"You fucker." The words could have been mine, but they are Daemon's.

Honestly, I'm not surprised by TJ's admission. I figured it out a long time ago—why he wanted the baby out of the picture. Not just because it was better for Marley. Because it was better for him. I don't even blame him for it. He loved her. He wanted to do right by her but he also wanted to hold her as close as possible. I get it. Is it any different than what I have done? I should have let her go, rather than put her in all this danger, but I didn't.

"Oh my god." Marley gasps, but it's Darius that follows through with all the implications.

"You lied to me my whole life. You kept...you kept my dad from me, TJ." His words are strained, disbelieving. Not angry. Grief-stricken.

"I know, Darius. I'm so sorry," TJ whispers. "I love you. I didn't want to lose you. You are my s—"

"Don't say that," Marley hisses. "He is not your son. You are not his father. You are not anything I thought you were...you bastard!" She tries to rise out of the chair, but Lorcan pushes her down.

"Well, as tragic as all that is, it wasn't quite the truth I was expecting to hear," he says dryly.

"Wasn't it?" TJ takes a sharp breath, like he's steeling himself for his words. "Don't you see? It was all me. The same reason I lied and schemed to switch Darius' paternity test results, is the same reason I kept the lie when the result didn't turn out like I expected. Because I love her and I was afraid to let her walk out of my life.

"I still love her, but I grew up. I'm not that selfish kid anymore. I don't want her for myself anymore. I just wanted her to be free from the lie," he's looking at her again.

"I wanted her to be free from Daemon. I knew if he knew the truth—that Bodie is really Darius' father, he would kill Marley—just for the betrayal—just like you are going to kill me. Don't you see? I don't give a shit about ratting on your organization. I did it to put my brother back in jail for good. Putting him back in jail is the only way she and Darius and Bodie can be the real family they were always supposed to be."

"Huh." Lorcan is dumbfounded.

The room is totally silent.

I open my mouth, but I can't speak. I look from Darius, to Marley, to TJ. They all look...ghostly. Wraiths. Shells of themselves.

There's so much death already. Death of a family they believed in.

Finally Lorcan says. "I can't tell. Hugh?"

"He loves her and the boy, that much is true," Hugh says. "I think he might be telling the whole truth. But he might just be that convinced of his love for her."

TJ and I lock eyes. "Tell them Bodie. Tell them you don't know a fucking thing about it. Tell them it was all me. You know it's true."

If I tell the truth, Marley and Darius will lose two families today. If I lie, I will cost my best friend his life, and I will have to live with his sacrifice for the rest of my life.

I can feel Cain Priestly beside me, his spirit watching to see if I will make the only choice that absolves me of his death. He's there, to witness, maybe even to shepherd me to wherever I go after.

Because I was wrong. I can't kill today. Not TJ. No way.

"He's lying. It's me," I say. "It's always been me. I hooked up with the Feds, before I even approached Connor. I didn't know he was IRA, but I knew he was being investigated in Thailand. I went to the feds and told them I could give evidence on him. I wanted to burn Daemon, for what he did to Marley, and Connor, for what he did to me and Arabella. I can give you details. The names of my handlers. The times and places I was debriefed. Codewords and spygames. He doesn't know shit about all that, because he is not the rat.It's me and I can prove it if you want me to."

"Goddamn you," TJ growls at me.

"I can't do it, brother. I can't let you die for me."

"Not you, you fucking bastard," he spits back. "For them."

"My mess. My fault. My job to die for them." I argue hoarse and hollow.

"Now that's a truth if I ever heard one," Hugh says happily. "It's definitely Bodie."

"Ah, Bodie," Connor says dryly. "I was rootin' for ya, really I was."

Lorcan is looking at me with cold detachment. "I would like to draw it out, to be quite honest, but time is getting short. Choose. Head or heart."

"Head," I say grimly. I look at Marley, then at Darius, then at Marley. "My heart is already spoken for."

Several guns seem to clink at once but it's hard to tell above the noise of Marley wailing and Darius yelling and their chairs turning over as they try to rush me. The Irish goons are holding them back, but no one is paying attaching to Row, who has been slumping in her chair, in shock or maybe just drunk. Or maybe just faking, so she would go unnoticed, because suddenly Row, brave Row, runs from her chair and crawls into my lap, wrapping her body around mine, especially my head.

"You are not going to shoot him!" She yells. "You'll have to shoot me first and then you won't get your goddamn ransom to live on for the rest of your lives!"

"Row! Get off me! Row!"

"No! I will not let them shoot you! This is fucking crazy, Bodie!!!! No! Fuck this!" She's holding on tight with her legs and her one good arm as Lorcan approaches.

"Row, goddammit, please. Be fucking smart," I plead, grappling with her, "They will kill you, too."

I see it in his eyes as he's approaching. He's going to shoot right through her. Nothing matters more to him than revenge in this moment. Not even money.

As he holds out the gun, something weird happens. I hear the shots, but they sound far away. My head is still kinda fucked up, so for a second I think I'm imagining things, but then, another shot and then another and then, the sound of breaking glass and Lorcan looks shocked for a second as a sliver of red cuts his cheek.

All hell breaks loose. The Irish are all yelling and running. Connor and two Irish goons run towards the back of the hanger through the door which leads to another large room, probably to make sure no one's coming in the back. Four more flatten themselves against the large windows at the front on either side of the large roll up door, peaking around, taking shots out in the dark. When they start shooting out, a blaze of bullets starts coming back toward them. They are pinned down.

"Get down!" I yell to Marley and she drags Darius to the floor with her.

Lorcan roars in fury as we both realize what is happening—Sixmob or the feds or somebody is out there, making their presence known as shots continue. This all going to be over fast now—one way or the other. He realizes it too. He glowers and keeps on coming toward me.

He's more eager than ever to get his revenge before it is interrupted. I pitch Row and I off the chair, onto the ground. She screams as I roll over her injured hand, but at least I'm covering her now, instead of the other way around.

I'm expecting to be shot but suddenly I hear a scuffle at my back. TJ has run headlong into Lorcan and they are rolling, fighting for control of his gun. Derrick at the window has just realized and he's swinging around as I scramble up off Row and toward the table with weapons.

I'm not the only one in a mad dash for a weapon. Daemon and I reach the table at the exact same time. I grab two nines, he gets one. I draw on Derrick and the Irish Dickhead, who are approaching me but still are firing carelessly through the windows.

"Step the fuck off, motherfuckers!" They halt, realizing I have the drop on them.

"Daemon, TJ—" I grit. TJ and Lorcan are still fighting for control of the Lorcan's gun. Derrick switches aim to TJ and I take two steps toward him.

"Don't fucking twitch or I'll blow your head off!" I yell. "Daemon, get Lorcan's goddamn gun!"

"Fuck TJ, let him fight his own battle."

"He's your brother!"

"Fuck TJ and fuck you!" Daemon shoves the gun roughly at my head. "You think Lorcan is the only one that wants to kill you both right now!?!!"

"Daemon," I look at him for a second and then refocus on my Irish targets. "Forget the bullshit right now! We are a crew and we are about to fucking die if you don't get on board!"

"I can't forget the bullshit. Marley and Darius were mine and you stole them!" he yells.

"Don't forget. Don't forget about me or my mom," a slightly elevated but calm voice says.

"Darius, get the fuck down on the floor!" I yell at him.

But he doesn't. He's walking evenly like he's not in the middle of a firefight. Jesus Christ. My heart fucking stops as he walks right between me and my Irish targets. Derrick lunges for him, to take him hostage, and the gun barrel at my head leaves automatically as Daemon steps aside and draws on Derrick from a wider angle.

"Don't you fucking lay a finger on the kid," Daemon growls. "I will blow your fucking head off." He pulls Darius behind his considerable bulk as he growls at him, "Are you fucking crazy, Darius?" He retrains the gun at me.

"Are you?" Darius grabs at his arm. "Help TJ! All those letters you wrote me. You said you wanted to be better than this! Help TJ!"

I'm standing there, two guns drawn at two guys with guns drawn on me, all the rest of the Irish pinned at the windows as the outside fire increases and more bullets start whizzing through windows, and Marley and Row are both lying on the floor covering their heads, and TJ and Lorcan are still rolling around on the floor, having kicked the gun away and now both fighting each other to reach it, and I have a gun to my head and my son is pleading with his former father for his other father's life.

This is insane.

"Goddammit, Daemon! Do the right fucking thing for once in your life!" Marley screams at him from the floor. "You weren't always all bad, I know you weren't! I saw something good in you once!"

Daemon looks at her. For his rage at her, she can still move him. He slaps his gun in Darius' hands. "Any of these Irish motherfuckers look at you, and you unload on them just like I showed you," he commands. And then he strides towards Lorcan and TJ, picking up the pace as he sees Lorcan's fingers straining, finding purchase on the gun as he tries to gauge at TJ's eye with his other hand. Daemon barrels into them both, rolling them over and over.

Idiot. He should have just kept his gun, rather than giving it to my fifteen year old son. He could have put it to Lorcan's head. Fight over.

Darius is panting, and out of the corner of my eye I see him switching his sights from Irishman to Irishman nervously. "Give me the gun." I say to him automatically.

"I got it. Daemon's been teaching me," he says.

"Give me the gun!" I order.

"How?" he spits back.

He's got a point; my hands are full.

"Just, put it down—"

The sound of the gun going off so close makes me jump. It wasn't Darius shooting.

I scan the tussle of Lorcan, TJ, and Daemon on the floor. They are still all arms and legs in motion for one more second.

TJ comes up on his knees with the gun, grabbing at Lorcan, who rises to his, with his hands up.

Daemon doesn't get up. He rolls over, clutching his belly. "Which one of you motherfuckers shot me?" he gasps.

"Christ, Dae," TJ groans in agony, "It was me," he chokes.

"Better you than the Irish fuck," he mutters and then he doesn't say anything more.

"Is he dead!?!?" Darius wails with alarm.

TJ shakes his head. "I don't think so. But he will be, if he doesn't get help." He puts his gun to Lorcan's head. "You fuckers put your guns down or a swear I will blow his fucking head off!"

"Then we'll do you," Derrick says casually.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter.

This is insane.

I can't take any more. Something inside me clicks, and there is no more fear, no more uncertainty about what I should do.I just know and I do it.

I go Varrick Von on this situation.

I shove Darius to the ground, I shoot Derrick in his fucking foot, and I would have shot the other Irish goon, but seeing the intent in me, he quickly tosses his gun. I grab it, toss it to TJ so now he is double barreled, kick Derrick's gun to Marley, drag Darius with me to her side, turn over the metal folding table—sending torture items spraying, throw the table down in front of them for cover, tell them "Anybody at the windows shoots at me, shoot back."

I stride toward the front of the hanger, ripping my white dress shirt off as I go. I throw up a large roll door and wave it wildly, while alternately training my gun at the the two Irishman by the windows who don't know whether they want to shoot me, or thank me for surrendering to the fucking army of well armed people outside trying to kill them.

"Stop fucking shooting!!!!" I yell into the dark. "And who the fuck are you, anyway?"

Silence as the guns peter out. Finally, and tough, "It's us, Dawg. Sixmob. Sixty brothers strong. We got your back."

That's Big Mike. With Dae and TJ in here, he's next in charge. Which explains why Sixmob is shooting at a building where he knows his own crew is being held. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed.

My eyes are adjusting, staring out in the dark. Now I can make out the shapes of cars ringing the hanger, and Sixmob members shielded behind them.

"You are going to shoot your own crew. Sixmob is in here too, you know!"

"I told you, Dawg!" Malik says resentfully.

"We were trying to develop a distraction. You know, tip the situation," Preston yells.

Tip the situation? That does not sound like Sixmob strategy. And "develop a distraction" does not sound much like Preston's vocabulary. Who the fuck has he been talking to?

Oh. I get it. Varrick got my message. I know how Sixmob found me here, but I don't know how in hell he found Sixmob so quickly. Still that develop a distraction shit sounds exactly like him. I have to believe there's a silent operative out there, pulling the strings, developing the distraction with sixty Sixers.

I guess I better debrief him, if he's listening.

"Well you did tip things. We are in a stand-off here. Three brothers and one pissed off babymama with guns up in here against eight goddamn Irish bastards, some also still with guns! Dae's been shot! We got...two more hurt people. Get a fucking car ready! We gotta go. Where the fuck are we anyway?"

"Alabama, Dawg," Jalen yells.

"Where in Alabama?" I yell in exasperation.

"The county of Bumfuck Nowhere" a voice I did not expect to hear calls out calmly. It is not Varrick's.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl, even as I keep my eyes trained on the two Irishmen who've got guns trained on me.

"You know how I get those Christmas blues cause I had a crappy childhood, and how I like to stay busy with meaningful shit at this time of year? Well, I ran into your boy Prez and he gave me the tea...and saving your ass sounded better than last minute Amazon shopping. But maybe we should chat later," Leed says lightly. "Like when nobody's trying to shoot you."

Preston. Of course. Preston is the one link between Sixmob and Soundcrush. He deals in the band house neighborhood. Hell, I'm pretty sure Leed might occasionally be buying weed from him.

"I'm good at multi-tasking," I wave the gun at the Irish pricks by the window. "Put your fucking guns down assholes, or sixty angry brothers are gonna storm in here and that's not good odds for the two of you."

Reluctantly, two of the nameless ones lay down their weapons. I throw the guns out the door.

"Okay, we are secure in the front, but they've got...three more guys around back."

"You're surrounded, Dawg. They ain't slippin' out the back," Jalen growls.

I call back to Marley. "Jasmine. Any Irish come through that door from the back—"

"Will get a firestorm for a welcome," she says with a steel in her voice that is both Jasmine and Doc Gorgeous.

"That's my shorty," I tell her.

"Fuck you, Bodie," she says.

"Or not," I sigh. I guess she has every reason to hate me for getting her into this.

"Hey Leed, you could help me out and get on your phone and find a hospital in Bumfuck. We gotta roll, man."

"No problem," Leed says coolly from the dark.

"Is...is Riley out there?"

"No, just your brothers that know how to shoot and don't mind target practice on some assholes that kidnap our loved ones," another familiar voice that I did not expect calls out.

"Adam!"

"You bet."

"Gwen?"

"Safe."

"Thank god. Listen...Row's in here. Her hand is hurt."

"Row!?!?" Leed yells, then "Jesus Christ."

"Dawg, we gotta go," Big Mike yells. "Send 'em out one at a time and we'll light 'em up against the wall and then get Dae to a hospital."

"What do you mean, like a firing squad?" Adam says. "You can't do that."

"We can't call the cops. We can't let 'em go, they'll come back with a battalion of Irish. It will be a fucking war," Preston argues.

"You can't just execute people that surrendered," Adam objects.

"They didn't surrender. Bodie surrendered!" Malik yells back. "They were gonna kills ours. Now we kill them."

"Fuck no," Leed says. "Shooting people trying to shoot you is one thing. Killing in cold blood is another."

I hear a gun chink as its chamber is readied. "You can stand on the wall with 'em, white boy..."

"Big Mike, I will fuck you up if have a gun on my boy right now!!!" I yell at him.

"Fuck you, Bodie, we are here to save your ass and now you gonna dawg me!?!? Where you stand man? With your crew that is rescuing your ass or with this dude with a man bun?"

TJ drags Lorcan with him, closer to the front and yells out at Big Mike. "There ain't no time for this bullshit. We're sending the women and Darius out. Then some of you boys come in and we'll tie these fuckers up. Then we'll deal with the ones in the back. Then we'll leave these fuckers tied up here and Bodie can call the feds to come get 'em."

Silence. "The Feds?"

"It's a long story, but I gotta hook up that's been on these Irish. Don't worry, we got immunity." For some of us, I hope.

"Okay, then. That's...that's a damn good plan. One of you shoulda been in charge all this time," Big Mike concedes.

TJ and I smile at each other grimly. No shit. None of this would have happened if we had been running Sixmob. They'd all have jobs. Homes, families, maybe. Lives worth living.

I turn my back from the door, assessing one more time. Five Irish up here, one shot. That means three in the back. We can't cover all these guys and that back door if we send Marley and Darius out.

"Wait, send us five guys in now to cover the back."

Five figures emerge from behind the cars and come loping toward me. Malik, Jalen, Deshaun, Andre and Preston. I'm just giving Preston and DeShaun homie handshakes when what sounds like a fucking explosion happens behind us. I turn to see Connor and two more Irish busting through the drywall on what looks like a Gator. They go crashing into the table right towards Marley and Darius, the semi-automatic weapons trained on them.

Instinct makes me shoot high over the rugged vehicle to draw the Irish's fire away from them. It works...the Irish swing their machine guns toward me. I hit the floor, army crawling toward Marley and Darius, but someone's been hit, I hear the first sharp cry and now moans.

I can't stop. I have to get to them...

The Irish are firing again, I roll to the side behind a mechanics bench.

A gasp, choked off before it becomes a cry. Marley's. I would know her gasp anywhere.

"Don't you fucking hurt her, Connor!" I yell at him.

"Then throw your weapon out. You and TJ, and your men there that aren't dead."

I throw my gun and come crawling out. TJ and Lorcan have simply switched places...Lorcan is now holding a gun on TJ. Connor has Marley, Pat has Darius.

Malik is dead. Shot in the head. I stare at his lifeless body, thinking of how he saved my life when Cain Priestly nearly killed me.

Preston is shot. It looks like he's bleeding badly from the thigh. DeShaun, Andre and Jalen rise, tossing their weapons along with Preston and Malik's.

"What's going on in there?" Big Mike yells. "We're coming in!" Headlights brighten the outside like day. Car doors are slamming, engines revving.

My eyes are trained on the gun Connor has to Marley's head. He depresses the trigger halfway.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I scream. "Sixmob, stand down!"

DeShaun is nearer the door, takes up the cry and gives the hold sign.

The cars stop moving forward.

"Prez! Prez, talk to me..." I yell, diverting my eyes from Marley to him.

"Aooooohhhh," he moans, rolling, grabbing his leg. "Hurts like a sonovabitch."

I whip off my belt and stride over, putting a quick tourniquet on his thigh above the gunshot wound. "Don't you fucking die on me, man..."

"You either," he mutters, gesturing with his head behind me.

Lorcan as acquired a second gun and it's aimed at my head. "Well now, table have turned yet again," he says. "Looks like I'll get my revenge after all."

"Look around," I say quickly. "Eight of you. Eight of us standing. You kill me and then sixty pissed off thugs come in here guns blazing, and probably we all die. Or you can use your fucking brain, and use each one of us as a guarantee to get each one you to that plane out there on the run way. Let's make a deal. We'll be human shields and I will tell my guys to stand down, if you let us all go at plane steps."

Lorcan strokes his chin. "But I came here for you, Bodie Jamison. And for money. So the only deal I'll be willing to take is the billionare's daughter comes with onto the plane, and you as well."

"Deal." One word. Swift, but not nearly as sure as I sound.

God, it's risky. God, I hope I'm right. God I hope Varrick is out there and he's where I think he is. Because Preston and Daemon are going to die if I stand here and negotiate with this fuck.

"No! Fuck no!" Marley cries, her body rigid as Connor holds the gun to her head.

"You don't want me to go? I thought you were mad at me," I smile at her.

"Shut-up," her tears stream as she shakes.

"It's okay, Jaz. He can't shoot me in an airplane."

"But I can throw you out of one," Lorcan says coolly.

Marley sobs.

"Baby. Look at me. It's okay," I tell her. "I love you. Darius...I love you two. You both have to trust me now."

Every thing happens quickly. Lorcan pushes TJ off on Derrick and takes me, gun to head, to the hangar door, where I relay the deal. Leed tries to argue and I cuss him pretty good, telling him this ain't no time for his frontman bullshit and this ain't his fucking show.

After that, every Irishman finds himself with a human shield. Lorcan has me, Connor takes Marley, Hugh Darius, Derrick TJ, and Pat, Row. The generic pricks find Jalen, DeShaun and Andre to be mouthy and prickly, even with guns trained on them.

Row is just as difficult as the gangbangers. Except her grief is directed at me.

"I so regret sharin' my fishbowl...and my angel baby with you...now I'm maybe never gonna see Riley again. Good news, though..." Row tells me in a sloppy drunk kind of way. She holds her bloody hand up. "It doesn't even hurt now. I can't feel it. Like at all," she snickers. "I fucking hate the Irish but I love their whiskey. If they kill us...I'm going to be so pissed at you. I'm gonna fucking torture you in hell. The devil won't have dick on me."

"You think that's where we'll go?" I ask her, because keeping her bravado up seems like a better deal than saying something sweet to her.

She gives a solemn nod. "Yeah I think so. Don't you?"

"I don't know and I don't care, because we're not done here yet, you hear me?"

She snickers and salutes me with her good hand. "Whatever you say, Chief. This is your massacre."

Lorcan orders Sixmob to turn off their blinding headlights just before our line of eight pairs heads toward the runway. We're leaving Preston and Daemon in the hanger, knowing that Sixmob will rush in to care for them as soon as this is over.

Oh god, I hope I'm right. I hope it's over quick.

"Bodie..." Marley is just behind Darius, who is behind me.

"Baby," I turn around to her, even as Lorcan is pulling me toward the hanger door. "I love you and I will love you forever, no matter what, okay? I love you. Darius—"

"I know, Dad," he says. His words are clipped, his face completely shut down. He's on the edge of coming apart. I don't say anything more, because he has to walk. He has to do this. It's the only way.

I look over Marley's head to TJ. He gives me a head nod, and I give him the chin tip.

Lorcan jerks me forward. Shit, here we go.

It's about 500 yards to the plane. The Irish walk to the left of us, and we are between the ring of Sixmob and our captors. The radio tower looms dark, behind them.

We walk about a quarter of the way to the plane and everything is silent. Lorcan is quickening my pace and what I thought would happen, isn't happening.

Oh god, I was wrong. He's not there. I was wrong.

Horror stills my feet. I'm am not ready to get on that plane and say goodbye to Marley without one more look at her. I pull away from Lorcan and turn to tell my son I love him one last time and smile at his mama.

Darius meets my eyes. His face crumples. I open my mouth, but just then, beside Darius, Hugh's head jerks suddenly to the left, and he just falls away. Before his body hits the concrete, Connor behind him, is following suit, nearly dragging Marley down with him.

Lorcan swings around and he get his sniper bullet in the forehead, and now the rest of the Irish understand what's happening and they are pulling their guns and trying to scramble, but one by one they fall.

There are no screams. Not even the shots are heard, just the whizzing punctures and the muted falls of the men.

Silent death, delivered from above.

I glance up at the dark radio tower. An entire window panel removed, and open space, the sniper invisible, clothed in the darkness just like an executioner should be.

But I know he's there.

I knew I could count on Varrick Von to pick up his sniper's rifle one more time. He's added eight more names to his list, eight more burdens to bear, but I knew he wouldn't hesitate.

Didn't he just promise me today? Our family is the code he lives by, and therefore the code these Irish died for violating.

I grab Marley, and Darius, and I stand there, hugging them fiercely, looking up at the tower. For them, I have no words. I can never find any to make up for what I've put them through tonight.

No, the only words are the ones I have for the man in the tower. A silent "Thank you," forms on my lips.

There is no movement at all in the tower, no sign that he sees. I imagine him slumped down on the other side of the wall, methodically packing his weapon. I wonder how long it will be before he comes down from the tower. I understand without having to be told that He doesn't want praise or thanks or even the acknowledgment that he brought this final resolution. Varrick has done a thing for which their can be no welcome return.

I hope for both our sakes, I hope his code nor mine will ever bring us to this place again.

So much happens in the next few hours. Sixmobbers rush away, cars caravaning to the hospital , carrying our wounded, Adam goes with Row, Leed stays with me and  TJ , Varrick finally appears as if he knew the Feds were pulling down the long entrance to the airstrip. Nothing is openly spoken of his role as the sniper in front of me or my boys, but he is debriefed for much longer than any of us.

"Forty-eight hours," the Feds tell me. "It's all we can give you. The Priests get good intel. They will hear quickly  that Lorcan's cell failed. Everything has to be by the book if we are to protect innocents..."

Forty eight hours is maybe not enough to put out the flames of my personal life and prepare Marley and Darius and Sixmob for what's about to happen, but it's all I've got.

Leed drives to the rural, sleepy hospital. The waiting room is crowded with urban gangsters and Marley, her arm now properly bandaged. She is speaking in low tones to Big Mike, Jalen, and DeShaun who sit on a bank of opposite seats from her.  Darius sits beside her. She is holding his hand. He is letting her, but staring stupidly at the Coke can in his other hand. I know immediately that something is wrong.

I mean, wronger than it was three hours ago. There's been more trauma.  Marley looks...detached. She's in Dr. Watkins mode—a role I rarely see her wear anymore.

There is a whole punched in the wall. The room reeks of desperation. Marley slips Darius, rises and meets us. She looks from me, to TJ, her eyes shifting continually between us.

"He didn't make it. He lost too much blood. His heart stopped and they couldn't bring him back. They made every effort. If it's any comfort at all...I was with him. He wasn't alone with strangers."

My heart clinches high, nearly in my throat.  I'm pretty sure, from Marley's demeanor, but I have to hear her say it.

"Marley...are you talking about Daemon? Or Preston?"

Next chapter is Marley's...a slight rewind to what happened right after the shooting and at the hospital....