by V Vee
It was because I was Andrew Motherfucking McCarthy. The Irishman.
And it was time I reminded everyone of that fact.
I stood just outside of a rather large, nice looking home. One that had five different cars in the driveway. A couple of Toyotas™, a Corolla™, and two Fords™. Affordable, non-luxury, working man cars. Had they not been threatening my family I would have possibly offered to buy everyone in that house a new car simply because of the type of vehicle they chose to drive. I was very much an advocate for people using cars they could afford to drive rather than taking out leases and taking on car payments which put a strain on their finances, relationships, and homes.
But I wasn’t there to be Ed McMahon and offer them a large check from Publishing Clearinghouse™.
I was there to set the record straight. Either with my words or with my guns.
“Wait at the car,” I told Ronan, who simply nodded.
Ronan had known me for a long time, which was no doubt the reason he’d pointed out that I could trust him, but he also knew that when I’d made up my mind about something there was no deterring me. It was why Clan McCarthy was as successful as it was, both in legal and illegal dealings. It was why I had the home that I did. The state hadn’t wanted to allow me to purchase the land, but after a little… convincing… they had seen things my way.
It was also why I had the woman I did.
Kyra hadn’t wanted to marry me, as a matter of fact she’d been wholeheartedly against it, ignoring my gifts and presents to her until I’d shown up in person. As a matter of fact, it was me dicking her down and fucking her until her voice went hoarse, which had helped to seal the deal. But I’d known, after seeing her that night almost two years before, that she was mine. That she was born to be my woman. Created to walk along beside me.
Crafted to rule all of Baltimore, all of Maryland, and one day the entire country, with me.
I didn’t have plans for world domination, but the country? Oh yeah, that was definitely a goal, and the fact that Kyra had connections to women in positions of power, and some men as well, would go a long way towards making that possible. But it hadn’t simply been that which had led me to claiming her for myself. As a matter of fact I hadn’t even known who she was when I’d decided she was mine. All I had known was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
She still was.
But that was me being sentimental and to be honest? I didn’t have time for that bullshit. I was at the home of her Uncle Oscar, having told the older man to invite over everyone who was “concerned” about Kyra. Seeing all of the cars in the driveway I could already foresee an issue. I was very adept at being able to detect when someone was attempting to set me up, and this just smelled of underhandedness and trickery.
So without a word to Ronan, I set off for the side of the house. I knew without looking or asking that he would take the other side. I looked through the windows, making sure I wasn’t spotted, glancing up at the gutters, down into basement window, even checking out the windows. When Ronan and I met at the back, we both nodded to each other.
“Four cameras on my side. A police officer, and your ex-girlfriend, the one with the size H tits, Melonee, looks like she has some old bruises,” Ronan informed me. I nodded, feeling anger simmering beneath my skin.
“Eight cameras all along the hallway. One room with a suitcase in it, looks like it has some clothes in it that if Kyra didn’t know me as well as she does, would look like mine,” I said with a growl.
“Sure they aren’t?” Ronan asked the legitimate question with a quirked eyebrow.
I shook my head. “I’m certain. While the clothes are… nice, they aren’t…” I shrugged, not sure how to best explain the difference between the clothes on the bed, in the suitcase, obviously in an effort for Kyra’s uncles and aunt to try and imply to Kyra that I’d taken off.
“The clothes a boss would wear,” Ronan finished, and I nodded. He returned the gesture and I sighed, reaching over to clasp his shoulder.
“I don’t want to be suspicious of you, Ro. I really don’t, but…” I shook my head again. “I have to distrust everyone. Between Seamus and Uncle Lennox over a year ago, disrespecting Kyra, trying to kill me?” I slapped my chest. “Me! Their own family. And the head of this whole fucking clan?” I released his shoulder and pushed my fists into the pockets of my pinstriped pants.
“I get it, Drew,” Ronan said, calling me by my given name for the first time in years. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more, that he’d called me Drew or that he didn’t seem angry about me essentially telling him I had no choice but to suspect him. I wanted to tell him, reassure him, that I didn’t think he was really behind everything, but I couldn’t quiet the suspicious bastard in my head.
The person behind all of this knows how you think. They would know to be understanding in the face of your accusations so you would stop suspecting them.
I wanted to argue with him, with that nasty, snide, paranoid voice, but I couldn’t, because he was right, and while I hated the thought that I was isolating myself and my family from everyone we trusted and depended on, I couldn’t take the chance that someone close to me was trying to take them from me.
I wouldn’t let it happen. I would tear down the very foundation that held the country together, rip apart the world with my bare hands, before I lost my family.
Giving Ronan a final nod, I picked the lock for Kyra’s uncle’s back door and led him inside. Without needing to speak to each other Ronan and I moved as one through the house, disabling cameras, and removing anything the family thought they could use against me as incriminating evidence. Everything except Melonee who stood in the family room with the rest of them, watching the front door and expecting me to come that way.
“You would think the boy would have the decency to come on time,” one older man said. His hair was in a greying high-top fade. He sat in a chair, nursing a glass of liquor, a scowl on his face.
“Andrew has always done things on his schedule and by his own timetable,” Melonee said. She had been one of the biggest mistakes I’d made when it came to my previous one-night stands. A single evening of fucking the girl’s brains out had led to her showing up at my bar nightly, asking to see me, begging for another round. Then her breasts started to get bigger, and she got skinnier. Her brown hair changed to red then to blonde. It was now black and her skin, though mottled with bruises she was constantly lying and telling others I’d inflicted upon her, was a tanned color, so dark she was a light brown color. I scowled. The crazy bitch was trying to look like my woman.
I shook my head. Why was it that I always ended up finding the crazy bitches?
You married a crazy bitch, don’t forget that.
Well, I would never call Kyra “crazy” or a “bitch”, a friend of Bailey’s who played professional ball had called his girlfriend crazy once and had almost lost not only her, but his football contract. I would never do something that stupid. But if I was being honest, my wife was definitely crazy. She relished the world of darkness we moved in, and I wasn’t sure who enjoyed kicking ass and killing more, me or her.
But I loved her crazy ass and even more than that, her brand of crazy matched mine.
“Well, he’s on my schedule now,” another man, whose skin was a light brown color, said, his head shaved, his eyebrows perfectly sculpted, and I knew without needing to ask that I was looking at Uncle Oscar.
“Oh Oscar, tell your dick to calm down and unclench your ass cheeks,” a woman, tall, statuesque, who was no doubt a great beauty when she was younger but who looked as if life had run her ragged, so she’d relied on cosmetic surgery, hair dyes—or weaves—and expensive clothes said, her full lips pursed in a frown.
“Yes, please do unclench, Oscar. You never know when I might show up,” I said, stepping in the room, my guns out and pointed at him and Melonee.
The officer in the room reached with trembling hands towards his own gun, but Ronan was on him before h
e could move too much, crumpling him to the floor with a hard hit on his temple with the butt of his own .32. I gestured at everyone in the room towards the couches and chairs which had been collected and placed around the rather large space.
“Please everyone, have a seat,” I told them, taking a seat in the overly stuffed, large armchair which sat at the center of the room. The position of honor and authority, no doubt saved for Uncle Oscar, the eldest of Kyra’s uncles and aunt.
Don’t mind if I do.
“Now look here, little boy,” one of the other men in the room, wearing a blue t-shirt and a pair of pressed slacks said taking a step forward. I flicked off the safety on my gun and moving the gun away from Melonee, I turned it towards him, all without turning my head in his direction.
“Sit. Your. Ass. Down,” I commanded, and nodded in approval when he did as I said.
Once everyone was settled, I began to speak.
“Now, I’m not exactly what you planned to do here. No doubt you thought that bringing a woman who I slept with once, who has been stalking me and lying about me, here with a police officer, I would relent to your ridiculous, outlandish demands for fear of conviction. But as you can see…” I shrugged. “I just don’t give a fuck.”
“How could my sweet niece marry you?” The older woman who’d spoken earlier said.
I gave her a small, diabolical grin. “Well, it was a mixture of her knowing she belonged to me from the minute we met, the both of us loving our families and being willing to do anything to protect them—our true family,” I clarified when one of the other men opened his mouth to speak. “And there’s also the fact that I have a big ass cock and love to eat her pussy.”
The gasps in the room made Ronan and I laugh, and I shook my head.
“You really don’t know your niece if you thought she would believe any of the shit you all had cooked up, or if you thought she’d go along with your fucked-up plans. Even worse,” I shot the police officer right in between the eyes, then rose from the chair, straightening the jacket of my suit. “You really don’t know me if you thought, for even a second that I would let anyone take my wife and children away from me, or if you thought I would let you take what rightfully belonged to her and get your greedy little hands on it.”
The screams from earlier faded away as I walked slowly around the room, pointing the still hot muzzle of my gun against the foreheads of every member of Kyra’s birth family, gathered there.
“Eeny, meenie, miney, mo,” I taunted as I moved around the room. “Catch a greedy bastard by the toe. If he hollers, never let him go. Eeny. Meenie. Miney. Mo.” I stopped with one gun pressed against Melonee’s forehead, and I lifted my other hand to press the other weapon against Uncle Oscar’s forehead.
“Any last words?” I asked, lowering my voice as I allowed my rage to seep into my tone.
They both widened their eyes and began to cry and plead for their lives. I rolled my eyes and Ronan gave a dark chuckle.
“Why do people always cry and beg for their lives after they do something wrong? Why weren’t you thinking about living, about staying alive before you tried me like I was some kind of small dick motherfucker?” I asked with a growl.
I leaned down and stared deep into Uncle Oscar’s face.
“Stay the fuck away from my woman and my children. Do you understand me?”
He nodded quickly, tears rolling down his brown cheeks, and urine staining the front of his pants. I sneered at him and shook my head.
“You’re such a little bitch, you know that? And you really thought you were going to make me do something? You can’t even make your body hold onto your piss.” I backhanded him, still holding onto my gun and watched with satisfaction as he crumpled into the cushions. I turned to Melonee.
She was shaking her head, her hands lifted in surrender.
“Keep my name out of your mouth,” I told her. “Stop spreading lies, and don’t even think about saying anything to my wife or anyone who knows me. We had one night. That was it. And while I have exceptional dick game, your pussy was extremely forgettable. I want my wife. My woman. And only her. You will never compare to her. No matter how much you tan your skin, dye your hair, or how big you get your breasts. You aren’t even worthy of licking her boots.” I leaned even closer to her.
“Or I will turn you over to her and she will eviscerate you.”
“You’re damn right I will,” Kyra’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to look at her, my eyebrows lifted. I couldn’t say I was too surprised to see her. I wasn’t the only one in overprotective mode. Especially since the car bombing.
“Damn baby, we were just about to leave,” I said.
Kyra shrugged and stepped completely into the room, wearing a pair of faux leather leggings, a black tank top, and a long, green peacoat, a pair of black ankle boots on her feet.
“I know you were honey. I’ve been listening from outside, but I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” she said as she pulled her guns out of her purse. She pointed one at her uncle who was wearing the t-shirt and pulled the trigger, before she turned the other gun at Melonee.
“Kyra! Why did you do that?” Her aunt screamed at her.
Kyra shrugged. “He touched me when I was a little girl. I’d always meant to kill him for it one day, today was as good a day as any. And if I’d told Andrew and let him do it, then dear old Uncle David would have had his skin flayed from his bones, his intestines removed from a large cut in his belly button, his eyes plucked out, and his dick cut off and shoved in his mouth.”
I laughed at the look of sheer horror on Kyra’s aunt’s face and decided that while she and I would definitely be having a talk about her keeping secrets from me like about her uncle molesting her, she was right about my reaction to the words. I was fiercely protective of my woman and my children, that had already been established with the people in front of me, but I wasn’t sure they really understood just how wacked out fucking crazy I got when I thought or found out someone had hurt them, or attempted it.
Hell, even if a mother fucker thought about it, I would jam my fist so far down his throat, he’d be choking on it like it was a nine-inch dick.
Nine inches was average, right?
“She’s not wrong I said, except the dick part. You’re the one who goes around cutting off dude’s cocks, baby,” I pointed out and Kyra’s mouth dropped open in faux surprise.
“Oh yeah, you’re right!” She waved her hand in an offhanded manner when her aunt’s eyes widened even further. “Oh Aunt Lovette, you really shouldn’t look so shocked. I mean, you told my mother I would wind up in hell with her one day, right?”
I narrowed my eyes as I realized there was so much going on in Kyra’s family than I’d ever known.
“And even more than that, you were one of the women I’d seen coming out of my parents’ bedroom when I was younger. When my mom was off at work and my dad was watching me? You know, coming out and shoving your filthy panties in your purse?”
Lovette gasped and jumped up from her seat, only to be shoved back down into it by Ronan’s firm hand.
Kyra sashayed over to her aunt and while I knew what was going on was extremely serious, I couldn’t help but let my eyes move over her frame.
Fucking hell, my woman was delicious. Especially when she’s carrying my baby.
I snapped back into the room mentally when Kyra forced her aunt’s mouth open and shoved the muzzle of her gun into her aunt’s mouth.
“Oh come on Auntie! You know how to suck. I heard you that day. Gagging on my father’s dick, more than once screaming his name, begging him to cum inside of you.” My woman’s gaze turned black as coal with the fury that could be felt radiating from her every pore.
“Did you get pregnant by him? Did you have my father’s baby and raise it as my cousin?” Kyra snarled.
Tears spilled from her aunt’s eyes as she nodded.
“Did you keep the baby?”
Lovette nodded.
“Is her name Charlene?”
And with the mention of that name Lovette shook her head furiously, her eyes bigger than they had been, looking more frightened by the sheer question than she had been of the gun shoved in her mouth.
“Why are you so afraid?” I asked, stepping forward and away from Melonee. “Do you know who Charlene is?”
Lovette looked between Kyra and I and nodded.
“Who is she?” Kyra asked. Lovette shook her head.
“Who the fuck is she?” I practically yelled.
Lovette trembled and shook her head again, this time slower. But before either Kyra or I could ask again, bits of Lovette’s skull, brain matter, blood and hair exploded in our faces. Kyra and I both looked down at her hand to see if she’d squeezed the trigger by accident, but the sound of a scuffle reached our ears and when we turned the sight of Ronan wrestling Melonee for the shotgun which had been propped in the corner was more than a little surprising.
Kyra marched over and coldcocked Melonee in the face, grunting when she dropped, before turning to me.
“We can interrogate her later. You know what tonight is?”
I smiled as I walked up to her, pulling out the green handkerchief I always kept on hand from my pocket and using it to wipe her face.
“It’s date night,” I said.
Kyra nodded. “Exactly. That’s the reason I followed you. But before we go out to eat, we need to go shopping, the slut got the bitch’s brains all over me.”
Chapter Eleven
Kyra- K-Love
I’d been sitting at home, getting ready for my weekly date night with my husband when I’d been told that said husband had left the house in a swirl of Irish male fury, with Ronan only moments before by Andrew’s younger brother, Declan, who’d come by for breakfast. At least that’s what he’d told me. I’d known what had really brought the second eldest McCarthy brother over. Olivia, as well as every other woman in my crew, had been informed about the situation going on, as well as what Andrew had been told by the man he called “Laen.” While my husband proceeded to eye everyone suspiciously, as if he actually believed that someone we’d seriously vetted and assessed over the years could possibly be the big traitor behind it all, I’d simply explained to my girls that we were at Def Con One©. They all knew that meant that I needed constant check-ins, everyone needed to be sharing their location with me at all times, and I needed to know what everyone was doing every hour, even if what they’d been doing during that hour was having “filthy, dirty, nasty sex” per Michele.
