Forkhill, Northern Ireland

"I respect where your head was, but I'm pretty sure this is kidnapping."

Dessie stared through the window at the teenage boy Catherine and Patrick tied to a chair in the middle of the barn. They gagged Brennan with a torn piece of cloth stuffed into his mouth and held in place with duct tape. He wriggled in the chair, unsuccessful in his attempt to break free of the chain they used to secure his arms and legs.

"Since when are you afraid of a wee kidnapping?" Patrick asked, tossing his cigarette to the ground.

"I-I'm not," stammered Dessie. "It's one thing if we needed money. This is just askin' for trouble; he didn't even do anything and I think youse have forgotten I'm meeting with Jimmy in less than twelve hours. If he finds about this, he'll have our heads."

After lighting a cigarette, Catherine tossed the Zippo back to Patrick.

"It's not exactly stupid. Jimmy thinks he has the upper-hand, holding Rory as a bargaining chip. He'll tank his asking price to only the cost of the hardware in exchange for the bloody tout. But," she crooned, holding her index finger in the air, "if we show him we have the prodigal son, we can use it to leverage a better deal on our end."

"So…a prisoner swap."

"Now you're gettin' it." Patrick patted Dessie on the shoulder. "You're not as much of an eejit as I thought."

Dessie knocked Patrick's hand off of him. He hated to admit it was a pretty sound idea. Since Catherine told Dessie that Jimmy was holding Rory hostage, he'd been wracking his brain for weeks trying to figure out how he was going to make a profit off the AK sale.

Plucking the cigarette from Catherine's fingers, Dessie tucked it into the corner of his mouth. He took out his cellphone from the back pocket of his jeans and walked into the barn.

When Brennan saw Dessie trekking towards him, he began thrashing even more. His terrified howls echoed, not at all stirring an emotional effect on the ONH leader.

Holding out his phone, Dessie took a drag from the smoke.

"Smile for me," he said, snapping the photo.

Pleased with his photography skills, he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He wasn't going to let this rare opportunity go to waste. Dessie wanted to see just how loyal the scared kid was and ripped the tape off Brennan's face before removing the gag as well. Knowing Catherine and Patrick were watching him from the window, Dessie waved them in.

Brennan looked up at the three of them, never having been so scared in his life. In his mind, there nothing stopping them from killing him right then and there.

Catherine asked him a question she already knew the answer to, wanting to gauge just how much they could trust him if he did decide to start talking.

Jimmy had a mountain of intel on ONH thanks to big-mouth Rory. She figured it was only fair they had a sneak peek into the True army.

"Which port do Jimmy's shipments come in?"

Brennan responded by spitting on Catherine's boots. She kicked him in the mouth.

"When are the Kings makin' a visit to Belfast?" Dessie yelled.

The viciousness of his tone sent a chill through Patrick, and yet Brennan didn't budge. Being met with silence only pushed Dessie over the edge.

Dessie and Patrick met a glance; they were thinking the same thing.

Patrick placed his foot onto Brennan's chest, knocking the boy onto his back. Dessie reached for the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans, not looking to Catherine as he held up Brennan's hand and curled down all of his fingers except for the pinky.

"No! No!" screamed Brennan.

"Go fetch Connor," Dessie instructed flatly, placing the muzzle of the pistol to the base of Brennan's small finger. Hearing him use Connor's name in front of Brennan made Catherine realize Dessie no longer had any intention of letting the boy walk out of there alive. "And you stay in the house with the boys."

Remembering what happened the last time Dessie told her to stay out of the barn and she didn't, Catherine obliged without a fight. Leaving her father and husband, she left the barn and headed for the house. Halfway there, the sound of the pistol firing stopped Catherine dead in her tracks.

They weren't monsters, she convinced herself. They were products of war.


Crossmaglen, Northern Ireland

Freshly showered with a towel tucked loosely around his hips, Dessie crossed the hall into the bedroom. He stopped mid-stride, suddenly unable to think straight thanks to the drop-dead gorgeous woman occupying the room. His heart fluttered rapidly all the while his cock became impossibly stiff.

A breath lodged in his throat as Dessie's eyes followed her fingers. She clasped a strap on her garter belt to the black lace-trimmed stocking hugging the beautiful curve of her thick thigh. All he wanted to do was trace his tongue along the undoubtedly sweet-smelling skin and bury his face into the sinful place he craved most.

"Are you seriously gonna wear that?"

Taking her foot off the edge of the bed, Catherine spun around and looked at Dessie, bewildered. She ran a hand along the piece of white satin lingerie she wore snuggly around her hips.

"Aye," she crooned, biting her lower lip as she spotted the bulge under his towel.

He snorted, "Like fuck you are."

"Why not! Why can't I wear this? It makes me feel like an old hag wearin' tights, and it's not like any of the lads'll be gettin' a peek at my knickers."

Little did Catherine know, it wasn't the lads Dessie worried about. Closing the door behind him, he inconspicuously pushed the lock hearing the boys playing downstairs. He trekked across the room, eying her with a self-indulgent glimmer. Grabbing her by the hips, Dessie twisted Catherine around before tossing her roughly onto the bed.

She shrieked and giggled, trying not to ruin her perfectly blended makeup on the Turkish blue duvet.

Ripping the towel off of his waist, Dessie climbed on top of Catherine. He pressed feather-light kisses along her spine, his fingers expertly working to unhook the eyelets of her bra clasp.

She felt the velvet-smooth head of his cock brushing along her bare inner-thigh. Goosebumps prickled her skin; her brain fogged with the overwhelming jolt of desire frying every last one of her nerves.

"Because," he purred. Curling his fingers around the front of her neck, Dessie lifted her head to whisper into her ear. "If I know that's what you've got on under your skirt, there's no way in hell I'll be able to concentrate. Once you've got me chubbed, there's only one thing I can think about in this god-forsaken world."

Reaching behind her, Catherine placed her palm on Dessie's abdomen. She inched down, raking her nails through his coarse hair.

"And what is it you're thinkin' of?"

He took a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut as she held him firmly in her grasp. He pressed his cheek against her temple, groaning. She could smell the spearmint toothpaste on his breath as she swirled her thumb along his sensitive tip, smearing sticky beads of precum.

"What are you thinkin' about?" she asked again, this time more forcefully.

Dessie tried to form the words on his tongue, having found himself unable to remember how to speak. He was just about to show her instead when a wall clattering thud and the shrill cry of "Ma!" ripped the mood to shreds.

"Fuck," Dessie snarled through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna kill 'em, Cate. I swear to God, I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'em."

Releasing him from her hand, Catherine nudged a disgruntled Dessie off of her. Jumping to her feet, she quickly tied her knee-length robe so she could investigate the cause pulling her away from a much more desired activity.

Dessie sat on the edge of the bed, silently talking himself down from the murderous rage threatening to boil over. It had been two days since Catherine was given the all-clear from her doctor to resume an active sex life. All six times he tried to claim her body in the last forty-eight hours, Eamonn or Sean managed to find some way to cock-block him.

"Relax, killer." Catherine rustled his damp hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I promise I'll make it up to you tonight."

"Promise?" he wined like a blue-balled teenager.

"I promise. And don't worry, if those wee shites ruin it for us, I'll murder 'em myself. Now get dressed; we gotta hit the road soon."

As Catherine walked towards the door, Dessie sprang forward to reach up her robe and pinch her ass.

"That doesn't sound very motherly of ya."

"Five weeks, Dess," she spun around waving five fingers. "It's been five weeks. If I don't have an orgasm soon, I'm gonna explode."

Once she left the room, yelling borderline threats of violence to her sons, Dessie flung himself onto the bed.

"Me too, baby," he huffed. "Me too."


Drumintee, Northern Ireland

It had been a month since Catherine last saw Jimmy.

She dreaded the very idea of being in the same country, let alone the same room as him. Stepping out the SUV, she could already feel the drunken butterflies fluttering deep within her belly. Dessie sensed there was something about this particular meeting throwing her into the arms of a bout of anxiety, but every time he asked she swore there was nothing wrong.

"I can't believe you talked us into wearing these monkey suits," Kieran said, tugging on the collar of his gunmetal gray button-down.

Catherine slipped on her black blazer before smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on her matching pencil skirt. "Trust me on this, please. Appearance means everything to Jimmy. If we go in there lookin' like the boys of the old brigade, he'll think he can steamroll us."

Kieran took a long drag from his cigarette, staring down hard at Catherine behind the lenses of his aviators. She had a point.

Dessie caught Kieran's attention as he grabbed his blazer from the backseat and put it on. The last time he had seen Dessie dressed in trousers and a blazer, they were in their final year of school at St. Joseph's.

"Well, if it isn't south Armagh's very own Dapper Dan," Kieran laughed.

"Go fuck yourself, Stumpy," spat Dessie.

Fixing the sleeves of his white button-down under the jacket, Dessie didn't appreciate Kieran's jab, despite it being a light-hearted attempt to lessen the tension. If he weren't feeling so unlike himself dressed like Jimmy's clone, Dessie would have found it funny.

"Youse are not fuckin' matching." Kieran pushed his sunglasses into his hair, running his eyes up and down the married couple. "That's bloody disgusting."

And he didn't mean it in a joking way.

Catherine opened her mouth to counter Kieran's taunt, but the words got lost somewhere on her tongue when Jimmy's Mercedes came up the drive and parked behind her SUV.

The three of them fell silent as Jimmy and Donny got out of the car.

"Shite," Catherine mumbled under her breath.

There was no ignoring the emotionless expression on Jimmy's face. He wasn't in a good mood. That would make their job about thousand times more difficult.

As the two men strolled up the drive, they didn't stop to offer any pleasantries.

Jimmy simply walked right passed them and tightly said, "Let's get this fuckin' over with," before heading to the safe house.

"Oh boy," Kieran snickered. "This is gonna be fun, innit?"


Clamping a cigarette between his teeth, Dessie snatched the fountain pen from Catherine's hand. On a scrap of paper, he scribbled down a number. Folding it in half, he slid it across the table to Jimmy.

Not really knowing what to expect, Jimmy went poker-faced. He peeked at the number, praying to God his brain was playing some sort of cruel joke on him. After a double-take, he realized the thirty-four-thousand pounds Dessie was asking for wasn't a gag. That was before he even shelled out a cut of the profits.

He wasn't mad, rather entirely insulted. Jimmy wondered if he had the word 'sucker' etched on his forehead.

"You wanna try a different number?" Jimmy asked condescendingly.

Blowing smoke from his nostrils, Dessie slowly shook his head. He was aware his asking price was off the charts, marking up the hardware by over sixty-percent of their market value. Being unreasonable right out of the gate was the only way Dessie could take control. If gave him a lot more room to negotiate.

Catherine spent weeks coaching Dessie on how to deal with Jimmy's tactics. If she let him sit at the table blind, Jimmy would mop the floor with him and he wouldn't even realize it was happening. They'd see pennies of the profits, leaving them lucky if they managed to break even when it was all said and done.

"We have overhead, just like you." Catherine's words were honeyed, leaving Jimmy more aggravated than he already was.

He never should have promoted her; never should have taught her the ins and outs of this illicit business. He put so much time and effort into molding her into the perfect IRA soldier he wanted, Jimmy failed to think about the possibility of her using his strategy against him one day.

Jimmy took a breath and unclenched his jaw. It would be all over for him if they saw they managed to get under his skin.

"Twenty-one."

Dessie snorted. "You're not gettin' 'em for cost. We're not a charity, Jimmy."

"There's no way in hell your overhead costs are nearly double that of the True army," chimed Donny.

"My overhead is none of your goddamn business. But it's no secret we don't have the same manpower as youse." Dessie stubbed out his cigarette. "Fewer bodies to move hardware through the counties means a bigger cut on their end. I'm not gonna stiff my men because you're too cheap. What I'm askin' for is - it's pocket change to you tiocfaidh Armani lot. Thirty-two, plus thirty-percent."

Leaning back in his chair, Jimmy couldn't help admiring the roaring fire he saw in Dessie. He believed so passionately in the cause, Dessie didn't think of himself as being above the rank-and-file volunteers. Jimmy understood this number wasn't necessarily coming from a place of greed. Dessie was just trying to make sure the men he commanded could put proper food on the table for their families.

He supposed he could respect that.

"Twenty-five; fifteen-percent," Jimmy said. "And I'll make sure you have the extra man-power you need to move the shipment when it comes in. At no extra cost."

Catherine jumped in, "We're capable of moving our sto-"

Under the table, Dessie pinched her thigh to shut her up. He didn't need her running her mouth when he just about had Jimmy right where he wanted.

"We can move the hardware; that's not the issue here. Twenty-eight; twenty-percent. That's my final offer."

Watching Jimmy purse his lips and go for the pack of Marlboro's in the center of the table, Catherine tapped Dessie's foot with hers. Jimmy was losing his nerve. He was about to tank the price again and throw in his Hail Mary.

Rory.

"Here's my final offer: Cost, plus twenty percent. And," Jimmy reached into the breast-pocket of his jacket, tossing an envelope onto the table, "I'll throw in the grand prize."

Showtime.

Kieran picked up the envelope and opened the flap. He took out the two Polaroids, briefly gazing at them before passing them off to Dessie.

Taking a drag from the cigarette Catherine offered him, Dessie held the smoke deep in his chest as his eyes burned holes into the pictures of Rory. His stomach twisted, making him feel sick, seeing how happy-go-lucky Rory seemed sitting around a table playing a hand of cards with the True army men tasked with watching him.

Dessie's heart raced, his hands twitched, eager to crush every bone in Rory's pathetic body. But he couldn't let that eagerness show quite yet.

"Are these legit?" Dessie asked. He had to play off his ignorance, because as far as Jimmy was concerned, Catherine had left him in the dark about the ace-in-the-hole.

"Aye." Jimmy nodded. Then he nudged his chin in Catherine's direction. "She didn't tell ya? I told her weeks ago he was part of the deal."

All the color drained from Catherine's face. There was a chance he'd throw her under the bus, though she held on to a splinter of hope he wouldn't actually do it. It made sense after their unpleasant conversation in Dundalk.

"You motherfucker!"

Catherine caught Dessie and Kieran by surprise with her outburst. Her jumping up and reaching across the table in an attempt to grab Jimmy by the lapel of his jacket wasn't part of the plan. Dessie wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her back down into her chair. Maneuvering himself between the two so it wouldn't happen again, Dessie nearly lost his temper.

"Pull yourself together, right now," Dessie snarled at her.

She wasn't sure how to feel. By opening his mouth, Jimmy fully intended to sink her marriage and rip her from the ONH council. She wanted to scream until her throat turned raw and cry so hard her eyes swelled shut. As she looked at Jimmy over Dessie's shoulder, seeing the kind of man he really is, Catherine found herself laughing instead.

He wasn't fucking worth any of it.

With her shrill laughter filling the room, the four men wondered if she finally snapped and lost her mind.

"Are you done now? Are you done tryin' to destroy my life, or will you not stop until it's up in flames?"

Jimmy shrugged. "It's not personal, you have to understand that. It's business, a chuisle. You're not the only one worried about a bottom line."

Hearing the utter lie spill from Jimmy's mouth finally made Dessie's indignation boil over.

Standing up, Dessie shrugged off his blazer and draped it on the back of the chair. He undid the buttons around his wrists, folding the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.

"Outside, O'Phelan. Let's go."

Jimmy gazed at Dessie, a playful smirk toying with the corner of his mouth. If this is how Dessie wanted to settle an old score over some dumb broad, then so be it. Dropping his cigarette into the ashtray, he too stood and ditched his jacket so he could roll up his sleeves.

The reality of what was about to go down hit Catherine like a ton of bricks. She jumped up again, grabbing the back of Dessie's collar to keep him from advancing towards the door.

"Are you outta your mind? We're adults, not goddamn children. There won't be a Saturday afternoon donnybrook, understand?"

Reaching over his head, Dessie flicked Catherine's knuckles hard enough to make her let go of his collar. Turning around, he placed his hands on her hips and gently shoved her towards Kieran.

"Please keep her outta the middle of it."

Kieran nodded, wrapping his arms around Catherine.

"You bleedin' eejits are really gonna go through with this?" she yelled.

Dessie and Jimmy ignored her as they stepped out into the front yard.

Determined not to miss a second of the brawl, Catherine pleaded for Kieran to let her go.

"I can't do that, O'Toole. Dessie'll have my bollocks if I do."

Feeling rather jaded, Catherine nonchalantly slipped her foot out of the five-inch Louboutin pump. Kieran left her no choice. In a quick, fluid motion she thrust her heel into his crotch.

"You fuckin' bitch," he gasped, falling to his knees.

Donny winced, thankful that wasn't him.

Picking up her shoe, Kieran chucked it at Catherine, missing as she bolted out the door.

Sprinting across the grass in her bare feet, Catherine choked back her tears when Dessie stumbled backward after catching a hard right hook to the side of the head. Jimmy took advantage of him becoming dazed, landing several more blows. It was no secret Jimmy was far more experienced when it came to street brawls, though Dessie still managed to hold his own with a few sold cold-cocks which caught Jimmy off guard.

Kieran and Donny made it out just in time to watch Catherine leap on to Dessie's back, nearly throwing him off balance. She tried breaking the two apart. Her screaming demands for them to stop fell upon deaf ears and despite her now being in the middle, it didn't stop them.

"Should we jump in?" Donny wondered, glancing over to Kieran, who was cradling his aching testicles.

Snapping his Zippo closed with one hand, Kieran shuttered at Catherine's shrill screams. "Fuck no. This has been ten years in the makin'. It's about fuckin' time someone stood up to McPrick."

Donny couldn't disagree with that logic.

With the weight of Catherine on his back added to the fact he was already exhausted from trying to keep up with Jimmy, Dessie suddenly regretted his pack a day smoking habit. He was going lightheaded, realizing he needed to add more cardio into his workout routine. Ready to tap out, Dessie talked himself out of quitting. He didn't want to give Jimmy the satisfaction.

"Get the fuck off me, Catherine!" Dessie roared.

Stuck between not wanting to hurt her, and also not wanting to get seriously hurt himself, he tried pushing her off all the while fending off Jimmy.

Her legs were wrapped around him, ankles hooked and resting on his stomach. She was unintentionally choking Dessie out with her arms curled around his neck.

"Catherine!" Jimmy grabbed her wrist to shake her grip loose. "This doesn't fuckin' concern you so back the fuck off!"

"No!" she squealed.

Unhooking an ankle, she tried to kick Jimmy away from Dessie. That backfired when Jimmy took hold of it. When she started jerking to free herself of his tight grip, Dessie lost his balance and fell backward. Dropping his entire weight on to Catherine, the wind was knocked out of her.

At least that got her to let go of him.

Before Dessie even had a chance to digest what happened, Jimmy hoisted him to his feet. Without missing a beat, the men went back to their scrum.

Rolling over into the fetal position, Catherine held it together despite every muscle, joint, and bone throbbing. She guessed that was karma for the kick to the crotch she gave Kieran. That's why he didn't feel obligated to drag her out of the fight after watching her go down with Dessie.

Getting back on her feet, she took off her blazer and tossed it to the side. She had broken up fights between Patrick and Brien; surely she could break these two bastards apart.

Before she could intervene again, Dessie swept Jimmy's feet out from under him. He dropped down, too, twisting Jimmy into a headlock.

"Twenty-nine, fifteen percent, and Rory! You agree to that, and maybe I won't put a fuckin' bullet in Brennan."

Hearing the latter half of Dessie's deal, Jimmy stopped fighting to free himself of the hold. He gazed up at Catherine, wanting something much more than expendable Brennan O'Farrell.

"Kill the wee bastard for all I care. Twenty-nine, fifteen percent, Rory, and I get to keep seein' Eamonn."

Looking up to Catherine, a small part of Dessie's soul died. She didn't have to say a word; her eyes alone were begging him to turn down the counteroffer. With Brennan unwilling to divulge any of the information Dessie desperately sought, he didn't see any other way.

It was Catherine who managed to get Jimmy to spill about Rory in the first place. She was the only one in the entire universe who could manage to get Jimmy talking. If allowing him to see Eamonn on the regular was what needed to be done for Dessie to get closer to the Kings, he wasn't about to turn away such an opportunity.

"Fine," he said, trying to ignore Catherine's crying protest. "We've got a deal."

Dessie reminded himself it's only business.