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Chapter Thirty-Four

Griffin's Beach Psycho

S itting in the Irish restaurant with Jennings, Psycho looks around the dimly lit place. They have men strategically placed around the area should things go south, but he realizes this is the first time he's ever been in a real Irish restaurant. Sure, he's been in Irish pubs, but this is authentic. Too authentic.

He scans the menu and wrinkles his nose. “This is a front, right? To launder money? I can't believe anyone would actually eat here.”

Jennings chuckles as he looks over the menu. “No, they eat here. I wouldn't count out a money laundering scheme with it, though. It'd be easy enough to do.”

“I wouldn't eat half this shit,” he says. “Which kind of says a lot right there.”

“Not a big Irish food fan, either. Whiskey, sure. As long as it's the good stuff.”

“Oh, I just had an idea.”

Eyes wide, the Griffin's Beach President stares in horror. “Do I want to know?”

“So, they have blood sausage here. Made with blood from a pig or a cow. But what if... and hear me out here. What if I learned how to make sausage, and I used our enemy's blood in it? Then, we can feed it to them.”

“You want to force someone into cannibalism?”

“I'm not forcing them to eat the human flesh... wait. Maybe I can get Venom's meat grinder-”

“Stop,” Jennings says. “For the love of God, please, just stop.”

Shrugging, he smiles as he leans back and continues to think of all the things he could do with an idea as good as this one. It's not like people don't expect it from him already. Besides, he has to keep things fresh and new. Interesting. He has new competition.

A dark-haired man with freckles walks into the restaurant wearing a very expensive tailored suit, and there's no doubt this man is the one known only as O'Connor. He walks to the table and sits down across from them as three large men in dark suits stand beside them with guns in their hands.

“Excessive much, don't you think?” Psycho asks and thinks of at least four ways he can kill all three men before they get a shot off. “We're not here to kill you.”

“I'm meeting with a motorcycle club who worked with a man who tried to have me killed,” he says with a slight accent. “I learned my lesson to be safe rather than sorry.”

Jennings nods his head. “I suppose that's fair, although that's kind of what we're here to talk to you about.”

“Don't feel like ordering? It'll be on the house,” he says. “I suppose we should exchange names. I'm Collin O'Connor.”

“Jennings Molloy, and this is Psycho.”

Collin raises his eyebrow. “Psycho?”

“Trust me, it fits.”

“And you think the gunmen are excessive?”

Smiling, Psycho bites his lower lip. “I like you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“If I didn't like you, I'd have taken all three of your henchmen out already.”

Annoyed, Jennings shoots him a look, and he lifts his hands in the air. Jennings turns to Collin and says, “We didn't come here to eat. We need to talk about a mutual enemy.”

“And who's that? Because the last time I checked, Dimitri's dead. Very dead. I have no other enemies to speak of.”

He slides a flash drive to the Irishman. “When we made the exchange for O'Malley, Dimitri told us to look at his laptop. We finally got around to decrypting it, and here are the recordings from it. The first audio recording is in Russian, but it shows we killed the wrong man. The last two are conversations between O'Malley and Ivan you may find interesting.”

“Have you been working with the RIO recently?” Psycho asks.

“I refuse to work with them after their rogue agent.”

“How about with Ivan?”

His eyebrow lifts. “Yes, I work with Ivan. We're working on an agreement to bring his Russian contacts and my organization together.”

“To screw over the RIO?” Jennings asks.

“I have a feeling you are like cops. You're not asking questions you don't already know the answer to.”

“The first recording, the one in Russian, translates to Ivan telling Dimitri to order the hit on you,” Psycho says.

Setting his hands on the table, Jennings locks eyes with the enemy of their enemy. “He was working with O'Malley to take you down. O'Malley was in on it from the get go. With you focused on revenge, he could overthrow you while Ivan overthrew the RIO. They wanted to piss us off to walk away and weaken the Russians. Perfect opportunity for Ivan to take over.”

“And I suppose you have proof of that?”

“O'Malley says it himself on those recordings.”

“Before you ask, what could we possibly gain from misleading you?” Psycho asks. “We have no connection anymore. We got O'Malley, who needed to die, and we have no beef with the Irish now.”

Collin smirks and leans back. “O'Malley really had a thing for your girl, Alexis.”

“Yeah, and I made that motherfucker regret the day he ever thought about her. The reason he picked her to begin with, though, was at Ivan's suggestion. That's how long they've been working together.”

“Do you know who Ryan Graves is?” Jennings asks.

His face turns angry. “O'Malley's cousin? The man crazier than anyone I've ever met in my life? Yeah, I know him.”

“Safe to assume you're not friendly?”

“I fucking hate him,” he growls. “He tried to assault my daughter. She was thirteen. But he was family before we gave you O'Malley.”

“That's who Ivan's working with now,” Jennings says. “And we have business with him as well as Ivan. We want them both dead.”

Looking at his three men, Collin nods, and they walk away to a nearby table. “You have my attention. Because if what you've said is true, Ivan must die.”

“If you want to listen to these now, we'll wait,” Psycho says. “Because the truth is, to get to Ivan, we're going to need your help.”

He snaps his fingers. “Get me a laptop.” Looking at the two of them, he asks, “Are you sure you don't want anything to eat or drink?”

“Whiskey would be fine,” Jennings says.

“A man after my own heart.” A woman in a barely-there outfit brings the requested electronic, and he turns to her. “Top shelf. Three glasses.”

The redhead nods and hurries away. She can't be more than twenty-one, and Psycho exchanges a look with Jennings, who tells him with just his eyes to let it be.

Russian voices play from the first audio. “You're sure this is Ivan ordering Dimitri?”

“Aside from a few lost in translation phrases, it was run through a program,” Jennings says. “We don’t fucking speak Russian.”

Collin looks up and calls out, “Peter!”

“Who the fuck is Peter?” Psycho mutters under his breath as a large man with buzzed hair and cold eyes walks over to the table. “I guess that's Peter.”

“Translate this for me.”

It plays again, and Peter nods as he listens. “Someone named Ivan ordered someone named Dimitri to order a hit on you, sir. He wanted to help out O'Malley by getting you out of the way.”

“Ivan must die,” Collin says. “You may leave.”

The large man walks away, and Jennings gapes. “Where'd you find him?”

“Isn't it great? You always want a loyal mammoth of a man on your side. I suggest getting one.”

“Have one. Bigger than Peter, but damn.”

“Does this mean we're coming together as allies to lay punishment on the right Russian?” Psycho asks, trying to veer away from the conversation of Undertaker.

Collin looks between the two men. “Yes, but I must be the one to kill him. He's the reason my brother's dead.”

“Are you able to reach out to Ivan and get him here?” Jennings asks.

“Yes.”

“There are a couple of things we need when he dies.”

Rolling his eyes, Collin takes the whiskey and pours the three glasses before tossing back his. “Of course there are. What are they?”

“I need to be there,” Psycho says. “I need to see this motherfucker die. Our girl, Lex, also has a few of our members who should be there. Her husband should get some time with him before he expires, but we want it to feel like a public execution.”

He ponders this for a few moments before nodding. “That sounds reasonable. What else?”

“I need his head.”

“You need his... you need his head?”

Jennings just laughs, and Psycho nods. “We're sending a statement to Boris. He needs to know what kind of men he has working in his organization. Jennings, I need another head-sized box from you.”

“For the love of God… Wine box. It's a wine box, Psycho.”

“Why are you sending the head?” Collin asks.

“Can you think of a better way to tell the RIO to fuck all the way off?”

Tossing his head back, he laughs and pours more whiskey into his glass. “No, I can't say that I do. Boys, I think we're embarking on a new friendship.” He holds up his glass, waiting for the other two, and says, “To the death of Ivan.”

“To the death of Ivan,” both Drifters say before they clink glasses and toss back the whiskey.

“This means you are leaving the RIO as your supplier?”

“Looks like it,” Jennings says. “Hard to stay with disloyal assholes who kidnap your women.”

He nods with an almost evil smile, and Psycho can't help but like this man. He may have questionable morals, but at least he's upfront about them.

“Any chance you want to work out a deal to get your supply from me?” Collin asks. “I can come up with a proposal once we are done with Ivan.”

“Can't hurt to look over a proposal,” Jennings says and stands. “Let us know when you're set to meet Ivan, and we'll be there.”

Psycho follows him, both shaking Collin's hand before leaving. Outside, he looks at the elder President. “Guess we have options now we didn't think we had before.”

He nods. “The question is, though, do we want to get in bed with the Irish?”

“If it keeps us running while telling Boris to fuck off, why not?”

“I suppose the offer may make it a no-brainer, huh?”

“I can't wait to see the look on that motherfucker's face when he realizes he's caught. Caught and about to die like the vermin he is.”

“And then let him know he's losing his head to fit into a wine box.”

Psycho laughs and climbs on his bike. “Head-sized box works just fine for me.”

“Of course it does.”