Bad Seed

“Yeah, well shit got fucked up,” he said. “What can I say?”

“Well, you can start by telling me that shit has been unfucked up,” Killian replied. “And that you have my money.”

I edged my way toward Kara, doing my best to move slowly and not draw attention to myself. While the two little armies – Irish mobsters and bikers – were squared off, each trying to out-macho the other and not paying attention to me, I had a small window. One I intended to exploit.

Getting behind the chair she was tied to, I motioned for her to remain silent as I knelt down and went to work on the knots holding Kara's hands bound behind her.

“I don't have your money,” Kara's father said.

“Well, that's most unfortunate,” Killian replied. “For you and for your daughter. See, I don't take kindly to people who default on their obligations.”

“Yeah, you can go fuck yourself and your obligations,” Boyer snapped. “I'm taking

my daughter the fuck out of here and there ain't shit you can do about it.”

“Oh no?” Killian asked, his tone growing colder and harder.

I knew that tone of voice and knew things were about to come to a head. Shit was about to go sideways and get nasty. I couldn't get the knots undone – not in the few seconds I had before chaos erupted, so I slipped the knife out of my pocket and started to saw through the ropes.

“No,” Boyer snapped back. “I don't give in to two-bit punks like you. You and your fuckin' goon squad here don't scare me and my boys.”

“That's a shame, because we should,” Killian said. “I don't know why, but I thought you were smarter than that, Michael.”

My knife finally sliced through the last of the ropes and Kara was free. She slipped out of the chair and wrapped her arms around me.

“We need to get out of here,” I whispered. “Help is coming, but I don't know if they'll get here in time because shit is about to get really bad.”

“Help is coming? Who?” she asked. “What did you do, Declan?”

I looked at the two sides facing off and heard a low groan escape me as I watched all of them draw guns. They all stared hard at each other, no man wanting to die, but every man willing to pull the trigger.

“You and your men should probably leave now,” Killian said, his voice low and menacing. “Before anybody gets hurt.”

Nobody moved a muscle. I didn't even think anybody had blinked since the guns were drawn. Everybody was waiting for somebody else to make the first move. I figured that every man in that room was smart enough to know that once the bullets started flying, the chances of any of them getting out alive was pretty minimal.

“Doesn't have to go down this way,” Boyer said. “Just give me what's mine and we call it even.”

“But, we're not even,” he said. “There would still be the debt you have incurred.”

“I'll get it to you,” Boyer said, his gun pointed straight at Killian's face. “I pay my debts. Just give me some time.”

“You've had more than enough time,” Killian snapped. “I'm tired of waiting.”

“Well, get used to is son,” he said. “Life is all about waiting.”

There was a long moment of strained silence. The tension was so thick I could feel it pressing down on me. The two sides hadn't moved a muscle. It looked like a goddamn western. Then, all hell broke loose.

A dozen men, at least, wearing black masks, helmets, and black body armor, carrying assault rifles stormed into the room. The air was filled with shouting voices, most of them screaming “Police! Get down on the floor!”

I pulled Kara closer to me and backed us up against a wall, waiting for the inevitable. Shots rang out, thunderous in such a small, confined space. Kara screamed and buried her face in my chest, her hands clamped over her ears. I felt her trembling, so I pulled her to me even tighter.

The air was filled with smoke and the smell of cordite. The shooting lasted just a couple of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Through the haze of the smoke, I saw bodies on the floor – and hoped one of them was Killian.

When the smoke finally lifted, I saw that one of Michael's men and two of Killian's men were dead on the floor, pools of blood spreading out from beneath them, their eyes open wide, fixed, and unfocused, seeing nothing but the great beyond at that point. Everybody else who'd been holding a gun in that room was down on their knees, their hands on top of their heads – including Michael and Killian.

A tall, wide black man with a Kevlar vest over a button-down shirt and tie stepped over to us. He smiled down at me. I looked up at him and smirked.

“Shit, took you long enough,” I said. “If you'd waited any longer, we all could've been killed.” said.