JOHNNY
"I burned this place to the fucking ground!" Malachy spat, storming back and forth like a caged animal, his eyes wild. Each step was heavy and sharp, as if he might shatter the gravel beneath him. "How did I not think to look here?" He whirled and kicked the tire of his car. "For fuck's sake!"
"Calm down," Ciaran said, gripping his shoulders firmly. He planted himself in front of his brother, refusing to let him pace another step. "It's not your fault. That gobshite wasn't even on our list of suspects."
"I should've known," he growled. "I should've fucking known."
We'd only just arrived, barely ten minutes ago, but the tension felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Malachy, Darragh, Niamh, Conrad, and Ciaran were all geared up, ready for battle. They had guns slung across their shoulders, holsters packed with pistols, and I even spotted a couple of knives and, unbelievably, a grenade or two tucked away. It looked like the back of Malachy's car had turned into an arms depot, and Conrad's wasn't far off either.
"Can I have a gun?" Gibsie piped up, glancing between them like a kid in a candy store. We were huddled beside Conrad's car.
"No," came the unified, resounding reply from all five of them.
"So what the fuck are we supposed to do?" I asked, feeling my frustration boil over. Standing there felt pointless, like I was an extra in someone else's action movie. Did Tara know her friends were kitted out like the bloody mob? I snorted at the thought. Of—fucking—course, she knew. She ran the whole fucking show
"We're gonna use you as cannon fodder," Darragh said with a straight face, sliding a pair of pistols into his shoulder holster.
I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"They'll shoot you full of holes, and once they're out of bullets, we're off. Piece of cake."
"That's not happening," Conrad assured me, hoisting an assault rifle over his shoulder with ease. "We're going in, taking out a few of those fuckers along the way, and getting everyone out."
"You're just going in there?" I asked, looking at them like they'd lost their minds. "Shouldn't we be waiting for the guards or a proper tactical team?"
"We're as professional as it gets, Johnny," Niamh replied, bounding over with a small smirk. "More people means more bloody paperwork. Don't worry—we're all top-notch shots."
"What does that fella want with my girlfriend?"
"That's what we're here to find out," Conrad said, a dark resolve in his eyes. "Stay close to us, alright? Tara'll have my head if anything happens to you."
"Right, everyone, shut the fuck up," Malachy muttered, bending to tug at a rusted metal gate tangled in weeds. It creaked as he forced it open, the sound tearing through the silence like a warning. "If any of you give us away, family or not, I'll shoot you myself."
"Get fucked, Daddy," Darragh quipped, sticking his tongue out as he clomped down the metal stairs, his boots echoing against the concrete. We all followed suit, Conrad closing the door behind us, casting the hallway into thick, suffocating darkness.
"Cap," Gibsie whispered, gripping my wrist tightly, his hand cold and clammy. "I'm scared, lad. I hate blood. If I see too much, I'll be out like a bloody light."
"Just close your eyes, Gibsie," I muttered, though I could feel my own nerves jangling inside me. I was shite-scared myself. My life had been a hell of a lot simpler before all this. Back when my biggest worry was making the U20s rugby squad. How did I end up here, skulking around an abandoned mansion, ready to take on a lunatic for Tara?
YOU ARE READING
Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh
RomanceI had never needed anyone. I didn't know what it was like to need a person until I met him. I needed him. He looked at me as if there was something inside me worth looking at. I hated him for it. Why? Because I could see myself loving him. If o...
