Jermaine looked at his men then, still expecting them to back him up. But they were both standing by the doorway, staring straight ahead.
Michael shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I asked you to swallow, Jermaine, but you refused. Months of aggro you’ve given me.’
Jermaine O’Shay was still not going to be intimidated. ‘You know I deserve better than this, Michael. Remember who I work for.’
Michael laughed again. ‘Oh, don’t worry about me, Jermaine. I don’t shit without planning it out first.’ He put his hand on Jeffrey Palmer’s shoulder and squeezed it. ‘I never wanted this, remember that.’
He went to his desk and opened up one of the drawers, taking out a small axe. ‘But I always do my own dirty work.’
He split open Jeffrey Palmer’s skull with one massive blow. ‘I think that is what the Jamaican Yardies call a permanent parting.’
No one moved, or batted an eyelid.
Jermaine O’Shay felt the spray of blood hit his face. It was outrageous. He watched in disbelief as Michael chopped the man’s head off. Declan was looking at Jermaine with resignation and sorrow. He had tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.
Michael Flynn was drenched in blood now, it was like a scene from a cheap horror film. Jermaine tried to stand up, tried to defend himself, but his own men forced him back on to the chair, and held him in place.
Michael laughed once more. ‘I hope you realise, Jermaine, that this is nothing personal. I liked you. I liked Jeffrey. But I will not be crossed. I will not be treated like a cunt by anyone. I gave you every chance I could. But you insisted on throwing it all back into my face. So fuck you.’
He took his time with Jermaine O’Shay, knowing that this night would be whispered about and remembered by all present. It was about credibility, about teaching people a lesson. It was about making sure the people you employed never forgot who they were dealing with. It was about making a point for the future. Even the Barker boys were impressed, Declan could see that. Like them, Michael Flynn actually enjoyed this.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Josephine heard Michael come in and glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was four a.m. She had just fed the baby, and was settling herself into bed again. She waited a few minutes, expecting him to sneak into the bedroom as he usually did. But he didn’t come.
Then she heard the shower turn on in the main bathroom. He always used the shower in their en suite, and she wondered why he would suddenly need a shower in the middle of the night.
She got out of the bed, and walked silently out of the bedroom, and across to the bathroom. She slipped through the bathroom door, shutting it quietly behind her. It was a large room, with black marble tiles from floor to ceiling, and an antique bath that had cost a fortune. The walk-in shower was big enough for five people. She saw his clothes on the floor. They were soaked in blood. She instinctively reached for them and saw Michael watching her from the shower as she bundled them up quickly.
‘Bring the towels down when you’re finished, Michael.’
His eyes followed her as she left the room, before he turned back to finish his shower.
When he came downstairs she was burning everything in the large fireplace in his office. He passed her the towels he had used, and she threw them on to the blaze without a word. She didn’t want this mess in her home.
‘Is that everything?’
He nodded.
‘You’re safe, then?’
He pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly. ‘’Course I am, you silly mare.’ He kissed her hair. She was trembling.
‘We’ve got a baby now, remember.’
Michael smiled as he pulled her away from him gently, and looked deep into her eyes. ‘How could I ever forget? It’s all for you and her now.’
She smiled back brokenly. ‘I know that, Michael. I know.’
Book Three
He who brings trouble to his family will inherit only wind, and the fool will be servant to the wise
Proverbs 11:29
Chapter Sixty-Eight
2004
‘That is one lairy little mare, Josephine. Don’t you let her get away with it.’
Lana was furious, and Jessie Flynn knew her nana had a right to feel like that. She was heart-sorry for what she had said to her, but she had been goaded.
Josephine didn’t answer. Instead she kissed her daughter on the cheek, and walked her to the front door. ‘Declan is dropping you off at the disco, and your dad or I will pick you up, OK?’
Jessie sighed theatrically, still ashamed about swearing at her nana, but at least her mum understood why she had done it. ‘I know, Mum. Why change the habits of a lifetime?’
‘Well, we worry about you, darling, that’s all.’
It was said easily, but the underlying warning was there. Jessie was well aware that her father would never let her out of the house if it wasn’t for her mother.
‘I’m sorry for shouting at Nana.’
Josephine smiled sadly. ‘I know that, lovely. She means well, try and remember that. She was the same with me.’