“Look, D… We’re on the same team here,” Chris presses both fists into his chest, before throwing them towards Ritchie’s direction, “we just want what’s best for ye. No fightin’, nothin’… Let’s just-“
“No, Danni. Do not go anywhere with him,” Steph shakes her head once more, attempting to step forward, but Danielle has no more garden left to retreat, “we want what’s best for you. He’s proved himself in the past, Danni. He’s proved he can’t be trusted. You’ve-“
“Fuck off!”
“-known me since we were in primary school together, Danielle. C’mon, please… Let’s talk. I’m so sorry for hurting you, it wasn’t my intention.”
“Then what the fuck was your intention?” Chris laughs, throwing his arms out by his side, ignoring Ritchie’s glare, “oh, let’s get off with my best friend’s brother at their dad’s fuckin’ wake? What kind of person does somethin’ like that?”
“Oh, fuck off. Like you’re so perfect? What kind of person fucks me all week and then comes crawling back to Danielle only days later?”
Steph slaps her hand to her mouth. All eyes are on her now. Ritchie looks alarmed. Chris’s eyes are huge, in shock. Danielle just continues to stare at her, a look of confusion on her face before she turns to Chris, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Is… Is…”
She shakes her head, staring at Chris as he looks at his feet.
“Is that true?”
Chapter Eighty:
When they had pulled up outside the Crown, it had taken McNally and Ferguson several seconds to react. They could only stare out of the windows shocked. The scene that greeted them wasn’t a pretty one. It was like they had been transported back in time. To the height of the Troubles. Graffiti covered the pub’s side wall facing the car park, thick green letters spelt out ‘hun bastards,’ ‘Jack scum’ and ‘Taylor = murderer.’ The car park also boasted some cars on fire, and the pub had one single broken window.Littered on the street were rows of police land rovers. The majority with their back doors opened as people were getting ushered inside. Other figures were fleeing in all directions from the police. Some still intent on finishing the job they had come here to do. McNally had spied one with a petrol bomb in his hands, the flames licking the bottle as he had gone to lob it into one of the pub’s windows, before a uniformed officer had tackled him to the ground.
The Jacks had been collected around the pub in a line, protecting their sanctuary. Roaring obscenities and throwing glasses half full of stout towards the members of Ardóimid and the police who were ultimately trying to protect them. A few launched themselves forward. One uniformed officer was even struggling to take on a member of each community. A temporary alliance against who they believed to be the real criminals. McNally was just about to step out to give her a hand before a bulky officer weighed in, forcing himself onto the member of the Jacks, and he’d been handcuffed within seconds.
It’s hard to believe that all that had happened, when now, only ten minutes later, the scene is quiet. Everyone has either dispersed, been arrested or the non-violent are slurring their way through biased statements. McNally shakes his head at the mess as he re-joins Ferguson in the car.
“This is our fault, Ferguson.”
“Sir?”
“Arresting Taylor. We should have kept a closer eye on Ardóimid. That’s what the meeting was about last night. An opportunity to attack the opposition when their ringleader is away. And Doherty? That was a distraction too. To deter us away from the Jacks. Have us parked outside the Bull’s Horn like a couple of fools.”
McNally sighs and brushes his hand down his face. Ferguson goes to retrieve his mobile as he hears his message tone go off. Alarmed, he looks up at his boss with a shaking head.
“What is it now, Ferguson?”
“Darrell Boyle has just landed at the Parker’s house. Saying he wants to pay his respects to Aaron Parker.”
McNally snorts as he unbuttons a top button of his shirt.
“Nothing to do with having an alibi for when this mess was happening?”
“They rejected entry, sir. He had to be escorted off the premises by the boy and his friends.”
“Some balls, I’ll give him that.”
They hear a knock on the window, and McNally pushes down the electronic button. Haunching down, Fleming squints in at them.
“You’re never going to believe this.”
McNally chuckles and shrugs.
“The way the past few days have been going… Try me.”
“We have a confession for Aaron Parker’s murder.”
Chapter Eighty-One:
“I… I wanted to tell ye.”
Danielle laughs out loud, turning her head. She can’t even look at him. Of course. Just her luck. Just when she’s stupid enough to think that things are kind of going her way… This bombshell hits. Her best friend… Shagging her brother and her ex-boyfriend... Fantastic.
“You sick wee bastard,” Ritchie shakes his head at Chris.
“Both of you go. Now!”
Danielle points towards the house, glaring between Steph and Chris.
“Danni… Please…” the former attempts to step forward once more.
“Fuck off!”
Hurt etched across her face, Steph turns and gives Ritchie a pat on the shoulder before climbing up the garden.
“You too, Chris,” Danielle blubbers.
“No, I’m not goin’.”
“Just fuck off now, will ya?” Ritchie narrows his eyes at him.
“Can you leave us alone, please?”
“Like fuck I am.”
“Ritch… Just, please… Will ye?”
Ritchie eyes his old friend, but still holds his ground, his arms folded.
“Please, Chris,” Danielle shakes her head.
“I wanted to tell ye, D. I really did. That’s why I asked for ye to go that drive with me today. I wanted to tell ye then, but ye started goin’ on about how happy ye were and… And I just chickened out… I couldn’t do it. And there’s somethin’ else.”
He steps forward towards her and Ritchie intercepts. He marches up to Chris and
