Michael was at the top of the stairs, and she looked up at him fearfully. She couldn’t believe it. He didn’t seem to be the least bothered about them coming to his house, her home. He walked slowly down the stairs, saying, ‘Have a bit of respect, lads. My wife’s pregnant.’

Both men looked at her, and she pushed out her belly to emphasise her condition.

‘I expected you at some point, but I thought you would have the decency to come to my offices. After all, I didn’t bring my grievances to your front door, did I?’

No one said a word, and Josephine waited with baited breath, wondering what the next step would be. Michael was beside her now and, smiling pleasantly, he said gently, ‘Put the kettle on, darling. Make us all a cup of tea.’ Then he walked into his office, and the two men followed him, like lambs to the slaughter.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Three

Michael closed the door to his office quietly. He gestured amiably to the two men to take a seat and when they were both settled comfortably – though looking thoroughly chastened at learning of his wife’s condition – he bellowed at them loudly, ‘How dare you! How dare you bring your fucking grievances into my home! My home, where my wife resides, and where I expect her to be safe and left in fucking peace. You dare to fucking come here like the avenging angels, and then expect me to swallow such outrageous fucking behaviour without retaliating?’

When Michael was really angry, he was formidable. He concealed his temper beneath the usual friendly countenance he showed to the world most of the time, whilst maintaining his reputation as a man whose temper, when roused, was without equal. He had nurtured this unpredictability over the years, ensuring that his reaction to any situation could never be guaranteed. That had stood him in great stead – it was the reason why these two men were unsure now of what he was actually capable of. Oh, he remembered the guilt he had felt over the Goldings’ death and the angst he had felt over his first kill. It had all been easier than he had ever believed. He had been given a baptism of fire all right – Patrick Costello had ensured that. But it had shown him how simple the kill actually was. Now his reputation was set – his reaction to any given situation, on the other hand, was something no one could ever foresee. It was why these men were suddenly so fucking subdued. He had not been even remotely bothered by their presence on his doorstep; they had assumed it would give them the edge – instead, it had given him the advantage. They had come to his home in anger without taking the time to think it all through. That alone was a fucking insult in itself.