It had been a little over a week since someone had murdered Kenny Lennox. Although Nathan knew he had been the intended target. Two men on a scrambler bike had fired shots at him and Kenny as they were leaving the club. Ever the loyal soldier, Kenny had pushed his boss out of the way and taken a bullet to the face for his trouble. It had ripped right through his jaw and out through the back of his head. Not that Nathan had hung around to pay much attention to his fallen comrade. He’d been out of there quicker than a rat up a drainpipe.

Nathan hadn’t been able to get a good look at the shooters because they were wearing motorbike helmets. But from what he did see, they were both of a similar build and the way they handled that scrambler suggested they were a couple of young lads. The fucking Carter twins. He was sure of it. The cheeky cunts! Who the fuck did they think they were to try and take him out? He was Nathan fucking Conlon, and they were nothing but a pair of thugs. He’d had every man at his disposal looking for the pair of them, but they seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Nathan sat back in the expensive leather chair in his office and watched as Ben McKinley walked into the room. He hadn’t seen much of Ben lately as he’d been on one of his frequent visits to Ireland sorting out his gran’s estate. It was distracting him far too much for Nathan’s liking.

Nathan poured them both a generous measure of Scotch before offering Ben one of the sweet-smelling Cuban cigars he’d just had imported.

Ben shook his head. ‘No thanks, mate. So, what’s going on? Why the urgency to see me?’

Setting his glass down on his desk, Nathan looked at his best mate of almost thirty years. ‘Someone tried to kill me last week,’ he said.

Ben put his own glass on the table, his mouth open in shock. It was a few seconds before he spoke. ‘What? Who?’

‘I can’t say for sure, but I think it was the Carter twins. Kenny’s dead. He took the bullet for me, the dozy bastard. Too stupid and too loyal for his own good. I’ve had feelers out for information, but no one seems to know anything. Can’t find the little fuckers now though, so that tells me all I need to know.’

‘Poor Ken,’ Ben said. ‘He should have retired years ago and been sunning himself in the Costa del Sol by now. But why would the Carter twins try and take you out? It makes no sense. You have no beef with the Carters, do you?’