Declan in the same drinking establishment and, in a moment of utter fucking alcohol induced lunacy, had challenged him.
Jonny was well aware his brother Dicky could have a row – there was no doubt about that – but Declan Costello was another matter. Once riled he had no off button. However many times he was knocked down, he got back up, and kept coming. Not that he had ever been knocked down by a single man – it took a good few to achieve that. Declan could take on the entire British Lions rugby team, and still be the only one standing at the end of the fight. No one who knew Declan would ever be stupid enough to take him on. Even Roy ‘Pretty Boy’ Shaw, the bare-knuckle boxer and a seriously hard man, had joked that he would fight any man alive except Declan Costello.
Jonny had heard at the time that Declan had tried everything in his power to get out of having the fight, but Dicky, being Dicky, had been like a dog with a bone. Eventually, Declan had lost his cool. The rest was history.
Now Rob had seen fit to pick a fight with Michael Flynn, a man who everyone knew was destined for greatness, who always treated the people around him with the utmost respect, but who had proved himself on more than occasion as a vicious fucker if roused.
Jonny sighed in exasperation. This was not something he had expected. He had assumed that even a fucking moron like young Rob would have had enough sense to keep away from someone like Flynn. With relatives like his, who needed fucking enemies?
He had to take action so he’d called a family meeting. As usual his two brothers were late. It was a fucking farce. He might as well be pissing in the wind. Dicky would take Rob’s side, he was prepared for that. But he was going to make sure that his brothers were left in no doubt that, if they didn’t comply with his demands, he would personally take them out himself. He was the head of this family and he was fighting for the whole firm – for everything that they had worked for. They were not strong enough to take on the Costellos. So they were just going to have to use their powers of persuasion to try and defuse the situation before they found themselves in the middle of an all-out war.
Chapter Sixteen
Father Riordan had always liked young Michael Flynn. He thought of him as a kind-hearted lad. Considering the fact that he had been brought up by that Hannah, a woman who had the face of an angel and the personality of a Doberman pinscher, he thought the lad had turned out very well. He was delighted to be performing the wedding ceremony for young Flynn and his lovely fiancée Josephine Callahan. He thought they made a wonderful pair.
Oh, he had heard the gossip, of course. Michael Flynn worked for the Costellos, both of whom were regular churchgoers and men who were generous to a fault. Father Riordan had only to mention the missions and they were putting their hands into their pockets. He wouldn’t mind a few more like the Costellos in his parish, if he was to be brutally honest, as long as he didn’t know too much about what they got up to. They were like so many of the second-generation Irishmen – they did what they needed to feed their families, and who could blame them? It was a hard world, all right; he knew that himself.
‘So, Michael, are you excited about the big day?’
Michael grinned happily. ‘I can’t wait, Father. It can’t come round quick enough for me.’
Father Riordan was thrilled at the lad’s devotion; so few wanted the church ceremony these days. When he looked around the church on a Sunday he nearly fainted at the sight of the young girls, dressed like whores, with no bras, thick black eyeliner and faces liked a smacked arse because they had been dragged to the service by their parents. Parents who were as bewildered as he was by this new generation. It wasn’t Ireland, that was for sure.
‘Well, not long now, Michael, and Josephine will not only share your name, but she will share the
Jonny was well aware his brother Dicky could have a row – there was no doubt about that – but Declan Costello was another matter. Once riled he had no off button. However many times he was knocked down, he got back up, and kept coming. Not that he had ever been knocked down by a single man – it took a good few to achieve that. Declan could take on the entire British Lions rugby team, and still be the only one standing at the end of the fight. No one who knew Declan would ever be stupid enough to take him on. Even Roy ‘Pretty Boy’ Shaw, the bare-knuckle boxer and a seriously hard man, had joked that he would fight any man alive except Declan Costello.
Jonny had heard at the time that Declan had tried everything in his power to get out of having the fight, but Dicky, being Dicky, had been like a dog with a bone. Eventually, Declan had lost his cool. The rest was history.
Now Rob had seen fit to pick a fight with Michael Flynn, a man who everyone knew was destined for greatness, who always treated the people around him with the utmost respect, but who had proved himself on more than occasion as a vicious fucker if roused.
Jonny sighed in exasperation. This was not something he had expected. He had assumed that even a fucking moron like young Rob would have had enough sense to keep away from someone like Flynn. With relatives like his, who needed fucking enemies?
He had to take action so he’d called a family meeting. As usual his two brothers were late. It was a fucking farce. He might as well be pissing in the wind. Dicky would take Rob’s side, he was prepared for that. But he was going to make sure that his brothers were left in no doubt that, if they didn’t comply with his demands, he would personally take them out himself. He was the head of this family and he was fighting for the whole firm – for everything that they had worked for. They were not strong enough to take on the Costellos. So they were just going to have to use their powers of persuasion to try and defuse the situation before they found themselves in the middle of an all-out war.
Chapter Sixteen
Father Riordan had always liked young Michael Flynn. He thought of him as a kind-hearted lad. Considering the fact that he had been brought up by that Hannah, a woman who had the face of an angel and the personality of a Doberman pinscher, he thought the lad had turned out very well. He was delighted to be performing the wedding ceremony for young Flynn and his lovely fiancée Josephine Callahan. He thought they made a wonderful pair.
Oh, he had heard the gossip, of course. Michael Flynn worked for the Costellos, both of whom were regular churchgoers and men who were generous to a fault. Father Riordan had only to mention the missions and they were putting their hands into their pockets. He wouldn’t mind a few more like the Costellos in his parish, if he was to be brutally honest, as long as he didn’t know too much about what they got up to. They were like so many of the second-generation Irishmen – they did what they needed to feed their families, and who could blame them? It was a hard world, all right; he knew that himself.
‘So, Michael, are you excited about the big day?’
Michael grinned happily. ‘I can’t wait, Father. It can’t come round quick enough for me.’
Father Riordan was thrilled at the lad’s devotion; so few wanted the church ceremony these days. When he looked around the church on a Sunday he nearly fainted at the sight of the young girls, dressed like whores, with no bras, thick black eyeliner and faces liked a smacked arse because they had been dragged to the service by their parents. Parents who were as bewildered as he was by this new generation. It wasn’t Ireland, that was for sure.
‘Well, not long now, Michael, and Josephine will not only share your name, but she will share the
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