Free The Untouchables by J.J. McAvoy Page A

her eyes. She could do that now. Her own little superpower; where she could control what I was feeling with just her beautiful brown eyes. But she couldn’t understand how much I hated my grandfather and how much he hated me. I didn’t even want to give him the satisfaction of talking about him.
    “When will he be here?” Neal asked, not bothered at all. Out of all of he was the only one our grandfather “liked”. If he had it his way, our grandfather would have killed me a long time ago.
    “I don’t give a fuck, he isn’t staying here! He can take his old motherfucking cane and shov—”
    “Shove it where, grandson?” The devil himself said, dressed in a ten thousand dollar suit, as my mother opened the door for him and his three bodyguards.
    My father, Neal, Declan and even my own mother stood up straighter, each one of them gave my grandfather the respect his title commanded. I may be the one who ran the Callahan clan now, but my grandfather was the one who built it. He was the original. Before him, we were a bunch of street thugs. He created our empire after being a drug runner for a boss much older and wiser than himself. One day, he snapped and took an ax to the motherfucker. War broke out. My grandfather had three very simple skills: killing, thinking and stealing. If he wanted something, he could have it.
    “I think he was going to say, ‘shove it up your old ass.’” Mel stated with ease, causing the whole family to pause. Even I couldn’t speak to the asshole like that.
    No matter how high up I was, no matter how powerful, custom made it impossible. When our grandfather passed down the family business, he had my father sign a contract—the same one I had to sign—stating that he’d get five percent of everything, and that he was always treated with respect deserved. Everything was put into writing like this was some civilized business deal. It used to be based on honor, but everyone wised up to that real quick. Families had to sign their souls away in ink to make sure people knew their place.
    His wrinkled old hand tightly gripped his wooden cane as he took a step forward. If you were to age my father thirty years and give him silver hair, he and my grandfather would look exactly the same.
    As children, Declan and I used to joke that the reason he had so few wrinkles was the fact that he would scare them away when he looked in the mirror. Though now he did look rather worn out.
    “You must be the Italian cow now sharing my last name.” He looked her up and down with disgust. As I stood, Mel glared, telling me to back the down or else.
    She moved from behind the desk and stood directly in front of his face, causing his bodyguards to step forward as well.
    “Old man, you’re in my house. That makes you a fucking guest. I don’t owe you shit and you will respect me if you want my respect. My name is Melody. Mrs. Callahan if it suits you, but…” She leaned in until their noses were almost touching. She was shorter, but the black heels helped. “If you ever call me a cow again, I will kill you painfully slow. I don’t care how many motherfucking body guards you have.”
    Two of his bodyguards drew their guns and the last had a knife hidden in his sleeve.
    Shit. I thought as she pulled her gun. Declan and Neal were already backing her up. My father just rolled his eyes and took my mother into the corner, all while drinking his brandy. This was ridiculous.
    “Lower your weapons,” Grandfather said as he glared into her eyes. “The Italian cow …”
    The moment he said it, three bullets went flying into them. One in the chest, one in the wrist and the other the knee; they all went down like cards. You don’t out gun Mel.
    “What the fuck? Where did she pull the gun out from?” Neal whispered. “I swear, she’s a motherfucking ninja.”
    “M-E-L-O-D-Y. Me-lo-dy. I will let the second time slide due to your old age. I’ve heard hearing loss is common.” She stepped back, looking to the