Free Micky Finn: The Evildoer 1: A Sexy Times Crime Romance Thriller (The London Irish) by Adele Asher Page B

we would be? Someone’s got to keep control of the place.”
    “That’s the job of the police Seamus. You shouldn’t get involved.”
    “You didn’t complain when we took care of old lady Rourke’s muggers.”
    “That’s different Seamus. Going round attacking old ladies, those boys needed to be taught some manners.”
    “Yes Ma,” Sharky said, drying his hands on the tea towel.  
    “Not on my best linen Seamus. I’ve got to dry the dishes with that! I don’t want your filthy blood and germs all over it!” she said as she passed him a towel. “Here, use this.”
    Seamus took it and dried his hands. “Where’s Micky and the boys?”
    “Off out causing trouble no doubt. You boys will put me in a early grave to be sure. Left alone to bring up four boys on my own. You’re all as bad as your father.”
    “Danny is a good kid.”
    “Thank the lord for that. I spent enough time praying that at least one out of the four of you would do some good with your life.”
    Sharky shook his head and took out a can of Guinness from the fridge. Caitlin took it off him.
    “I think you’ve had quite enough of that for one day Seamus Finn. I’ll make us a nice pot of tea.”
    Seamus sighed and went and sat in the living room of the Finns family house on Camden Square, thankful there was at least once place he could read his paper in peace without distraction, other than from his mother.

MICKY, DANNY, AND, Billy were sat in their usual haunt next to Camden Lock. Watching with boredom as the crowd of Bank Holiday tourists, artists and local riff raff of the cosmopolitan Camden High Street enjoyed the Bank Holiday sunshine. Despite Sharky’s demands he stop doing so, Micky was supplementing his income selling Cannabis, Coke and Ecstasy to the Bohemian passers by.   Having concluded a deal with a pair of tourists, he returned to his brothers, counting out the wrap of 20 pound notes with a satisfied smile, having extracted a healthy premium mark-up from the inexperienced drug buyers.
    “I love Bank Holidays. Great for business,” Micky said with his usual laconic Irish tones.
    Unlike his brothers, whom most people regarded as ‘Plastic Paddies’, due to their London Irish heritage, Micky had been brought up by his aunt in Cork, having burned half the primary school to the ground when he was 7 years old he was quickly dispatched to Ireland to avoid a spell in care or Borstal.
    Billy spotted a rival dealer on the corner of the street. He nudged Micky. “Someone’s trying to invade your turf.”
    “Go and get rid of them,” Micky replied.
    “What the fuck am I? the hired help?” Micky’s elder brother, Billy responded with annoyance.
    “Teamwork,” replied Micky. “Danny here looks after the money, I do the sales, you do the security. Then if one of us gets pinched we don’t lose our day’s profits,” he said. “Just get on with it, I’ll buy you an hour with that prostitute down in Kings Cross after tea. Go on with you. Soft lad.”
    Billy put down his hot dog and reluctantly walked over to the dealer. Micky watched the scene then handed the money to Danny who put it in his pocket.
    Micky frowned at him. “Who’s pissed in your pool then Danny Boy?”
    “Nobody.”
    “Well you look like someone has.” He shook his head. “You know Danny boy, this love business is not what it’s cracked up to be. Ever since you got a sniff of that girl’s skirt you’ve been maudlin. You really should just get on with it and give her a jump. You’ll feel better for it.”
    “She’s fifteen Micky. And Catholic.”
    “So?” said Micky shrugging his shoulders. “I got a blowjob off a nun when I was thirteen back In Cork. She’s probably gagging for it. Be a man. Give her a taste of your cock.”
    The altercation got out of hand with the dealer, Billy head-butted him then three of the dealer’s friends rushed to his aid and started squaring up with Billy.
    “Here we go,” said Danny.
    “Fuckers. Come on