Chapter Eleven.

Ace brings the Jeep to a complete standstill when the traffic lights turn red. The roads surrounding us are clear, which is unusual for 11 a.m. on a Thursday morning.

"Something is wrong," Ace says, pulling up the handbrake as he opens his glove box and pulls out a gun.

'My thoughts precisely,' I think to myself, and my entire body is suddenly overwhelmed by fear

The palms of my hands become sweaty and damp, the deafening sound of my heart pounds loudly in my ears, and my jittery eyes incessantly scan the streets.

Seconds later, five black sedans enter my field of vision, approaching us from the front of the Jeep. Their cars' tyres screech to a halt, the doors fly open, and guys dressed entirely in black begin to file out, one by one.

"Shit! It's the bloodthirsty Irishmen." Ace curses as he cocks his gun and reaches over to my side of the car, popping open the dash's hidden compartment.

I watch with wide eyes as sixteen men charge towards us, their faces contorted with wrath as they r