Seamus Mckiernan Novels & Stories

“You can’t keep deciding for me. For Nasia. For us. I am choosing to be subtle until now, but it does not mean that I am letting it go, Liam. I am not going to keep ignoring everything that you do simply because you want me to.” He stopped, and it was as if the pause itself carried the weight of a march. When he looked at me, his eyes were a dangerous, winter-dark lake. “It’s dangerous,” he said, low. “There are rogues. Rogues that you knew about and yet chose to keep from me. And the fact that you looked me in the eye and chose to ignore the fact that you knew that I would be worried…”

Low. Bastardly melodious. Unmistakably Irish. I step into the dim light, and there he is. Cormac Donnelly. The Irish Consigliere. He’s taller than I expected. Maybe six two. With broad shoulders filling out a dark gray coat that looks more suited for a winter funeral than a meeting in the stinky sewers.

Aware of Boma and Donovan's unconventional love story, he harboured both reservations about Donovan's demeanor and a genuine desire for the couple's happiness. Throughout their tumultuous journey, Fidelis had formed an unexpected friendship with Boma, understanding the depth of her unease about Donovan. He had become a confidant, silently supporting her in the shadows. Though not a staunch supporter of Donovan due to his reputation as a "bad boy," Fidelis recognized a subtle shift in Donovan's attitude. Surprisingly, Donovan had gradually allowed him to be more involved, understanding the sincerity of his care for Boma. Fidelis often found himself in an odd position—rooting for Boma's happin

“Jesus, man.” I sat up abruptly in my chair as Keane burst through the door. He had that manic look in his eyes, the one he often had when he’d pinned his attention on something shiny and new. It was his schizophrenia kicking into high gear. He was fixating. “I met the new intake,” he said, crossing the room to light a joint. He took a huge hit and offered it to me. I took it, more interested in his story as it burned between my fingers.

Seamus left Killarney a week later. Seamus immediately moved in with his cousin Connor in Boston. Connor had made him an apprentice cement mason. He worked hard and studied well. He began as a finisher. It had only taken him five years to work his way up to mason. At the age of twenty-four he had decided to strike out on his own. He wanted to try working in Michigan. Detroit was a city that needed cement masons. The automotive industry was booming. It had been for years. This meant growth, building; cement walls, pillars, sidewalks and more. There was plenty of money to be made and Seamus wanted to be part of the boom.

Kieran's commanding tone had Michael lower his head slightly as he submissively responded, "Yes, Alpha. We will see to it that best treatment is provided to him. We are not going to disappoint you." Kieran nodded. °°° On their way of returning to the pack, Serenity couldn't help but notice the gloominess Kieran was shrouded in. Although it was his personality to remain quiet until she provoked him, this silence still felt a little uncharacteristic of him. "Are you worried about Tom?" Serenity asked. She then smiled and added, "He will be fine. Trust me. Michael is one of the best out there, and if he is confident about this case, then you should be at ease as well."

Nic looked at me and I hated that I was thinking about the cabin, which meant my face was not as serious as it should have been. I nodded to avoid them staring too long. "You need to tell us everything." "Ok. Fatty is my boss." he held onto the wound on his thigh that was gushing blood and at that rate, He would die from the wound infection than from any bullet I was going to shoot him with. "Does fatty have a real name?" He blinked once, twice and I stepped closer, catching a whiff of something unpleasant from him. "Finn Connolly. But we all call him fatty, everyone calls him fatty."

The role for cinemas like the Glenalough Adelphi was simply melting away, and there was nothing that Satan Coil could do to change that. Satan became a bitter man, and the bitterness showed in his features and sounded in his voice when he spoke. The young projectionist that he had trained-up, Alfie McCormack, left to join the RUC in Belfast and, some thirteen years later, acquired momentary fame as the first Northern Ireland police officer to be killed by sniper-fire on the streets of Dundalk.

his voice sounded exhausted and in pain but Seamus kept on listening while Keegan stood behind Seamus letting his boss question their hostage. Twenty minutes later, McKinney was done and Seamus got his confession secretly recorded on his phone. Then, Keegan took over and help the guy get dressed. When Seamus talked outside with Keegan earlier, he had told his right-hand man to drop McKinney off near his house. Seamus wanted the man alive for leverage. Just in case. Now. They will wait for McKinney's office to call his lawyer and grant Cormac Sullivan's exoneration. The judge had promised that the call will be made by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

It's from Meg. 16:52 From: Megan McCartney *Niels came by here and asked me a discreet questionnaire about you. With a strange focus on your current relationship status. I allowed myself to say that you're "available" haha. (In a more discreet way, of course.) Sorry, but I was tempted to give him your number. You won't kill me, will you? Megan McCartney, Assistant in Finance at Ryan Enterprises.* Is she crazy? Damn it. Using the work email. I grab my phone after deleting the email and shutting down the computer.