A/N: This is the pentultimate chapter of this pre-season 7 story which I started writing to deal with my Carloser issues. The Miami bounty hunter though full of good intentions has so far failed to keep up with Fiona and her family as they fight against a vengeful Greyson Miller. His actions during the Irish family's search for weapons to wage a war had Fiona sending him away to take care of Madeline Westen and try to convince Michael's mother to make another trip to the Magic Kingdom, meanwhile appearing as a ghost in her head her former lover is proving far more of a help than the pale imitation who now shares her bed.

I would like to thank everyone who is still reading this story and suggest that those of you who are looking to read more Season 7 stories check out Jedi Skysinger's S7 Song Book, an anthology from various characters point of views as the events of the season are revealed.

I will also take this opprtunity to thank Jedi Skysinger for her Beta of this chapter.

A PALE IMITATION

Part Eight

Standing on the roof top patio of the newly built shell of an unoccupied two-story villa with stunning views over the mangrove swamps and the sea beyond, these views were lost on Fiona and Seamus Glenanne as the siblings only had eyes for an I-Pad screen showing flashing images of the Florida countryside.

"Thar, thar tis… slow down lad an' let's take a nice long look see," Seamus instructed his eldest son Pat to put the military surplus drone fitted with a top of the line camera into high sweeping circles above their target, Benny's Place, the Homestead bar popular with the South Florida smuggling community.

With her eyes fixed on the screen, Fiona's first thought was how lucky it had been that Seamus had not only brought one of the four drones gifted to him by a grateful Romanian war lord along on his journey across the Atlantic, but also several battery packs as well since Benny's was the second location they had surveyed in their search for Greyson Miller. The first, a storage facility where they had been informed Miller was loading several large vehicles with supplies before driving away, had been a bust.

From what she was seeing now without the aerial surveillance supplied by the drone, there was a strong chance they would have walked into a devastating ambush.

Where the hell did Miller get all those men? the petite paramilitary thought with dismay.

Aerial recon is invaluable in modern warfare if you need to scope out a place that's too dangerous to visit on foot. Using a drone similar to those used by law enforcement or news crews is almost as good as rerouting a spy satellite... Just think about tha hell we coulda raised if we'd had this technology back in tha day...

She swallowed thickly and tried with little success to banish the specter of her former boyfriend and partner in mayhem from her thoughts. This was not the time for daydreaming or reminiscing as her older sibling had already been at pains to point out earlier in the day.

She grimaced suddenly as her eldest nephew altered the camera angle and brought the video into sharp focus and all previous thoughts fell away. "The last I heard Miller didn't have more than ten men working for him."

Fiona leaned in a little closer to her brother to get a better view of the screen. It was not looking good. In fact it looked worse than bad. Even the former guerrilla fighter had to admit what she was seeing did not offer any hope of success for their small group taking down her enemy. Not that she was going to admit defeat in front of her kin of course.

The long squat building surrounded by a covered porch that made up the bar showed up clearly on the screen along with the large parking lot which should have been empty at this time of day. But now it appeared to be home to four matching, dark colored military type vehicles and six others of various types, one of them being Benny's blue Tacoma pickup.

There was no way each one of Miller's men drove in alone, so by her own reckoning, disregarding the proprietor's latest transport that was parked in plain sight in front of the bar, there were ten strange vehicles assembled behind the bar, which had to mean their opponent had somehow recruited a whole lot more men…. A small army in fact…

That also meant that twenty men at the very least stood in their way of taking out the ex-British soldier turned gun runner. The redhead bit down on her bottom lip and turned her attention back to the I-pad in her brother's hand. There had to be a way…

As if reading her mind, Pat chose that second to alter the drone's trajectory. The picture on the screen tilted to show the perimeter of the parking lot. To the right, a single story building used as a daycare stood behind a high chain link fence partially concealed by a small stand of trees and bushes. Thankfully there were no children to be seen outside, though there were swings and a slide on a grassy square near where the four cars presumably belonging to the staff were parked.

The road at the front of the property looked the same as Fiona remembered it, with a low but steady stream of traffic. Benny's establishment was on the edge of a trading estate with many small businesses after all. Moving on, the drone kept up its steady journey around the perimeter.

To the left of the smugglers' bar behind an even higher fence, this one topped with several rows of razor wire, stood a solid looking two story brick structure: an Air Force cadet training building. Finally directly behind Benny's Place was a wide canal, the water nearly reaching the tops of the grass covered sides.

"I donnae like tha look of this," Seamus muttered, as the drone's flight path picked up several groups of men, some watching the main road and others scattered about various tactical positions in the parking lot. "Pat, lad, swing around again and see if you can get us a look at who Miller has got in his crew or at least what weapons we'll be going against."

He turned his gaze to his little sister and frowned. "After whot thot fella Sam Axe did ta Garrett Hartley and his men with his so-called boomstick, I'm surprised tha bastid could find anyone willin' ta come after ya or McBride's friends."

"You heard about that?" Fiona's eyes widened with surprise.

"Oh aye, thot Sam Axe fella sure has some style about him." Her older sibling flashed his teeth in a smile. "Making a weapon outta household objects an' bacon fat, whot's nae ta like?" He chuckled.

"Maybe I should call him now?"

"Ya know tha answer ta thot, Sis. We deal wit' this alone or nae at all." Suddenly his eyes narrowed and the brief smile disappeared completely. "And tis looking like twill be tha second rather than tha first... I take it destroying tha whole place is outta tha question? I can get a RPG-7 an' a few grenades hare in a couple o' hours."

"As much as I would love to use an RPG on Miller and his cronies, we can't. There's a daycare right next door, never mind the fact that if we blew up Benny's we'd have every smuggler and gun runner on the Eastern seaboard out for blood."

Fiona sighed heavily. It had been a long time since she'd had access to any heavy artillery. She shook her head, no more daydreaming or wishing things were different.

"I count seventeen men out thare waitin' fer us, Sis, and thare will be more on tha inside. Oh, an' let us nae ferget Miller will be keeping a close eye on Benny an' anyone else he has in thar wit' ham... So if ya're shying away fram bringing in tha heavy artillery, I say tis over fer us, at least fer now... Whot tha feck is Benny doin' hare nar, anyway? He should be home wit' his family this time o' day."

Fiona studied the screen, searching for something, anything, which she could use to change her brother's mind; the thought of having to run away made her feel queasy. "I am not ready to give up. We should head back to the boat and check out the images. We must be missing something. There has to be a way to get this done."

"Pat, bring tha drone in." Seamus closed the image on the I-pad and turned to Fiona. "Am calling it. Until I can talk ta Liam. Maybe by tha time we get back fram Cuba he'll have arranged fer Sean ta – "

"No!" Fiona curled her hand into a fist and punched her brother hard on the bicep. "I said I would think of something... I - I just need a little time." Her confidence slipped under her sibling's stern gaze.

"Time is nae sommit we have ta spare, girl, an' neither do we have tha manpower nor tha guns ta take Miller out, nae nar anyway," Seamus growled back. Taking hold of the younger woman's arm before she could throw another punch, he manhandled her back to where the twins were watching over their SUV. "Yar just gonna have ta accept Miller has won this round, sweetheart. Unless ya change yar mind about turning this place inta a crater thot is."

The ride back to the dinghy which had carried them out to the Dulcinea was taken in a deathly silence.

As soon as they boarded, Fiona insisted on reviewing the footage on the larger computer up on the bridge. Even as Seamus had his boys begin the preparations to leave US waters, she was leaning over the screen scrolling through one image at a time.

There had been a time when she would have been demanding Seamus bring in the RPGs. But it had been Michael Westen who had taught her to look for other ways to get things done and besides she really did not want to leave Miami, which she most certainly would have been forced to do if she'd leveled Benny's Place with a rocket launcher. Being on a multiple most wanted lists was never fun, regardless of what she had boasted to Sam Axe all those years ago before things had got complicated.

When an operation goes seriously wrong, you have to decide quickly whether to bail out or keep pushing and try to salvage what you can. Bailing out is less risky. But when it means leaving someone behind to die, sometimes you just have to grit your teeth and roll the dice.

"Miller isn't going to kill Benny. Not even he's that stupid, Michael." Fiona stared harder at the computer screen, hoping if she put all her focus on the problem at hand, then the ghost from her past would take the hint and leave her alone.

Unfortunately thinking about the spy and what they had shared had been all the excuse that particular phantom needed to keep haunting her thoughts again.

Really, Fi, you sure about that..? Right now, the only people who know Benny is being held are you and Miller and his gang. If Benny's dead and you're gone, then he gets to say what happened. He can sell whatever story he wants. How he rode in to rescue Benny from the mad woman who informed on him, who had only hours earlier blown up large chunks of Miami real estate, but sadly he was too late.

"I could call up some of my old friends tell them what Miller is doing," the petite redhead mused aloud, countering the voice in her head. "They might be staying out of the fight for now, but for Benny I think they'd help us out."

Even if they took your calls, then what? What if word gets out to Millers friends? You want end up starting an all-out war, Fi?

Fiona stopped looking at the screen and stared out of the thickened glass window at the gentle rolling waves of the Atlantic and the small islands in the distance which made up the Keys. "Damn you, Michael Westen, I hate it when you're right," she hissed lowly.

Well get ready to hate me some more. Go back over the images. You've missed something important.

The redhead straightened abruptly, her eyes going wide. Whirling around, she turned to the screen, this time examining each picture minutely. What was it? What was it her subconscious had picked up on but she had failed to see?

After nearly fifteen minutes of staring through narrowed eyes at not only images of the bar but all the surrounding area, she saw what they had all missed due to their dismay at discovering the numbers they were up against. Slowly the Irishwoman's expression changed into what could only be described as an evil little smile that lit up her face.

It hadn't been just one thing that they had missed, but several and in particular one very important person. Pushing away from the counter top she headed for the door, yelling at the top of her voice.

"SEAMUS, STOP WHOT YA'RE DOIN' AN' GET UP HAR NAR!"

Now if she could only discover why Benny had chosen to be at his bar so early in the day, then all the parts of her plan would be complete.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Several hours earlier at Benny's Place…

Benny Roylan, second generation owner of Benny's Place, was not a happy man. Pacing up and down behind the battered and scarred old oak desk in his small office in a back corner of his bar, the heavily built dark haired proprietor of South Florida's premier smuggler's hang out gripped his cell phone and had said device pressed tightly to the side of his head.

"Si, si, yes I understand, gracias, Pete. I can't thank you enough. I'll be there muy pronto... No, you did the right thing, no need to worry Simone at this time of night. See you soon, mi amigo."

Slowly removing his mobile from his ear, Benny raised his eyes to the ceiling as if searching for some divine intervention.

"?Carajo!" he muttered between clenched teeth. "Just – great..."

Dropping his cell phone into his pants pocket, Benny turned his gaze onto his office door and stepped out into the back part of his bar and momentarily closed his eyes as his senses were instantly assaulted by the charged atmosphere and cacophony of noise caused by strong alcohol and a clash of opinions.

Damn Glenanne and Miller and their loco feud. He opened his eyes and thought back to the call he had just taken from an old friend in Miami-Dade PD. But dealing with armed and dangerous gun runners was a piece of cake when compared to a teenager determined to give her father a heart attack.

Going off, getting drunk and partying in Miami was bad enough. But getting so drunk that she ended up being taken to an ER where she came to the attention of local law enforcement…? What the hell was she thinking? Her mama is gonna kill both of us when she finds out…

He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he caught the attention of his head barman, Gustavo. As soon as the older man was at his side, Benny pulled him back into the office to break the bad news.

"Sorry to dump this Lío on you, but I have to go… family drama," he apologized. "Just -"

Benny paused as the sound of a glass breaking and the scrape of chairs being hurriedly pulled back reached the room. Raised voices filled the bar area as both men stiffened and then as fast as the fight began, it seemed it was over.

Glancing over Gustavo's shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his two junior bar staff talking to the two sides in the dispute settling down the rash tempers. This… this… was exactly the reason why he had insisted on staying neutral in all disputes.

"Just try to keep them from smashing up the place… In fact, next time anyone even starts to go loco, call time and shut it down."

It had only been two hours ago that Boon Travis, an independent small time boat owner who freelanced for whoever paid his fees, had entered the bar and announced excitedly that he had just heard Greyson Miller's fleet of fancy cigarette boats had been blown out of the water.

He shoulda kicked Boon out right then. But before he could signal to his staff, another patron had leapt to his feet, sending his chair flying backwards. With his cell still up against his ear, he had glared around the room until his eyes settled on two other members of the smuggling community, men who had earlier in the evening loudly declared that attacking Seamus Glenanne, especially at the dock belonging to Jojo Delaney, had been a fool thing to do.

"Hey assholes, what the fuck do you know about Dumain getting run outta town? He ain't only Miller's accountant, you know! That Glenanne bitch is gonna pay if I lose my money because she couldn't keep her mouth shut and do her time."

Within minutes, the bar had been buzzing with the rumors circulating about the Glenannes striking back against not only the fleet of small power boats and Miller's money man, obvious revenge for the bounty put on the head of Fiona Glenanne's own money launderer, but also the destruction of one of the former British soldier's main arms store. In a flash sides were being picked and Benny was finding his premises at risk of becoming another victim in the growing conflict.

"No need to throw them out, Jefe. Half of them are already on their way out the door," Gustavo commented on steady flow of men quickly finishing up their drinks before rushing out of the door.

Benny checked his watch. It was at least a forty minute drive into the heart of South Beach, the cop on the phone had warned him he couldn't keep the eighteen year old from being charged for much longer.

"Use your judgment, amigo, but anything else happens tonight, bounce whoever's left out of here."

He sighed and gazed over to his safes where he kept his stock of Cuban cigars and his private stock of fine liquor. Officer Pete Brady had been a good friend when he had been with the Homestead PD and from what Benny remembered, the man had a weakness for a good cigar and quality rum.

"Get going, Jefe. We got this." The older man, a former smuggler himself who had first worked for the original Benny, patted his obviously troubled employer on the shoulder. "If it helps with tu peque?o problema, Sanchez came in yesterday, paid off his tab with two bottles of Ron Edmundo Dante 25 Year Old Gran Reserva."

"Get 'em both," Benny ordered, which sent Gustov to one of the two safes in his office. Each bottle of Gran Reserva rum was worth just shy of a thousand dollars. Two grand worth of spirits plus a box of ten twenty-dollar cigars would just about cover the gratitude he felt to the cop who was watching over his criminally inebriated daughter.

Leaving his place in the hands of his very capable head barman, Benny left Homestead behind and travelled towards the bright lights of Miami.

It wasn't until his good friend Officer Brady was properly thanked, his heavily hungover daughter was loaded into his Toyota Tacoma truck and the lights of Mount Sinai Hospital at Bayshore were in his rear view as he headed back south that Benny let his eldest know exactly what was on his mind.

"Esmeralda Kathleen Roylan, wake up! You think you gonna sleep this off on your way home, ni?ita? You old enough to get wasted and get caught then you old enough to pay the price!"

He risked taking his eyes off the road long enough to catch his eighteen year old daughter, hanging her head, looking several shades of pale and green at the same time as she hunched even further down in the passenger seat, her bare arms defensively crossed over her semi-exposed chest.

He turned his attention back to the road as his temper went up another three notches.

"I know you didn't leave home wearing that dress! Where did you get it and whose house did you change at?"

Dress, bah! He had seen larger handkerchiefs than that piece of flimsy material draped round Esme and it was the intervention of the Blessed Virgin herself that Esme hadn't actually broken her damn ankle in those sandals. He glanced over again, his vision skimming over the low cut peach-colored silk dress which barely covered anything at all and onto the strappy four inch stiletto sandals resting on his daughter's lap. No way in hell her mama let their baby leave the house half naked in hooker heels.

"You better answer me, girl! You have any idea what – ?" He halted his angry tirade momentarily. Of course she didn't know how dangerous Miami was right now, how could she?

The memory of his own father and his group of smuggler friends sitting out on a dock, filling his teenage head with tales of the drugs war in the mid-seventies flashed through his mind, tales of Griselda Blanco, known as the godmother of cocaine, of drive-by shootings and daylight gun battles on the city streets, of the Dadeland Mall massacre where after publicly executing her rivals, her sicarios had opened fire on the horrified crowd, spraying innocent men, women and children with lead.

What if either the Glenannes or Miller's crew had chosen to settle their differences on South Beach? He didn't know much about the Provisional IRA, but he had heard all about Fiona Glenanne's form of justice since arriving in South Florida. He gulped and forced the bloody images out of his mind.

The teenager groaned and slid her arms from her chest to her rebellious stomach. "Sorry…" she muttered and he hoped she wasn't about to throw up all over the interior of his new vehicle.

"Yes, you're sorry now. Esme, what were you thinking, ni?ita?"

"Just some fun… for graduation…"

"If this is how you think you oughta act, what you gonna to do when you get to college, eh? You think I'm paying the bill for you to get drunk every night, girl? What you think is going to happen to you, dressed like that, passed out somewhere and I'm not around to take care of you? What then? You think sus amigas gonna help you out then? Where they leave you this time, mi bebé?"

His daughter scrunched lower, pulling her good leg onto the bench seat, which only emphasized how little she was wearing again.

"How you expect a man to respect you when you don't respect yourself? You wanna be the one they go out to pick up after their wife and kids are in bed? You wanna break your mama's heart? What about your sisters, eh? You wanna put ideas in their heads too?"

Benny clenched his jaw to hold back the rest of what he wanted to say to his errant oldest child from coming out of his mouth. Okay, sure, celebrating graduating from high school was one thing, it's why he agreed to let her go out for a night on the town with her friends. But this…? After taking a couple of deep calming breaths, he found the self-control to mutter, "We talk about this when we get to the bar."

Esme raised her head slightly and peered at him. "We're not coming home?"

"If I take you home dressed like that and smelling like one of my old beer mats, your mama gonna murder us both before you even open your mouth and tell her how sorry you are... No you coming with me while I check everything is okay and get the drink orders sent out. You sober up, you clean up and get changed into something decent. There's spare clothes in the office. We go home after your mama has your sisters and brother off to school then you get to face the music without an audience."

"Jeez thanks, Papa." Esme rolled her eyes at him and put her head back down.

Benny opened his mouth, ready to let his daughter know exactly what he thought about her ingratitude when he had just made a two hour round trip to pick her up, covered the hospital bill for her badly sprained ankle and paid off a cop to keep her out of an overnight stay in jail and all while he was worried about an all-out war breaking out between his friends and customers.

But then as he took another long look at the eighteen year old, he forced the words back down. Sitting there huddled up, the lower part of her left leg encased in a soft splint, her make up smeared by tears, looking so small and vulnerable, he couldn't bring himself to carry on chastising his oldest child.

"When you wash all that paint off your face and we get pot of coffee down you... Then we talk."

He switched his attention back to the road. The turn off for the bar was coming up shortly. Once they were inside, he would have a proper talk with Esmeralda, explain things to her. At eighteen she was old enough to understand the situation. He bit down on his bottom lip. They had agreed to her living away from home at college. Maybe he was going to have to have an uncomfortable conversation with his wife and daughter about why he didn't think it was wise for Esme to be living in Miami right now.

Yeah, that was going to be fun...

"Esme, hey mi bebé, wake up." Benny nudged his daughter's shoulder, causing the slender dark haired teen to groan. "We're here."

Jumping out, Benny made is way around his truck and opened the passenger door. "Let me carry you inside. I don't need you falling again and breaking the other ankle. Your mama is going to kill us both as it is."

Hesitating, she yawned and looked out of the vehicle to the sight of the shuttered building ahead of her. "Can't we just go home? It's still early – "

"Uh-huh, you messed up bad, ni?ita. Me and you, we gonna have a talk and then you get the honor of explaining yourself to your mamita... Come on." He gently pulled the teen from the cab and into his arms as if she was still his baby and carried her over to the doors of his bar. Gently dropping her to her feet he unlocked the doors and peered inside, half expecting to be greeted by a pile of broken furniture.

"Not too bad," he muttered as he let his gaze skim over the darkened room. The U-shaped bar was clear and wiped clean, the tables had chairs stood on top and the floor was swept. The only sign of any damage was a single chair leaning against the wall with a leg broken off. He had seen worse damage on a typical Saturday night. "Buen trabajo, Gustov."

"Whatever... can I – I need to – " Turning toward his child, whose pasty complexion was rapidly turning a deep shade green, Benny quickly moved out of the way as the teen hobbled urgently towards the restrooms.

"Serves you right, chica!" he called after her.

Now that he was back at his still intact place of business, Benny felt the tension that had been building inside him begin to melt away. His daughter was safe, and by the sound of it learning a valuable lesson about the downfall of drinking too much alcohol, and his bar, his father's legacy, had survived the conflict that was threatening to become a full blown war... at least for one more night.

"You all right in there, bebe?"

"I – I think – " More heaving noises followed, making Benny grimace.

Maybe he shoulda taken her straight home… Hearing the sound of a toilet flushing followed by water running into a sink, the bar owner changed his mind. This was a good lesson for Esme... If, and it was now a big if, she got to go live on campus, he was happier she was learning this now rather than later.

"I'm gonna find you something to change into. You clean up and come to my office for some coffee."

It took Benny only a few minutes to find a set of clothes for his daughter. Luckily for her, one of his female bar staff always kept a spare pair of jeans and a T-shirt in the back since the night she'd accidentally got soaked in beer and had to drive home in damp clothing smelling of stale Dos Equis.

Picking up the garments, he carried them over to the rest room and banged on the door. "It's a bit big but it'll do 'til we get home," he said as an arm stuck out through a narrow gap in the doorway and a small hand grabbed the items. "I'll get the coffee machine going, then I gotta go to the cooler. If I'm not back by the time you finish, you go get as much down as you can and wait for me... ?entiendes?"

"Papa, I – I don't think I can – "

"Trust me, mi bebe, coffee will wake you up and you realmente gonna need a clear head for when we face your mama."

Leaving his daughter to clean off her tear stained make up and change into more suitable attire, Benny went behind the bar and began the task of making a list of everything what needed to be collected from the storeroom next to his office.

He was pleased to see that Gustavo had already restocked the bar area and the smaller coolers were full of beers, spirits and mixers. That meant all he had left to do was double check the computer read outs from the tills against the cash his man would have left in the safe.

"Best check what's in the back first," he muttered to himself. It was tempting to leave the task until later, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he would be grateful for the excuse to leave the Casa Familia early once his dear Simone got a good look at their daughter.

Opening the storeroom door, Benny was hit by a refreshing blast of cool air coming from refrigerating units along the back wall. Pulling the thick door to, he pushed through the heavy plastic strips which kept most of the cold air where it was needed.

Was it really worth it? Stocking up in with everything going on at the moment?. Benny stared at the row of steel barrels under the shelves which lined the walls on either side of the room. There were six full kegs, not a great deal admittedly but with the way things were going…. Esme picked one helluva time to show her ass... Rubbing a hand over his brow, he turned to the half full box of Coronas.

Part of him wanted to call his staff and tell them not to come back in until either Miller or Glenanne was run off or dead. It would be the safe thing to do. It would protect his investments. It would give him more time with su familia… The bar owner let his thoughts drift to other conflicts which had ripped through the smuggling community. The last big one had been over five years ago and it too had involved Fiona Glenanne. Only that time she had come out of that mess as a hero. He sighed and turned his attention to the boxes of mixers. That last feud had lasted only a few weeks and barely affected anyone outside the participants until Philippe Gardena had made the dumbass move of kidnapping Jojo Delaney's kid. Nobody had been onboard with that move. You left family out of it, those were the rules.

This time though was far different. When Glenanne had handed Miller over to the feds, she had broken the other major edict that his customer base lived by. Setting the man up had been an unforgivable offense, sending ripples up and down the eastern seaboard and even across the Atlantic.

The nearest comparison had to be when Reagan's war on drugs had hit the Keys, Benny's own father had only escaped arrest due to be late returning home. It had seen over thirty of the old smugglers of the Conch Republic thrown in jail, their boats confiscated and their fishing licenses revoked. With Miller captured, the FBI and Coast Guard had taken the opportunity to reek havoc on the smuggler community, many of whom had lost not only their livelihood, but their freedom too.

His father had seen his narrow escape from the raids in the Everglades as a warning it was time to get out of the trade and find a less hazardous way to make a living. The bar owner found his thoughts slipping further from the task of checking his stock to the best strategy to keep his own family safe.

A sudden bang of a door shutting reminded him of his other pressing problem. Esme must have finally come out of the rest room.

Rubbing his hands together to try to warm up his frozen digits, Benny made his way back through the plastic strips. Glancing down at his reddened hands, he wondered how long he had spent in the storeroom.

The bar owner was in the process of lifting his right wrist to check the time on his watch when the bottom of his world dropped out.

"PAPA! Paaapaaa, help me!"

()()()()()()()()()()()()

At his sister's shout, Seamus Glenanne stopped what he was doing and with a gesture of his hand sent his youngest son Milo running into the bowels of his ship in search of his older siblings, who were busy hiding all the extra weaponry they had picked the day before.

"Fiona, whot did I tell ya?" her older sibling started up the steps to the bridge. "Ya're wastin' time, sweetheart. Thare are taa many o' tham. We'll settle tha score later when we have tha advantage, nae before."

"And I told you I just needed some time to find a way and I've found it," the petite redhead answered with a pleased smile. "Go and have a look at what I found."

Seamus scowled back before turning his attention to the image Fiona had paused and enlarged on the computer screen. It was a little fuzzy, the man's features unclear apart from his thick collar-length blond hair and the bushy beard obscuring the lower half of his face.

"I take it Am supposed ta know who tha hell thot is?" He made room for his four sons who had just arrived to get a look at the out of focus figure.

"I'm pretty certain it's Elias Lerner. I take it even you've heard of him."

"As in Elias Lerner, tha assassin...?" The gunrunner bit down on his bottom lip, his mind racing as he tried to work out why his little sister thought Miller teaming up with an international killer for hire was a good thing. "Isnae he tha one rumored ta have taken out tha Irish ambassador in Chile last year? How did Miller manage ta afford– ?"

The Irishman's words faded away as his blue eyes widened. Thar wa' no way Greyson Miller could afford Elias Lerner's fee. Ham being thar had ta be personal...

"Whot did ya do, Fi? Or was it sommit Michael did thot brought this fella inta tha mix?"

"In fact, it was me… and Carlos." She straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive move.

"Yarself an' thot – " He paused as the younger woman's eyes narrowed, daring him to finish the sentence.

"It was a mistake, I admit... A small error by our intelligence sources…."

The elder Glenanne could barely suppress his laughter, having to put a hand over his mouth to stop angering his fiery little sister. The words intelligence in the sense of battle tactics and Carlos Cruz definitely did not belong in the same sentence.

"A few months ago, we took a bounty on a lowlife called Ray Lenard. He was as far as we knew a junkie nobody who'd jumped bail on a robbery and assault charge. We found him within half a day, drugged up out of his mind in a seedy hotel room. It was an easy job, nobody got hurt. But after we turned him in, we learned Lenard was an alias and the little twerp's real name was Lerner. Ray's the youngest of the family and, by all accounts, an embarrassment to the rest."

"So, ya got his kid brudder arrested. So nar thot's two men ya have ratted on, Fiona, in just over a year. Whot are ya playin' at? Ya cannae – " He broke off when the phone of the woman he was berating began to ring.

He watched as the redhead pulled the device from her jeans pocket and glanced at the screen, then press the decline key.

"It wasn't important," she mumbled and dropped the cell down next to the computer. "As I was saying, I wouldn't have taken the job if I had known who he really was, but putting Joey Lerner behind bars isn't what has Elias coming after me. That piece of scum had been in prison twice before without his big brother getting involved." She paused and closed her eyes for a brief moment. "What has Elias so angry is that after we handed Joey in, his victim died... and now he is awaiting trial on a murder charge in a death penalty state."

"Well, congratulations, sis, ya've done it again. Ya certainly donnae do things in half measures…" He sighed. "Thot is definitely enough fer tha fella ta nae only get interested in his little brudder's affairs an' waive his fee. In fact, I wouldnae be surprised ta find out he's paid Miller fer a chance ta get his hand on ya."

The Irishwoman remembered how she'd felt when she had discovered who they had just handed over and had wanted to kick herself for failing check on all the details on the warrant and now, under her brother's judgmental gaze, Fiona felt even worse. Was he right? Was she letting her standards slip in more ways than one?

"Joey Lerner's victim was an eighty five year old woman, Shay. Whot would any o' us done if somebody had done thot ta our mam or Auntie Claire?"

"We wouldnae o' handed him inta tha cops an' ya know it." Seamus stepped back and ran his fingers through his thick sandy colored hair. He stared upwards as if looking for guidance from above before turning his scowling countenance back to his sister. "An' this wa' tha good news ya called us up har fer? Greyson Miller has a paid killer helping him out. It certainly explains tha small army waitin' fer us ta appear."

"No, but it did give me an idea on how we can win this war and without involving anybody else." He watched as she pushed past her nephews to reach the scanner and the tray full of photographs.

The five men waited patiently watching as the petite former paramilitary spread the pictures out on the remaining space and then, taking a red marker pen, began circling the parts she obviously thought were going to make her point.

"Look. Take a look at how those men are armed; check out what they have attached to their vests." She jabbed at each of the photographs with a fingernail.

"Unless I am mistaken, which I'm not," she continued, warming to the subject of all things that go boom. "That's an Israeli Weapon Industries Negev NG-5 light machine gun that Mister Lerner has slung on his shoulder and, if you look closely, at least three others are carrying the same weaponry." She then pointed to another group of photos.

Handing her brother a magnifying glass, she waited while he studied the images.

"M67 fragmentation grenades… highly illegal virtually everywhere outside the military," Fiona went on. "It was only when I looked closer I realized nearly every single man down there has something illegal either in his hand or hanging off his clothes. Machine guns, grenades, suppressors and the odd sawed off shotgun." The younger woman leaned back against the counter top with a smug smile lighting up her face.

Seamus looked at each of the images in turn, before handing them to his sons and then he raised his eyes to stare incredulously at his sister. "It sounds ta me like yar plan is ta sit back an' call tha feds on Miller."

"Not exactly – well, sort of…" She shrugged her shoulders. She should have guessed that her plan would meet with disapproval.

"Fiona, have ya lost yar bloody mind?" Ms Glenanne looked from face to face, reading the utter shock in each of their expressions as her brother continued to castigate her. "Handing Miller over ta tha Feds is exactly whot the hell gotcha inta all this trouble in tha first place and nar ya wanta double down and add this Lerner fella inta tha mix?"

"It's not what you think, I – " Just then her cell phone began to ring for a second time. Breaking off what she was about to say, Fiona snatched up the device but not before Seamus had read the name on the screen: CARLOS.

Her finger hovered over the answer key, then quickly moved to press decline as she caught her brother's expression.

It looked like tha mother hen did nae like his woman wandering off alone was the Irishman's rather uncharitable assessment of the situation.

"Fi, we've things ta discuss. Did ya nae tell ham ya would be busy…? Whot if instead o' standin' on tha bridge hare, ya ware creepin' up on some o' Miller's men…? Tha fool coulda got ya killed calling ya like thot."

"If I was working, I would have had my phone on silent or switched off all together!" His little sister snapped back, then turned back to the business of getting rid of Greyson Miller for good this time. "Now, back to business," she commanded, before her phantom former lover could add his opinion to her brother's disapproval. She was just going have to have words with Carlos and explain the reality of battlefield tactics with him.

Sweeping the photographs to one side, the former paramilitary brought out a sketch of Benny's place she had completed before turning to review all the drone footage.

"D'ya remember thot story our da used ta tell, tha one whare he, Oli Campbell, Aiden Malloy and a few others ware plannin' ta ambush a group o' loyalist scum who'd been killin' Catholics in Armargh?"

Seamus frowned as he tried to remember the details of that particular tale of their father's daring adventures in the early days of the IRA. There were so many of these stories, some of which now he was older and far more experienced in what guns could and couldn't do, suspected weren't completely true or were at least embellished.

"Twas on the twelfth o' July 1971, Da' an' his friends were waiting behind the wall of St. Cuthberts primary school for this gang o' evil Orange bastids ta pass by – " Her phone began to ring a third time. She looked over to her brother, "It could be serious, he wouldnae keep calling like this otherwise. It could be sommit to do with Madeline, I should..." Not waiting for permission, Fiona accepted the call and stepped off the bridge of the Dulcinea and onto the steep metal steps which led down onto the deck.

"Okay, boys, while yar auntie is dealing wit' har fella an' har ex fella's mother, I'll fill ya in on whot ya grandda got up ta in Armargh."

Holding up her phone to one ear, she blocked the other with her finger to try to cut out the sound of her brother's voice.

"Carlos, Carlos what's happened? Is Madeline alright?"

"She's fine... I was getting worried when you didn't answer me. I saw the news, Fiona. They were talking about bombs going off all over Miami. That was you and tu hermano locomente, wasn't it? Are you okay?"

From feeling a mixture of guilt for ignoring his calls and fear that something had happened to Madeline because of something she had done, the fiery red head's temper soared into a fury. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the laughter coming from the bridge.

"Carlos, did you seriously call me in the middle of an important operation to ask me about a few little explosions?"

"Yes, and no… Madeline refused to leave. I'm stuck helping her with some family– "

Her emotional state changed again, as an icy pit opened in her belly. "This it about Michael?" Was he dead or dying working on some mission for his lord and masters in the CIA?

"No, no, nothing about your ex... Look, I know you were with Michael a long time but- "

"Madeline doesn't have any other family I know about," she cut him off hotly. "So if he isn't dead or damned near dead, then there's no reason to talk about him. What was so important that you couldn't get her to go to Disney with you and out of the line of fire? "

"Oye, mommi, it's about Ruth, her daughter in law, she was driving from Las Vegas when she crashed her car – "

"You're callin' me about that stupid woman?" She couldn't believe Carlos would be bothering her at this time with some unimportant news about the person who left Nate and took his child all the way across the country.

"Si, Madeline has– "

"Whatever it is, it can wait until I come back. I should be home by tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. I am trying to stop a madman, no, two mad men from ruining our lives." Deep inside she knew none of this was her lover's fault, but to be interrupted because of something Ruth Westen had done was beyond her ability to understand.

"But Fi – "

"Carlos, whatever it is, just handle it and keep Madeline safe! Now, I have to go..." The irate Irishwoman ended the call with a stab of the big red key in the center of the display, hitting the point right in the center of the image of her lover's chest.

Breathing deeply through her nose, Fiona shook her head to clear it as she walked back to the bridge just as Seamus was finishing that particular story of how her father and his friends were nearly captured by the British Army.

"So, ya let ham know exactly how ya felt then, Fi? I bet tha poor fella's ears must be ringing after tha bashing you just gave ham."

"Michael's mother is being– difficult. I told him I'd deal with it when I get back."

"So ya're tellin' us, yar man cannae control one sixty year old woman wit'out callin' fer back up?"

"No, that's not what I am saying." This was another conversation she was not interested in having. "Madeline just isn't the easiest woman to deal with at times. It'll be fine."

Seamus raised an eyebrow. Then when Fiona sent him a death glare, he continued on the other topic at hand. "Well, tha lads know all about whot happened when those loyalist scum kept our da held down while one o' tham ran off ta get tha troops."

"There's more to the story than that," his little sister replied, for a moment smiling wistfully at the last time she had heard that particular tale.

"Aye ya're right thare. Tha way Da told it, if it hadnae been fer tham soldiers nae knowing tha countryside an' tha Orangemen bein' fram tha other side o' tha county, they woulda nae got away. An' let us nae ferget, it'll make one hell o' a lotta noise. There will be coppers coming at us fram all directions."

"That's the beauty of it." Fiona's smile grew even wider. "In fact, I think we should make sure the police are on their way before we set off the fireworks."

"So, wa're nar callin' in tha coppers ourselves? Liam an' Sean will kill me when they hear about this, thot is if mammy donnae kill me harself first."

Fiona barred her teeth, her eyes sparkling as she thought about the last bit of her plan, the part where Greyson and now Elias Lerner would be out of her hair permanently.

"Do I need to remind you how easy it is to get someone killed while they're incarcerated or do I have to repeat why I had to turn Miller in so I could get out before I had a knife stuck between my ribs?" She stared at Seamus, making sure he understood the full implications of her strategy. "I am sure our brother will know of some willing souls in the Florida prison system that would be happy to do him a little favor and if not, I can get some recommendations. Now, let's get to work, I have some very loud bombs to make."

The younger woman gave him that determined smile he'd seen too many times to doubt her. "Right then let's get on with making tham rue tha day they came after a Glenanne."