PROLOGUE The fat, evil little leprechaun was interfering in their lives again in a way they would never recover from. Rowdy could feel it. It was like a chill chasing up his spine. It was a premonition of hell. It was a certainty that perhaps they should have just shot his ass when he interfered the last time. But that last time hadn’t been with one of the Mackays, just a friend, and not an old and dear one at that. The brother of an old and dear friend wasn’t exactly the same. Standing in the marina office and staring out the heavy glass door, he wondered what the little bastard was up to this time. His eyes narrowed against the bright summer sun as the fat little bastard, a.k.a. Timothy Cranston, stood at the open back passenger door of the black Ford Excursion, his attention on the occupants he was obviously speaking to. He was apparently debating something with them, Rowdy thought. The tension in Cranston’s shoulders was a sure indication that his frustration level was rising. There were times Rowdy and his cousins might like the former Homeland Security agent, but other times he was more trouble than he was worth. Rowdy had a feeling he was about to become more trouble than he was worth again. “What the fu—hell is he up to?” Natches