Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
CALLUM
I studied myself in the full-length mirror, eyes sweeping from top to bottom.
Maeve had picked out my button-down shirt, and I had to say, it looked great. It was the same sage-green color as our new branding and, according to Tristan, would complement Maeve’s new dress perfectly.
I let out a quiet snort.
Who’d have thought just a few months ago I’d be dressing to match my wife? But here I was, doing just that and totally unbothered about it. I didn’t give one solitary fuck if I looked like an eejit. As long as Maeve was content, then I was, too.
The term happy wife, happy life, had never had any meaning to me before. I’d heard it, of course, but actually living it made me appreciate it all the more.
Maeve was happy; I could see it in the spring in her step, the way she smiled and laughed. I even saw it in the way she communicated with others. The happier she was, the happier it made me, which was strange, considering I never thought anything would bring me the same joy I felt when Da was alive.
Losing somebody so pivotal to my life was a blow I felt deeply—but there was joy in my life, too, albeit a different kind. It took a while, and I wasn’t quite there yet, but I had light in my life in the form of Maeve.
Da may have left me a huge debt, but he also left me a legacy more important than money or my bar.
He left me her.
And for that, I’d always think of my aul fella with a smile and raise a glass.
I ran my hand down my stubble and checked for wrinkles in my shirt and pants. Then, finally satisfied that I looked the part, I turned for the door, moved through the apartment, and jogged down the stairs to the bar.
Showtime.
Maeve was getting ready over at the salon with the girls—and knowing Tristan, they were all consuming copious amounts of wine.
It was okay; I would’ve rather had her at the apartment with me, but I knew she’d want to look her best. Maeve would need some help, seeing as she readily admitted she wasn’t good with girly stuff, although I thought she was naturally pretty without all the makeup and shit anyway. She was also more confident since she’d had the treatment done on her hair, though I sometimes missed the old crazy curls.
Still, as long as she was happy, I was good, too.
I hit the bar and began to move around the room, testing the new lights. I switched the wall lamps on, followed by the ones we’d built around the bar and fireplace that looked much like twinkling Christmas fairy lights. The stage was next, and I adjusted the brightness to a golden glow that gave the place a warm, inviting, sexy, dark vibe.
The atmosphere needed to be perfect.
Walking behind the bar, I grabbed a bottle of our new beer, popped the top, and headed to one of the big, dark brown leather armchairs next to the brick fireplace. Placing my bottle on the side table, I undid my top button, rolled up my sleeves, and brought a hand to my head while I surveyed my little kingdom.
The place put me in mind of an old nineteen-twenties speakeasy. Dark wooden floors, chairs, and tables matched the glossy, square-shaped, dark oak bar and were set off by the mix of browns and olive green of the leather-covered seats and the buttery cream of the walls. The different shades of sage and olive dotted around the room tied everything together, giving it the Irish vibe we wanted in the branding without being gimmicky.
The lights cast a warm, golden hue over the joint, giving it a sexy but classy atmosphere. It looked rich and expensive but still felt homely and comfortable.
My chest filled with a mixture of warmth and pride, and the back of my throat burned because I knew my da would’ve loved the place. I ached with the knowledge he’d never see it, but then maybe he did; who the fuck knew? If there was a way to be here in spirit, my aul fella would surely find it. Of that, I had no doubt.
The echo of footsteps sounded from the back of the bar, and Donovan appeared.
He looked dapper as fuck in his black pants and dark blue button-up, which he’d opened at the chest to show off his myriad of tattoos.
My brother immediately headed toward the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping the top off before striding over to join me. He slumped down into the seat beside mine, cocked his foot up until it rested on one knee, and cast his eye over the place.
“Looks fuckin’ amazing,” he muttered. “Our da would have loved it.”
My mouth hitched. “Funny that. I was just thinking the same thing.”
He paused for a few seconds, and I knew he was working up to say something. His grief-stricken eyes met mine, and he rasped, “I’m still so fucking mad at him, bro.”
My heart lurched, and slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, Don. I know.”
He took a swig of beer and declared, “Miss him, too. Every minute of the day. It’s crazy.”
“He wasn’t an easy man,” I admitted. “He expected a lot from all of us. Sometimes, it was hard to be everything he wanted.”
“It seemed easy for you.”
My lungs burned, and I took a swig of beer, willing the cool liquid to extinguish the fire inside. “It wasn’t. Da was old-school, and so was his parenting style. He was taught that kids should be punished physically. It was all he knew, and with me being the oldest, I got the brunt of his temper.”
Donovan’s face twisted. “I’m sorry, dude. Never had a clue.”
I smiled humorlessly. “Luckily, by the time you were old enough to cause the same havoc I did, the aul fella had chilled out some. Mam caught him backhanding me when I was twelve, and she went fucking loo-lah. He never did it again after that.”
Donovan’s eyebrows pulled together. “Can’t believe that fucker beat you.”
“It wasn’t a regular thing.” I took another swig of beer, hoping the lubrication would help me get the words out. “I’m sure people would say a man like Da hitting his wayward son was just a way to keep me in line, but it screwed with me. I grew up worshipping that man. He was my hero, so whenever it happened, the marks ran deep, so deep that I still feel it to this day, and I don’t mean the bruises.”
“Sorry, bro,” Donny muttered. “I had no idea. You always put him on a pedestal.”
“That’s my point.” I shrugged. “I idolized our da. He never had to hit me ‘cause I hung off every word he said. He only ever needed to talk to me. I’d have done anythin’ to make him proud.”
“You did make him proud, Cal.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Prouder than I did. I was always the fuck-up.”
“You were never that, Donny,” I croaked, emotion filling my throat.
It was always the same when we talked this way. I loved reminiscing, but we both had our issues with our da; Tadhg did, too. Lorcan O’Shea was a tough Irishman who grew up at a time when Ireland was in political and social turmoil, and it affected him on a fundamental level. It gave him a hard edge and built an anger inside that sometimes got the better of him. I often wondered why he didn’t join the family business. Being a Mafia enforcer would’ve given him the perfect outlet for his rage.
“It’s how he made me feel,” Donny explained. “For a man with so much anger, he could also be cold as ice when it came to his feelings.”
“Wish he could’ve shown us his emotions,” I rasped, my throat still burning. “Maybe we both needed more from him.”
Donovan laughed. “He wasn’t much of a talker either, though, was he? He was everybody’s best friend down in the bar, but it was just an act for the punters.”
I let out a snort. “Da taught me that, too. Only give ‘em what you want ‘em to see.”
Donovan’s head tilted to one side. “He taught us both that as well as T. Real men don’t show their feelings, keep your cards close to your chest. Don’t show them your vulnerabilities. Dudes don’t complain. They get on with it.” He shook his head at the memory. “It’s no wonder we’re all so emotionally fucked up.”
I chuckled at the memory. “But Da was the life and soul of the party.”
“Yeah,” Donny agreed, holding up his beer bottle. “Da, wherever you are. May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head always be strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you’re dead.”
I clinked his bottle with mine. “Cheers to that,” I muttered before we both took a long pull.
Donny sat forward, elbows to knees, and the hand holding his bottle dangling between his legs. “Tonight’s just the beginning, Cal. This place will take off, you’ll get Paddy paid off, and you’ll have everything you want and more ‘cause I’m tellin’ ya,” he held his bottle up, “this beer recipe is gonna make your fortune.”
“Make our fortune,” I corrected. “Talking of which, we start on your gym next week. We’ll get your place opened in the New Year. You’ve got a mortgage to pay, too.”
“I’m starting to think I’ve taken too much on,” he confided quietly.
I clapped Donovan reassuringly on the shoulder. “Big bro’s here to help. We’ll enlist a few Speed Demons, too.” I leaned into him. “Remember, you’re an O’Shea. Our blessings outnumber the Shamrocks that grow.”
Donny smiled sadly. “The aul fella always used to say that.”
I looked around the bar again. “That saying was why he named this place the Lucky Shamrock. He said it was our blessing.”
“He was such an aul fuckin’ gobshite,” Donny muttered, taking another swig of beer.
I burst out laughing just as a loud rattle and a knock sounded from the front door.
“It’s too early for the punters,” I said, my neck twisting to see who it was.
“Is that Abe?” Donny asked, craning his neck to check.
Glancing through the windows, I saw the man himself with a hand cupped on either side of his eyes, peering at us through the glass. I got to my feet, making my way across the room. “Bowie told me Abe wasn’t coming tonight,” I muttered to myself.
“Maybe he’s come to get more cider for Atlas,” Donny said with a chuckle.
I turned my head to shoot him a knowing grin before unlocking the door and cracking it open for Abe to slip through. “You okay, brother?” I asked, giving him a fist bump. “Good to see ya. You’re a little early, though.”
“Just a flying visit,” he explained. “Me and Rissy are babysittin’. Gotta get back to her, but I wanted to stop in and say good luck for tonight. I know what it means to ya for this place to be a success.” His hand rested on my shoulder and squeezed. “The boys told me the position Lorcan put you in. Gotta say, Cal, I couldn’t believe it; he doted on ya. It doesn’t make sense.” His chin dipped, and he looked me dead in the eye. “Thank God you ended up with a good woman. He could just as easily have landed you with a dud.”
My chest twisted painfully. “What the fuck did they say to ya?”
“Just that your dad owed money to that Mafia boss cousin of his, and you were forced to marry Maeve to keep the bar.”
A huge lump formed in the back of my throat.
What the fuck?
“That’s not strictly true—” I tried to explain. “I mean?—”
“Well, strictly, it is true,” my brother interrupted as he walked over to join us. “But there are nuances. It’s not as black and white as it sounds.” He jerked a thumb in my direction. “Do ya think he’d let anyone force him into doin’ anythin’ he didn’t want to do?”
Abe shook his head, pursing his lips. “Those boys made it sound like you were held at fuckin’ gunpoint.”
Donny snorted. “Hardly. Took him two point seven seconds to fall in love with his wife. What does that tell ya?” He turned to me and deadpanned. “Those biker bitch boys are the biggest gossips in town. They all blame Tristan for talkin’ outta turn, but at least he deals in facts.”
“Atlas is the worst one.” Abe scraped a hand down his face. “Now I get why Maeve looked so weird yesterday when I mentioned it to her. She must’ve thought I was some weird old gossip?—”
My body locked, my gut clenching painfully. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah,” he reiterated. “I mentioned something to Maeve about your forced marriage. It’s no wonder she looked so confused there for a second.”
My blood whooshed in my ears, and a realization hit me square in the chest.
I never came clean to Maeve about Paddy’s bullshit marriage ultimatum.
Jesus fuck.
I didn’t tell her at first because she may have called it off, and I would’ve lost the bar. In my mind, we weren’t going to be married for long, and I didn’t really know her anyway, so I never took her feelings into account. The asshole I was back then didn’t really care how she felt.
Then, after a while, it became less important. If anything, I looked at what happened as a blessing, but I knew Maeve enough now to realize that if she ever found out why I proposed, she’d understandably feel like I’d lied to her. She usually believed the worst of herself, and I knew this would be a huge blow to her self-confidence. If she thought I’d been forced into our marriage, she’d take that shit on herself.
Maeve asked me outright if there was anything else she needed to know about me or our marriage that might blindside her, and I’d categorically told her no. But as stupid as it sounded, it just didn’t occur to me. It didn’t matter to me how we got together; I didn’t care.
But I knew she would.
A lot.
Jesus, I’d taken money from Patrick for her, too. Fifty K had sealed the deal. If my wife found out what I’d done, she’d fucking flip. If she found out from somebody gossiping, she’d fucking explode. I was already on my last chance... what if…?
Jesus Christ.
I scraped a hand down my face and tried to control the sense of panic filling my lungs.
Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?
Fuck.
“It’s fine,” Donny assured Abe. “Callum’s been honest since day one.”
“Well...” My voice trailed off.
My brother squinted at me, his head tilting to one side. “You have been honest, right? I told you to lay it all out for her.” He leaned toward me and bit out, “I told you to make sure you discussed everything with her from the get-go.”
“And what if she’d have said no to the wedding?” I demanded. “What then?”
“Then we would’ve sorted something else out, you fucking idiot!” Donovan yelled. “We stood in your office and talked about it. My exact words were, tell her everything and make sure nobody gets hurt.”
I scraped a hand down my face. “I know, I know, but I forgot.”
“You forgot?” Donovan snapped. “What the actual fuck?”
“Look,” Abe interjected, nodding toward the door. “I gotta get back to Iris. I’m sorry I can’t hang around and?—”
I waved his apology off. “It’s cool. Thanks for filling me in.”
Abe gave me a loose-fingered salute and exited the joint like his ass was on fire.
Couldn’t blame the dude. Talk about a drama, though I blamed my biker buddies. Why were those dumb fucks discussing my marriage anyway? Small-town gossip spread like wildfire. Once this got around—and honestly, I was shocked it hadn’t already—some well-meaning busybody would approach my wife and put all kinds of bullshit in her head.
Closing the door behind Abe, I turned to Donovan. “I gotta talk to Maeve.”
His head reared back. “Ya think?”
“No need to be sarcastic,” I bit back. “This could come back to bite me in the ass.” A muscle ticked inside my jaw. “We’ve already had issues about me keeping stuff from her, like when things got heated with Shannon and then the Saskia bullshit.”
“This is typical of you,” he muttered.
I went to protest, but he held his hand up to cut me off. “It goes back to what we were saying earlier. You’re not a fucking island, Callum. You’re allowed to ask for help. I blame Da; he always drummed it into us that men handle their own shit when in reality, you could’ve gone to Maeve, explained everything, and asked her for help with the whole marriage thing. Bowie was pissed you didn’t go to him for help, too. Regardless of what you say, he would’ve backed you, but he still wouldn’t have given you a free ride. He would’ve sat down and worked out a business plan which could’ve benefitted everybody.”
My head tipped back, and I expelled a breath. “I know, I know. I’ll talk to Maeve tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?” he questioned.
“The band will be here to set up any second. And the doors open in an hour. We’ve been gearing up for this party for weeks. It’ll keep until I can sit Maeve down and explain everything properly.”
“Right,” he said. “Just make sure you get to her first.”
Voices filtered inside from outside the front doors. My head turned at the sound of somebody rapping on the glass, only to see Carbine outside with a couple of his bandmates.
“Some time today would be good,” he yelled through the glass. “We’re freezing our nuts off out here.”
Donny grabbed the door and held it open as the boys of Dischordium traipsed inside, carrying their gear with them.
“The joint looks fuckin’ awesome,” Carbine said approvingly, looking around the place. “We’ll have the place rocking out in no time.”
I watched as they filed toward the stage and set their equipment down. “Thanks, bro. It turned out sweet.”
“Talkin’ of sweet, how’s the lovely Maeve? Saw her across the street a few days ago, and I gotta say, she’s pretty as a fuckin’ picture. You lookin’ after her? Or do I gotta step in?”
I took a threatening step toward him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth about my wife .”
Carbine held his hands up, laughing. “Just yanking your chain, bro.”
“Well, fucking don’t,” I clipped.
He clasped me on the shoulder, still grinning. “Nice to see you’re finally takin’ it seriously. Now calm your tits and get me and my boys set up with one’a those addictive beers I’ve heard so much about.”
Stepping back again, I gave Donovan a chin lift, who returned it and made his way to the bar.
“At least I know the reason why you were distant with her initially,” Carbine continued. “What with you marrying her to keep the bar and all.”
My head whipped toward him again, and my jaw clenched so hard I thought it would shatter. “I didn’t marry her to keep the bar,” I gritted out. “You’re talking shite.”
His forehead scrunched, clearly puzzled. “That’s what Atlas said.”
I scraped a hand down my face. “Atlas doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.”
Carbine shrugged casually, reaching for the beer my brother held out.
“Probably best you don’t repeat it,” Donovan advised, throwing me big eyes before he moved across to the stage to hand the other guys their beers. “If Maeve gets a sniff of it, she won’t be happy people are talking shite.”
Carbine winced slightly. “Yeah, I guess not. Not what a girl wants to hear.” He lifted the beer bottle to his mouth, threw his head back, and took a long pull. Eyes widening, he held the bottle up to look at it in the light of the bar. “What the fuck kinda voodoo’s in that? It’s the bomb .”
“I’ll be ready for another one’a those babies in about thirty seconds,” Blue called over before draining his bottle.
“Same,” Styx agreed.
“Looks like we’ll need another round,” Griff declared, propping his guitar up on its stand. “Part of the deal was free beer, right?” He grinned at Carbine. “Well played, Noah.”
Blue picked up his guitar and began to tune it, grinning.
Carbine sauntered to the stage. “So, anything in particular you want us to play tonight?”
Walking behind the bar, I went to the fridge to grab some more bottles. “Not really. Just keep the vibe light and sexy. Rock the joint out, but put your spin on things.”
Heading back out, my neck twisted as I heard the door open and a voice called, “Heyyyyyyyyy.”
I stopped in my tracks, my pulse thrumming at the sight of my wife standing just inside the door with Tristan.
“Jesus,” I breathed.
Maeve’s stunning cosmic eyes met mine, and she smiled nervously, her hand lifting to check her hair.
My jaw dropped as I took in the vision that was my wife, and I felt my cock thicken. It was like someone had kicked me in the stomach and knocked all the wind out of me.
Her hair was straight but still held a slight curl at the ends that fell in a gleaming sheet around her shoulders. Her features were more defined, and her lips were a glossy, peachy color. But what really knocked me for six were her eyes. They were more made-up than usual, which made the blue-green swirls of her irises shine brightly in the golden light of the bar.
My heart began to race, and I stared at my wife in awe, my legs suddenly feeling unsteady simply because she made me so weak at the goddamned knees.
She must’ve seen how she’d struck me like a bolt of lightning because her eyes sparkled brighter when she studied my dazed expression.
“I’ll take your coat,” I heard Tristan murmur. He moved behind her and slowly slid it from her shoulders.
I caught sight of her dress, and my mind blanked until the only thing that existed at that moment was her. It was the same sage green as my shirt but a few shades lighter. The neckline was low, almost like a corset pushing up her boobs, the thin straps falling off her shoulders. It skimmed down to her waist, past her hips and sweet, soft thighs, stopping just below the knees.
It was a modern take on a fairytale dress, and she looked like a dream in it.
That thing between us sparked to life, and I began to prowl toward her. Everything and everyone fell away until it was only her and me.
Maeve was all I could see... all I could feel.
I reached out, fingers curling around her waist, and tugged her hard against my body. My throat was so dry from the effect she had on me that my tone was just a rasp. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, wife.”
“Callum...” she whispered. Then her eyes locked with mine, and whatever she saw in them made her voice trail off.
I took her hand and pressed it to my chest, where she could feel my heart thudding. “Feel that?”
She nodded, and her eyes glazed over with emotion.
I covered her fingers with mine and murmured, “It beats for you.”
“Callum,” she whispered again.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” I asked. “Do you get what I’m saying—what I’m feeling?”
Her eyes darted between mine. “I think so.”
“ Buaileann mo chroí duit,” I murmured, then just to drive the point home, I repeated it in a way she could understand, “My heart beats for you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s beautiful.”
“It’s true.” I nuzzled her nose with mine. “You saved me.”
“From what?” she asked softly.
I grinned. “From myself.”
Right on cue, a loud thud sounded from the stage, breaking our spell.
Maeve looked up at me dreamily. “Oh. The band’s here.”
“I’m not surprised you didn’t notice, my fairy princess,” Tristan murmured from the door where he’d no doubt been observing us. “If a handsome Irish stallion whispered sweet nothings in my ear, I think my brain would turn to goo, too.”
“Beer or cider, Tris?” Donovan shouted over.
“Cider, please, Don Juan,” he replied, eyeing me and Maeve with a small grin while he strutted toward the bar. “Helping true love run its course is thirsty work.”
Donovan barked a laugh.
Tris took a sip, whimpered, and immediately handed his credit card over. “You’d better keep that and start me a tab. I think I’ll be getting a little giddy tonight. This cider’s the absolute shit.”
“We just said that about the beer,” Carbine called from the stage. His eyes caught on my wife, and his entire face softened. “You look real pretty, Maeve.”
Her cheeks went pink. “Thank you. All you boys look handsome, too.”
Carbine shot her a dazzling grin and stared at her while Blue also eyed her with obvious interest.
I cleared my throat pointedly.
I knew it was irrational, but I hated it when other men looked at my wife that way.
Carbine’s interest was clear. It had pissed me off since the day she’d gotten back from New York, and he’d helped her home with her luggage. Now, he stood in my bar—hell, he stood in my face—trying to flirt with her, and to add insult to injury, his slutty bandmate kept throwing her interested glances too.
Maeve would never do anything to hurt or betray me; I knew that, but something inside, something dark and demonic, clawed at my gut. It was the same destructive feeling I got when Deputy Dumbass touched her at the Kings of Anarchy clubhouse.
The compulsion to stomp over there, pick up a guitar, and smash it across Carbine’s and Blue’s skulls gripped me so violently that I had to consciously keep my feet planted where they were to keep my shit together. My fingers twitched with the need to punch something, and I had to breathe slow and deep to stop my nostrils from flaring like the proverbial bull who’d had a red rag waved in his face.
Sliding an arm across Maeve’s shoulders, I maneuvered her toward the bar where Tristan chatted with Donovan.
They both glanced at me before their eyes slid to meet each other’s.
“What?” I demanded.
“Ignore him,” Donovan ordered, going to the fridges and grabbing a bottle for me and Maeve.
“He’s taking it too far,” I retorted, waiting for Donovan to pop the top before grabbing it and taking a pull.
“Who’s taking it too far?” Maeve asked curiously, accepting her drink from Donny and sipping it daintily.
“Carbine’s setting him off,” Tristan advised her.
Maeve looked confused. “Huh?”
“The green-eyed monster,” Tris explained knowingly.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Bullshit. I’m not the jealous type.”
Donny laughed. “You’re jealous as all hell.”
“I’m not jealous,” I repeated. “I just don’t like the way they’re ogling my wife.”
“Did they ogle me?” Maeve asked, peering over at the stage. “I can only see things close up with these contact lenses. They’re from an old prescription.”
“You stick close to me tonight, wife,” I told her. “After the last shitshow, I don’t want any chancers thinking they can take liberties with you.”
Donovan jerked a thumb at me. “This is the most entertaining shit I’ve seen for years.”
Tristan laughed just as somebody hammered on the door.
Untangling myself from my wife, I glanced at the door to see Tadhg standing outside with a group of people. “Baby bro’s here,” I announced, taking off across the room to let him in. “Who’s that with him?”
“It’s probably Aislynn,” Maeve called after me. “She said T was picking her up from your mam’s on the way here.”
She was right; Ash stood with Tadhg outside, but there were also two other guys and what looked like a blonde woman with them. Getting to the door, I pulled it open and went to welcome everybody, but my greeting died on my lips when I saw who was waiting.
Tadhg walked in first and hissed, “They were at Ma’s when I got there. I messaged you, but you never picked it up.”
Aislynn followed him inside with a murmured, “Congratulations.” She leaned up to kiss my cheek and made a beeline for Maeve at the bar.
My eyes fixated on the two men who walked in, and I let out a curse.
What the fuck were they doing here? Nobody told me they were coming. I was under the impression they were holed up in New York, well away from me, my wife, and my bar.
I eyed Patrick and Liam with a lack of enthusiasm that even they couldn’t miss. My face must’ve said what my mouth didn’t because Patrick clapped me on the shoulder with a soft chuckle.
“It’s okay, son,” he said brightly in his fake Irish drawl. “No need to look so pissed. We’ve just come to show our support for your big, grand opening. You are family, after all.”
It was just like Patrick to turn up tonight of all nights. I should’ve expected it. Of course, he wanted to check on his investment.
Liam came next, armed with his usual arrogant grin and the same old cocksure humor dancing in his eyes. “Evening, Cal,” he crowed. “Lovely night for a hooley. Hope you’ve got enough Guinness in for me. You know how much I like a pint of the aul black stuff.” He strolled past, patting my cheek gently as he went, a wide grin plastered across his over-confident face.
“Hey, Callum.” The sultry voice slithered down my skin.
Fucking great!
A mass of blonde hair caught my eye, and acid bubbled in my stomach when I noticed the scent of the sweet, cloying perfume she always wore.
“I thought I’d come and celebrate your big night with you and my perfect sister.” Blue eyes identical to Patrick’s slipped past me into the room, and she smiled sweetly. “Surprise!”
“Shannon,” I growled.
That was the moment I saw every nasty intention Maeve warned me about. I could see it in the woman’s bored, spoiled expression. She was a bitch down to her bones. Spitefulness was etched into her soul, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she was here to cause shit.
My head tipped back, and I prayed silently to the heavens Da would have my back. Tonight was one of the most important nights of our lives; everything depended on it, and the last thing I needed was her, of all people, stirring the pot.
If Shannon Doyle upset my wife, I’d wring her scrawny neck.