Chapter 33 – Liam
Connor walked through the door of the Galway Arms. His gaze swept the craic-filled space, passing over me as he checked the scene. When he placed everyone, it turned back to me. One slow nod, and I relaxed a fraction. Gabriella was back safe. Home. Waiting for me….
I pushed the pint of thick, brackish ale between my fingers. The frosted glass slid easily across the bar top. A drink with the lads and my obligations would be filled. Then I could go to her. Plunder that sweet mouth. Bury myself in her body, and for a few hours, forget the hell on earth.
A limp paper towel slapped my back. My hand went for my knife as I rounded, but I fisted the unopened blade as I saw Kevin’s narrow, pointed face.
“How you doing, buddy?” my cousin asked.
A hell of a lot better if you took that bleeding paw off me. Who knew where that hand had been? It was a safe bet it had been down his pants at least once today as he watched his nasty videos.
“I’m grand,” I said between my teeth.
“Sláinte!” The lads made another toast, praising some memory of my father.
Ignoring their hoots, I focused on the face in front of me.
Kevin nodded sagely. “Rotten luck you weren’t crowned. Figured you’d be more upset by that.”
I went deadly still. Every muscle in my frame thrummed with a killing energy. We’d just buried my father, and it was mob politics he chose to talk about? “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing much.” Kevin laughed, which made his mustache dance. “Just overheard Johny talking to some of the lads that he was going to make a pitch for the crown, since your old man didn’t name you his successor before he passed.”
My fingers twitched. The blade was right there. A flick of my wrist, and it would look mighty pretty in that pasty white throat.
“Everyone knows I was Da’s choice,” I said coldly.
And if they didn’t, they would find out the hard way.
“Well, it wasn’t like he had the right to name you.” Kevin’s voice changed. It was as if the eejit finally realized he was dancing on dangerous territory. “His blessing would have put weight to your cause, I’ll grant you that.”
“Granted.” It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Da was supposed to rule; I was his blade in the night. Now, I would have to fight for every foothold.
“Ah! There’s Seamus! He owes me fifty bucks,” Kevin said, clearly looking for an escape. “Best of luck to you, cuz.”
The thump of the rowdy music grated. Every hoot and bray of laughter sounded like a threat. I never trusted my cousins implicitly, but as I looked over the core of our clan, each face was a potential betrayal waiting to happen.
“Why do I get the sense that your mathlete cousin just tried to pit you against your other cousin?” Connor asked quietly, stopping beside me, his back pressed to the wall.
I picked up the pint and downed it. The damn liquid settled like a weight in my gut. Hops churned, threatening to come back up. “You think that’s what he was doing?”
Connor rubbed his chin. “What would he gain by pitting the two alphas against one another?”
“Him? Not much.” I wiped my mouth on the back of the leather glove. “Keep an eye on that one.”
“Smart move,” my old friend agreed.
Kris ambled over. Plucking my empty mug, the bartender arched a brow in question.
“That’s enough for tonight,” I told him. “Add it to my tab.”
“Will do.” He smiled when I slapped a twenty down, pocketing the tip.
Across the bar, Seamus pushed Kevin down. The wiry accountant scuttled across the floor before standing on his wee legs. He shook a feeble fist, but the lads laughed him off.
“You don’t think he’s making a play for the vacancy?” Connor’s voice was a whisper. “Picking off the strong, and taking the remains?”
I hummed under my breath. It was…possible. “His grandpappy was the oldest son.”
“And your lineage comes from your ma,” Connor added thoughtfully. “But the McDonagh Clan never passed the title down like that. It’s always been the strongest.”
“Or the most cunning.” As I spoke, I watched my kinsman pull out his phone and head to the exit. My beer-drenched gut told me Kevin was up to something.
It would make the puzzle of whole lot clearer if the unknown threat came from inside our organization. There were too many external threats to count and not enough intel. And our people did have a bloodthirsty history of stabbing one another in the struggle to rise to the top.
Plus…Kevin had access to the McDonagh books. If he needed money to pay an assassin, he had it.
But how does Deluca fit into the picture?
Rubbing the fast-forming ache between my eyes, I settled on a course of action. “Gather the lads most loyal, we’re headed to the country.”
Connor shot me a look, but his chin dipped in a nod. “When?”
“Tonight.”
Connor’s whistle of surprise was the answer I needed. If he was as shocked by the suggestion, then the sudden bid for the throne would be ten times as impactful when the others heard it.
“I’ll have to get a bus to haul their drunk arses north,” he muttered.
I glared at him.
Connor held up his hands. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I’m just saying, babysitting a bleeding party bus wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.”
“This needs to happen,” I insisted.
It felt…right. There didn’t seem a good reason to delay it.
A dirge for my father, with the end note placing the crown on my head.
Quick, decisive action. Tomorrow, we would wake up and if one of my kinsmen was behind the attacks, it would force their hand when they heard I’d taken charge of the McDonagh Clan.
Why the hell hadn’t I thought of that plan already?
I ground my teeth as I slipped out the back of the pub.
The answer to that was obvious the moment I slipped into my Jag.
The faint aroma of peaches brushed against my skin like a warm caress.
Maybe, if I hadn’t been so fucking distracted, I would have seen the threat before now.
The engine started with a vicious roar. Either way, I owed it to my da.
Our legacy needed to be kept alive. But if I was going to the sacred place to steal the crown in the dead of night, I was dragging her with me.
No other man was going to make that beauty their queen.
Gabriella would rule the underworld by my side.
A blare of an alarm cut through the tangled web of thoughts in my head. Slowing the vehicle, I stopped at a green light. A firetruck barreled through the intersection, racing to help. There might not even be a fire.
But the interior of the car suddenly shrank.
I clawed at my necktie, breathing hard as it choked the air from my lungs. The bleeding buttons on my dress shirt wouldn’t give. I forced them open with a vicious tug.
The vehicle behind me beeped.
I didn’t have time to put the car in park. My shaking hands couldn’t reach the button for the hazard lights.
I couldn’t breathe.
Ghostly tongues of flames licked over the right side of my body. The agony was in my head, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t powerful.
I jerked to the side. My shoulder hit the car door.
There was no escape.
I was going to burn alive!
Mouth hanging open, I desperately gulped air. It wheezed past my lips. Short and shallow, very little hit my lungs.
This isn’t real!
I shook my head hard. It was just a memory. But that didn’t matter. When the light turned green again, I revved the engine and shot the vehicle through the intersection and pulled into a no-parking zone. I smashed the hazard triangle before leaping out of the car.
My right side was numb.
I hobbled to the hood and ground my bare fist into the metal. “Get a fecking grip!”
No matter how I ordered myself, I was still so fucking weak. Squeezing my eyes closed, I breathed. Hard. Oxygen broke through the dam in my mind, sending a cooling burst of clarity. It took another five minutes, but by the time my vision no longer tunneled, the panic left me shaky.
Thankfully, I was alone. My crew couldn’t see their new king like this. I fisted my right bicep, trying to bring some feeling to the muscles. These attacks weren’t frequent, but when they hit, they were damning.
“I’ll get over it,” I hissed. “I have to.”
I snuck into the house and stood for five minutes at the crack in the pocket door. The bleeding pup was snoozing in Gabriella’s lap, oblivious to the threat. A fierce wolfhound, that one. I doubted any training would hone the wee beasty’s natural instinct.
Sliding the door into the wall, I stepped inside. Neither my wife nor our dog looked up. Not until I walked behind the couch and leaned down.
As my gloved hand settled around her throat, Gabriella gasped, shooting to the side in fear. The moment those warm brown eyes registered that it was me, she relaxed a fraction. The amber flecks danced.
My thumb stroked her wildly beating pulse. Delicate, yet able to face the strongest winds.
A little bird.
So fecking beautiful.
With my gloved hand, I plucked the book from her fingers. “It’s time to go.”
Storm shot up, baring at me, but his tail wagged excitedly against the sofa.
“Where?” Gabriella countered my command. The muscles of her throat shifted under my fingers, sending a delicious pulse straight to my dick. “I just put my jammies on.”
I leaned down. “Does it matter?”
She rolled her eyes. My fingers tightened reflexively.
A challenge flashed through those whiskey depths. Jaysus, this woman…. My cock twitched hard just looking at her. She was a fighter, through and through.
How did I get so fucking lucky?
“It matters,” Gabriella grit out, “because I need to know what to wear.”
My thumb brushed harder against her pulse. The rapid patter did things to me. It twisted and pulled at the black lump in my own chest.
“Does my hand around your neck turn you on, little bird?” I rumbled, leaning down until our noses almost touched.
Gabriella glared at me. As if this was a waste of time, and I was a lunatic.
I was.
Sooner or later, she would realize I was mad for her. Nothing in this life was going to take her from me.