Dublin Brute (Emerald Isle Mafia #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Nora

T he long line of bronze and glass doors swings open, and we’re swept along by the crush of well-dressed patrons exiting the iconic Abbey Theatre. My cheeks ache from grinning, my entire body still buzzing from the power of the live performance. There’s something truly magical about pulling together a cast of talented performers to transport an audience to another reality.

Tanya hooks her arm through mine to ensure we don’t get separated in the crowd. She hugs my arm and presses her head to my shoulder. “That was bloody brilliant. My mind is officially blown.”

“I knew it would be . ” I’ve always loved live theater, and it’s especially fun in the rare instances when I can share it with someone. “It’s been a favorite escape of mine for years.”

“It’s like being sucked into another world.” She stops beside me as we wait for the crowd to file through the doors. “How many plays have you gone to?”

“Oh, man, I have no clue. My mum started taking me to musicals like Beauty and the Beast and Lion King when I was a kid. I think because my dad worked so much, she didn’t want me to have time to miss him. We were always off on one adventure or another.”

“We have lived very different lives, Nora Kelly.”

That’s true . It’s one reason I adore her.

Tanya and her friend Kate were the first girls I met when my father was appointed a new task force, and we moved back to Ireland. I was about to go into a coffee shop, and I saw this crazy girl with purple hair and outrageously glittery boots run into the street and hold up her hands like a traffic cop.

There was a squirrel on the grassy median between the two lanes of cars, and Tanya literally stopped traffic to usher it to safety while Kate laughed her ass off and filmed the whole thing on her phone.

Tanya is loud, alive, and is her true, authentic self at all times.

Kate is sassy, daring, and not afraid of anything.

And they are everything I wish I had the courage to be.

Where they are bold, I’m bland. Where they are robust, I’m restrained.

But for some reason, from the first moment we met, they saw something in me, and we clicked. In only five months, they’ve quickly become my besties and the greatest emotional support cheerleaders a girl could hope for.

I squeeze Tanya’s arm. “We may have started in different places, but fate brought us together. And once we get our flat, we’ll be living the same path.”

Even saying that out loud makes my heart flutter. Once we get our flat.

Living on our own means freedom. Real freedom.

At twenty-six years old, I’m long overdue.

When we get outside, Tanya tugs me past the bottleneck of people stopping along the edge of the street to await their ride share. We leave the protection of the wide overhang of the building and break away from the crowd of theatergoers.

It’s the first week of October and the warmth of summer abandoned us without looking back. I pop the collar of my cashmere coat and tuck my silk scarf around my neck. But not even gusty winds and autumn drizzle can dampen my spirits tonight.

“The three of us should make cultural enrichment part of our new lives. We can see live shows and go to museums, and I’ll teach you all about art history and the works of the Old Masters.”

Tanya snorts. “Chickie, unless you’re holding out on us and have access to a secret trust fund, working part time as a library clerk won’t provide you enough play money for cultural enrichment. Living on our own will be expensive, and as generous as your da is now, I don’t think he’ll be buying us tickets to the theater once you announce you’re moving out.”

She’s right, of course.

My father has always supported my love of the arts, but I’m sure that will stop the moment he finds out about my plans.

Doesn’t matter . I crave more out of life than a library job, endless art supplies, and a closet full of clothes my father approves of.

I want to live life, turn heads, and not only burn brightly—I want to blaze!

I don’t care if I have to sell my eggs to pay my share of the living expenses—Tanya, Kate, and I are making this happen.

“If our interviews at Legend go well tomorrow, I won’t need the library job. Kate says the tips alone will cover our expenses.”

Tanya waggles her brows. “Imagine the look on your da’s face when you tell him you’re quitting the stuffy library job he got you to break into the nightlife of a Central Dublin bar.”

I can’t imagine. Even the idea of telling him makes my throat close and my heart race like an ADHD rabbit having a panic attack. He’ll lose his bloody mind. Since my mom’s car accident thirteen years ago, my father has spent all his energy bubble-wrapping my life.

I understood the impulse at first—and after her loss, didn’t mind being sheltered and safe—but after years of taking the benign route and choosing the path of no resistance, I’ve become little more than a shell of a person.

And if it weren’t for Kate and Tanya, I never would’ve realized it.

“He’ll simply have to accept that I’m an adult.”

We stride along the bustling street, the surrounding city pulsing with life. There’s an undeniable charm to Dublin at night, and though I miss the warmth of Barcelona, the food in Paris, and my friends in London, this move has been the easiest to adjust to.

There is something about Dublin that captivates me—it’s gritty.

Sure, it possesses some safe and lovely, high-end areas like other cities, but there’s also a raw truth to Dublin. Just beneath the surface of civility, there’s an edge of danger, a current of exposed electricity waiting to give you a jolt.

That promise of something wild is incredibly sexy and exactly what I hope to infuse into the next phase of my life.

Tanya and I walk beneath the glow of the streetlamps illuminating the city’s historic architecture and the faces of tourists and locals alike. Each steady clack of boot heel against cobblestone reinforces my contentment here—and that’s all thanks to my girls.

Being the daughter of a Europol investigator climbing the ranks is akin to being a military brat. Where he’s needed, we move. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. So, when he announced he’d been heading up a new task force to crush organized crime in Ireland, I packed our bags and here we are.

It would’ve been a new city like any other, if I hadn’t met Tanya and Kate. I joke they are my spirit animals, but they’re more than that.

They see me.

Because they feel trapped by their parental dysfunction, too, they get me.

She squeezes my arm. “As much as I razz you about your da, please thank him again for buying me a ticket to come with you tonight.”

“Oh, don’t be fooled. He did it more for himself than for us. If he sends me off with you, he knows where I am and who I’m with. Then, he can focus on his work.”

Tanya makes a clucking sound with her tongue. “Och, chickie, I’m sure decades of work have made him into that man. Surely, he wasn’t always Jordan the Warden.”

I chuckle at the name Tanya and Kate came up with for him, but honestly…I don’t remember. Before my mother died, he was always away with work.

And after…

“Speaking of the Warden,” Tanya glances at her watch, “do you need to head home straight away, or can we grab a pint? Kate said she’ll join us if we’re still out when she finishes her shift. Tuesdays are quiet at the store, and she said she’d ask for an early out.”

I straighten my spine, squaring my shoulders. “I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t need permission to have a girl’s night out with my friends.”

“Too true.” Tanya bumps her hip against mine.

“Where do you want to go?”

She points toward the street ahead. “The Confession Box has the best Guinness pour in Dublin.”

“Perfect. And we can confess our sins while we’re there.”

Tanya laughs as we get moving. “Oh? And what sins do you think need confessing?”

“How about plotting to abandon our dysfunctional families?”

“Och, that’s not a sin, chickie—that’s survival.”

Brendan

The past year has been a bitch for Clan Quinn. Cormack Quinn—a man above men and our Da—passed suddenly of a heart attack last October. His unexpected passing then left Tag to assume leadership of the family business—running organized crime in North Dublin. It took months for each of us to find our place, the spot where we could do the most good.

Tag is our leader. There was never any question about that. He’s the oldest of the five of us and is smart, strategic, and good under pressure. He is also a champion in good standing with the citizens of our fair city.

Sean’s the second born and runs the Dublin Devils MC. He’s always been more of a doer than a talker, so putting him in charge of a leather and steel army with over a hundred men with bendable moral compasses keeps him busy.

Finn is the youngest. Aside from a bad spell when Da first died, where he was sneaking out at night and coming home with bloody knuckles and black eyes, he’s always been more of a behind-the-scenes member of our mafia family. Finny’s got a knack for computers and isn’t hindered by little things like security protocols, privacy laws, and firewalls.

And then, there’s me and my twin brother, Bryan. We sit at the table with the MC and are muscle for Sean when he needs us. We’re handy with sharp objects and love a good torture session if there’s an interrogation, but for fun, Bryan and I have another passion.

We cage fight for charity.

The rush of unleashing my savage side and beating my opponent to a pulp is unlike any other high.

“Earth to Brenny.” Sean snaps his fingers and tilts his scarred face into my field of vision. “What are you daydreaming about over here, B?”

I accept the Guinness he’s holding out for me and cast a gaze around the interior of the clubhouse. It cleared out while I wasn’t paying attention and now Sean and I are the only two here. “I was thinking about the fight on Sunday night. I have a first-round pairing with that fucker, Paddy the Predator.”

“Och, that’s a shite draw. He’s a tough one. I see why you’re worried. Have you been watching his fights?”

“Aye. I’ve studied him a bit. He’s got a few moves on him, but I’m not worried.”

Sean arches an ebony brow. “Then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Fuck you.”

Sean chuckles and leans back on the couch opposite me. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t let him snap anything. I need you here with me on Monday. Remember, the fights are for charity. It doesn’t matter who wins.”

I press a hand against my chest. “You wound me, brother. It matters a helluva lot. I’ve got a following to inspire, a reputation to uphold.”

Sean laughs. “They’re called belt bunnies. Don’t get your nuts in a tangle over the long lineup of ladies who are hot for you. If you lose, they’ll be just as eager to nurse you back to health.”

Rude . “They’re not all horny women. I have some male fighting fans, too.”

“Aye, you don’t say. Point one out to me on Sunday.”

“Fuck you.”

We both laugh.

The two of us sip on our beers for a bit and I marvel at my older brother. Since he got with Piper, he’s a lot less broody and ready to hang people from bridges. I never would’ve guessed he’d fall for a girl ten years younger and from the enemy mafia camp—but hey, life is full of surprises.

It’s all grand, though. Piper is great, and her love has smoothed out most of Sean’s rough edges.

Tag’s the opposite. Now that he’s got Laine and a baby on the way, he glares at everyone as if they’re a potential threat. Being burned by Siobhan when they were young taught him the pain of losing love and his hopes for the future.

Blood will flow like wine if anyone tries to take his new family away from him.

Sean runs his thumb through a trail of condensation on the side of his beer bottle. “On another subject, Piper tells me that my futile attempt to kill Billy Gravely has left him crippled on his left side and that the fucker is meaner than ever.”

Right. Piper had lunch with her brother today. “What do we hear through the McGuire grapevine? How is the power struggle going?”

Sean lifts one shoulder. “Nothing surprising. With Mattie dead, Gravely and Niall are at odds about who is in charge of McGuire business. Niall had months to dig in while Gravely recovered from the gunshot wound, but now that he’s on his feet again, things are heating up. Rory told Piper that there’s a lot of tension behind the scenes.”

“Aye, well, Billy has always been a dangerous fucker. Without Mattie to rein him in, he’ll be challenging Niall’s decisions at every turn.”

Sean swallows. “Another inch or two to the right and I would’ve put the fucker down.”

“Better luck next time.”

“Aye, if I hadn’t just had my bell rung, taking two to the vest, I might’ve been able to save us a lot of trouble in the future.”

“Niall McGuire might’ve sent you a thank you bouquet for saving him from having to partner up with the asshole.”

Sean grunts. “From what we’ve heard, Niall is too busy watching his back.”

“Do the lads think Gravely will make a move against the McGuires when he’s strong enough?”

“If he had the men to do it, I wouldn’t put it past him. Gravely’s a snake.”

I take another sip of the dark ale and frown. “Maybe that’s what Kieran’s little street rat dug up.”

Sean meets my gaze, his frown pulling at his scar and making him look mean. “Kieran’s meeting up with one of his informants tonight?”

“Aye, some kid named Petey.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Apparently, the kid heard something about Gravely working his popularity among the cutthroats on the island.”

Sean raises a dark eyebrow. “Does Tag know this?”

“It’s speculation so far. Kieran said the kid got something solid and they’re meeting tonight at the Confession Box to go over it.”

“If that’s true, and Gravely is gathering his own band of rogues, we need to be ready for a power shift. Text Kieran and tell him you’re joining that meeting. We need to know if this rumor is smoke or has merit.

I upend my beer and stand. “Yes, boss.”

I leave the MC clubhouse, hop on my Harley, and head out to meet up with Kieran, the Dublin Devils’ Sergeant at Arms. The russet-haired rogue has a silver tongue and a way with people that makes him unbeatable as a handler for the network of informants that keeps us abreast of Dublin activity on both sides of the river.

Sean was smart enough to recognize his gift early and put him to work.

The Confession Box is a gem of a historic pub, away from typical tourist traffic, located next to Mary Pro Catholic Church. It’s owned and operated by two sisters—blooded sisters, not the Catholic Church kind—who offer great service and an authentic atmosphere.

My family generally lands at the Jimmy Francis Pub if we’re going out for a steak and a pint, but I’ve been to the Confession Box more than a few times.

A fella’s gotta support local industry.

A gust of icy air burrows down the collar of my leather jacket, and I shrug my shoulders up toward my ears to block against the wind.

Fucking hell.

Summer ended like the flick of a switch this year.

It doesn’t seem to have deterred the tourists or the locals. The night is vibrant with the buzz of Dublin’s energetic heart and the street is bustling with activity.

I swing my bike into a parking spot farther from the pub than I’d like, but the crowd from the Abbey Theatre just let out, and people are flooding the streets.

As I dismount, I adjust my jacket and check my watch.

It’s time for Kieran’s meeting.

I scan the area, and the thrum of the crowd carries a mix of accents and laughter as I make my way toward the pub. My boots thunk against the ground in a steady rhythm and my mind wanders to what Petey might tell us tonight.

Will Gravely make a play and go for control of the south? Will he stop at the south or will he try for all of Dublin? There’s no question.

If he seizes the south, he’ll be gunning for us and our territory soon after.

Just ahead, I spot Kieran. The redhead is leaning against the wall of the pub having a smoke and lifts his chin in greeting when a teenager in skinny jeans and a hoodie comes over to meet him.

My sightline is interrupted by two ladies as they pass between me and my destination.

Holy fuck.

The hum of the world stops as the blonde tilts her head back and laughs at something her purple-haired friend says. She’s cute—like really fucking cute.

Women rarely strike me stupid—mostly because they either want the thrill of being with a Quinn bad boy or think my bank account will somehow fund the future they’ve always dreamed of—but one look at this one and my cock is filling out behind my fly.

I haven’t even got my mental hamster back in his wheel before the night erupts into chaos. Gunshots split the air, sharp and sudden.

Violence slices through the crowd.

The ladies scream.

The kid standing with Kieran is hit and spun by the impact.

My instincts kick in and I go for the beauties. The one with purple hair is already going down hard. I wrap my body around the blonde and tackle her to the ground, rolling to shield her from the spray of bullets.

We hit the pavement hard, my hip cracking as my arms tighten around her, protecting her from the brunt of the collision. I roll us behind a stone planter, adrenaline firing in my cells. I cover her, my hips settling over hers. Adrenaline fires within me, making my blood pound and my cock pulse behind the denim of my jeans.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Stay still.” I pop my head up to scan the sightlines for the shooter, but can’t see a fucking thing. Between the scramble of people and the shadows of the night, the shooter could be anywhere.

The woman under me is trembling, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. I look her over, intending to be clinical to assess if she’s hurt, but my attention is sucked in the moment I meet her gaze.

She’s a fucking angel.

Her golden hair is fanned out around her head like a halo, her sparkling blue eyes filled with sweet innocence, and the soft roundness of her features is absolutely cherubim. She’s an angel on earth and her heartbeat is racing against my chest.

I bring my head down slowly, so I don’t startle her, and breathe her into the depths of my lungs. She smells fucking amazing—like warm vanilla or some kind of baking decadence.

Unbidden, I wonder what she would taste like.

Oi! Not the time for this, asshole .

I give myself an inward shake and focus on thinking with my head and not my cock. “Stay still. We’re safe down here. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Where’s Tanya? We need to help Tanya!”

Her friend is down and by the amount of bloody carnage on the sidewalk around her, she’s down hard. “I’m sorry, luv. There’s nothing I can do for your friend.”

She looks up at me and my mind stalls out. I’ve seen more than my fair share of stunners in my life, but she puts them all to shame. Pulling her a little closer, I run a comforting hand over the sleeve of her cashmere jacket. “What’s your name?”

She blinks up at me, her cornflower blue eyes filled with tears. “Nora.”

Nora. That was my grandmother’s name, and I know its meaning.

Shining one…a woman of honor.

I swallow, a rush of tingles washing over every inch of my flesh. “It’s good to meet you, Nora. I’m Brendan. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ve got you.”