CHAPTER 1 #2
Cash, John’s oldest son and the new president of the MC, grinned. “Try and stop us. We all admired Lorcan. It’ll be our honor.”
Mam’s gaze followed the priest as he made his rounds, talking to the congregation. “I need to ask Father O’Malley about the wording on your Da’s headstone.” Grabbing Aislynn’s arm, she pulled her away to catch up with the priest.
“She looks shellshocked,” John said thoughtfully, his stare still on Mam. “Can’t blame her, though. She doted on your pop.”
“She’s held it together,” I explained. “It’s after today she’ll feel it. There’s been so much for us all to do and arrange, and it’s weirdly kept her mind off the fact Da’s not here. It’ll hit her like a ton of bricks once everything calms down.”
A hand clasped my shoulder, and Bowie muttered, “We’ll be here, Cal.”
I twisted my neck to look at my bud, one side of my mouth hitching. “Thanks.”
“We sent Lucie to help man the bar,” Breaker, the club’s VP, informed me. “He’ll stay until you close.”
Despite myself, I chuckled softly. “Still can’t believe you called your prospect Lucie.”
“I told the stupid bastards,” John huffed. “Hardly gonna strike the fear of God into our enemies with prospects called fuckin’ Lucie. That bullshit wouldn’t have happened when I was Prez.”
Cash’s lips twitched. “Blame Atlas. He’s in charge of new recruits now Abe’s a civilian. Though, with a name like Lucien, the poor fuck was always gonna draw the short straw.”
Bowie and Breaker sniggered.
“Apologies, Callum,” John bit out. “Thought I was bringin’ my boys to pay their respects to your pa. Didn’t realize their bodies had been taken over by Beavis, Butthead, and their ugly pal Ball-ache.”
For the first time in a week, I laughed. “It’s all good. Da will be up there laughing his ass off.”
John skewered his sons with a look. “Hmm.”
Bowie jerked his chin toward the church doors where Father O’Malley was talking to my cousins. “Who are the suits? And why do I get the feelin’ they’re a little bit too interested in what’s goin’ on?”
My gut twisted. “They’re our family from New York. Da’s cousin Patrick, the head of the family business, his boy, Liam, and then his brother Tyrone, and his boys, Conan and Niall.”
John’s lips thinned. “Your pop told me about ‘em. I know who they are. The million-dollar question is, what the fuck are they doin’ here?”
My gaze followed John’s to study my cousins. “I assume they’re just here for the funeral, then they’ll fuck off.”
“Long way to come for a man they hardly see,” he mused.
I let out a snort. “Let me welcome you to the intricate internal politics of a typical Irish family, John. Rule number one: Never miss a good funeral, even if it’s a plane ride away, especially when there’s copious amounts of free booze on offer.”
“Somethin’ tells me they’re not here for the Guinness and the craic, Cal,” John muttered.
That feeling of unease prickled through me again because I wholeheartedly agreed. Still, I had a mam to take care of and a boozy wake to keep an eye on. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to try and decipher the weird-assed reasons behind my family’s visit.
I shrugged casually. “Don’t have it in me to give a fuck.
Those assholes probably came to throw their weight around.
They’ll drink all the free booze they can handle, then sit and throw everybody some side-eye to prove they’re tough guys.
I know the drill when it comes to the New York side of the family. It’s something and nothing.”
John nodded slowly. “Gotta weird feelin’. We’re comin’ back to the bar, so we’ve got your back if you need us.”
For the first time that day, my heart warmed. “Thanks, Dagger.”
He grinned. “If the boot was on the other foot and Lorcan was stood in my place, he’d look out for my boys, too. Not doin’ anythin’ he wouldn’t, and I know he’d want me to keep an eye on you.” John’s hand snaked around my neck, his fingers curling around my nape. “You’re gonna be okay, son.”
I had to suck in a breath to stop myself from losing my shit. “Thanks, John,” I croaked.
His hand dropped. “Always. Lorcan was a good—” He was cut off by a woman calling, “Callum!”
Everybody looked around to see Breaker’s wife, Kennedy, pick her way across the grass toward us.
She was a fucking knockout, but the thin, high-heeled, red-soled shoes she wore made her even hotter.
Kennedy Stone was the town lawyer and, by all accounts, was a fucking shark—a personality trait her husband loved, if the way his eyes gleamed whenever he looked at her was anything to go by.
All the Speed Demons’ women were gorgeous. Those boys seemed to mop up all the talent in town. Whoever slipped through their net got caught in Donovan’s—go figure! But luckily, I had a long-term fuck buddy in the form of Saskia, one of the waitresses at the bar.
We weren’t serious, purely because I wasn’t a serious kinda guy. Still, our arrangement seemed to work for both of us, seeing she wasn’t a serious kinda gal either.
Da had nagged me for years to find a nice Catholic girl, settle down, and have babies, but I’d managed to evade it. Pop believed a man wasn’t a man without a decent woman supporting him, and he’d told me repeatedly how I needed to stop fucking around with good-time girls and get wed.
I smiled at the memory, watching Kennedy’s hips sway on her approach.
She smiled at me. “I just checked Lorcan’s will, Callum. He left instruction for it to be read today at five o’clock.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Why the rush?”
“No idea,” she replied. “I need to ask; do you know a man called Patrick Doyle?”
My stomach sank. “Paddy’s Da’s cousin from New York. He’s here.”
Relief washed over Ned’s expression. “Lorcan left strict instructions to read the will with Patrick Doyle present, but he left no clue about how to find him. The only Patrick Doyle I’ve ever heard of is the gangster from New York who’s always in the news.”
My head swiveled toward the church, where Paddy stood talking with his boys. “See those suits?” I jerked my chin toward the church. “Recognize anyone newsworthy?”
Kennedy glanced over and did a double take. “Fuck, no.”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “The older guy wearing the blue shirt. That’s your man.”
Kennedy’s eyes rounded. “But he’s the head of the Irish Mafia.”
“And my second cousin,” I muttered.
“What the fuck is Lorcan playin’ at?” John demanded.
My fingers lifted to rub my temple. “God knows.”
“Well,” Kennedy drawled. “I’m glad I’m reading the will. At least you’ve got legal representation there and a witness.”
“Baby,” Breaker muttered, sliding his arm across her shoulders. “You’re a hotshot lawyer and a ballbuster, but I don’t want you pissing off the Irish Mafia.”
Kennedy let out a harrumph. “I won’t let them intimidate Callum.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said appreciatively. “It’s nice you looking out for me and all, but Break’s right. Don’t get involved. You can help me more by watching, listening, and helping me deal with the legal side of whatever’s coming.”
“You reckon there’s a problem?” John inquired.
I shot him a knowing look. “If the Doyle’s are involved, I can’t rule it out.”
“Surely your pop wouldn’t have done anything to fuck up your inheritance?” John mused.
“No way,” I assured him. “My da was all about passing the bar down through the family. It’s what keeps us fed and gives us a roof over our heads.
He would have cut off a limb before he put it in jeopardy.
” My eyes flicked toward my cousins. “If Paddy’s been invited to the reading, it’ll be the aul fella wanting to give him a message from the grave. ”
John dipped his chin. “It’d be just like Lorcan to want to have the last word.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “There’s nothing Paddy can do to me. Da never involved him in the business. He probably asked him to come to look out for us.”
“Right,” he drawled, not appearing at all convinced, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him.
John was right; there was no reason for Patrick Doyle to be at the reading of Da’s will. The fact he was even there had secretly sent me into a tailspin.
The Irish Mob hadn’t flown two-thousand miles just to raise a glass for my aul fella, so the question remained...
What the fuck were they doing here?
And more to the point, what did it have to do with me?