Chapter 10
R iordan
“Ever shot anyone?” Tyler asked.
I gripped the gun. It was heavier than I expected. A good fit for my hand. I’d seen Arran handle a weapon in his office but figured they mostly used knives. One sniff of a gun in the city and the cops would descend en masse. Actual gun use was furtive and rare. More of a threat than a reality. Apparently, the same didn’t apply out here in the wilds of Scotland.
“No,” I admitted.
“Ever used a gun at all?”
My jaw clenched.
His eyes widened in recognition of my apparent failure. Annoyance rushed through me. The emotion was short-lived.
Simultaneously, all of our phones alerted.
I recognised the tone. It warned of someone at the perimeter. Tyler leapt up and snatched out his phone. I scrambled to Cassie, energy punching through my muscles in anticipation of a threat.
“Front gate,” she identified.
Over Cassie’s shoulder, I watched the alert screen. On the camera view, a car idled, a man behind the wheel in the dark, rainy afternoon. Despite the clear picture, I didn’t recognise him, though he definitely wasn’t Bronson.
Cassie stared at the intruder. “Oh God.”
My heart thumped harder. “Who is it, a Four Miler?”
The gates slid open.
She lifted her gaze. “Nope. Worse. My brother’s home. From the snarling he’s doing at having to override our lockdown, Struan’s furious.”
Minutes later, we were out in the marble-floored entryway, facing off with an obviously dangerous man.
Cassie squeaked in happiness and flew at him, and he caught her in a one-armed hug, tucking her in at his side while never taking his gaze off me.
“Struan, meet Riordan.” Tyler leaned on the now-closed front door.
I nodded to Cassie’s brother. Undeniably her relative from the black hair and blue eyes, but also from the general air of menace that clung to them both.
Aged perhaps around thirty, Struan drew a harsh focus over my frame, nothing in his expression of a warm welcome. He was an inch or two shorter than me, but worlds apart in degrees of toughness, with an unnerving stare and a curled lip that told me he didn’t like what he saw.
Adrenaline coursed through me as if I was facing a threat. If he could read the thoughts I’d been having about his sister, this guy would tear me a new one.
Then Cassie pushed up on her toes and whispered something in his ear.
His eyebrows dove together, and he slashed his attention her way. “What are ye talking about?”
“Exactly what I said.”
I stared. What the fuck had she told him? I needed to know. If she’d said I was hers, she was keeping up that claim. I didn’t give a fuck if it was just to save my life.
Tyler spoke instead. “Riordan is Arran’s new recruit.”
“How new?”
“A month,” I answered for myself.
Incredulity flashed over his vision, then Struan jacked his thumb at the double doors that led to their great hall. “In there.”
Tyler strolled over and joined me, throwing an arm across my shoulders to guide me where I’d been sent.
Behind, Cassie asked her brother where he’d been.
His answer was a low rumble. “Theadora’s working on a case. I took Selene to stay with Scar and Burn, otherwise I would’ve been here sooner. Wulf’s at camp with his cousins.”
Who the hell were Scar and Burn? I guessed the other names were his wife and kids.
Inside the hall, Cassie bounced to the bar and took a high stool, turning it to face the room before she climbed on. “Did you see Max outside? He’s been part of my guard, but I heard the helicopter go then return, so I wasn’t sure if he’s still here.”
“He isn’t. We spoke on the phone. He and Maddock took a shift then two more crew members relieved them.”
Though he was providing answers, Cassie’s brother was still focused on me. He lifted his chin. “So, ye want to be a gangster. Can ye fight?”
I held in a sigh. “I’m a construction worker turned club security. I can fight if I have to.” Shit, I’d left the gun Arran sent me on the kitchen table. Couldn’t admit that now.
Struan didn’t appear convinced. “Yet you’re the one locked away with my sister. What the fuck was Arran thinking not training ye?”
He unzipped his black jacket and tossed it to the floor. Then he toed off his boots.
In front of him, there was a soft play area for kids. Foam blocks, a ball pit, and various scattered toys. Struan dragged the ball pit away and booted the rest to the sides, clearing the space to reveal a padded floor surface about the size of a boxing ring.
My pulse skipped. I stood taller, recognising what he was doing and anticipating pain. For fuck’s sake. I was going to cop a pounding. I was younger than the man preparing to fight me, but I lacked technique. Experience.
This was going to hurt.
It wouldn’t help me to complain about how I’d been brought here, nor did I want to. I’d changed my perspective on it and had chosen to remain.
There was no way I’d allow him to make me look weak in front of Cassie.
As he worked, Struan spoke. “Riordan Jones, twenty-five, six-three, drives a Ducati Diavel, fucking nice bike. Stolen, I imagine, but your 2006 Range Rover’s a piece of shit held together with Sellotape and prayers. No criminal record, which tells me you’re a sneaky fucker or adept at dodging, considering you’re linked to two gangs.”
“You have me dead to rights. Almost. The bike I rebuilt from a wreck, and I’ve no links to the Four Milers.”
“Ye took a job for them.”
“Which I never carried out and only for a good reason.”
“Which was?”
“None of your business, stranger.” I was an idiot, provoking him.
Even Cassie wasn’t interrupting his show and tell.
Done with his task, Struan stood on the far side of the area. He rolled his shoulders then beckoned to Tyler, though his attention was still on me. “As welcomes to the family go, I’m naw sure you’re going to enjoy this, but it’s essential for me to know Cassie’s protected. Be warned, I willnae go easy on ye when it’s your turn in the ring. Tyler, come at me. Jones, watch and learn.”
The intercept guy stripped his shoes, socks, and jacket, and took a position opposite Struan.
Both men dropped into a fighter’s pose. This wasn’t a beatdown. It was an education. Something I needed. That Arran had suggested but we’d never got around to.
As much as I wanted this, another objective rang true. Maybe a few hits to the head would fix my insanity for the girl with the dark curls who couldn’t take her eyes off me.