19. Heaven
CHAPTER 19
HEAVEN
“H eaven forbid you learn to hold your liquor,” Molly quips, steadying me against the wall. “You’ve been in New York for too long, love.”
I stumble out of The Temple Bar, a pub in Dublin, clinging to my cousin, Molly. She’s trying hard to slick a lip gloss wand across her lips, but I’m making it difficult since I keep swaying into her. She has only succeeded in coloring her cheek and chin so far.
A loud chuckle erupts from my throat and I take a swig of the pint clutched in my hand. “You’ve, ah, got some lip gloss on your nose, too,” I say, backing into the railing as I point it out to her.
Molly rolls her eyes and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a long drag. “Breathe, Heaven. You desperately need air right now.”
“If I sober up, I’ll just have too much crap running through my mind. It’s better this way,” I say, teetering in my heels.
“Listen, I know you’re preoccupied with that meeting,” Molly says but I hold up a hand.
“Stop! I’m compartmentalizing.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to think about that tonight. I’m only opening the fun box tonight.”
“Sounds so dirty.” Molly takes a drag of her cigarette and blows out a thin stream of smoke.
I force a giggle, even though the so-called fun box has just been doused by a big-ass bucket of water courtesy of my cousin.
The meeting.
The reason my family is here in Dublin in the first place.
But I didn’t want to think about that tonight.
I’d already thought about it plenty after I overheard Granddad speaking to Dad earlier. Snippets of the conversation bubble up in my mind, and I clench my glass tightly, imagining it’s one of their necks.
Or both of them.
Molly gives me a curious look. “You sure you don’t want to let it out, Heaven? I mean, the booze will only help until you wake up tomorrow. And then you’re gonna have to deal with reality and a nasty hangover. Talk to me.”
I shake my head, my lips tight. “I’m fine. Really.”
Except I’m not. At all.
Molly takes a final drag before stomping on the butt with her high-heeled boot. “Well, if the fecking fun box is still open for business, let’s go find some cute boys to play in it with, yeah?”
I force a smile, chugging the rest of the beer. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.” We head back into the pub, and the heavy sounds of the Dropkick Murphys blaring through the DJ’s speakers make my ears ring.
I’d gladly welcome tinnitus if it can help block out all the other things battling for airtime.
We push through the noisy, sweaty, and rambunctious crowd as we head for the dance floor. I really need to work my way out of this funk and figure out a plan for tomorrow.
Tomorrow, when Granddad announces Conor as successor for my father.
Just thinking those words makes my heart clench. What would Mom think if she were still here? A pang assaults my heart, and the inside of my nose tickles as if I’m about to cry. But she’s not here. I’m on my own and I miss her so much, but I’m not going to cry.
She always tried to take on my pain as hers and was the one person I could always count on. I spent endless hours with her, preparing food and slaving over the stoves at our pub in Hell’s Kitchen, famed for her specialty Irish fare. She taught me everything I know about cooking…and about how to shine in a house with four overbearing brothers.
And after tomorrow, it will be downright hellish.
Fucking Conor?
How could they?
When Granddad told Dad he thought Conor was the best choice, my blood simmered. And when Dad agreed, after all I’d done to prove myself most capable, I erupted. I’m younger by less than a damn year, but that’s not what’s holding me back.
It’s the fact that I don’t have a cock swinging between my legs.
Molly gives me a little shake as if she knows what toxic thoughts flow through my mind. I take a deep breath and just dance, trying desperately to lose myself in the pulsating beats.
But I can’t find a single shred of happy inside of me. Seems like those all deserted me when Mom died. For the past six torturous months, I focused on helping my father run things in Hell’s Kitchen, dropping out of college for a life Mom didn’t want for me, one I never wanted. But I know my place, and Dad needed help, and I’m good at it. But this…betrayal… Shit.
It burns on top of losing her.
Stage four stomach cancer was the diagnosis.
And six weeks later, she was gone.
Forever.
It didn’t have to be the case, though.
That was the jagged pill that still tears up my insides. The doctors all agreed it could have been treated if she’d spoken up sooner instead of fighting the pain.
But she always fought, always battled against anything perceived as a weakness.
So stubborn, so hot-headed.
Something I’d always admired so much about her ended up being the very thing that snuffed out her life.
How fucking ironic is that?
A pair of strong hands from behind me grips my hips, jerking me backward, and I gasp, losing my footing. Molly giggles. “Just go with it. He’s hot!”
My supper of soda bread and stew churns in my gut.
Maybe I should go for it. The guy, more booze. Maybe an edible. Anything to distract.
I let his hands roam my torso and the curves of my ass before I swivel around to look at him. Truth be told, I don’t give a damn what he looks like. If I can’t drink away the frustration and the anger, I can sure as hell fuck it away.
And from the looks of it, Molly is already well on her way. She gives me a nudge, and I twist around, not expecting much because that’s just how my life is going lately, and why should it be any different here on foreign soil?
When I see the guy standing over me with his crooked smile and laughing brown eyes, I bite down on my lower lip.
I wrap my arms around his waist and he pulls me close, brushing his lips against my ear. “What’s your name, beautiful?” he murmurs.
“Heaven.”
His fingers toy with the hem of my shirt. “Yes, you fucking are.” He backs me into a corner off the dance floor, away from Molly.
An inexplicable ripple of doubt thrums in my belly.
This is ridiculous. I’m being insane.
I wanted a distraction, and just like that, this very delicious one drops into my lap, almost literally.
I swallow my apprehension and stare up at him. His gaze is heated and filled with lust. He stares at me for a few seconds before his lips crash down on mine, urging them open with his tongue. He hugs me tight, plundering my hungry mouth. His fingers scorch a path over my skin, sliding over my bra.
And then a shiver snakes through my insides, chilling me.
It feels wrong. His hands get more demanding, his body almost overpowering. I’m down for a little shifting action, but something about this is definitely off.
Besides, he doesn’t look like the typical guys from around here.
Suddenly I don’t want to do this. I push him, but he doesn’t let go. I push harder, putting all my rage behind it. I bring my heel down on his foot and stumble free, looking around for Molly. She’s gone.
Vanished.
“Look, I’m sorry if I went too fast,” he says, grabbing me. I can’t hear too well because of the pounding music, but I detect a bit of an accent, though I can’t exactly place it in my current state. “I guess I just got caught up. You’re hot and sexy and ? —”
“I’ve gotta go find my cousin.” I yank free.
Since I’m right near the restroom, I run in there, just to make sure she’s not passed out in one of the bathroom stalls. But even as I cut through the line, I know she isn’t. Molly can hold her liquor better than anyone I know, including my brothers.
I search the stalls, pounding on the locked ones, but sure enough, she isn’t there.
She wouldn’t have just left me here, even to hook up with some guy.
I pull out my phone and dial her number.
It goes straight to voicemail.
The panic that rippled through me only moments ago now crashes over me like a tsunami.
I rush back onto the dance floor, trying like hell to remember who Molly had been dancing with. But I can’t.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to clear my head and think.
It’s amazing how sober I feel in this moment after being damn-near inebriated such a short time ago. But Molly is gone and pure, unadulterated fear has chased away the fuzzy, drunken cobwebs that were hanging low in my mind. I push my way through the crowd and run out the front door of the pub.
“Molly!” I shout.
The pub is located on a corner, and the cobblestone streets surrounding the entrance are quiet. It’s late, so the restaurants on the street are closed. I run to the side of the building, my high-heeled feet pounding the slick stones. I scream for Molly. There’s a darkened alley ahead, and loud voices erupt from about twenty feet away.
“…let her go…distracted…now she’s gone!”
I frown, the foreign accent making my throat tighten.
Sounds like the guy from the pub…
I jog toward them and a faint shriek pierces the still air.
Molly.
I pull off my boots because I can’t risk them hearing me coming.
And the thought occurs to me that I might need to use them as weapons.
I ignore the pain of sharp stone edges digging into my feet as I run.
More angry yelling ensues and this time, they aren’t speaking English at all. They’re arguing in their own native tongue, and it’s vicious judging by the disdain dripping from their words. I strain to hear something, anything I can recognize.
One thing makes bile rise in my throat…one spoken name makes my throat clench.
“…Eamon Mulligan…”
I clap a hand over my mouth.
Uncle Eamon.
Molly’s dead father.
He died only recently. It was an ‘accident,’ although I’d never heard that anyone found the people who caused it.
Hairs on my nape stand on end. I creep closer. Another whimper and plea breaks the air. I reach a desolate parking lot surrounded by trees and brush and I inch closer, peering around a bush.
Molly, oh God, Molly, what have they done to her?
My cousin’s sprawled on the ground, fighting against a guy with his jeans around his ankles. Another guy has his hand slapped against her mouth to silence her, holding her down while the other…Oh, God, the other pounds into her. He finishes and zips up and Molly lies there, just lies there.
“Do we kill her and let her family find her?”
“No,” another guy mutters. “Get her into the car and go. Now! They’ll find her when we want them to.”
“No!” I scream, darting toward the group, my heels in my outstretched hand. I swing, kick, and yell until the guy who had me pressed up against him in the club pulls out a gun.
He walks toward me slowly, pointing it at my forehead. “Your job is to notify the family. Can you handle that for us?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the guys shove a needle into Molly’s arm. Her body goes limp almost instantly, and they throw her in the back of a nondescript sedan with no license plate.
Laughter rises not far from me and I take a chance.
“Help!” I scream. “Please, help me!”
The guy’s face is a tangled mess of fury, his lips twisted into a scowl. “Shut up,” he growls.
“Help me!” I jump at him, slashing his face with one of my boots.
The narrow heel catches on his cheek and he sputters, blood streaming down his face. “You can’t save her, Heaven. You never could.”
I recoil at his words, my eyes wide, my body rooted to the spot as he comes at me, swinging the gun at my temple.
As I crash to the ground, one last thought paralyzes my mind.
He’s right. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save myself. Dad and Granddad were right.
I didn’t…I couldn’t…I won’t…
And the world, as if it wasn’t black enough before, drowns out all remaining hope.
For Molly.
For me.