Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
TALLY
D espite the O’Connors burning down The Shamrock, it’s business as usual. I didn’t lose my job. None of the staff did. We just got transferred over to O’Malley’s, and no one talked directly about what happened or how the fire started.
The morning after the fire, Johnny offered to show me where O’Malley’s was.
Though I could have asked the O’Connors for directions, instead I messaged Walsh.
It was an important exercise, solidifying my place as being loyal to Walsh.
I also did it to see if there was any gossip about the O’Connors because he’s big into knowing everyone’s business.
Nothing was said, which should have made me less anxious, but it made me more wary.
Walking into O’Malley’s was a trip. There were no new faces, just everyone from The Shamrock, including our regulars already sitting in their spots. It was odd, but I’ve seen stranger.
Certainly, the most noteworthy, and what caused the biggest noise, was Des Kelly.
He was missing and had been since before the fire, by all accounts, but that’s where things got murky.
There’s lots of speculation that he’s in one of the O’Connor’s cells being interrogated, which feeds the rising vitriol and vocal malign.
My husbands, it seems, don't have a lot of supporters around here, even though the Kellys have been a part of the O’Connors power base for a long time.
It’s a common theme that things are about to change, which is why I wear a wire every day now.
And I’m not being paranoid, noticing some conversations come to a stop when I’m near, while others are said like the words have been recited.
My cover hasn’t been blown, nor my connection to Pack O’Connor yet but I’m being watched and fed crumbs as a test. The whole “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” seems to fit.
It seems, though, along the way, I’ve picked up a new but equally important motivator for being here and working the case. Pack O’Connor. I couldn’t cope if they got hurt because of me.
I have a deep fear they are involved in my case. It’s naive of me to live in hope they’re not a part of the reason Drugs and Organized Crime Bureau sent me here, but I still cling to the idea they’re as innocent as possible.
Pretty much everyone I’ve run into since arriving in Ireland would be facing time after DOCB finished with them.
The time and space I insisted on with Pack O’Connor, was so I could do whatever was needed to get some answers, but in a roundabout way I also want to keep them safe from what is coming, a clean out if you will.
There’s been too many lives lost, crimes done with no one being held accountable, and that’s a dangerous situation to be in when you’re dealing with organised crime syndicates.
The imbalance of power, feeds the perception crime syndicates have that they are a law unto themselves, leaving the community at large at risk.
Which is another reason why I went into the force was to protect those people that needed it most.
When I asked for space I never took into account though, how not being around my scent matches would feel like losing a limb. Phantom pangs catch me off guard, often after one of them has dropped me at home and left me with swollen lips or a deep longing.
By God, they are men of their word. Not once during the past few days have they shown up at O’Malley’s or stepped a foot out of place. I know it’s early days, but it makes it very hard to keep them at arm’s length.
I’ve been spoiled rotten and am fast getting used to the different ways they court me.
Rafferty’s a menace. His fingers are inside my pussy every chance he gets, and his gifts involve me squealing his name before he spills secret after secret and whispers about our future.
Without a word of a lie, he’s booked us trips overseas as pack, or planned all these ‘experiences’.
The intimate couples sex retreat he showed me the photos of, and the schedule of what was involved, left me so flustered he barely touched me and I was moaning his name.
Of course though, Rafferty also has another side, one that is all about depth of connection, so he’s been reading me his favorite books, while massaging my feet or something similar – drowning me in affection really.
Once he leaves, I always find his other sweet gifts hidden around the place.
I’ve got an odd collection of O’Connor trophies now.
Keegan’s pillow saturated in his sleepy scent, Tynan’s unwashed training singlets full of his energy and subtle lemon perfume.
Ronin’s clean socks, of all things. But I admitted in between whispered kisses with Rafferty one afternoon on the sofa that my feet are always cold.
Rafferty’s gift, besides his orgasms, is himself.
Even on days that aren’t his, he sneaks in, and with one flutter of his eyelashes, I melt.
Keegan is like a shadow, keeping his distance but leaving me feeling like he’s always watching. Ronin is constantly phoning to check up on me. Tynan waits just down the road from the train station, in a hidden lane, ready to whisk me off every day to work out.
Each and every time, he does the same thing too.
First his eyes are on mine, and I lose track of time and space for a while before he looks down to my hand, to check if I’ve slid the ring back onto my finger.
Tynan never says anything about it not being there.
At the same, there’s something between us that wasn’t there before.
And we’re both aware it’s up to me to close the gap.
I get it, though—why would you invest in someone if they’re not prepared to work towards a common future?
I’m exhausted after working so many shifts and juggling courting Pack O’Connor and being chummy with Walsh and his friends.
And Walsh must notice because when I walk in ready for work, he cancels my lunch shift before I can step behind the bar.
Grabbing my bag out of the staff room, I wave a hasty goodbye to everyone and disappear before he changes his mind.
After stopping at the chippery, I’m literally on cloud nine as I wait for the Uber I called.
The hot chips have the perfect balance of salt and a dash of curry sauce that makes them extra tasty.
It’s definitely a sign of how tired I am.
Normally, I don’t go out of my way for fried food, but I’m so glad I did.
The Uber driver doesn’t speak actual words when I get in the car, slapping at a sign stuck in the middle and using his face to express his distaste as a way to communicate.
I get he probably deals with a lot of messy people, but to paint everyone with the same brush is pretty shit.
He then drives as shitty as he acts. I slam against the seat belt at least a dozen times in the space of ten miles.
The guy’s a freak, and I honestly don’t think he has a driver’s license.
He’s a danger to everyone on the road and pretty much ruins my chippy high.
Climbing out at the corner where I asked him to drop me, I lean down. “You know, being in the service industry myself, I sometimes think it’s good to remember to treat people how you want to be treated yourself. So, I gave you five stars, but this is on the house.” I flip him the bird.
His shitty attitude goes from level forty to a hundred in half an inhale. I stand by what I did—honestly, this guy is a menace and shouldn’t be an Uber driver. I expect him to get his rant done then hightail it, but he starts yelling even louder and flicks his seat belt off.
I shouldn’t laugh, but I do. I go to walk off, and he’s out of his car.
“Stay there, bitch!”
And in three words, he goes from being a rude dick to being an absolute arsewipe.
He barks at me. He’s an Alpha, so his command hits differently, but he’s not a strong Alpha.
Tynan would be able to exert more dominance in one of his whispers.
It’s not the point, though. You don’t freaking Alpha bark at people because they give you a bit of what for after you’ve been an epic douche.
“Sorry if you took offense to me being as delightful as you were. And maybe I was being rude, but you ruined my happy-happy, joy-joy. Go away, we are done here,” I snap back at him.
The whole thing is escalating, and if anything, he looks even more irrational now. Some Alphas are just about proving they’re stronger, more powerful, all that macho bullshit that makes the world more dangerous than it already is. I start walking off.
“Stop,” he barks at me again, lunging at the same time.
He grabs my arm, his nails raking over my arm.
My chips go flying everywhere, and my carefully constructed disguise snaps.
I move on muscle memory with a detachment that comes from years of experience in the field.
In a handful of moves, I have his arms twisted behind him, his legs kicked out wide, and my hand searching for cuffs.
And then I realize what I’ve done. With a shove, I spin and run off, leaving him, and myself, wondering how the fuck that just happened.
Pulling my bag close to my body, I race down the road, using the park and the rear housing lanes to crisscross my way home.
I feel sick, not because of what I did or why, but because of the possibility that someone saw an Omega go full Law and Order on an Alpha.
I’m all in my head, running through how I slipped up, when I let myself in. And instantly, I’m aware I have company. Pack O’Connor are relaxing in my house.
“Did I forget we were doing something?” I ask, hovering at the door, feeling sick I completely missed seeing their car outside.
The four of them were already looking in my direction, no doubt hearing the lock disengaging, but their expressions go from cheery to downright hostile. They flip as fast as my dickhead Uber driver.