Chapter 9 Down Bad – Koen
DOWN BAD
KOEN
Now
Last Call is at capacity. From the private balcony above the main floor of the club my brothers and I own, I stand, arms crossed, scanning the crowd, the way I always do—practiced, methodical.
The bar maxed out over an hour ago and the line to get in now circles the block.
It’s a good weekend for us. The colleges are back in session, and hockey season is starting up again.
My eyes catch on a tiny dark-haired girl squeezing her way through the dance floor, but just as soon as I give her a second glance, I already know… it’s not her. I’m meant to be keeping an eye on the crowd, but somehow it always ends up with me looking for her.
They’re never her.
The fact that I can’t help it pisses me the fuck off. I hate the way my eyes catch on every five-foot-something, dark-haired girl, just in case.
For what reason, I don’t fucking know. It doesn’t matter. My little ballerina, forever dancing fucking circles around my head. If I had known that almost five years later I’d still be thinking about her, I never would have gone after her that night.
She ruined me.
My little Rose was a brand of drug all her own. One I’ve never been able to find anything close to. No one else compares. She crawled under my skin, injected herself into my bloodstream with a single kiss—the taste of her potent, like the sweetest of drugs, and after just one hit, I was hers.
But I couldn’t have her, and I fucking hated her for it.
“What’s Aidan doing?” Mac asks and that grabs my attention. He leans forward over the railing, signaling to both Jerrad and Garrett who are down on the floor tonight, backing up the bouncers.
I look down, easily spotting my brother stalking through the packed crowd. It parts easily for the growling six-foot-three hockey god as he prowls closer to the dance floor.
Both of my brothers are here tonight, and we have them to thank for this packed crowd, and the line curving around the block outside.
They’re here celebrating the Boston Breakers, their pro hockey team’s first pre-season win tonight. And they’ve brought most of their team and cheerleaders with them.
And where the team goes, sport fanatics and puck bunnies tend to follow, and I’m happy to reap the benefits. The better our legit businesses do, the less shady shit we have to run in the background.
I keep my eyes on my brother. He never leaves VIP when he’s here with the team; he comes out of obligation only, typically bowing out at the first opportunity.
Unlike our man-whore of a little brother who I can see over by the back bar.
Liam’s got a girl draped on each arm, neck-deep in shots of Jack, oblivious to everything going on around him as he takes his time making out with each girl, not an ounce of shame in sight.
Aidan’s eyes are fixed on something up ahead, his fists curled at his side.
It could be trouble, and instinctively, my hand trails over to the gun at my waist. Pushing through the crowded dance floor, he makes it to his destination, both Garrett and Jerrad not far behind, and now I can see just what has caught my younger brother’s attention.
His little Russian obsession.
Aurora Kostalova, aka Rory, the Bratva princess, is talking to none other than Cam Reeves—or well, was talking to him, as Aidan sees to that immediate problem.
I shake my head, my hand leaving the handle of my gun to run down my face.
Mac sits back too, taking a sip from his beer and laughing, enjoying the show. “Your brother is down bad for that girl.”
He laughs again when I growl into my cup, watching the situation play out below.
He’s not wrong.
And Mac would know, he’s known Aidan almost as long as I have.
While my brothers still do work for the Devils, neither of them wanted this life and chose to pursue hockey instead.
However, our father’s recent death has pulled them back into the trenches, and, despite my repeated attempts to throw them back out, they insist on sticking around until we’ve gotten revenge on whoever it was that murdered him in cold blood.
My jaw tightens and I grind my teeth. Aidan’s obsession with the Bratva’s angel will undoubtedly be the match strike that lights the powder keg that is the Boston underworld right now.
In the weeks following my father’s murder, tension between the ruling families has just about reached a breaking point.
Rory storms out of the club, my brother trailing behind her, and I shake my head. I told him to stay away from her, to leave the Russians to their business, but he never fucking listens.
“What about you?” Mac asks.
“What about me?” I respond without looking at him. My eyes still scan the crowd, ignoring the girl lingering around the door to VIP, the one who’s noticed us standing above her and keeps batting her fake eyelashes our way.
“I’ve clocked at least three girls in the last fifteen minutes making eyes at you, and you haven’t so much as twitched.”
“Make sure Jerrad and Garrett have a little chat with Cam Reeves I don’t want to see him in our club again,” I say, ignoring his comment and pulling out my phone to check on how other business is going, paying no attention to my best friend and his never-ending mission to get me laid.
Cam Reeves is known around our circles for drugging girls’ drinks and taking advantage of them. He’s got a lot of balls stepping into an O’Rourke bar. The bouncer at the door also needs a talking-to for allowing him in here.
Though my father’s passing had been unexpected, he’d ensured I was well prepared for the day I was to take over as heir to Boston’s Irish throne. But as prepared as I’d been to assume the role of head of the family, not a single fucking thing has gone right since.
The human trafficking trade has exploded in our father’s absence. The Russian Bratva and the Italian Mafia are making moves, pushing the boundaries of their territories. Testing my patience.
“Aye, Boss,” Mac smirks, pulling out his phone to relay the message. “I’m just saying, that brunette down there looks like a lot of fun. Brunettes certainly do catch your eye.”
I work my jaw. “Not interested.”
“You didn’t even look!” Mac laughs, peering back down at the girl with obvious interest.
“Who are you kidding, Mac?” Jace Reilly’s voice drifts in from behind us. “Don’t you know by now our Koen is allergic to fun? I reckon he’s vying to take over for Father Lucent.”
“Still, wouldn’t hurt him to take a night off every once in a while,” Mac grumbles. “Might help relieve some of that pent-up tension,” he heckles and Jace shoves him playfully in the shoulder.
I pay them no mind, continuing to scan the crowd. Yeah, I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell. But only because I didn’t find it to be worth my time or energy. I have more important things to worry about than getting laid.
Shit in the city was about to get ugly, and anyone connected to me is a target.
The Irish have a lot of enemies. I have a lot of enemies.
My brothers? They can take care of themselves.
My sister? We keep her on lockdown, guards trailing her twenty-four seven.
It would be the same for any woman I marry because my enemies would do anything to get to me, and if they can’t get to me, they’ll go for those closest to me.
Besides, now that I’m boss of the family, I’m expected to marry for alliances.
That was always how it was meant to be. Hell, the pressure to marry had been pushed on me since before I’d even turned eighteen.
It was never about love or connection but what a bride could bring to the table.
What strategic advantages did she give the family?
And if I thought I’d known pressure before… As the heir, it had been a near constant conversation since I’d come of age. But ever since I’d taken over, there hasn’t been a moment’s peace from the clan leaders.
So I didn’t let anyone close.
Simple. Easy.
That is until she happened.
I never got her name, her real name, because something in me knew that if I did, I’d never be able to leave her alone. My obsession with her didn’t make sense. I’d felt myself claim her the first time I heard her voice.
It was one night, one dare, one mistake.
She was too good for me.
It scared me in the moment and I shoved her away. But now, even years later, it’s me that pays the price because no matter what I do, I can’t seem to let her go. I still scan every crowd—desperate for a glimpse of something I can never have.
My phone buzzes and I open it up to find an S.O.S text from Aidan. Reading it over, the corner of my lip ticks up.
Mac, not one to miss a thing, sees it and groans.
“Ah fuck, and here I thought we’d have a quiet night tonight.” He lifts his glass to his lips, draining the rest of his beer in one go.
I turn my gaze to Jace. “Get Liam, Jerrad, and Garrett and meet me by the bikes. We’ve got Volkov in the city.” My smile turns dark.
“Who wants to go wolf hunting?”