Chapter 4 Carwynn
CARWYNN
Lochlainn’s voice was ice as he pulled back one side of his suit jacket, exposing a gold pistol.
“Is there a problem here?”
Nearby patrons wandered toward us, drawn to the commotion.
He was head-to-head with Asshole, having stepped in front of me to wedge between us.
“Two minutes. I’m told you both arrived two fecking minutes ago. And you’re already at each other’s throats!”
The asshole simply shrugged, looking bored.
Lochlainn then turned to me, an eyebrow raised.
“Hey! Don’t look at me! He was the arrogant ass who started it!” I pointed my finger indignantly.
Shaking his head with a grunt, Lochlainn looked over his shoulder. With a quick nod, two of his men started flanking us.
I recognized them immediately.
Finley and Keeffe. They were brothers, and also Lochlainn’s cousins. Both Luckmen—otherwise known as mobsters, thugs, or hooligans, according to David. They each had ruggedly handsome features, but their height and broadness were what made them menacing.
Keeffe had dark copper hair, light eyes, and a scruff five-o-clock shadow. I had only met him once before.
But Finley, I knew him all too well. His golden hair, short beard, and green puppy eyes were fitting for his sweet personality.
He was a part-time student at the Institute mostly taking business courses but also attended my Human Studies course.
As Lochlainn’s cousin, he wanted to earn his way up into the family business—casino management, among other things.
But the Luckman gig didn’t seem fitting for him.
He was a gentleman, not some thug. The first day I taught my class, he’d defended me when some petty individuals made degrading remarks about my human-upbringing.
All it took was one word from him and their mouths sealed shut.
And by students, I meant grown-ass adults. Considering all of them were older than me. The whole slower-aging thing in this realm was a real mind fuck.
Finley and Keeffe turned and walked past bar tables, headed towards a back door.
“Both of ya, follow me.” Lochlainn instructed.
Grabbing my coat, I followed closely behind.
I didn’t miss the way people instantly parted, making room for him to get by. I also didn’t miss the annoying presence at my back, who was also tagging along.
After a few openings of doors, and a couple turns down empty hallways, we made it to Lochlainn’s hoity-toity office.
A rectangular wooden table sat in the middle of the room. The waxy sheen reflected the orb lights from the green hanging lamps above. A studious desk sat on the side of the room, huge bookcases built into the rich, emerald-colored walls acted as bookends.
Lingering in a corner were a few figures. The men immediately took the empty seats at the large table. Mostly faces I didn’t recognize.
I hesitated off to the side, digging my heels into the rough carpet.
Lochlainn eyed me.
I wasn’t scared . . . just uncomfortable.
A piece of me was still that insecure little girl. A girl whose face often betrayed me—displaying emotions like a billboard. Over the years, I’d learned to build a wall around that vulnerable part of me. But every wall has weak spots.
Nevertheless, there was too much testosterone in the room for my liking.
With an amused smirk, Lochlainn pulled out a chair, extending his arm.
He motioned toward it.
“I promise no one’s gonna bite ya, love. Come sit.”
I might have whispered a thanks as I walked over to sit in the corner seat, right across from Finley. His smile was sunshine soaking into my skin.
“Hey, professor!” he said with a wink.
More at ease with him nearby, I rolled my eyes.
“Hey, Finley.”
His eyes met mine, then shifted to the person next to me, hardening. I followed his line of sight, finding the asshole.
Great.
Strong arms bent as he lowered into the seat, officially making it an overcrowded table. He arrogantly stretched out, claiming his space. Body so close I could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder, a mere three inches away. Rolling up his sleeves, he stopped below his elbows.
I couldn’t control my stare. Those strong forearms. And that scent . . .
Shit! Stop looking!
My eyes darted away, searching for any random spot on the distant wall.
The other men chattered among themselves. It was the awkward socializing before a meeting started. If only I had a swivel chair to distract my nerves.
Asshole had watched our exchange and now had the audacity to narrow his eyes at me.
“Can I help you?” I spat out.
“Professor?” he questioned.
I glared, then looked away, determined to ignore him. I redirected my attention to the side conversations around the table.
From the corner of my vision, I could still feel his gaze on me, like hands exploring my body.
A shoulder touched mine, leaning closer.
“What do you teach, professor?” Asshole quipped, skeptically.
I was so done with his arrogance.
Turning, I gave him my most insincere, mocking smile.
“Intro to sucking dick!”
“Fuck sake,” Lochlainn swore at the end of the table.
I made my words sickeningly sweet, along with my face.
“You know, maybe you should take the course! I feel like a stiff one would do you some good. A favor to us all, really—something to cork up your pie hole.”
The asshole gaped.
Maybe I’d hallucinated, but it almost looked like the corner of his mouth curled. Almost.
Laughter roared. Someone’s fist banged the table.
I sarcastically continued, “What? Was that not the answer you were looking for? Since you seem so convinced I’m a prostitute.”
“What?” Finley interjected, face fixed on Asshole in disapproval.
Asshole’s smug grin returned, widening.
“It was a misunderstanding. I apologize for assuming you shared Lochlainn’s bed after receiving paid work from him. I must’ve been mistaken since you haven’t. Isn’t that right?”
My mouth slightly parted, aghast.
Bastard! That conniving, manipulative snake! How the hell could he have known I’d hooked up with Lochlainn?
It was after the first time I’d worked for him and mind you, a complete drunken mistake. Normally I’d have said no to late-night drinks and canoodling with burly mobsters, but my impulses stupidly slipped. And, well, one thing led to another.
Heat involuntarily flooded my cheeks, my most loathed bodily response. My internal struggle weakened as I averted my eyes down.
Lochlainn scowled, slamming his fist down on the table, rattling it.
“Pogue, that’s enough!”
Pogue.
So he did have a name. Didn’t have as good as a ring to it as asshole did, though.
I desperately clutched onto the sliver of dignity I felt slipping away.
Looking up, I caught a glimpse of Keeffe and two other men, thoroughly entertained.
My gaze drifted to Finley. There was a hint of hurt as he peered at Lochlainn then back to me.
Damn it.
His feelings weren’t my responsibility, but I still felt horrible about it.
Since arriving to Luckland, Finley was one of the first to befriend me.
Technically, it’d be more appropriate to say we were friendly, rather than friends.
You know—the whole professor-student, conflict-of-interests dilemma.
But Finley didn’t seem to share my same worries, as he’d insist on walking me home most nights after class.
The first time he asked me out, I made it very clear that it wasn’t going to happen.
Finley kept explaining that although students dating their professors might be taboo in the Human Realm, it wasn’t taboo in the Ferie Realm.
He also explained how he wasn’t going to give up.
He proceeded to ask me out two additional times after that. I said no, repeatedly.
But now here he was, finding out I hooked up with his cousin/wannabe mobster boss.
Why did I now start to feel like the asshole.
I combed a hand through my hair, trying not to focus on my flaring nerves.
Lochlainn began, “I’ve called you all here tonight because there’s been an incident.
One of the runners was found dead on the outskirts of the city.
No products were stolen, so I’m guessing it was a targeted attack to—” He paused thoughtfully.
“Send a message? To take us out? I don’t know.
But that’s what we’re going to figure out. ”
Products?
I knew there was a drug presence in Luckland but didn’t fully believe David when he suspected Lochlainn was behind it. He already had wildly successful pubs, casinos, and a hoard of men at his disposal. Wouldn’t that be enough?
David once said, “When it comes to coin and things that glitter, enough is never enough for those with Luckland blood.” Guess he was right.
Shit. What was I getting myself into?
I’d noticed the drug presence at parties and bars. There’d be a similar glazed-over look, as if they were stuck in some euphoric trance. Arcadia Leaf, the city’s new trending plague of a drug.
“It’d give you a heightened state of consciousness. Pure delight!” Breena had stated in her positive, fairy-like way.
Translation: they’d get really fucking high.
Lochlainn suddenly looked grim.
“Pogue. We found out the runner’s name was Quinley. One of yours.”
Of course he’d be in the drug business too. No surprises there.
Pogue tensed, shifting in his chair.
“Well, that is unfortunate.” He cleared his throat. “Were there any witnesses?”
Lochlainn’s thick arms slid over the table.
“No. A young woman stumbled upon the body. Had quite a scare. He was—” Lochlainn hesitated, grimacing. “He was decapitated—a butchered job, mind ya.”
Cool, cool. So there’s a murderer on the loose, last seen on the outskirts of town. No reason to panic.