“You lived somewhere else?”
“Boston.”
That was how his dad got mixed up with Oran Craig.
“Were you born in Ireland or Boston?”
“Ireland. We lived in Boston a few years until we moved back.”
We grew quiet as Killian started to sing. He was good. Really good. His voice was earthy, like it had sprung up from the countryside, and it was full of grit and gravel. He was even better than Ruairi Merrick.
The barmaid set our food down without a word, and I picked on it as I watched him sing. Cian only drank his beer, his eyes almost far away. I wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe his mom, because Killian brought back memories for him? And what about Cash Kelly…did they keep in touch more because of business?
Cian’s attention moved from his cousin to a few men who walked in the door. They were older, maybe in their fifties or sixties, and dressed impeccably. Caps, long jackets, and suits. Attire from a different era when men dressed the part.
The barmaid greeted them with a big smile on her face. Cian took a slow pull of his beer, watching them until one of them looked at him.
The man tipped his cap to him. Cian nodded back. Then they both looked away.
“Do you know them?” I whispered.
I wasn’t sure if he even heard me over the music, but he nodded. “Through Keenan.They call themselves bithiúnach.They’re a bunch of overaged gangsters who are tryin’ to start an old thin’ up again. Back to the golden age of gangsters, you could say.”
“Do you trust them?” I asked.
“I trust you. I trust Keenan, Fiona, Henry, and Beatrice. I trust no one else.”
“Not even your cousins?”
“Not even them.”
Killian Kelly looked genial enough. He had light hair, close to the same color as Cian’s, and his skin was lightly touched by the sun. I was pretty sure his eyes were green. He had a nice smile, and if I was right about his voice, he sang from the heart, which told me it was true. And for a man who was confined to a wheelchair at such a young age…he was singing about fighting on.
After about thirty minutes, the beer was hitting my bladder.
I leaned in close to Cian. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”
He stood and walked me there. There was a line of women waiting to get in, and I saw the indecision in his eyes. He wanted to come in but didn’t want to deal with a bunch of women bitching at him.
Not that I thought they would. They were all stealing glances at him, whispering to their friends.
When it was my turn, I put my hand on his arm. “I’ll be right out. This part of the pub doesn’t seem to have windows or any way out but this door.” I didn’t give him a chance to react. I really had to go. The girl behind me told me how sweet he was to look so concerned for me, and how hot she thought he was.
He was, but she had no clue why he was so protective over me and what he was capable of. The memory of our wedding day, when he’d sliced that guy’s head off, was something I’d never forget.
I did my business, washed my hands, and checked my reflection in the mirror. It looked and felt like I’d swallowed the sun. All glowing and warm from the inside. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Cian was facing me, but a woman stood in front of him. She was swaying some and had a drink in her hand.
He looked so lost. She was running her mouth at him, wanting to know if he was looking for a good time. When his eyes connected with mine, he visibly relaxed, and she noticed.
She turned some and then back to him. “I told you to get lost!” she screamed at him. “And you already have a woman. So low!” I watched as her hand came back with the drink and knew what her intention was. She was going to throw it in his face.
Before she could, I took my crossbody purse and whacked her in the head with it. Her drink went flying into the wall. She was stunned for a second before she hit me back.
We started fighting, and she was all over me like a strong, obnoxious perfume. I couldn’t seem to get her stink off me. But then she was, and it was Cian who had pulled her off, and the barmaid was coming between us. She had to push her back because she kept coming for me.
Before I could open my mouth to tell Cian to watch out, a guy came up behind him, but he was too quick. Cian ducked before the guy could land a punch.
I remembered the look in my husband’s eyes before he killed that guy who had “cuffed” me with his hold. It was disconnected from everything and everyone. I could see Cian slipping away from me, and the Beast was taking over.
