“I think I’ve seen a couple of people come in here that look like they’re definitely heading to the club,” she says quietly, conspiratorially. “I’m thinking we head to the back of this bar, order another drink, and then we monitor everything. Just very casually look around and observe. And then, you know, maybe you work your magic and figure out how to get us in there.”
“Oh, fine,” I say quietly.
She grins at me—hopeful,alive, vibrant.
“Really?” Her eyes are shining now.
I look at my baby sister, at the determination written across her face, at the desperate need to feel something beyond the fear and the pain and the waiting.
“Alright. I’ll figure it out.” I blow out a breath. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
Cavin
“Cavin,”my mother calls from the dining room. “Come here for a second, love.”
I let out a long exhale, stretch my neck, and reach my arms up over my head. My god, it’s been a long fucking week.
“Yes,” I say, stepping into the dining room where she’s got glossy magazines all lined up on the table. “We’re looking at options for the engagement party signage,” she says with a smile. “Care to take a peek?”
I shake my head. “Honestly, Mam, no. I don’t care to. I don’t care what you pick. Pick anything you want. This is a transaction, you know that.”
“Alright then,” she says with a pained smile. She likes to think sometimes that we’re normal, at least some of us. That she didn’t raise criminals who live by a different code of ethics than most of the damn world.
“Do what you like, and I’ll like it too,” I say, turning on my heel.
As I reach the entryway, the front door bursts open. Somebody screams, and another person drops a dish with a crash.
“JesusfuckingChrist.”
I push through and see Declan with a split lip, holding his arm at an odd angle. Ashland’s behind him, supporting him, as Declan drips blood onto the foyer tiles.
“Christ, Declan. You all right?”
“Aye,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fine.”
“That arm doesn’t look fine,” I mutter under my breath. “Looks broken.”
“Call the damn medic then.”
“Yes. What happened?” I nod to my sister Bronwyn in the doorway and gesture for her to make the call.
“The deal’s gone south,” he says, wincing.
“Aye,” Ashland growls. “Crowning’s crew ambushed us at the docks. Three of them, armed. We handled it, but it got messy.”
I sigh. Another night, another feckin’ battle. Thankfully, this one won’t blow back. He said he handled it, and I trust him.
Mam rushes in. “Declan!”
“I’m fine,” he says again. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’ve got this under control, okay?”
“Alright, but…” She shakes her head. “I thought you boys coming in the house with broken bones and blood dripping on the tile would have ended when you grew out of it. I guess not.”
“I’ve got this,” I mutter under my breath and take him into the study, where the medic quickly arrives—old Doc Sullivan, who’s been patching up our family for decades, no questions asked.
“What really happened?” I ask Declan in a low voice, while Ashland’s preoccupied on his phone, scowling. Declan gives me the full details. The ambush. The retaliation. The message Crowning’s trying to send.
