My stomach growled, and the bad mood that had been hanging around the edges of my night really didn’t want to quit, but this was kind of funny, so I ended up snickering all over again. Rowen caught my eye and some of the flush on his face faded.
Tadgh tried smiling up at Rowen again. “I really am sorry. But ya know, I did what I was told. There are ten guys here who would like a starting spot in the Company.” His words lilted with an Irish accent, but since I heard Rowen all the time these days, I could tell it had been a while since Tadgh had lived in Ireland. His parents had probably brought him here because he was also younger than me. Tadgh used both hands to point at the men who all waved at Rowen as he turned to survey them. “They’ve been vetted, and they’re waiting for you,” he said in a rush, then another begging smile quirked his lips. “Please don’t shoot me.”
Most of the guys sitting around stared at us with wide eyes and looked like they were still in high school. Rowen must’ve been thinking the same thing because as soon as he let go of Tadgh, he spun toward the closest man and sighed. “How old are ye, lad?”
“Eighteen,” he said, but his voice quavered, and I wasn’t sure he was telling the truth.
When Rowen glared at Tadgh, he only shrugged.
“Hey, are you Padraig’s brother? You look just like him!” someone nearby called, and that had happened at the last place we’d stopped, too.
My stomach curdled and I felt a little nauseated as I nodded at a man in a Jets cap. “Yeah.”
He sat up straighter and his smile disappeared, which had me holding in a groan. Obviously he’d run across my brother and expected me to be just as much of an asshole as him.
Another man hopped to his feet, but he was a bit wobbly, and when he got closer, he reeked like he’d bathed in vodka. Rowen’s frown was beginning to slip into the expression he wore when Cillian had pushed him too far by being a jerk.
The man stuck his hand out at me and grinned. “Hi, I’m Andre Bellach.” A cute pair of dimples dug into his cheeks. “Your dad told me to come over here tonight because Mr. Killough is recruiting.” He slung his arm around my shoulders. “So, what do you say? Am I Company material?”
“I say—” Rowen wasn’t gentle as he grabbed Andre’s wrist and lifted his arm from around me, slinging it to his side again. How had he gotten over here so quickly? “—that the lot of ye need to shut yer gobs and listen. Ye should’ve had more sense than to be drinking while ye waited for me, bar or not.” He crossed his arms, and the entire roomful of men looked like he’d just kicked a puppy. They stared at him with shiny eyes as if his suit made him a completely different type of human from them. Tadgh hid a mug of beer he must’ve stolen from someone else behind his back when Rowen settled a glare on him again, and if I’d been feeling better, I would’ve laughed about it.
As the silence stretched out, Rowen shook his head. “Good. Now pay attention, lads. Things are getting serious in the city. Mr. Killough needs men who are loyal and aren’t afraid of a good fight. Men who want to follow orders and use their brains as much as their guns.”
“Only men?” someone piped up.
Rowen glanced around, and standing in one corner was a woman in jeans and a New York Rangers jersey. She was tall, had short hair, and approximately about as many fucks to give as Rowen seemed to own at the moment. I liked her, especially when she smirked and Rowen had no idea what to do.
He let out a long breath. “I don’t know that there’s any rule excluding women.” He glanced at me, and I shrugged. “Ye want a spot?”
“Yes,” she said, and her jaw hardened.
“No one’s gonna treat ye easier on the street,” Rowen said, but I didn’t think he was trying to be an asshole, just let her know the deal.
She shrugged. “Yeah, so what?”
“Can’t guarantee no promotions, either. This isn’t a bank.”
She straightened and jutted her chin. “And?”
He nodded at her. “And everyone, listen up,” he said, and she grinned at him. “The higher up the ladder ye go, the more Mr. Killough expects. This isn’t a game. Anyone who isn’t ready for more responsibility, leave.” He hooked a thumb at the door and waited.
No one moved.
“They’re all good ones here, Rowen. Put them to work.” Tadgh nodded and sipped his beer before grunting and slipping it behind his back again. Rowen narrowed his eyes, and Tadgh flushed. “Jamie said to put me wherever ya need me. He said to listen to ya.”
“That’s right, we’re ready to go,” Andre said from his seat on the couch to our left.
“Okay, we’re gonna put ye in teams.” Rowen clapped his hands and gazed around. “I want ye all reporting to Mr. Maher, who runs Rockaway for Mr. Killough.” There was a general cheer, and I leaned against the wall, my mood getting fouler as I listened to Rowen give the same explanation of what he wanted everyone to do for the sixth,no, the seventh time tonight.
This sucked. I wanted to be back at the mansion, but technically this—and crap like it—was what I’d always been meant to do in the Company.
It took almost a half hour before Rowen seemed to be satisfied that everyone here knew what they were supposed to be doing, and when he was done yapping, he turned and studied my face. He looked good, gray suit jacket pushed back from his crisp white shirt as he rested his hands on his hips, and his gun peeked out at me—not the one I wanted to see, though. I grinned around the headache that began to thump behind my eyes.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, stepping closer to me. “Tadgh has it.”
I nodded, and he took my hand, tugging me toward the door. Tadgh was talking too loud, clearly drunk, and the obnoxious volume of his voice had me more irritable than ever. The bar seemed twice as dark after the bright room. We went down the stairs and across the packed dance floor toward the doors, and by the time we reached Rowen’s Lexus in the parking lot I was seriously dragging ass.
Rowen frowned at me and opened the passenger-side door, and I flopped into the seat, letting my eyes drift shut.
