“I ran. Sorry, Walsh,” I mumble, running with the wholeI’m basically uselessthing he’s already thinking for himself.
“We’re friends, it’s good,” he says, extending his hands as he closes the distance. He drops his height, crouching the last few steps to peer into my face.
I turn slightly, letting him get a glance into my eyes before I drop them intentionally. “I know you, but not the other Alphas here. It’s a bit much.” I let my words flow like what happens when you get rattled. “But I called earlier because I didn’t want to cause any issues or make you think I’d stolen from you. I… I… I got the money from the till from last night. It was all I thought of doing before I had to run. Sorry, Walsh.”
My voice falls away at the end, my hands twisting in anxiety, and he falls for it hook, line, and sinker.
“You got the money? Wow, Tally, you really were thinking of me, huh?” He rubs a hand over my back, leading me towards the others. “See, I knew we could trust her, lads. None of the others grabbed the money. She’s got your best interests at heart.”
There are grunts of agreement before one of them clears his throat. “You probably should have let Walsh know you’re Rosie Murphy, Oscar’s family.”
I gasp, twisting around to look at the Alpha speaking. His scent is like crushed almonds. Not nice, like what they fill almond croissants with. His is so bitter, it makes my throat close up like I’m choking.
“Do you know Oscar?” I ask, keeping my eyes down so they don’t see the flame of excitement that I might finally be on the right track.
“We can talk about him another time. What’s more important is that you should have told us.”
“Told you what? That I’m related to Oscar? Maybe I should have, but I wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. And I wasn’t sure if telling you would make my life harder than it already is.”
There’s a hum of noise from everyone joining us this morning. And it sounds a lot like understanding.
“Oscar’s here?” I ask again, being pushier than I should, but I offset it by keeping myself small and submissive.
I knew Walsh was a door into something, and now it seems he might just come through. In more ways than one. The people study me carefully without speaking. When I walked in, I didn’t realize how many people were in the room, but it’s pretty much all the “guests” from last night, as well as a few other familiar faces.
“How about we let you go home and get some rest, Rosie,” the new Alpha says without introducing himself.
I bite my nail, looking up at him. “I go by Tally now. Is that okay? I mean, I’m still a Murphy—that hasn’t changed.”
“That’s fine. Tally, these men here are important,” Walsh says, taking control, but it’s not because he’s the strongest. Morethat he talks because he’s the lackey, the one who runs after and does the bidding of the men leaning against the bar.
I nod, smiling but not really looking at them properly in the eyes.
“This is Mr. Black, Mr. Doyle, and the Fanning brothers. Plus Mr. Kelly. If they ask you to be doing something, I expect you to treat them like you would our VIPs. Right?”
“Of course.” I nod again, because it’s an easy way to appear coy, malleable.
And despite it being completely the wrong time to think about it, the ring and the few words the Alpha of the O’Connor said last night flashes like a camera bulb in my mind. I blink his delusion away and refocus all my attention here.
Mr. Kelly’s eyes are locked on my face, but I keep my eyes trained at the ground. “She’s a good lass. You can call me Des or Mr. Kelly, whichever you prefer. Black goes by Black. Mr. Doyle is Patrick.” I look up but not at their faces. “And this here is Sean Fanning and his brother is James.”
“Okay,” I agree quietly.
He’s nodding at me, though his eyes are on Walsh. “Call her a fucking cab, man. She’s dead on her feet.”
Walsh reaches over the bar to use the work phone, and I unzip my bag and pull out the bundles of cash I collected. In the scheme of things, there’s not a lot to hand over, if you compare it to the millions of pounds the crime world generates hourly, but in this world, loyalties are infinitely more valuable.
“How ’bout you sit down and have a drink of Coke, maybe. You’re looking peaky,” the Alpha who called himself Mr. Kelly says.
He clicks his fingers at Walsh, and Walsh grabs a Coke from the fridge, putting it in front of me. “On the house, Tally.”
So generous. The Alpha, one of the Fannings, scoffs at Walsh, echoing my sentiments exactly. It’s a stretch, but not bymuch, to assume these Alphas are higher up the food chain. How high, only time will tell.
There’s a car horn from outside, and Walsh gets up to walk me out, but the other Alpha beats him. He doesn’t touch me, thank God, but he hovers close. I stumble—this time it’s not put on—and he claps his hands around my waist to catch me falling. His grip is right over the wound, and I have to clench my jaw not to squeal in pain or start crying.
It’s one thing having scrapes and bruises, but stab wounds aren’t something I want these people knowing about.
He keeps his hand on my side like he’s got every right. I struggle not to slap it off me.
