“You old goat, I was waiting for you to sit down.” Martha took her time walking over and handed him a cup, which he accepted without thanks.
Matty had already turned his attention to Olivia, who had risen from the sofa when they arrived.
“Hi, I’m Matty.” He stuck his hand out.
“Olivia.” She shook his hand with a warm smile. “I’ve heard good things about you.”
“Really?” His face lit up and he looked over at Eli. “You talked about me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Eli muttered.
“Too late.” Matty beamed at Olivia. “So, you’re Eli’s True Mate? That’s awesome. Congrats to both of you.” He said it with such genuine warmth that even Eli couldn’t find a reason to be annoyed. “Have we met before? You look really fam?—”
His pocket buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then didn’t stop.
“Oh, crap.” Matty dug out his phone, his eyes going wide as notifications lit up the screen. “Uh, so … I might have texted a few people.”
“Define ‘a few,’” Sloane said.
“Like … everyone?” He held up his phone, wincing. “They all want to see you guys. Both of you. Tommy says to come to Doyle’s tonight.”
“Doyle’s?” Olivia looked to Eli, her eyebrows drawn together.
“Irish pub,” he said. “The clan’s spot.”
Matty scrolled through his phone, thumbs moving at light speed. “Yeah, everyone’s saying they’ll be there. Danny texted too.”
Eli and Sloane exchanged a glance at the name and the confirmation that the former bodyguard didn’t flee after Ronan was captured.
“Sounds like a party,” Jacob said, his tone easy, though Eli caught the way his posture shifted. He’d noticed the look too.
“What do you think?” Sloane asked Eli.
There was no way around it. This was what they came here for. “Yeah. Let’s go.” At least this way, they could just tell their story in one go and not have to keep the details straight.
“Awesome! I’ll drive us?—”
“We have our own car,” Eli said. “And I don’t think I’m ready to get in any vehicle with you, Matty.”
The younger man chortled. “My wheelman days are over, Eli. I drive a delivery truck for Shaws now. And I got a girlfriend too. I want you to meet her.” He looked at Olivia. “Both of you.”
“That sounds lovely.” Once again, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed. This time, there was no awkwardness. In fact, the gesture and her closeness felt much more natural and he managed to relax.
“C’mon, c’mon,” groused Patrick as he hauled himself out of the armchair. “I thought I was the old fart here. You’re all moving like you got cement in your shoes. Doyle’s opens soon and I want my booth.”
“You have a booth?” Olivia asked.
“He has a booth,” Martha, Sloane, Matty, and Eli said at the same time.
Patrick was already halfway to the door.
Chapter 7
On the drive over, they went through the plan one more time. They would tell the same story they told Martha, sticking close to the truth, with as little elaboration as possible.
Unlike the New York Clan, which had The Enclave, a massive complex on the Upper West Side where Lycans lived, the Boston Clan had no central hub. Its members were scattered across Southie, Dorchester, Charlestown, and the surrounding suburbs. Anything official that had to do with the clan, Ronan dealt with at his office in the docks. But Doyle’s had been the closest thing to common ground. It was a narrow, wood-paneled pub wedged between a laundromat and a barbershop on a side street in Southie. The owner, a human named Pete Doyle, had known exactly what Ronan was—the local mob boss who kept the neighborhood in line. In exchange for an envelope of cash every month and keeping other bad elements out, Pete let the crew and the rest of the clan use the back room and never asked questions.
Jacob found a spot on the street a block down and they made their way toward their destination. Even from far away, Eli could see the warm glow from the pub’s windows and figures millingaround inside. By the time they reached Doyle’s, Matty was already waiting by the entrance, waving them over. “Hurry up, everyone’s here!”
