Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The lad’s come a long way.
He doesn’t even throw a sickie anymore at the smell of blood. He even did a few of these blokes in tonight, all on his own.
I’m proud of him, but I’ll never tell him so.
He went from having nothing to live for to becoming one of my closest brothers.
“How’s blondie?” I ask.
He looks away and shrugs.
“Don’t know.”
“Bullshite, ye don’t know.” I poke at him. “My sofa has been awful lonely this past week. Crow’s too, he says. So ye must be laying your head somewhere at night.”
“Yeah, okay,” Conor levels with me. “We had a thing. But then Crow went and hired her on as a dancer.”
Conor’s jaw is set, and the lad is pissed. But I can only laugh.
“Classic fucking Crow.”
Reaper nods in agreement.
“Sounds like he’s trying to give ye a wee push in the right direction.”
“Just pull a Fitzy,” I tell him. “Haul her off the stage and drag her down to the basement to show her who’s boss.”
“Don’t talk about my wife that way,” Ronan warns me.
I hold up my hands in surrender, but even Conor’s laughing now. We were all taking bets on how long it’d be before Fitzy finally broke. Now Crow’s scheming again with Conor, it seems.
He likes to say that his men do their best work when they’ve got a warm bed at home, but I think he’s just a romantic at heart.
My phone beeps, and it’s a text from Crow himself. His ears must’ve been itching.
“Gotta jet, lads,” I tell them. “Crow needs me back at Slainte. Ye got this sorted, or ye need me to send some help?”
“We’ve got it sorted,” Reaper answers me.
“Alright, lads. Catchya.”
“It won’t happen again,” the bloke tells me. “Please.”
“Ye’re right about that,” I agree. “But I still have to break your arm.”
“I have a wife and kids at home,” he pleads.
“Then you’ll be just as useless to them as ye are now.”
Fecking prick.
“I’ve got some money,” he says. “Whatever you want. Here, take my Rolex.”
“I don’t want your bloody Rolex,” I tell him. “I want you to respect the rules of this establishment, which ye clearly didn’t. And now ye need to quit your bitching and moaning and take it like a man.”
I reach for his arm and he tries to scramble away.
“Would ye rather lose some fingers, then?” I ask.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Ye stuck your hand in her knickers. She’s got no reason to lie about that.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize it wasn’t that kind of club. She’s a stripper… so I just thought…”
“Ye just thought she’d take a free ride on your dick because you told her to, aye?”
“It’s not like that.”
“This is how it’s like,” I tell him. “Ye came into our establishment. And ye touched one of our women without her permission. And that stripper? She’s also a mother. A damn good one at that. She works her arse off to put food on the table, believe it or not. It’s not for the love of cock.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
The bloke just doesn’t get it, but they never do.
If there’s one thing I won’t abide by, it’s this kind of shite. My mammy raised me to be respectful of women. Even though my father was anything but. I didn’t stand for it then, and I’m not going to stand for it now.
“Look, ye have two choices,” I lay it out for him. “Fingers or arm. The arm will heal, eventually. But ye can’t grow fingers back.”
He doesn’t answer me, and I’ve grown tired of him already. So I grab hold of his arm and yank this time. It snaps in two, with a fair amount of squealing on his part.
“All sorted. Thanks for stopping by.”
* * *
When I walk into the office, Crow’s there with his wife and baby daughter. I steal Keeva off Mack’s hip to give her some cuddles.
“Get your own kid,” Mack tells me.
“Nah, I like this one. Think I’ll just keep her for a wee bit.”
“How’d it go?” Crow asks.
“All sorted,” I tell him.
Even though Mack’s trustworthy, and she’s married to the boss, we still don’t discuss details in front of her. The less the wives know, the better. For their own protection.
I take a seat on the sofa and bounce Keeva in my arms while she tries to grab at my nose. Both Mack and Crow are watching us, the way that most parents do, with silly smiles on their faces.
“Are ye up for the task of babysitting next week?” Crow asks. “Mack’s been after me to take her out on a date.”
“Anytime,” I tell them.
I’m the brother’s go to babysitter, believe it or not. I don’t mind it. They know their kids are safer with me than they’d ever be anywhere else.
A shadow falls over the doorway, and it’s not unusual, since Crow’s office always has someone poking their head in. But when I look up, what I don’t expect to see is Scarlett. I rub at the back of my neck and study her carefully. Something must be wrong.