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“Who is hurting your sister?” he repeated, as desperation and frustration fused together inside of him.
This fucker cared.
He cared an awful lot.
“Is it those pricks from school?” he pushed. “Was it them? Those girls?” His voice cracked and he took a deep breath before asking, “Is she hurting herself?” His eyes hardened like blue steel when he hissed, “Are you hurting her?”
All I could do in this moment was arch a brow. He had some pair on him to say that to my face, and the only reason I wasn’t gunning for blood for the hideous fucking accusation was because his feelings for my sister were written all over his face.
“Lad, you better start talking because brother or no brother, I will kick your ass.”
He could try.
Johnny Kavanagh might have the upper hand in the physical stakes, but I had a feeling that a fella as stable and sound of mind as him, having grown up in a home like this, never had to fight for survival quite like I had.
He’d been raised like a fucking prince, with countless portraits and pictures of him adorning the walls of his family home, while I’d been born into hell and dragged up on the streets.
There was a killer instinct required to survive as far as I had, and that meant it didn’t matter how much of an underdog I ranked in a fight. The only way that I would ever back down or quit was if my heart stopped beating. So, if he planned on throwing down with me, he needed to be prepared to kill me because I would never stop getting back up.
Not for my father.
Not for him.
Not for any other fucker on this planet.
The fact that it was genuine concern for my sister that evoked his threatening behavior had me keeping my head in a way that was unheard of for me. Still, something deep inside of me instructed me to do it.
He wasn’t the enemy.
Not today, at least.
“You’ll need to talk to Shannon,” I finally said. “I can’t give you the answers you want.”
“Yes, you can,” Kav shot back, imploring me with his eyes to speak up. “Just open your mouth and talk!”
“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t and I won’t. If she trusts you enough, she’ll tell you. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t. Either way, it’s not my call.”
“Not your call?” He looked incensed at that. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” I bit out. “It means that it’s not my call. But I can assure you that I have never put my hands on my sister. Or any woman, for that matter.”
“I want to know what’s going on here, Lynch. If she’s being bullied or some shit like that, then I can help. I can fix this if you just tell me.”
“You can fix this?”
“For her?” He nodded vehemently. “Absolutely.”
“You like her.” I tilted my head to one side, studying him. “Maybe even more than like her.”
He didn’t deny it.
Good.
Another tick for him.
“I want to know what’s happened,” he tried to reason. “I need to.”
Maybe his buddy was right about this lad sticking around. His words certainly displayed a level of permanence.
