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But over the years, as the men have married off, the single men of the Clan have dwindled. It’d go to your head if you let it, knowing that the women here are eager to be with one of us. Boner takes full advantage. Though I haven’t been here lately, I’m told it isn’t unusual to find him with not one woman but two on his arm, sometimes more.
I polish off my pint, throw a tip in the jar for Rafferty, who gives me a thankful nod, and I jerk my chin to Tully. “I’ll join you,” I tell him. “But no woman for me tonight.”
Maybe tonight it’ll satisfy me just to get a whiff of what my brothers like.
“Good lad,” Tully says, smacking my back in approval so hard I nearly lose my footing. He rises, and we walk to the entrance at the back. “And anyway,” Tully says, sobering. “Is it true that Keenan’s got you going to Boston?”
“Aye.”
And we did, making very specific plans for me to join up with Tiernan and solidify our alliance with the Boston connection. I’ll do what my Chief tells me. I’ve sworn a blood oath to do just that. But my heart is here in Ballyhock.
When we enter the back, the lights dim, and music filters through speakers overhead. The smell of drink and sex is thick in the air, and I won’t deny it appeals to me. But I can’t lose control. A man of the Clan doesn’t have that luxury. Still, a little stress relief appeals deeply.
“Boner’s wasted no time,” Tully mutters approvingly. Boner’s got a pretty girl on each arm. They’re dressed in skintight black latex, and he’s taking them down the hall to the private rooms. A part of me is jealous of him, of his ability to dive right into something pleasurable and satisfying, to not take anything too fucking seriously.
And didn’t a part of that used to be me? Tully used to say “Lach’s your man, the first with a joke or to light up your smoke.”
But the days leading up to Fiona’s birthday fell like petals from a flower, one by one, and with each passing day, a part of me sobered.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Fiona.
I feel like a damn boy, the way my heart pumps harder and my palms get all sweaty. I swallow hard. I’ve learned to master damn near everything in my life. Why is my infatuation with her the one thing I can’t?
Thanks so much for the locket. It’s lovely. xxx
I stare at those little x’s lined up in a row for far too bloody long.
“Oh my God.” A decidedly feminine voice comes from my left. I look over to see who spoke, but I don’t recognize the tall brunette. She wears a violet sheath dress so tight it looks like a second skin, her full breasts nearly spilling out over the top, and thick platform heels. I suppose one could say she’s lovely. But to me, not in the least.
“Hello there,” Tully says, and she gives him a pleasant enough smile, but it’s me she’s eyeing. She walks over to me, a drink in hand, her eyes promising wicked things.
“Hello,” she says. “I know you.”
I eye her curiously. I don’t recognize her at all, but to be honest, to me most women are forgettable.
Once you’ve seen perfection, it’s hard to see anything else.
“Hello.” I shouldn’t be here. I have no interest in any of these women, and the thought of a one-night stand or even a blow job feels somehow empty. Even though I haven’t had a really, really good fuck in ages, my appetite isn’t easily sated. I know this. I feel this. And yet…
I look away from her, and even think she goes away because I don’t hear anything for a moment. I chuckle to myself Boner opens a door and sidles in with his little harem.
I jump when I feel a hand on my arm. “This is mob ink.” I pull away from the woman’s touch. The brunette with the violet dress stands right beside me, her eyes widening in surprise at the way I flinched.
“Sorry to scare you,” she says. “It is, isn’t it?”
My body tenses, and I clench my jaw. “It’s what?”
“Mob ink.”
I barely contain my scorn. There’s McCarthy Clan ink, O’Gregor ink, Martin ink and the like, but I’ll not be lumped into the mob as easily as all that. The McCarthy Clan is respectable and powerful, and worthy of the recognition of that title. The others are not.
“There’s no such thing as fucking mob ink.”
She furrows her brow and takes a sip of amber liquid. “I thought you were one of them.” She reaches out a finger again to my arm, and I turn abruptly away, anger rising in me so harshly I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. I don’t want her to touch me. I don’t want her to talk to me. I never should’ve let Tully bring me back here.
