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Everyone answered to Aidan.
Then, each of his sons, and myself, spearheaded a certain aspect of the business.
We had men under us, men who answered to us, the joeys, the runners, and our captains, for example.
We weren’t as organized as the Russians with their military style hierarchy, but it made sense to us. It worked.
Donny was assigned to a captain on Aidan Jr.’s side of the business.
We were due to play poker soon, and I’d been hoping to win Donny by whooping Aidan’s ass. Just not soon enough to save him from being shot.
I backed up, letting Eoghan guide Donny in.
“What the fuck are you two doing together anyway?” I inquired as I led them both to one of the guest bedrooms. I knew Aoife was watching, but she kept quiet, so I wasn’t concerned.
This bedroom was one I’d made sure was ready for events such as this. The furniture was simple, easy to sterilize, and I had all the necessary shit required for on-the-go injuries. The upper ranks all had rooms in their home like this one—thankfully, they weren’t used that often.
“I was checking out something in Eoghan’s turf.”
“And I was bothered enough that when Donny asked for clearance, I tagged along. Good thing, too,” Eoghan grunted. “It’s a clean shot, but you’d still have bled out. Fucker hit his head when he went down.”
“You could be concussed!”
I winced when I heard those four words and turned around to see Aoife was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
“Aoife,” I warned, but she scowled at me.
“He could be concussed, Finn,” she repeated. “You need to get your head checked at the hospital.”
Eoghan, being Eoghan, grinned at her. “You’re a fiery wee thing tonight, Aoife.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Be careful you don’t get burned, then,” she retorted, making me and Eoghan snort.
I’d admit, I’d never seen this side of her before, and I was definitely intrigued. This was the third time she’d met Eoghan, but it was the first time she’d been this feisty in front of any of my brothers.
She stormed into the room and moved toward the trestle table where Eoghan had propped Donny up. It was like the kind you found at the doctor’s office.
Uneasily, she stared at the blood gushing through Donny’s shirt, and mumbled, “Where are the stitches?”
I gaped at her. “You’re not going to—”
“I’m a trained chef, Finn. I’ve sewn more flesh together than either of you have.”
That had me wrinkling my nose at her. “You have?” And she was a trained chef?
How the fuck had I not known that?
Well, I guess I’d been gorging on her food all this time, but still . . . shit. She was trained? I’d known she’d gone to college, though.
“Yes. I went to culinary school. I could probably cut up a body better than either of you, too.” She blew out a breath that had her bright-red bangs flopping on her forehead. “Why did that come out sounding proud?” she mumbled, more to herself than us.
“Well, that just gave me a hard-on,” Eoghan admitted, and I elbowed him in the side.
“Sick fuck,” I told him, then elbowed him harder when he grinned at me.
Aoife glowered at us both. “Well?”
I moved toward her when Eoghan grabbed a fresh towel and shoved it against Donny’s wound to stop the blood flow. Still surprised I’d mistaken college for culinary school, I told her, “Darlin’, Eoghan was a field med for the Rangers. He can handle this.”
