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He laughs loudly. “Ack, you Americans are bitta craic. My name’s Aidan.”
“Mike,” I reply, thankful when I hear Aidan do up his fly. He walks over to the sink to wash his hands. When I’m done, I join him.
“Ye can fight then?”
“You should see the other guy.” I whistle, lathering my hands with soap.
Aidan laughs, turning off the taps. And when he does, a crucifix tattooed on his left wrist catches my eye.
Time stands still.
I blink once, needing a moment to process what I’m seeing in case my eyes are playing tricks on me. But it’s there, bringing back a downpour of emotions.
Ma’s screams, her wheezing for breath, all of it comes crashing to the surface, threatening to drag me under and silence the memories for good.
But I need to hold it together because Aidan has something I want, something I’ve been looking for since I was five years old.
Answers…and his fucking head.
“Yes, I can fight, why?” I ask, needing to keep this conversation going. “You need someone to fight for you?”
Aidan dries his hands on the paper towel, appearing to weigh over my question. “Yer offering?”
Aidan is guarded, and so he should be. I would be suspicious if he welcomed me into his circle with open arms. But I will do anything to gain his trust because it’ll make what I plan to do to him wild craic. I am not going to merely kill him—I’m going to paint Dublin with his blood.
The door opens and the person who enters has me clenching my fist, but I need to calm down, as I can’t stir any suspicion.
“I thought ya fell in.”
Aidan laughs. “Ye know what happens when ya break the seal. Was just talkin’ to this nice fella. Liam, this is Mike from America.”
I have no idea why my nationality makes a difference, and right now, I don’t care because I was right—this fucker is Liam Doyle.
Liam eyes me closely. I wonder what he sees.
Once I finish drying my hands, I offer one to Liam. He looks down at it and eventually shakes it. When we connect, sheer fury overwhelms me, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to kill them both where they stand.
“How’s the form?” He asks how I am, but I play thick, seeing as I’m supposed to be American.
“How’s the what?”
A grin spreads across Liam’s bake. This was a test. And I passed.
“What happened to yer face?” he asks, looking at me closely.
“Oh. Someone had a smart mouth. I didn’t like it.” I don’t elaborate.
Aidan looks at Liam, clearly attempting to read what’s going on behind those cold blue eyes.
“Have a drink with us?” Liam phrased it as a question, but I know I don’t have a choice.
“Sure. Sounds good.”
Aidan chuckles, slapping me on the back like we’re old friends. If only he knew how I wish to break every bone in his body. We exit the jacks while Liam remains behind to take a piss. When Rory and Cian see me walk out with Aidan, their eyes widen, but they remain calm when they don’t sense any threat.
“These yer friends?” Aidan asks, as he clearly noticed us standing by them. He offers his hand, which both boys shake.
“Yeah, these are my boys,” I reply, ensuring they hear me speak with my American accent to alert them to think fast as they cannot be Irish.
