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Cian’s eyes widen. He understands the importance of that comment.
“Wise up!” Rory frantically utters, always the level thinker of us three. “I thought ya said nice and quick? This is not either of those things. With yer temper, Punky, this will end badly.”
And he’s right.
I just never thought I’d find myself in a situation such as this. I didn’t know what I expected to find coming here, but I need to know why the Doyles’ pub address was locked away in my da’s drawer.
Just as I’m about to exit the pub, Erin grabs my arm. I refrain from recoiling, but only just.
“Where ya going with my brother?” she asks, eyes darting to the doorway where Liam has stopped to talk to some bird.
“Oh, Liam is your brother?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Aye, and he’s someone ya don’t want to be messin’ with. Please, just go home.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the heads-up,” I reply, surprised that she seems genuine.
“Jaysus,” she mutters under her breath, reminding me why I’m here. “Mind yerself.”
Nodding, I don’t faff about and leave Erin behind as the boys and I follow Aidan and Liam around the corner. They walk casually, hinting nothing is wrong. We’re just a bunch of mates, out for a casual dander.
But whatever faces me, I know won’t be good.
When we turn down an alley, things become real. A big lad is waiting for us. Cian and Rory come to a sudden stop while I merely take a close look at him, wanting to know who he is.
“This is my brother, Hugh,” Liam reveals. The luck of the Irish seems to be true for me tonight because I’ve just met the three Doyle siblings.
I can see why Hugh has the reputation that he has. He’s built like a brick shithouse. The scar across his left cheek adds to his hard appearance. His eyes are dark. His head shaved.
“What’s up?” I casually say while Hugh snickers when he hears I’m “American.”
“Some neck on ya bringing this bleedin’ clown to me.”
This cunt has opted to use slang with the belief that I won’t understand him. But I understand him, all right.
Liam ignores Hugh and turns to me with a predatory smile. “Think ya can take him?”
I take a moment, pretending to size him up. I don’t want to appear too arrogant, but with confidence, I take off my glasses and unthread my tie, giving them to Cian for safekeeping. He looks at me, scared.
“That’s the way!” Liam exclaims, clapping wildly.
Hugh grins, before taking off his T-shirt. The dim lighting in the entryway allows me to see the many scars across his chest. This fucker is a hard nut.
“So, what’re the rules?” I ask, keeping my focus on Hugh who bounces on the spot, cracking his neck from side to side.
“Don’t die,” Liam replies with a laugh, before Hugh advances and throws the first punch.
Instantly, I dodge his attack and belt him in the ribs. A pained hiss leaves him, but he’s soon to recover and launches an onslaught of punches. He connects with my chin, then my cheek. My head snaps back, the warm metallic taste of blood fueling the devil within me.
This is my dream come true—spilling Doyle blood.
We circle one another as Hugh suddenly realizes I can fight. His cocky attitude soon fades, and he focuses on winning something he thought was already won. He dives on top of me, but I kick him in the guts, sending him tumbling backward. My sensei would be proud.
I don’t hesitate and pin him to the ground as I connect with his face repeatedly. The sound, the feel, it’s all too much, and a savage rush of adrenaline courses through my body, fueling the fire in my stomach. My knuckles and my face are coated in blood, and I want more.
The back of Hugh’s head slams into the hard ground, and I know with a few more digs, he’ll go down for good. He desperately tries to fight me off, and when he grips my shirt in his fists, he soon gets the chance.
I don’t know why, but I take a juke at his wrist and what I see has me losing focus—a crucifix is tattooed on his left wrist.
