Page 3 of Banshee

“I believe you, Sis,” he said. “But you’re here now, so why not let us help you?”

She didn’t answer his question, just kept right on with her story as if she hadn’t even heard his offer. There would be no way that she’d accept it. Lil wouldn’t let her brother help her because that would mean risking his family—her family, and she wouldn’t allow that.

“I didn’t know who to trust or where to turn for help, so I grabbed my passport, packed my bags, and got on a plane. I flewhere hoping to find Cian, but I realized that America is a much bigger place than I’d ever imagined, so I gave up on that fantasy and decided to look you up. I brought Ma’s old letters, that you sent home, with me, and they gave this place as your contact address. I had no idea it was a biker bar,” she said. “I guess I was clueless about a lot of things,” she whispered more to herself.

“Lil,” Savage said. “You don’t know me. Hell, you don’t really know your brother, but I can tell you that coming to us for help was your best idea yet. This is what we do here at the Royal Bastards. My little club is called Savage Hell, and I can promise you that we’ll find whoever is after you and your friend, Cian, and give them hell. You won’t have to run anymore, not with our help.” Hearing Savage’s pretty promises made her want to agree to his offer, but she also knew that the people who were after her would stop at nothing to find Cian and if that meant using her and the people that she cared about to do it, they would.

“You’d be putting yourselves and your families at risk by helping me,” she said.

“I’ve already told you that Cillian is my family and that makes you family too, Lil. We take care of our own and there is no way that we’ll let that group of thugs from Ireland anywhere near you. But first, I think that we need to track down your friend, Cian.”

“How the hell will you do that?” she asked. Her accent was always a little more pronounced when she was pissed off. “He didn’t come to America to be found. I’m sure he’s found a way to go off-grid and that’s exactly what I should do. It will just be safer for everyone that way.”

“No fecking way,” Cillian growled. “You’re staying with me, and Vivian, and I won’t take no for an answer. You came to me for help, Lil. Let me help you. Besides, I think it’s time for my kids to meet their Auntie Lil.”

“You know, it’s very unfair of you to use your children against me, Cillian,” she grumbled.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

What other choice did she have? He was right, she had come all this way, and he was her last option, not that she’d tell him that. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Great,” Cillian said. He stood and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Viv and let her know to make up the guest room.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you both,” she said, looking over at Savage.

“You’re welcome, Lil. Welcome to the family,” Savage said. He stood and crossed his tiny office, pulling her up from the sofa and into a bear hug, nearly squeezing the life out of her.

“Savage,” she gasped.

“Yeah?” he asked, still holding her in a bear hug.

“I can’t breathe,” she choked. He laughed and put her back down on the ground.

“Sorry about him,” Cillian said, putting his cell phone back into his pocket. “You’ll get used to him though. Viv said that she can’t wait to meet you. I’m going to head out, man,” he said to Savage. “Sorry about church.”

“Not a problem,” Savage said, slapping her brother on the shoulder. “Family comes first.” Lil wondered if they would feel the same way when one of their family members brought trouble straight to their doorstep because she was pretty sure that was what would eventually happen.

Cian

Cian Walsh woke to the sound of the garbage truck driving by, and he nearly fell off the makeshift cot he had rigged to sleep on. He was exhausted, but that was nothing new for him. He had felt that way since leaving Ireland over two months ago. At least, he thought it was about two months ago since he lost track of days and even hours while living life on the run. And it was his fault that he had to run. He was an idiot—first class and had no one else to blame but himself.

He’d gone and gotten himself involved with the “wrong crowd” as his Ma used to say. His only saving grace was that she and his Da were no longer around to watch him completely feck up his life. He’d heard the rumors, that he was being hunted, and that showing his face again would only get him and everyone he cared about killed. The joke was on them though—there wasn’t anyone like that in his life. He only cared about one woman, and she had no idea how he felt—and now, she never would. Telling Lil that he wanted her could never happen now, and even though that felt like a punch to the gut, it was the only way he’d be able to keep her safe. Lilianna deserved at least his protection in allof this, but he left her unwatched in Ireland, hoping that no one else would have picked up on his feelings for her. If anyone from the Dead Rabbits found out that he was in love with Lilianna James, there would be no stopping them from going after her.

That’s what the gang called themselves—the Dead Rabbits, after the New York City gang of Irish mobsters who ruled the streets back in the late eighteen hundreds. They thought that they were clever, naming themselves after a gang of Irish prohibitioners, but what they were doing was so much worse. What the Dead Rabbits did in Dublin played a major contribution to the meth problems plaguing his home city.

Cian thought that putting food in his belly and a roof over his head was worth selling his soul to the devil, but he was wrong. When he joined the Dead Rabbits, they assured him that what he’d be doing for them would be on the up and up. They said that he’d be delivering packages of supplies to their vendors, and they made it sound like he’d be working for the postal service. But the job paid a whole lot more than the postal service did and he should have known even then that he was getting into something that he shouldn’t. Once he realized that he was essentially running drugs for one of the biggest mob organizations in Ireland, he tried to get out, and that was when he was told that there was only one way to get out—in a body bag. That’s when he took off. He’d heard through the grapevine that the Dead Rabbits were looking for him, and their threat to kill him and everyone he cared about if he ever showed his face again in Dublin. That’s when he decided that a fresh start in America might be in order. He got on a plane and never looked back.

He wanted to call back home to a few old friends and ask about Lil, but he also didn’t want to give away the fact that she was important to him. Cian knew that doing so would defeat his whole purpose of coming to America to keep her safe, so hedidn’t give into temptation, as much as he wanted to. He needed to put her in his rearview and forget that he had ever met her.

For now, He wanted to find a job and with little to no work experience, he wasn’t sure what he was qualified for. Cian was pretty sure that his skills running illegal drugs might not land him his dream job in America, so he decided to start small. He searched online for hours every day and was even willing to move to a new town to find work, but the task was nearly impossible. Most days, he found himself giving up and just playing video games or screwing around on his social media accounts. He had set up a new account with an alias and he was sure that no one would figure out it was him. He’d used a nickname that Lil had given him when she was just a young girl. She liked to call him “Sleeveless” because he, unfortunately, chose to wear those stupid muscle shirts without sleeves. He thought that it showed off his muscles, but he was fooling himself. They only showcased his scrawny arms and kids made fun of him for wearing those shirts. He couldn’t do much about that since he didn’t have the money to just purchase new shirts. His mother was dirt poor, trying to raise him, feed him, and keep a roof over his head after his father died. She had her hands full and there was no way that he’d whine about needing new shirts.

He scrolled around on his social media page and when he found a friend request, he leerily opened it. It was from someone named Banshee and he wanted to laugh because that was what he used to call Lil. He used to like to say that she was as loud as a Banshee and would probably drive him mad or deaf with her screeching.

He accepted Banshee’s friend request and a private message popped up on the screen. It was from her, and Cian was beginning to wonder just who this Banshee was. “Worried about you,” it said. “Get in touch. I’ve followed you here.” He quicklyclosed the page and turned off his phone, as if the social media site had offended him in some way.

“Who the hell?” he whispered to himself. Had someone followed him from home, or was someone fucking with him, trying to lure him out of hiding? Cian knew that the only way he’d find out was to ask.

He turned his phone back on and opened his page back up, quickly finding the private message. “Who is this?” he asked point-blank. He knew that a response might take hours to days but when he saw the three little bubbles in the comment, he knew that he was about to have his answer.

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