“That’s from my private stock. Macallan 1926. I hope you enjoy it.”
A man sauntered towards us as he spoke, his arm wrapped securely around the waist of a beautiful woman dressed to the nines. There was an air of superiority about them, a confidence, like their shit didn’t stink. He was taller than Mac by about an inch, sandy blond hair perfectly coifed with styling product, blue eyes and straight white teeth. Handsome in a stuck-up, small dick way that reeked of overcompensation.
The woman was the exact opposite. Dark complexed with inky brunette hair pulled neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes, which were as black as night, held no real warmth in their depths until they landed appraisingly on my date. They sparked with a calculating gleam that was only obvious to me. It was a woman thing. She wanted Mac badly. Damn the fact that her date stood next to her, lust glowed from her like a beacon.
The two of them belonged on a postcard one would send from a summer vacation. His hand held a glass of the same amber liquid that was offered to Mac. Something in the exchange of looks screamed familiarity and history amongst the three of them. Not outwardly hostile, but not overly friendly either. The man wore a sinister smile, while his woman looked as if she had swallowed a hornet’s nest.
“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t baby MacCabe,” he offered by way of greeting.
“O’Brien.” Mac tensed at the moniker but tipped his hand holding the drink.
I gulped at the sound of his name.
O’Brien, the shitbag.
“This is a pleasant surprise. You boys aren’t open tonight?” He inclined his head while waiting for an answer.
“We’re open. Thought I’d take the night off, see what all the fuss was about,” Mac replied.
A strong arm was placed around my shoulders, steadying me before I toppled over with dread. Mac must’ve sensed my distress, or perhaps he too needed an anchor. So, this was the asshole who’d tacked a dead fish to my door in the middle of the night? He didn’t seem so tough.
“You remember my wife, Bella, don’t you, MacCabe?” He indicated the sour-faced woman at his side. “I believe the two of you are old friends, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Bella,” Mac clipped.
“Darragh.” She smirked. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Ugh. Her voice made me want to rip out her hair from the root. All sexy and sultry like, the way she said pleasure with an emphasis on the Pl. How dare she name-fuck him as if I weren’t standing here right in front of her face.
“And who is this gorgeous creature at your side tonight?” O’Brien asked, addressing me.
Think of something witty.
Think of something witty.
“I’m Odie, Darragh’s freak of the week and hired sex slave. Pleased to meet you both.”
I actually curtseyed.
Jesus, take the wheel.
Booming laughter filled the space between us as O’Brien fought to maintain his composure. Bella, the cow, scoffed in disgust at her husband’s reaction. She looked even more put out than when they’d first walked up, if that were even possible. If I were being petty, which I’d been known to be, I would’ve reached down and grabbed Mac by the cock as a sign of ownership. Palmed that shit in my fist like ripened fruit, checking for freshness.
I held back.
Maybe next time.
“Do you mind if I borrow your date, MacCabe?” O’Brien stepped away from his wife and offered me his arm. “I’d like to personally give her the grand tour of the place, show her all the amenities we have to offer our invited guests.”
Geez…what’s with the invited guest bullshit?
I glanced at my date before slowing accepting his gracious gesture. If Mac had any objections, he never voiced them as the two of us disappeared into the crowd. O’Brien’s plan was obviously to get me alone, but why? Would he try and pump me for information on Mac’s underground fight club? Offer me cash to spill trade secrets he thought I was privy to? Threaten my life if I refuse to work for him? You could learn a lot by watching, Mac had said, so that was exactly what I did.
He exuded power in his purposeful strides, all pomp and circumstance, yet there was a vulnerability in his gaze, a longing for something just out of reach. I recognized the trait in myself so very often, it wasn’t hard to gauge. He pointed out a few areas of interest while introducing me to a few of the patrons as his special guest. The pretense ended the minute we were finally alone, as I knew it eventually would.
“So, how long have you known Darragh MacCabe, Odie? The two of you make quite the handsome couple, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he pointed out as we stepped towards a hideaway nearest the ring.
“Not as long as your wife has, I assure you, Mr. O’Brien.”
“So, you know the history of their relationship, then?” he gently probed.
“Nope, afraid I don’t…but I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me.”
He hesitated for a moment, almost sheepish at my cut-the-shit attitude.
“I like you, Odie, so yes, I think I will tell you,” he announced with a click of his tongue. “They were lovers. In fact, I would go so far as to say they were in love with each other. But I’m sure you’ve already figured that out by now.”
“Yeah, your wife didn’t exactly try and hide it. I could smell the smoke coming from her underwear. Is that the real reason we’re on this little stroll? Trying to warn me about Mac’s player ways before I get my heart broken? Believe me, there’s zero chance of that happening, bucko, so save the drama for your momma.”
A curtain of sadness fell over his eyes before he swept it way. “We weren’t in love when I asked her to marry me. She agreed for…diplomatic reasons. Darragh was tossed aside, and we were happily living our lives amongst the Boston elite. Recently, things started to change.” He paused, hesitant about what he wanted to say next. “You see, Odie, MacCabe somehow managed to make a name for himself without his family’s backing. He’s earned the things that firstborn sons are given when they take over. Money, power, respect. He was damn ruthless in its pursuit. He’s an asset to the organization, and I can’t touch him without the retaliatory wrath of the five families.”
Interesting.
“Let me guess.” I stared him down. “Little Miss. Sunshine is ready for an upgrade, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb with steel-toed boots? Sounds to me like just desserts considering you stole her from him and made her your wifey. Why would I care about any of this?”
He didn’t answer, nor did he have to. I could see it written all over his face. He thought I could reel Mac in and keep him occupied enough to stay away from his missus. Yeah, right.
O’Brien had my sympathies for all of two seconds before I remembered why I was forced to come here from the get-go. Did I feel awful that his bitch was about to dump his ass? I might’ve if he hadn’t threatened my life. Now, all I felt was rage.
“Is that why you had someone tack a dead fish to my front door? Payback to Mac ‘cause your wife wants to rekindle an old flame? Pretty pathetic, if you ask me, Kallum.”
“Fish?” His eyebrows creased. “What the hell are you talking about?”