Something in the water?
Nah, I knew there were several pipelines that fed Manhattan its water source, but they didn’t specifically drop in Hell’s Kitchen. Even if that was a neat fix.
Jen would say it was chemtrails, but that was because she’d seen a documentary on YouTube, and had been obsessed ever since.
"Keep your voice down," the older woman, probably her mother or aunt, spat, taking a deep sip of wine after.
"Mom, if you’d just leave me alone, I would."
I frowned at the sight, then stalked over to them both. I had no idea what they were arguing about, but the baby looked like he was going to explode with outrage.
"Is everything okay?" I asked quietly, aware that people were looking without looking.
In my world, we’d have drawn all the stares. Everyone would be watching. Here, I guessed there was worse shit at sea than a mother and daughter raging at each other.
"No! Everything isn’t okay," the younger one snapped, not looking at me. Then, she cast me a glance and blanched. Literally blanched. "I’m so sorry," she whispered, her eyes wide.
The about-face was enough to have me blinking. "It’s okay. I didn’t mean to intrude."
"Look what you’ve done now, Mary Catherine. For God’s sake, you’ve never been able to comport yourself with decency, but ever since you took up with that biker—"
I frowned. "I beg your pardon, but who are you?"
The woman shot me a smarmy smile. "I’m sorry if we caused a stir. Ever since she gave birth, my daughter’s been prone to hysteria." She snapped out her hand and grabbed Mary Catherine’s arm. I saw how badly she pinned her fingers around the soft flesh, because the woman’s knuckles bled white. "We’ll get out of your hair."
While Aidan had said jack about me to the people gathered at his house today, somehow the crowd had picked up on the fact that I was Aidan Jr’s.
Whether that was by Morse code or intuition, but I’d been getting wide berths from the men, and women kept shooting me either simpering looks or catty ones.
Mary Catherine was the first to show outright fear.
Apparently, I had power here.
Oh, boy, the Five Points were not ready for that.
As I measured the older woman with a glance, one that had her coming up wanting, I tipped my chin to the side. "No. I don’t think you will." I smiled at Mary Catherine then eyed the squalling baby who was wearing a suit. I didn’t even know you could buy that kind of shit for such young infants, but he had a little vest on, bright blue, with black pants. I assumed it was a onesie, but hell, he looked dapper if pissed off. "Would you like to come with me? We can sort out your son. He probably needs his diaper changed or something. I can show you where to clean him up."
"Thank you," Mary Catherine rasped, tearing away from her mother’s clasp.
"I’ll come with you," the woman retorted.
"No. It’s okay. I’m sure the speeches will start soon. I’ll show her the way." While I smiled at her, I received a quickly hidden glare for my pains, but I ignored her and took Mary Catherine away from the large room filled with people who’d been willing to listen to her get raked over the coals without defending her.
Apparently, the Five Points weren’t feminists. Who’d a thunk it?
We were in, what could only be called, a wintergarten. A massive sunroom with more plants and foliage than an English garden, that was attached to the side of the property, something I hadn’t even known the house had until Aoife asked me to help carry things in there from the kitchen.
Inside, there were over eighty men with their wives and kids, each drinking Aidan Sr.’s alcohol while the women primped and gossiped like curious peahens as they tried to figure out why they were here and what Aidan’s upcoming speech was about—because not all of them were dumbasses, the odds were high it was about the cathedral and the church’s ‘arson attacks.’
Aidan hadn’t told me specifics, but then, we’d been busy. Last night, after my call with the family, we’d gone to bed, then he’d woken me up with an orgasm that made me wonder why I hadn’t gotten that kind of wake-up call on Christmas morning.
After, I’d passed out, and when I woke up, it was because Aoife was knocking on my door, telling me I had thirty minutes to get ready.
Charming.
Determining next Christmas would be spent with his face between my legs and not being hauled out of bed before the dawn birds started singing, and that Aidan really needed to start getting better at communicating—it took way longer than thirty minutes for something this good to look this good—I guided Mary Catherine away from the crowd and into the house itself.
"I hope you don’t mind me getting involved," I said sheepishly. "I can’t keep my nose out of other people’s business."
"Are you kidding?" Mary Catherine sent me a tired look. "You spared me more humiliation than usual."
I frowned. "I’m so sorry to hear that." Beside the wintergarten, there was a suite of rooms that was a bedroom/bathroom/living room combo. Though tastefully appointed, it was pretty standard stuff. Like going to a hotel or something.
As I stepped into the living room though, I asked, "Do you need anything? Is he sick?"
"Sick of being dragged around more than anything." Mary Catherine shot me a tired smile. "Mostly, he just needs to eat. Can I take a seat?"
"Sure, please do." I wafted a hand at a small club chair and she heaved a sigh as she plunked her butt down. "I’ll leave you—"
"No!" Her eyes flared wide. "Please, don’t."
"Are you sure you don’t want privacy?" I asked uncomfortably.
"She’ll see you and—" Mary Catherine swallowed.
"And?"
"She’ll come in and it will start again."
"Do you want me to grab your husband?"
"He’s not here."
"Oh! He’s not?"
"There are only Lieutenants here and above." She bit her lip. "Digger isn’t even a Five Pointer. That’s why Mom was giving me shit."
"Because she doesn’t approve of him?"
A shaky laugh escaped her. "That’s the understatement of the year. He’s a biker." Her chin tipped up like she was expecting criticism as she declared, "He’s a Satan’s Sinner. He had to go on a run four days ago, and ever since, she’s been crazier than usual."
I frowned. "A Sinner?" I thought back to Cruz and the other guys who’d helped free the compound of dead bodies. "I almost met some of them a little while ago."
Mary Catherine blinked. "You did?" Her hand moved to the back of her son’s head as she started fidgeting around, unfastening buttons and popping a boob out. The kid, clearly scenting gold, dug right in. "How did you meet them? Who did you meet? Did you meet Sin?"
I blinked. "I don’t know. I only heard one name. Cruz."
She shot me a bright smile. "I know Cruz. He has brilliant tattoos. Have you seen them? He’s, like, covered in black ink with bare skin peeping through."
"Negative ink. I’ve heard of that."