“Then why?” His nostrils flared and that was the only clue we got about the imminent explosion. “WHY?” he roared, hurling the crystal glass against the wall.
As it shattered into a million shards, whiskey spraying everywhere in a graceful arc, I figured it was a testament to how accustomed we were to his volatility that not a single one of us flinched—not in surprise at his scream nor at the smash of the glass colliding with the brick wall.
Padraig didn’t either, but his pinched features blanched even more. “Because my boy’s been kidnapped, Aidan.”
I wasn’t sure whether that was the right thing to say or the wrong because Senior rasped, “I’ve got a nephew? My sons have a fucking cousin and I didn’t know about it.”
His head rocked back and forth, leaving me wondering if this past Christmas, on top of everything else, was more than my old man could stand.
He already subsisted on the verge of insanity. I felt certain he was shuffling nearer and nearer to the edge until he was dangling above it by his fingertips.
“Da,” Junior rumbled. “Padraig had a reason for what he’s done. You don’t listen to him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“Praise Jesus I won’t be living that much fucking longer if this is how life is going to be—”
At his complaint, Eoghan snarled, “Shut up, Da. You’ll die an old decrepit bastard because only the good die young.”
Senior narrowed his eyes upon his youngest, proving yet again that only Eoghan and Conor could talk to him that way because he merely huffed. With Dec, Brennan, Aidan, and me, he’d have clipped us around the ear.
“Speak, Paddy. Let us know why you betrayed your family, why you lied to us for decades, why you broke your mother’s heart—”
Paddy choked, “I didn’t want to have to do it, Aidan. I didn’t have a goddamn choice.”
“Neither did Ma when her heart stopped beating because both her youngest had died.” Senior tipped his chin up. “You’re the one who has to live with that knowledge, not me.”
Like a lightning bolt meeting a lightning rod, their tempers arced between us until Paddy blurted out, “I saw Elizabeth Ó Cléirigh fucking Michael Byrne in her wedding dress.”
Senior stilled at that, his mean gaze narrowing with all the precision of a laser on his younger brother.
He wasn’t the only one.
Michael goddamn Byrne. Again.
Conor and I shared a charged look as Senior repeated, “You saw Elizabeth Ó Cléirigh and Michael Byrne together on her wedding day?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And you didn’t think to tell me that?” he asked quietly. Too quietly. So quietly that it was fucking dangerous. “When you’ve known for as long as I have that those cheile fuckers have had me by the balls for decades?”
Well, that was goddamn news to me.
Conor and I shared a look before I inserted, “What hold do they have on you?”
“The cheiles?” Brennan queried. “Those Irish independence zealots?”
“They’re the ones we break bread with on a daily basis.” Senior bared his throat and sliced a finger across it. “Got me up to here with their bullshit.”
“What? Why?” Declan demanded, sitting up, his interest clear. “Why do the Five Points support the cheiles?”
Senior’s mouth tightened. “Because your grandfather, on your mother’s side, was the leader at one point. Only reason he gave her to me was that I agreed to help the cause.”
Junior quoted, “‘He gave her to you?’”
“Second I set my eyes on her I wanted her,” Senior concurred. “Knew she was mine.”
“If you wanted her so fucking badly, why did you cheat on her?” Brennan spat.
Padraig flinched at the question, and Senior’s expression darkened, but before anyone could say a word, I reasoned, “Seeing as I’m living proof that you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, Aidan, I think that merits an answer.”
“You’re Aidan’s boy?” Padraig blurted out, his eyes rounding, his shock clear.
“I am.” I rubbed my chin, well aware that no one in the room other than Paddy was surprised by that news.
It was the worst kept secret in our family, and in a group of people who were currently being deepthroated by the truth, that was saying something.
“Who’s your ma?” he demanded.
“Fiona Davenport.”
“The girl you had married off to that O’Grady fucker?” Padraig’s eyes widened, but I saw a sliver of something make an appearance in his gaze. “You lying bastard. All that time you were grumbling at me for not getting married and for sleeping around and you were cheating on Magdalena? After all the shit we got into so you could have her—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Senior snapped.
“What shit?” Conor chimed in, his curiosity pricked.
“Your grandfather was a head case. Never mind your uncles on her side. You were fucking lucky that most of them got their asses exploded before you were born or got shoved in jail while you were kiddies. Otherwise, you’d have to deal with them.
“You think your father’s got a problem up there—” He tapped his temple. “—consider yourself blessed you didn’t meet them. I didn’t have that luxury. Neither did Frank.
“Aidan only went and started a war with those nutcases because he snatched her from her debutante ball.”
Junior’s mouth gaped. “Ma had a debutante ball? Like a socialite?”
Senior sniffed. “Your ma was well-connected.”
His shoulders hunched when Padraig hissed under his breath. “Well connected?” he scoffed. “With the worst people, meaning that everyday folk were too fucking terrified to deny Cormac O’Shea’s daughter an entry into society.
“How the hell did you keep that from me?” He smacked his forehead. “I should have known. I always thought you looked the spitting image of Frank, Finn.”
“I thought you and Ma had an arranged marriage,” Conor demanded.
“More like an arrangement,” Padraig muttered.
“Look, this isn’t about me,” Aidan retorted. “I screwed up, I know I did, and I’ve repented and Lena probably added to my brain damage but I didn’t pretend to be fucking dead. I didn’t—” He shook his head. “You mean to tell me that the Albanians were in on it? They had to be for me to butcher Jurkavic the way I did.”
“They had a problem and so did I.”
“They bribed you?” Aidan guessed, tone flat.
“Needed the money to set up elsewhere, deartháir.”
“Don’t give me that ‘deartháir’ bullshit when you’ve pretended to be dead for almost three decades!
“Not when you could have just told me what was happening, and I’d have slapped Byrne upside the head. If you fucking knew the shit you’d have spared me if you’d have come to me—” He slammed his hand against the table. “You used that as a reason to get out. You never did have the stomach for our work.”
Paddy snapped, “I had your back from the first day I was thrown into the Points. Don’t you dare—”