CHAPTER 1
“Make it hurt,” Dace said. “Earn that tip, baby. The whole. Fucking. Tip.” He grunted.
“Did he just say tip?” Wylie questioned from the other room. “Wow, he’s into some kinky shit.”
“Suck it, Wy!” Dace hollered from behind a curtain.
Wylie chuckled with a couple of their brothers. “Hey, man, you said it.”
A loud groan could be heard from the semi-closed-off room. “Jesus! Is it all the way in?”
“Sure is, big guy.” A woman giggled. “How’s it feel?”
The bell above the entrance jingled as Rip, the owner of Rose City Ink, walked in and paused at the sight of the three oversized O’Reilly brothers filling the shop. “Ahh, shit.”
“Sup, Rip.” Wylie winked.
“Why do you fucking wink at me like that? It’s starting to get weird,” Rip replied with a middle finger.
“Mostly because it pisses you off.” Wylie winked again. “Not happy to see us?”
“Usually, I am. But the last time you were all here, it was like babysitting a bunch of giant toddlers. Tell me you’re all sober this time.”
“All but one of us.” Wylie nodded to the curtained-off workstation. “Dace is in there with Betsy.”
“With Betsy? What does he have left to pierce?” Rip questioned.
Declan, the oldest O’Reilly, shrugged. “Not sure, but he mentioned something about a…tip.”
Everyone cringed.
“He didn’t find her, did he?” Rip was referring to Ivy, Dace’s ex-fiancé, who had been missing for several years.
“Starting to see a pattern, huh?” Luke O’Reilly chimed in.
“Every time he’s chased down a lead over the past several years and turned up nothing, he’s ended up in my chair for new ink or in Betsy’s to get pierced. Definitely a pattern.”
Dace O’Reilly did have a pattern, and it was one of self-loathing and punishment. The bigger the disappointment, the bigger the physical pain to mask the ache in his heart that began the day Ivy disappeared. She was his first and only love. They’d planned a life together. And she was gone.
Before Dace became a full-time partner in Brother’s Keeper Security with his brothers, he worked as a mechanic…which was his cover as a covert operative for a special unit that was neither military nor government. It wasn’t anything. His contract had been nearly up, and he was determined to settle down with Ivy, start a family, and live the life they’d planned. Until he was offered a deal he couldn’t refuse, but Ivy could.
One year. One year of double pay and a bonus would have been enough to set them up comfortably and give them an even better start together than they were already off to. Dace didn’t believe Ivy’s ultimatum – her or the job – was real. But it was. Or so it seemed. Because when he returned home from parts unknown, she was gone. No note. No goodbye. Not even a fuck you.
He’d looked high and low, and followed every lead, yet turned up nothing. Despite operating a world-renowned personal and tech security firm that boasted a client list full of celebrities, political dignitaries from around the world, and more government contracts than was probably legal…he couldn’t find her. With all his resources, foreign and domestic, she’d simply vanished into thin air.
Sure, he’d get a lead here and there, and he followed every single one of them. But he’d turn up nothing, return home empty-handed with only a black eye, tattoo, or some other form of self-inflicted painful reminder she was…gone.
“Yeah,” Declan said. “He was sure he had her this time. Liam’s new software captured a grainy shot that could’ve been her…or half a million other brunette beauties out there.”
Betsy pulled back the curtain and out walked Dace, still buttoning his fly. “It was her. I know it was.”
“Why you walkin’ funny, bro?” Wylie laughed.
With a strained swagger, Dace walked toward his baby brother and began to undo his pants again. “Wanna see? Prepare yourself. This is what a real man looks like.”
Dace paused to pull a ringing phone from his pocket and clicked the red button to deny the call when he saw who it was.
“You pull that thing out in here,” Rip chided, pointing at Dace’s half-done pants, “and I’ll personally kick you in the balls and call your ma to tell her what you just did.”
Betsy cupped Dace’s groin with a bag of frozen peas. “Sit down, shut up, and keep this on it for a few. Or your ma finding out what you just did will be the least of your worries, honey.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dace said, taking a nearby seat. “Shit, the cold makes it hurt worse.”
“That’s because little Dace is running from the chill. Give it a minute,” she said, disappearing back into her workstation.
“Little? Pfft. I think I need another shot of something,” Dace said, letting his head fall back against the wall.
Rip reached behind the counter and grabbed a couple of bottles. “I have some Crown and Don Julio…pick your poison.”
Another phone call caught Dace’s attention but only for a moment. He saw the caller ID and hit that red button again. The guys each looked at each other, then let it rest.
“Crown? Canadian whiskey?” Wylie interrupted. “We’re Irish…”
“What? Irish don’t like Canadians?” Rip questioned.
“Well, no. We like them just fine, but we’re a little partial to our own brand of whiskey. It’s better for ya.”
Rip shrugged and pulled out another bottle. “Fine. I keep this shit back here too. Only you assholes drink it, though…tastes like burnt piss.”
Dace accepted the small glass of his favorite liquid gold. “You’re Canadian, aren’t you?”
“Just on my mom’s side,” Rip said, tossing back a shot of his own.
“Hey, we should get matching tattoos again,” Dace chimed in, referring to the last time he sat in Rip’s shop with his brothers. When Luke found out he was going to be a dad, the night ended at Rose City Ink and a new O’Reilly trademark branding each of the brothers.
“Hell no,” Declan said, pulling his now ringing phone from his back pocket. “Last time, we almost ended up with rainbows across our dicks.”
“I second that,” Luke said. “Rainbow dick is not on my bucket list and neither is playing matchy-match with you assholes like we’re a bunch of toddlers.”
“Man, is she calling your phone now, too?” Dace asked Declan as his expression hardened, gaze fixed on his phone screen.
“You can’t keep rejecting her calls, man. It’s a dick move,” Declan replied, lifting his phone to his ear. “And no. It’s not Cally. It’s Charlie Tango.”
Cally was a close friend of Luke’s wife, and Dace’s temporary hookup while he had been on a brief hiatus from searching for Ivy. Cally was beautiful, sweet, and spicy in bed, just the way Dace liked them. After a brief friends with benefits type relationship, Dace began to avoid her when he missed an unknown caller the night of his brother’s wedding. A weekend in bed with Cally and several missed calls from the mystery number left Dace full of remorse.