Not once have I ever aspired to follow in his footsteps and run this place. I had other hopes and dreams, but I’d been forced to put them aside when Mum died five years ago. With Da’s death a month ago, there isn’t anything holding me here. I should sell it. Or try to. Except it’s impossible. The pub isn’t just our livelihood, it’s also our home.

  It had meant everything to Da. He’d go on and on about how it was his children’s legacy. Kellen’s, Carson’s, Aisling’s, and mine.

  I don’t want it. I never have. But with his death, I’m trapped. With a sigh of resignation, I drag all the chairs down off the tables. Once that’s done, I prep the lemons and limes, make sure we have enough napkins, and double check the kitchen inventory one more time, even though our cook Glen always takes care of it. Everything is as ready as it’s going to be for the dinner crowd to roll in so I run upstairs and grab some lunch.

  By the time I’m finished, there’s a little over an hour until I have to open. I go back downstairs and do one more walk-through, because I have anxiety like that. The kids should be here any minute, so I’m not startled by the pounding on the door. I open it with a welcome home smile that sharply drops at the sight of two men—strangers—standing there. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  “I’m sorry, but we aren’t open for another hour.”

  “I know. We won’t be long.” The larger of the two grabs my arm, yanks me inside, and pushes me up against the wall, crowding me with his body. The second man closes and locks the door behind him.

  My heart pounds and wild panic screams inside my head. The bitter taste of fear spreads across my tongue. Oh, god, the kids will be home any second.

  “What do you want?” My voice trembles. The sooner they tell me, the sooner they’ll leave. I hope.

  “We’re just here for a friendly visit and to offer our condolences on the death of your poor Da.” Creepy dude’s breath is rancid and when he runs a fingertip down the side of my face, I jerk my head to the side. His laugh sends a chill running down my spine. “We’re also here to collect this month’s payment.”

  Payment? What payment? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He tsks. “Did Keir forget to tell you? Now that’s a real shame.” His smile is twisted and ugly. “Maybe we’ll have to take what’s due from somewhere else.”

  He thrusts his pelvis forward, and bile rises to my throat at the hardness pressing against me. The other man chuckles.

  “Stop,” I whimper and try to disappear into the wall behind me.

  The devil’s hand whips up with lightning speed and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head to the side. I cry out in pain. He leans in close and sniffs the entire length of my neck, dragging his tongue with it. I flinch away, but he’s holding me so tight I don’t move far.

  “Dónal Sheehan was lenient with your Da’s payment plan. However, there’s been a regime change, and the loan has been transferred to its new owner. He doesn’t grant favors to his enemy’s old friends. Which means, it’s time to pay up.”

  “I don’t know who Dónal Sheehan is or what loan you’re talking about,” I grind out between clenched teeth. “But I’ll have your money tomorrow. Please, just leave.”

  I’ll promise anything to get them to go away before the children get home. Another knock hits the door. This one softer. Both men’s gaze shoot toward the sound.

  “Sorcha, we’re home,” Kellen’s loud voice filters through the wood.

  I whimper. “Please, don’t hurt them. I’ll have the money tomorrow. I swear.”

  Tense seconds pass. Another knock and a louder call. “Sorcha. Let us in.”

  At last, evil eyes releases me and steps back. He glares and puts a finger right in my face. “We’ll be back tomorrow. If you’re lying, I won’t be so nice. To you or the little mongrels.”

  I suck in a breath and nod frantically, trying not to cry. “I’ll have it.”

  “Sorcha!” Kellen yells this time.

  Quickly, I push past the man and open the door with a shaky smile. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. We were in the kitchen.” How I managed to speak normally I’ll never know.

  “Who’s we? Is Aidan still here?” The two boys sweep past. Kellen comes to an abrupt halt and Carson crashes into his back.

  “Hey, why’d you stop?” Aisling whines.

  The twins’ eyes widen and dart between the two men and me. I give them a weak smile and wave them in so they’re out of the doorway, then quickly swap places.

  “I was just giving these gentlemen a tour. They’re friend’s of Da’s visiting from Dublin and opening their own pub. They wanted to see how he ran ours.” It’s scary how easily the lie slips past my lips. “They were actually on their way out.”

  The two dangerous men flash evil smiles and stride forward. The shorter man walks past first, but the big bad pauses and stares down at me with a terrifying smirk. “I’m looking forward to doing business with you again tomorrow.”

  My mouth tightens, and the second he’s across the threshold, I slam the door shut and sag against it, my chest heaving.

  “Sorcha?” There’s a tremor in Aisling’s voice

  Eyes I didn’t realize I’d closed pop open. Kellen, Carson, and Aisling stare at me with equal amounts of fear on their faces. I come away from the door trying my best to forget about the men and what just happened and stride toward them. “How was school today?”

  “Fi—fine,” Kellen answers.

  “Good. Are you guys hungry? I have some stew upstairs if you want to heat it up for dinner.” I guide them to the stairs and they all march up with me right on their heels.

  The four of us go inside without speaking, but I can tell there are questions on the twins’ lips. Thankfully, neither ask any of them. As with every other day, while I heat up their dinner, they tell me about their day, although the conversation is much more subdued than usual. Like the three of them can all tell something is going on and that it’s bad. It was the same way the first couple of weeks after Da died.

  “I need to get back downstairs, but make sure you clean up the dishes when you’re done. Come down and say good night before you go to bed, and don’t forget to make sure your homework is done before video games,” I warn the boys.

  “Sorcha?” Carson, the more sensitive of the two of them, speaks up.

  “We’ll talk later, okay?” I press a kiss to both of their foreheads—something they allow for the first time in months—and then Aisling’s, who’s been unusually quiet. “You can stay up a little later tonight since you don’t have school tomorrow.”

  They nod. With a final glance over my shoulder I walk out the door and down the stairs, my legs trembling with each step, it’s a wonder I don’t tumble down them. For the rest of the night, nausea churns in my gut, and every time someone walks in, I flinch. By the end of the night, my nerves are frayed and my whole body shakes. I nearly slam the door shut behind the last customer, locking it as quickly as I can.

  On numb legs, I make my way back behind the bar and call the only person I can.

  “Aidan, I need your help. Please,” I beg before bursting into tears.

  CHAPTER 5

  Aidan

  I don’t give a shit how late it is.

  I pound on the front door of a pretentious house owned by a ruthless prick. It might be minutes later, or seconds, but it’s finally jerked open. In its place is a hulking shadow and, my guess? A .45mm. I don’t even blink. It’s not the first gun I’ve had shoved in my face.

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger,” the bastard growls.

  “Liam, put that thing away,” Imogen calls out seconds before her shadowy figure appears behind him.

  “Yeah, Liam, put it away.”

  Seconds pass before he lowers the weapon. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Imogen continues standing close enough to touch Campbell, and there’s tension in her shoulders, but she doesn’t say anything else.

  “You and I need to have a discussion.”

  “Make an appointment.” He tries slamming the door, but my foot blocks it from shutting.

  I smirk. “My appointment time is now.”

  There’s been an unsteady truce between Campbell and our family since Imogen entered the picture almost two months ago. He’s still being a cunt and controlling the shipping docks, which has made importing contraband—weapons—more than difficult. He’s also moved forward with purchasing a building to open his own casino in order to compete with ours. Then again, that deal had already been in motion before he fell in love with my half-sister. Beyond that, while he hasn’t done anything more to try and take Da and the rest of us down, he also hasn’t done anything to help us, either. Essentially, we’re in a holding pattern that all rests on Imogen’s—and his stepsister Nessa’s—shoulders.

  “Fucking Donnellys,” Campbell curses under his breath. “You have five minutes and then I will shoot you.”

  Imogen throws her head back with a groan and stares at the ceiling for a second before dropping her chin and glaring at her lover. He turns on several lights and walks away, brushing his hand against hers as he passes her. No doubt my time has already started, so I trail behind. Apparently she trusts him enough not to follow through with his threat, because she doesn’t come with us.

  Campbell walks into a room, turns on the light, and takes a seat behind a behemoth desk, setting the gun on its surface but pointed in my direction. He doesn’t offer me a chair, but I sit in one anyway.

  “Four minutes left. You better start talking.”

  I lean forward. “Call your men and tell them to leave Sorcha O’Connell the fuck alone.”

  There’s not a single flash of recognition on his face at the name. I’m also sure he’s counting the seconds until my time is up.

  “Dónal Sheehan loaned money to a man named Keir O’Connell.” I pause. “Two…loan collectors visited his daughter earlier today. She doesn’t know anything about it and doesn’t have the funds to pay it back.”

  “Three minutes. I’m also bored already.”

  Arsehole. “Since you took over Sheehan’s organization, I assume you are now the new loan holder they mentioned. You need to wipe the debt clean.”

  Campbell snorts. “I don’t need to do a fucking thing.”

  I grit my teeth, because pushing will only make him push back that much harder. “I’ll pay the loan.”

  That has him straightening in his chair and a calculating gleam enters his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

  My body goes rigid. “You’re such a bastard. Why not?”

  “Yes, I am, and because I don’t want to. Two minutes.”

  I stand up and lean into my palms on the desk until I’m in his face. “Call your men off or they’re both going to get a bullet in the back of their head. As will every man you send until they’re all dead or you start a war. I doubt Imogen will be too happy with you if your force her father and brothers to retaliate.”

  A dangerous spark flares to life in his eyes. “I highly recommend you back the fuck up.”

  My gaze drops to where his palm curls around the grip and his index finger lies alongside the trigger. I grin. “What? You gonna shoot me?”

  “Yes.”

  I blink.

  Campbell doesn’t.

  Jaysus, he’s serious. I laugh, but I straighten. “You really are a psychopath.”

  “Test me again and find out,” he snarls. “I may have promised Imogen I won’t kill any of you, but I never swore not to make you bleed. Your time is up. Now, get the fuck out of my house.”

  “I highly recommend you call off your men. Imogen will be displeased if she finds out they’re threatening the woman I’m going to marry.” With that pronouncement—where in Christ had that come from?—I turn and walk out of the room, trusting he won’t shoot me in the back.

  Imogen stands at the end of the hall with her arms crossed, biting her lip. Since discovering she’s Cian’s, Finn’s, and my half-sister, we haven’t spoken much. It’s been awkward to say the least, especially since I’ve purposely been avoiding her. It’s a lot to take in. She walks with me to the front door.

  “Is she really your fiancée?” Imogen asks when we reach it.

  “Yes.” No. Maybe. Fuck.

  She glances over my shoulder and meets my eyes again. “I’ll have him call them before we go back to sleep.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  Imogen smiles slightly. “Of course. I’d like to meet her one of these days.”

  “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

  Footsteps approach, but I don’t turn.

  “Goodnight, Aidan.” She opens the door.

  “Night.”

  Despite the late hour, there’s no way I’m going to get any sleep. Plus, after promising Sorcha I’d take care of things, I told her I’d call. Once I’m on the road, I voice activate her number. She answers on the first ring. “Aidan?”

  “Everything’s going to be fine. You don’t have to worry about those guys—or any others—again.”

  She sobs. “Thank you. But how?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.” Sorcha doesn’t hesitate.

  “Then trust that I handled it.” She may trust me, but I don’t trust Campbell. Even with Imogen’s reassurance. “I’m on my way there.”

  “What? No, you shouldn’t be driving this late. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  There are barely any cars on the road as I make my way out of Dublin. “There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep tonight anyway. Plus, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Sorcha hesitates, but then sighs. “Please be safe.” She may not admit it, but there’s relief in her tone.

  “I’ll call you when I get close.” It’s an almost four-hour drive. “Don’t wait up, though. Try and get some sleep.”

  She chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “I’ll try, but I doubt it will happen.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Bye. And Aidan?” she pauses. “Thank you.”

  I disconnect the call and focus on the road. It’s going to be a long fucking night.

  Three and a half hours later, I find a car park a block from the pub and call Sorcha.

  “Hello?”

  “I should be at your door in two minutes.” The village is dark and quiet, but it won’t be for long. Fishermen will be rising and heading out on their boats within the hour.

  “I’ll let you in.” She disconnects the call and I pocket my phone.

  The door of the pub is already opening before I reach it, like she ran down. Sorcha steps out in her pajamas and then she’s sobbing in my arms. I hold her until she’s all cried out, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances the entire time. She takes in a shuddering breath, draws back, and swipes at both eyes.

  “Will you come upstairs?” she whispers.

  “Whatever you need.”

  We head inside and once she’s turned the lock, we climb the stairs. It’s dimly lit and I can’t help my eyes being drawn to her ass. Knock that shit off. This is Sorcha. Still, I’m a guy in his prime who appreciates a beautiful woman, even if she happens to be one of my best friends.

  Once inside, I toe off my shoes and leave them at the door. A lamp near the sofa is on and despite the dimness of the room, it’s not hard to miss the dark circles under her eyes or the tightness around them and her lips. I sit on the couch and tug Sorcha down beside me. She curls her legs underneath her and snuggles against my side, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  I wrap my arm tighter around her and kiss the crown of her head. “You’re welcome. Now, close your eyes and get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She nods and tucks her hands under her cheek. Eventually, her breath evens out and she relaxes completely into me. Trust is hard to come by in my world. The fact that Sorcha does so without question is something I’ve never taken for granted. Which is why I suspect tomorrow’s going to be a shit show and that afterward, when everything comes out, she may never trust me again.

  CHAPTER 6

  Sorcha

  I’m resting on a hard surface. This is definitely not my bed. I open my eyes. Blink. Why am I lying on the sofa? My gaze drops to the legs under my head. I sit upright and crack my skull on something. I wince.

  “Motherfucker,” a male voice roars.

  I rub the spot where it hurts. Aidan cradles his face in his palms.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” I reach for him, but he gently nudges my hand out of the way with an elbow. “Are you okay?”

  He stands up, tips his head back, and pinches his nose. “I’m fine.”

  I jump up and stare while he paces. There doesn’t appear to be any blood, but I rush into the kitchen for a towel just in case. When I hurry into the living room again, he’s already lowered his arm. No blood, but his eyes are watering. Everything about last night also comes rushing back to me. I wring the towel nervously.

  The sun is barely up, which means we might have gotten three hours of sleep. I glance toward the hallway. The kids will probably be awake soon regardless of the fact it’s Saturday. We’ve always been a family of early risers. I don’t want to have this conversation when it might get interrupted.

  “I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  Aidan follows me into the kitchen. “We should talk.”

  I shake my head. “Later. When little spouts with big ears aren’t around. They’ll probably be out here soon.”

  He nods. “Can I help?”

  The offer surprises me. I’ve never pictured him as someone who knew how to cook. “If you don’t mind getting milk, butter, and an egg out of the fridge, please.”

  While Aidan does that, I get the rest of the ingredients out of the cabinet and preheat the oven. I don’t make scones every Saturday, but today feels like a special treat day after the mess of yesterday.