Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Sean

O ne furtive glance cast towards the gavel resting close to my left hand and my men stop their smart-assing and pay attention. They've been with me since Tag and I began this MC five years ago, and they know my intolerance for interruptions during church.

Since the inception of the Devils, I've built the club up steadily and now we're more than one hundred strong.

We rule the north side of the river for ourselves and in support of my brother, Tag.

Tonight's meeting isn't a regular one where I require a full table. Special circumstances have forced an emergency gathering of the club executives to catch them up on the mayhem that went down at the hand of Gareth Campbell's men.

"It was an overt act of aggression," I tell them. "Tag and his girlfriend were leaving the street fair. Campbell's men prevented him from getting into his truck and jumped him."

Keefer Gallagher, my club VP, pushes his dark hair away from his face, his silver and black spider rings catching the light. "Since when do the Campbells have the balls to do something like that?"

"That's the million-dollar question. Either the Campbells have an alliance with one of the major families or they need a reminder of who the Quinns are."

"Then it's time for retribution."

My twin brothers, Brendan and Bryan, both nod. Of course they agree. There's nothing the Quinn twins like more than mixing it up in a bloody brawl.

"Do you think this is part of the blowback from the McGuires?" Kieran O'Brien, my Sergeant at Arms asks.

I take a swig of my Guinness and swallow. "It could be. Aiden threw us into a blazing fire when he killed Declan McGuire. They were already pushing against the truce. I don't see it lasting much longer."

"What does Tag say about that?" Gallagher asks.

"He wants the truce in place for the good of the citizens, but realizes that might not be possible going forward."

"What about Aiden?" Kieran asks. "As Tag's right hand, Aiden killing the son of an enemy has to be addressed."

I shrug. "Thankfully, that's not my call. I've told Tag where Aiden is holed up to recover from his injuries. It's up to him to decide what to do with that information."

"What about Siobhan? That bitch played Aiden and Declan against one another. When does she get what she deserves?"

"The minute one of us gets our hands around her traitorous neck," Bryan says.

Brendan nods. "Fuck, I hate that bitch."

I set my pint of Guinness down next to the gavel. "Things are going to get dicey for the next weeks, lads. Let the men know to be ready for anything, day or night. If issues crop up on our side of the river, come down fast and hard."

"What about the other side of the river?" Gallagher asks. "The McGuires have been making it their business to fuck us over."

I shake my head. "For now, we're not antagonizing the McGuires. Stay clear of them and don't engage. We don't want any more trouble with them than we already have."

The meeting adjourns, and the lads rush off to complete their tasks. I help myself to another pint from the fridge and look around our new and improved clubhouse.

We hadn't started off in surroundings as pleasant as this, but the recent renovation gave us a soundproofed meeting room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, a small room with two cots, an office for me, and a lounge area with a flat screen, music, a fully stocked bar, two pool tables, a poker table and two regulation dart boards.

The boys love to hang out. Many of them never had happy homes and found brotherhood belonging to the Devils. And it's often a fact that lads who come from the worst possible circumstances are the most loyal and dedicated to the club.

It's a good fit for me.

After closing up for the night, I stand on the long porch of the clubhouse and have a smoke while I consider where to go next.

I could go back to the compound and check on Tag, but it's late and hopefully he's asleep. I could go grab a pint at Jimmy's, but honestly, I'm too tired.

I need sleep.

I finish my smoke, pull out the keys to my ride, and straddle my Harley. On the second try, my contrary girl starts with a low growl, and I'm glad of it.

The weather took a turn during our meeting, and a chilling drizzle is pissing down from the heavens. I ease my bike out toward the street, lock the fence surrounding our yard, and note how wet and slick the pavement seems.

There's no traffic coming my way, so I give my baby some gas and test the traction.

Rain runs down the visor of my helmet and I squint to see the road ahead of me. A couple of loud bangs crack over the rumble of my bike and I slow to an idle to listen.

Were those gunshots?

I wait, but don't hear anything more. Letting the clutch out, I give it some gas and start moving up toward the bridge. The hair at the nape of my neck prickles as I glimpse something in the shadows.

It's an ominous gray and dismal night, but am I seeing a girl lying on the sidewalk?

Can't be.

Fog is drifting in from the River Liffey, creating a shroud of shadows along Ormond Quay. The turn to my place is up ahead on Arran East, but with what could've been gunshots, I pull over to the curb and set the kickstand.

My boots beat out a steady rhythm in the darkness and the closer I get, the surer I am.

Fucking hell. So much for sleep .

I take a quick look at the body lying next to a craft shop just on this side of the bridge. A homeless person? We have shelters in Dublin, many of them supported by my family and our charitable efforts.

Staring down at her through the rain and fog, she appears young and barely dressed. No, she is dressed, but her wee red dress is ripped.

I kneel to check on her and find dozens of fresh cuts marring her skin. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

A moan comes from deep inside her and when she sees my face, she skitters back. "Don't kill me."

Do I look like I'm going to kill her? Well, not her, but probably like I'd kill the person who did this. I raise my palms. "You're safe now, lass. I won't hurt you."

"I don't want to die."

"I'll do my best to honor that wish, but you have to let me help you."

She turns her head, and I get my first look at her face. My heart picks up the pace and I curse. A second look, ignoring how her cheek has been altered by red welts, swelling, and blood, confirms it.

Piper McGuire.

So much for staying clear of the McGuires. This is Mad Mattie's only daughter, and she's beaten and bloodied on our side of the river.

Fucking hell.

Tag and I grew up getting into schoolyard brawls with Ryan and Declan McGuire, and while we were never friends, we knew their little sister.

She was just a baby then, but a cute little thing. And with Da's views on family, the preservation of innocents, and the protection of women and children, we knew she was out of bounds.

Then, I saw her a couple of years ago at a charity event and she stole my fucking breath. Piper McGuire grew up well, and any man with eyes would agree with me. The fact that someone beat the shit out of her doesn't bode well for whoever did this.

"Let me help you, lass. Can you sit?"

I grip her under her arms and tug her off the wet concrete. The wall of the craft shop is sturdy behind her back, and I prop her up. The awning above our heads shields us from the rain, but the odd cold drip runs down my neck and makes me shiver.

"Piper, do you recognize me? It's Sean. Sean Quinn. How badly are you hurt, lass? Do you need a hospital?"

I glance around to be sure nobody sees me bent over a battered Piper McGuire. That would complicate things not only for me, but for Tag as well.

I'm trying to be a Good Samaritan—nothing more.

This girl belongs on the south side of the river, but I can't very well send her back looking like this. Mattie will take one look at her and declare an all-out war.

Aiden killing Declan was bad enough, but that technically wasn't family business and everyone who witnessed it knew it was about them both fucking Siobhan.

This would be entirely different. "How did this happen? Where were you, beautiful?"

"Hotel."

Hotel? That's not much to go on. I sit back on my heels and look around. There are no hotels on this stretch…but there are on the south side…and the Grattan Bridge is steps away.

But if she was beaten on the south side, why would she come here? Surely, she'd be safer in her father's territory. Wouldn't she?

Piper moans, and her head flops to the side.

Well, whatever the reason, she's in no shape to get home on her own and us hanging around out here is just getting us both wet. I'll have to take her with me.

I straighten and frown at my Harley. Not ideal.

"Hey, Piper, do you think you can sit up and hang onto me if I put you on my bike?"

She extends her hand and reaches for me. I'm not confident that she's got the strength to sit upright, but the longer we stay here, the greater the chance that this will blow up in my face. "All right. Let's try it. At least we can get out of this rain and have a cup of hot tea."

I lift Piper and cradle her against my chest. She can't weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet—and she is soaking wet—so my estimate could be accurate.

It's awkward to get her secured on the back of my bike. Her bloody, bare feet slide off the passenger pegs, so it takes a bit to get her positioned to ride. She sways when I let go of her and I grab her, thinking she's going to fall off my big decker.

Shit. Falling off and hitting the pavement will do more damage than she's already suffering from. I don't know what damage that is and won't until I get her wet clothes off and I have a look.

The thought of Piper McGuire naked creates way too many visuals in my mind. I give myself an inward shake and remind myself she's almost ten years younger than I am. On top of that, she's vulnerable, and is a McGuire, annnd touching her in any way is a death sentence waiting to be handed out.

Right. I am simply helping an innocent woman.

With one hand pressed against her sternum, I slide my leg over the seat, reach back, and wrap her arms around my waist. "Hold on, Piper. You gotta help by holding on."

Her arms tighten around my middle, and I exhale.

This is going to be one long ride home.

Giving it a little gas, I release the clutch and start off rolling along at a snail's pace. My Harley gives me a throaty rumble and, since things go okay, I give her a little more gas.

Puttering along, I make the turn onto Arran, but at the last minute, decide to pass my place and not go there. Instead, I continue until I take a right onto Little Strand and pull into the driveway of one of the Quinn safe houses.

Lifting Piper off the bike, I carry her to the porch and set her down on the steps. The boys razz me about the weight of my carabiner, but what can I say?

I'm a man who holds a lot of keys.

It takes a minute and a few tries, but I find the key that fits this house. The lock clicks open, and I give the door a push.

"Come on. It's dry inside and I'll put the kettle on."

"I shouldn't be here…not with you."

No shit. "Would you rather be lying alone on the sidewalk near the river?"

"No."

"Then here we are." I lay her on the sofa and then stride into the little kitchen to put the kettle on. She's shivering badly and I don't know if it's the chill of the night, shock, or internal bleeding. "I'll find something dry for you to wear and call our doc to have a look at you."

"Please don't." Her voice cracks on the breathy plea. "It might get back to my father."

Something about that terrifies her. Is this the work of a piece of shit boyfriend she doesn't want her father and brothers to go after?

I'm no fan of Mattie McGuire, but I would stand in the front row to see him flay whoever did this to his daughter. "Don't worry. Our guy is discreet. He won't say a word to anyone. Relax and I'll be back in two."

I take the stairs two at a time and check the dresser drawers for anything dry Piper could wear. Tag keeps the safe houses stocked with the basics and though there's not a lot to pick from, I come away with a gray sweatsuit and a towel from the bathroom for her hair.

Then I grab a stack of clean cloths and a massive tackle box filled with first aid supplies.

Next, I pull out my phone, call up Doc Kelvin's contact info, and send him a situation update and the address. Then, I copy the message and send it to Tag. My brother is a newlywed, so he's not likely to be paying attention to his phone this late at night, but he'll get the message and come when he can.

When I get back to the sitting room, Piper is curled up on the sofa, crying.

"Is it the pain? What can I do?"

She gasps a few unsteady sobs and accepts the towel. After wiping her tears, she looks up at me with the saddest ice-blue eyes I've ever seen. "I messed up. Da and my brothers will be furious with me."

I don't like the sound of that but can't help but throw the girl a lifeline. "Tonight, let's worry about patching you up. Once we know you're okay, we'll work on fixing things."

She drops her head and closes her eyes. "There's no way I can fix it."

"Then there's nothing that can be done about it tonight. You might as well focus on yourself for the moment." I set the clothes on the coffee table and the first aid kit beside them.

The keening whistle of the kettle draws me into the kitchen. I drop a couple of tea bags into the Brown Betty sitting on the counter and then pour in the contents of the kettle. I save a bit of the boiling water to pour into a steel pot.

While the tea steeps, I take the pot and set it on the coffee table next to the rags. "I need to clean off some of this blood so I can assess the injuries we're dealing with. Will you let me do that?"

She blinks, her tear-filled eyes piercing me right to the depths of my dark heart. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're a young lady who needs help. Regardless of your last name, you ended up in our territory and have been through something bloody and violent. I can't ignore that and leave you to fend for yourself."

"But our families are enemies. Surely your Quinn Laws don't apply to me. Honestly, my father would shit a red brick if he knew I was here with you."

I laugh. "Well, thankfully, my father had philosophies about how business was to be run and how people are to be treated. The Quinn Laws apply to anyone within our territory and beyond, if we have any say about it."

She frowns down at herself and the tears well once more. "I don't understand how any of this happened."

I take one of the cloths off the top of the pile and dip it into the boiled water. It's still hot, but I douse it and then wring it out, so I can start tending to the dozens of scrapes and gashes on her legs. "Were you rolling in razor blades?"

"I was fighting…and we fell through a glass table and the vase of flowers shattered too. There was a struggle."

I keep my head down and dab at the cuts. "Well, you fighting is the most important part of that story. You fought, and you made it here. You're safe now."

Most of the damage I can see is superficial—likely from wrestling with her attacker in the debris of a shattered glass table.

When I have her legs wiped down enough to be certain nothing vital is bleeding, I rinse the cloth and lift her leg to set her foot on my knee. "I take it you lost your shoes pretty early in the fight? It looks like you ran across the city in your bare feet."

She hisses when I swipe the damp cloth under her foot, and I lean in to find a shard of glass. "This might hurt, but it needs to come out."

She draws a deep breath. "Aye, I'm ready. Do it."

With a careful pinch, I pull the shard and greet the gush of blood with the warm cloth. While I put pressure on the cut for a moment, I try again to find out what happened. "You mentioned a hotel. Was that on your side or our side of the river?"

Her gaze meets mine and I'm happy to see a little fire sparking behind her icy blue eyes. "Our side."

That's a relief. The Quinns don't need to be tied to any more violence involving the McGuire children. Declan being dead is bad enough—fuck you very much, Aiden.

"And when things got bad, you crossed the bridge to escape?"

A knock on the door pops the bubble of our private moment, and Piper's look of terror returns. I hold up my hand to keep her from bolting and drop the bloody cloth back into the pot. "It's either Tag or the Doc. Those are the only two people who know we're here."

She swipes at the tears now streaming down her blood-soaked cheeks. "Take your gun out. Be ready, just in case."

She's serious. Who the fuck spooked this girl bad enough that she thinks they'd follow her into our territory, and I'd need to shoot them to stop them from getting at her.

Still, there's no harm in humoring the girl.

Reaching to the small of my back, I slide my hand under the fall of my leather Devils cut and draw my SIG Sauer. When I show it to her, she relaxes a little.

Not a lot of the girls I know would have that reaction to me carrying, but I suppose Piper McGuire isn't like many other girls.

Another knock rattles off the door and I hustle over. A quick glance out the front window tells me it's Doc Kelvin. I holster my gun and let the good doctor in.

"Hey, Doc. Sorry about that. Our patient is a little jumpy."

Kelvin finds Piper on the sofa, and he lets off a long whistle. "Shit. They really did a number on her."

"Yeah. Look, she's understandably shaken up, but you need to assure her that no one will hear of this."

He pegs me with a look. "Since when has that become a concern with me?"

"It hasn't. I just want you to assure her ."

That settles him down a bit, and I walk him over. "Piper, this is the Doc I told you about. He's good people and you can trust him."

She frowns. "I told you I don't need a doctor. I'm fine. I just need to be left alone."

Kelvin offers her a sympathetic smile. "Sweetheart, maybe you don't realize how bad off you are. You've been beaten, and by the look of things, the guy wore a ring. Your arms and legs are diced to shit?—"

"She went through a glass table," I say.

"And by the way you're curled to the one side and holding your ribs, I'm going to guess you took a couple of blows there too."

"He, uh… kicked me a few times."

Fucking hell. The thought of this sweet young thing falling prey to that kind of violence makes me homicidal.

"Hey, Sean." Kelvin's tone breaks through the rush of fury buzzing in my head. "Could you put that away and give us some privacy?"

I follow the doc's gaze to where my gun is clenched in my hands. Wow. Okay. Truly homicidal. I didn't even realize I'd drawn it from my holster.

"Uh, yeah. I'll be in the kitchen making everyone tea. Let me know when the coast is clear."