14. Ronan

Chapter 14

Ronan

“ I heard there was a fight,” Mom says as she piles more plates beside the sink. It’s mid-afternoon and the Sunday breakfast broke up a half hour ago. I’m elbow-deep in sudsy water helping her clean up before I take the rest of the day for work.

“Wasn’t anything to worry about,” I tell her, trying to put her at ease.

But she can see through my shit. She prods at my broken nose and pokes at my bruised cheek. “Looks like something. Who was it?”

“Bikers. Really, it’s all right. Not the first time and won’t be the last.”

Mom leans against the counter, studying me. I know what she’s thinking. Dad didn’t get into brawls, not himself at least—he had the good sense to make his brainless soldiers do all the dangerous shit most of the time.

But I’m not in that position right now. I need the soldiers to see me as one of them, and if I’m acting like a coward in front of fucking Gregory and his scummy MC assholes, then they’ll never accept me fully as their leader.

“I hear it was because of the girl.” Mom says this very casually, but it’s clear she’s been thinking about it.

“It’s not like that.”

“Niall said it was definitely like that.”

Fucking Niall. I’ll have to have a conversation with him about what’s appropriate to say to my goddamn mother.

“Honestly, Mom.” I dry my hands on a dishtowel. “Someone was being disrespectful to her, that’s all, and I stood up in her defense. I would’ve done it for anyone.”

She quirks her lips. “Really?”

“Really.” Although probably not. I don’t like Gregory, but he’s a useful ally to have—or at least, he was. Now I can’t say what he is. Enemy? Former associate? I’m not sure, and I haven’t tried to reach out yet to see where we stand.

“It’s okay, you know. If you like her. I mean, like I said, marriage wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Would you cut it out with that?” I get back to washing, frustrated and annoyed. “The fight was just a fight. The lads needed to blow off some steam, and now it’s done. That sort of thing is good for the group every once in a while, and nobody was seriously hurt.”

“Sounds like it worked out this time.” Mom touches my arm. I look over and she’s got that concerned mother look on her face. “Just remember, you don’t have to be your father.”

That’s where she’s wrong.

Colm Hayes was beloved. If anything, that’s an understatement. He was a hard man who lived a hard life, but he cared about his people in a way that’s hard to fake. He was immensely real, almost too real sometimes, and he wore his emotions out in public with no shame and no remorse. Though mostly his emotions ranged from “bored” to “homicidal” with not much in between.

When he passed and I took control of the Group, everyone assumed I would run things like he did, with an iron fist. Except that isn’t me. It’s not how I manage my life or how I want to operate. Dad was good, and he kept the family together, but nobody flourished under his leadership. We just kept on going, year after year, in the same old houses in the same old neighborhood doing the same old petty crimes.

I want to be bigger. I want more for these people, even if they don’t realize it. That’s why I work my ass off, and why I can’t ever be like my old man, even if everyone around me wishes I were a young version of him.

Once the dishes are done and everything’s settled, I kiss my mother on the cheek and head to the door. I’m about to leave when I open up and find a pretty young woman standing on the porch looking like she can’t decide if she wants to knock or not.

“Shit,” she says, blinking at me. Valentina tugs at her hair. “I wasn’t sure if this was a good time.”

“You came to my mother’s house.” I lean up against the doorframe, arms crossed. I was so fucking mad at her after that fight, but now that I’ve had time to cool off, I know that it wasn’t entirely her fault. I’ve been meaning to chat with her, I just haven’t known how yet.

“I wanted to talk.” She looks away. “If you’re busy?—”

“No, you’re good, actually. The family’s all gone.”

“Sunday breakfast is over?”

“Unfortunately for you.” I gesture for her to follow me inside. “Come on. Let’s go to my office.”

She follows me into the house. I bring her around to say hello to my mother, who seems absolutely delighted and gives me a big knowing smirk, before we end up sitting together on the couch beside my father’s old desk.

“I wanted to say that what happened with Gregory won’t ever happen again.” She faces me, her back very straight. Her posture’s always good when she’s being serious, and I love that hard look on her face. She’s so fucking pretty, it kills me sometimes. “I spoke out of turn, and I know better now.”

I put my hand on her knee. I can’t help myself. She stares at it, but doesn’t pull away, and doesn’t ask me to move. I like the feel of her under my palm—she’s in shorts, and her skin’s very smooth and tan.

“You did nothing wrong, all right? No, listen, if members of my own family can’t speak up during a meeting without an all-out fight happening, I’ve failed as a leader. What happened was on me and me alone.”

Her eyebrows raise. “I’m honestly surprised to hear you say it.”

“I could’ve defused the situation between. Instead, I got too aggressive.”

“It’s hard not to act like that around Gregory.” She makes a disgusted face. “He’s one of the vilest people I’ve ever met.”

“You won’t hear me disagree.” My hand slides up to her thigh. Ever so slightly. And I swear, she shivers as I do it, her pretty lips parting. “I was too hard on you in the car. That was partly because I was pissed and just got punched in the face, and partly for Seamus’s benefit and the little shits he’s been talking to.”

“Oh. Family problems. You can’t be seen being too soft on your Italian associate, right?”

“It’s nothing personal.”

Her lips quirk. “Sounds like it was all your fault and I’m not even a little bit to blame.”

“Well—”

“You said it already and you can’t take it back now.” She’s grinning and I love that smile on her. It lights her whole face up.

“All right, love, you caught me. I’ve been a very bad man. Are you here to punish me?”

“You wish.” She folds her legs under her and moves closer. My hand slides up her skin, but I don’t try to move it away, and she doesn’t try to push it off. “I’ve had some time to think about our next moves.”

“Yeah? What’s your plan then?”

“Steal Rocco’s next meth shipment and extort him into playing ball.”

I laugh softly. This fucking girl. “That’s not bad.”

“If I know anything about the drug trade, he’ll be deep into debt by the time the drugs finally arrive. Moving the product’s supposed to cover what he owes, and if we take it before he can get his hands on it, that’ll put him in a very amendable position.”

“Then we get what we want without firing a shot.”

“Assuming you can steal the drugs without an issue.”

“Let me worry about that.” I move closer to her. She’s breathing fast, and I’m aware that we’re very alone in my office and I’m touching her when I don’t really need to be. But she feels good, and she looks good, and I can’t seem to get myself under control when she’s this close.

It was hard, in the car on the way out to the meeting with Gregory, before the fight went down. I didn’t want to act too flirtatious with her with Seamus listening that closely. But now I understand some of the tension I felt going into that meeting stemmed from holding myself back, and maybe that was a bad idea.

“What will you do with your cut this time?” I ask.

She touches my arm. Her fingers move down the toward my biceps. “I don’t even know.”

“You haven’t thought about it? That’s what all this is for, right? So you can get paid.”

“Right, you’re right.” She laughs slightly and pulls her hand away. I wish she wouldn’t. “What else could there be?”

“I’m not sure. You tell me.”

“Nothing. It’s all about the money.” She kicks her legs out and stands, moving out from under my touch. I watch her go, not sure why she’s reacting this way. She picks up an old photo of my mother and father on their wedding day, smiles at it, and puts it back down. “Maybe I’ll get a nicer apartment.”

“That’d be good. You kind of live in a shithole.”

“Hard to have a decent place when you’re broke and have no real skills to speak of.”

“Father didn’t let you go to school?”

“He sent me to a private Catholic high school, but he refused to let me go to college. He said he could give me all the education I’d need.”

“Seems like he did a good job.”

Her expression gets distant, and she shakes her head. “Yeah, I don’t know. There’s not exactly a market for former mafia princesses with a talent for crime.”

“And yet here you are, doing okay for yourself.”

She laughs lightly, almost like she’s being too flippant. I want to ask her more about what life has been like without her family, but I know things have been hard. I saw it when she first came to me, lost and a little desperate. A protective piece of me wants to make sure she never gets to that place again.

“I’ll do some research on the Bullethole Boys,” she says, moving to the door. “Should we meet up again?”

“Come to Bloody Strike in a few days.”

“You sure about that? I don’t think your guys like me very much.”

“They definitely don’t, but don’t let it bother you. Half the family’s jealous they missed a good brawl, and the few that were there are strutting around with their bruises like they’re fucking first-prize ribbons.”

“You boys and your war wounds.”

“We’re brainless macho assholes, it’s simply what we are.”

She laughs and goes to the door. She looks back and wants to say something. I’m tempted to tell her to come back here, to get in my lap, to let me put my hands on her hips and my mouth against hers, but it’s too late. She escapes and I watch her go, wondering if I missed an opportunity.