I don’t hide it from Keenan. The man’s like a father to me, and his disapproval would hurt worse than any fucking beating I could take. It’s partly why he sends me on trips and jobs, and it was with great reluctance he took me out of the ring.
“Lot of feckin’ money,” I mutter, quickening my pace so I wind Danny.
He wheezes beside me but doesn’t slacken his pace. Motherfucker.
“Tis,” he agrees. “And the winner gets his pick of the ladies as well.”
I look at him sharply. “Come again?”
He grins his toothy grin and nods, an odd look while he’s running his arse off beside me.
“Half a dozen of Miss Vivian’s finest have donated their services, win or lose.”
I shake my head.
“I’m supposed to be enticed by that?”
I don’t admit I fucking am. The women are gorgeous, and it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had a woman. I haven’t had anyone on the regular since I came back from Boston several years back. The idea of earning thirty thousand euros and a woman for a night with no strings attached fucking appeals.
I run harder, trying to lose him, but he doesn’t lag. We run past Holy Family Church and the cemetery. Father Finn’s got his watering can out on the front lawn. He’s walking more slowly these days, stooped with both age and the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he manages a smile and wave to me.
We run past the Armory and Cold Stone Castle, and still, Danny’s yapping on about why this one little fight is worth my time.
Christ, how I miss being in the ring. I miss the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the sense of victory when I win a fight. I train hard at the gym and I train well, so I still get the burn of lifting and the high of a run, but it’s like a stage performer belting her heart out in the shower. She’s the only one who hears.
He must sense weakness, for he comes in for the kill.
“Keenan will let you,” he says, “And now that Cormac’s co-chief, you could easily persuade him as well.”
How’d he fucking know it was Keenan that ended my fighting. Furthermore, how does he know Cormac is co-chief?
I give him a side-eye, but he only gives me his toothy grin.
“Aw, come off it, Hurston,” he says. “Every damn citizen of Ballyhock knows the workings of the Clan.”
The hell they do. I’d bet my left bollox they don’t know a fucking fraction.
I circle back to the mansion. It looms ahead of us, large and dominating on the horizon. Radiant streams of sun hit the windows, making them gleam like beacons in the early morning quiet.
“Talk to Keenan,” Danny says with a parting salute. “You’ve got my number.”
“Fuck off.”
“Good day to you, too,” he says with a cackle, and he’s off, gripping his side and wheezing. I can’t help but smile. Good. Hope he collapses, the motherfucker.
I slow when I approach the gates to the McCarthy home.
I’ve only lived here for two years, but moving in here has changed everything.
The McCarthy home, a large, sprawling mansion, overlooks the Irish Sea and all of Ballyhock. It’s surrounded by a greenhouse, a wooden swing set and fort for the younger children at the back, and a beautiful garden tended by Maeve, the McCarthy family matriarch.
The huge estate boasts over twenty bedrooms thanks to new renovations, five reception rooms, one massive kitchen, a finished basement with our workout rooms, a library, and private interrogation rooms.
I go in the side entrance to the workout room in the basement, half expecting to see Keenan lifting. He’s an early morning riser like myself, but today the bench is vacant.
I drink my water, then begin lifting, but my mind is elsewhere.
I want back in the goddamn ring.
I want to earn that money.
I want a pretty girl to spend the night with.
It seems nearly every one of my Clan brothers has found someone, all but Tully the loner, and Boner, but Tully’s more like the team mascot as well as a brother of the Clan. Tall and gangly, he’s a man whore with the best of them, spending most of his evenings he isn’t working at The Craic, our local sex club.
Keenan’s married with children, as is Cormac. Nolan’s married to my sister Sheena, and Clan brother Lachlan to my sister Fiona. Tully’s seen a few women here and there, and though he hasn’t settled, it certainly isn’t for lack of opportunity.
I chalk it up to watching Fiona and Sheena begin to raise families, as if doing so can heal them from their broken upbringing. And a part of me longs for that. Though I’m grateful I’ve been welcomed into this home, I want a family of my own. One that I’m in charge of, that I watch over, a family to provide for and protect.
I lie flat on my back and press weights, pushing myself to the max while my muscles strain, and sweat pours off my body. It feels fucking good to face this challenge, to welcome the pain in my muscles. I was a right gangly teen, but one could say I’ve come into my own.
I drop the weights and breathe between sets, when the door to the workout room opens and Keenan enters.
“Mornin’, Tiernan,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
I nod. “Keenan.”
At nearly forty years old, Keenan has the face of a much older man, the strain of his role reflected in the gray at his temples and beard. But still, he keeps himself in tip-top shape. While other mob leaders let their money and prestige sometimes get to them, Keenan fancies himself just one of us.
I grab the bar and continue to lift.
“You hear from Lachlan lately?” Keenan asks, heading to a treadmill.
I shake my head. “Not in a day or so. Everything alright?” My voice is strained with the effort of talking while I lift.
“Oh, aye,” he says. “But he had a follow-up
