I didn’t like the McCarthys then. It angered me that my sister got roped into one of the most powerful mobs in all of Ireland.
The garden hasn’t changed, but we have. Fiona’s no longer the shy, reserved, neglected thirteen-year-old with freckled cheeks, who chattered all the livelong day to anyone who’d listen. She’s older now, married to Lachlan, and will graduate university soon.
Sheena’s no longer the fire and brimstone investigative reporter who was hellbent on bringing the McCarthy family down. She went and fell in love with Nolan, the third in line to the throne, who watches her now with that steadfast look of his I know well. He’ll give her just enough space to speak her mind, but she loses her temper easily and he knows it.
Back then, when we first came here, baby Sam was only two years old, ignorant to the abuse and neglect he suffered, mercifully shielded by Fiona, Sheena, and me.
And hell, I’m definitely not the stony-faced teen who hated everyone and everything save his siblings. With Nolan’s steadfast perseverance, I learned that there was a place for me, right here in this brotherhood of strong, principled men. In my mind back then, they were only criminals I couldn’t trust. Over the past seven years, they’ve become the brothers I always needed.
I fold my arms across my chest and wait for Sheena to finish. When she finally huffs out a breath and faces me, she throws up her hands in exasperation.
“But I suppose you’ll go ahead and do what you want anyway, as you always do!”
I can’t help but share a smile with Nolan at that, and she doesn’t miss it.
“Oh, you’re on his side, aren’t you?” she rants at Nolan.
Nolan smiles at her, his blond hair falling onto his forehead as he tosses his head, the McCarthy green eyes of his narrowing on her. “Course I do, lass. Why wouldn’t I? Your brother’s a born fighter, and it’s one of my life’s greatest accomplishments having a hand in his training.”
Jesus, my throat tightens at that. And right then, right now, under the overhanging leaves in the McCarthy family garden, I vow to myself I’ll win tonight’s fight, for the whole fucking McCarthy clan.
“And moreover,” Nolan continues, with an uncharacteristic formality to his speech that makes me smile. He’s learned that logic and reason pair well when negotiating with my sister. “Tiernan hasn’t been under our authority for years, Sheena. If he wants to fight, he can. If he wants to buy a sailboat and sail down the coast of Africa and lead others on safari, he can. If he wants to—”
“I get your point,” she snaps, her brows snapping together and her features darkening.
Nolan sobers a touch. “Careful, Sheena,” he says quietly. She clamps her mouth shut, draws in a deep breath, then lets it out again. Like every man of the clan, Nolan’s old fashioned. He’s the head of his home and doesn’t tolerate disrespect or backtalk from any of us.
“But Nolan,” she pleads, softer this time. Her voice cracks, and her eyes water a bit. I feel a little twinge of guilt. “You weren’t the one that had to doctor up his wounds. You didn’t hold his hand when they reset his shoulder for the seventh time or see the pain on his face every time he drew a breath because he’d broken another rib.” She shakes her head. “I love you all so much, and it kills me to see you hurt. I don’t want him in the ring again.”
Nolan reaches for her hand and tugs her over to him. I feel almost as if I’m looking in on a private conversation, though neither of them modulate their voices. They want me to hear this, too.
“Didn’t I, lass?” he says softly, chucking a finger under her chin so her eyes meet his. “How many times did I train him at St. Albert’s, and you weren’t there?”
She winces.
“I know it’s hard for you, sweetheart, but you’re blind if you don’t see how much this means to him.” He gives me a sad smile. “Your brother has the blood of a fighter in his veins, and he will until the day he dies.” He leans in and kisses her forehead. “And you didn’t have to doctor him up, lass. We have a doctor right here at home. But you did it because you wanted to, and you did it because you love him.”
He looks over to me. “Now,” he says, his voice deeper now. “It’s a done deal, isn’t it, Tiernan?”
I clear my throat and keep my gaze on his instead of Sheena’s. “Aye. Done deal, brother. Signed the contract not an hour ago, and I’ll leave to prepare in another hour.”
“Right, then,” Nolan says. “We’ve time for some food and a pint, then.”
“Aye.”
I join them for lunch, and Sheena’s thankfully dropped the subject. She still pouts a little, though. When we’re finished, I head out to get a ride to the ring. I have a locker prepared for me, and clothes, and want to prepare myself beforehand.
The time before the match flies by, and nervous excitement skates through me like electricity. I haven’t been in the ring in ages. Do I still have what it takes? I haven’t stopped my training, but training for a match is one thing. Actually remembering the feel of being in the ring is another thing altogether.
I limber up with a punching bag, remembering everything I was taught by Nolan, by Malachy at St. Albert’s, by my brothers of the Clan.
I remember
