Lucky Irish

Chapter 2

Callum

With Tommy and Bo at his back, Callum walked down the dark alley that lead to the back door of the Lucky Irish. Part of him wanted to turn back, go home to his son and hope to fuck this was nothing but a bad nightmare, but he knew he had to go in there no matter how hard it would be to see whatever was inside. 

Shamus had been like a father to him - a good father - not like the man whose seed he'd come from. He was a tough old bastard, bad tempered and grouchy as hell, but he was a good man who took care of the people that were his own. 

He halted two steps from the door, turned his head to catch Tommy's watchful gaze. 

"You stay here, keep an eye out for trouble or cops, anything happens, shout." Tommy was new to the crew, only twenty years old a lot of people made the bad habit of underestamating the kid, but Callum had known him since he was nothin but a little shit-kid acting out because he had a dick for a father. Callum saw a lot of himself in Tommy, had recognized the same frustrated anger, the bravado the kid had worn as a shield to hide the ugly truth that was his life. That was a long time ago now, Tommy was a lot more mature than some men twice his age, and he had one hell of a left-hook. Ian had called him sentimental about his choice to take Tommy under his wing, but even he had quickly understood exactly the type of asset Tommy could be to the crew. Which was why Callum didn't give a shit the kid was so young, he'd trust him at his back any day, even when he was dealing with the possible murder of a man that was like family. 

Jerking up his chin, the dark-haired kid turned his back to them and headed back the way they came, keeping watch of the alley and neighborhood from the street. 

"Whatever we find in there, keep your shit," Callum warned Bo, concious of the man's hair-trigger temper, and the close friendship he'd shared with Shamus who had in large part acted like a parent to the crew in general. 

Lips thin, muscle jumping in his tight jaw, Bo jerked up his chin, his hands fisted at his sides, reflecting the tension gripping his entire body. Trusting the other man to keep his shit, Callum mentally braced himself for what they'd find once they got inside and lead the way through the cracked back door of a place that would never be the same again. 

***

Shay

I closed my eyes and braced my hands and forehead against the cold tile walls of the shower as the hot water poured down from above. Just like Ian had said, Declan with the military-short hair, dark blue eyes and the scar above his left brow had knocked on my door exactly when I'd been told he would be there. 

He was a big guy, and everything about him was scary, from the cold look in his eyes to the predatory way he carried himself, and he didn't talk much. Aside from telling me his name before I opened the door to him, we hadn't spoken one word to each other. When he walked me out of my apartment building and lead me to the car parked on the corner of my street, he manevoured it in such a way that he was always shielding me in some way, his gaze scrutinizing every shadow, every dark corner from where an assailant might approach. 

As for me, I wasn't much in talking mood, still trying to wrap my head around what had happened and how the hell I was going to get out of this, survive it even. 

I bit my lip to stifle a whimper as the sound of my uncles body hitting the floor whispered into my mind. 

You're such a coward, a sinister voice whispered inside my head, you just left him there. What if he wasn't dead? 

I shook my head violently at the words. I heard them say he was dead, there was nothing I could have done. But then, what if they only thought he was dead? What if he was just unconcious and hanging on to life? Could I have saved him if I stayed? No, I decided. The second my phone rang, I was out of options, I had to run.  Or they would have killed me too.