Despite all my protests and good advice, Em had organised Danny another birthday party. And it was just as much of a fucking car crash as the last one. Knowing how much he’d hate it, a lot of people had turned down the invitation, forcing Em to hold a small celebration at the gym, rather than the huge shindig at the Community Centre she’d wanted. All the fighters on the books and their partners were in attendance though. None of us had the balls to turn her down,
“I don’t fuckin’ like parties,” Danny said, giving Em his trademark, deadpan stare as we surprised him Although I wasn’t so sure how much of a surprise it was, given that Em insisted on doing something every year.
“Everyone loves parties. Music, balloons, presents, cake. What’s not to love? Tommy even remembered the party poppers,” she replied. I was so busy trying to work out from his expression whether he really was going to lose his shit, I was only half listening. But when I heard the words ‘party poppers’ I reacted like it was my cue, and let one go. One single, solitary party popper in a room that was completely fucking quiet. Em had turned the music down so we could shout ‘surprise’ and had never turned it back up. Somewhere out there was a morgue enjoying more of a party than we had going. It was painful and awkward and I couldn’t wait to tell Em ‘I told you so’.
At the bang, Danny turned to give me that look. The one that suggested he was seconds away from removing one of my organs with the cake knife. I almost shit my pants, but Em wasn’t fazed in the slightest. She was a force of fucking nature. Even Danny, who was pretty much the scariest fucker I’d ever met, had no hope against her.
“How long do I have to stay?” Danny asked her with a heavy sigh, and he was completely serious.
“What do you mean? It’s your party! You have to stay until the end!” she replied. He gave her the same look that he’d given me, though she didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated.
“Fine!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Have a piece of your birthday cake at least, and we’ll wrap it up in half an hour.” He smirked, having got his own way and sat down next to me while Em waited on him. The thirty minutes where she took a million photos, made us sing happy birthday, then eat cake while listening to Greatest Hits of the 80s, were painful. It was a relief to everyone, including O’Connell, when she let us escape to the pub across the road. If I thought the party had been bad though, it was nothing compared with the rest of the night.
“Sorry about that,” I said to Evie, as we walked across the road. “I knew it was a fucking awful idea, but nobody can tell Em no.”
“It’s fine and for what it’s worth, I think it was a lovely idea. Even if he doesn’t enjoy parties, I bet on the inside he’s happy to know that so many people care. Who wouldn’t be?”
“You’re probably right, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to sit through,” I replied.
“Ah, stop ya moaning. We’re off to the pub now ain’t we?” she teased, over-exaggerating her Irish accent.
“I’ve never told you this before, but I love the way you talk. I’ve lived in England nearly my whole life, but when I hear your voice, I know I’m home,” I said. Her arm was threaded through mine and she pulled us both to an abrupt stop. I turned to ask what was wrong when I saw the tears in her eyes.
“You talk a lot of shite Thomas Riordon. But from time to time you say something wonderful and romantic that absolutely takes my breath away,” she replied.
“Evie!” I complained, looking at my dick.
“What?” she asked, a look of complete confusion on her face.
“Stop saying my full name in public. It makes my dick stand to attention like you’ve got it on some kind of chain. How am I supposed to walk into a pub full of guys when my cock looks like a fucking flag pole?”
“Thomas. Thomas. Thomas,” she replied, giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world to make me hard. Shutting her up the only way I knew how, I hoisted her up to wrap her legs around my waist and kissed her. I wish I had better words to describe what being with her like this meant to me. I’d never experienced anything that came close to the way I felt when we were together. The knowledge that to one person I was the whole world, was every-fucking-thing to me.
My girl was so fucking smart. Smarter than me, the kid who barely made it through high school, could ever hope to be. But when I talked, she always listened. She never dismissed my opinions, or talked down to me. She worshipped me every bit as much as I did her, and I loved her for it. And maybe there was a guy out there who was richer and more intelligent than me. Who wanted what was mine. Fuck, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out that was true. But I was plenty smart enough to know what I had, and I wasn’t ever letting it go without a fight.
Our savage kiss turned gentle as we let our lips slide lazily across one another. Her body, pressed tightly against mine, was only making my erection worse, and I knew I had to let her down if we were to have any chance at meeting the guys before last orders.
“If I’m at the end of your pole, does that make me a flag?” she asked, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“Look at you! A few weeks with me and you’ve gone from good Catholic girl to talking pure filth,” I teased, making her laugh. Fuck it was a beautiful sound. So pure and honest and full of joy. “And yes baby. You can be the flag at the end of my pole any time you like.”
“I can’t believe I just said that! Thank goodness nobody else heard,” she said as I lowered her to her feet, her cheeks pinking up with a blush.
“Pure as the driven snow in church, and pure fucking filth in the bedroom. I’m pretty sure you’re every man’s fantasy love. Ain’t nothin’ about that you need to be embarrassed about,” I reassured her.
“I am absolutely not filth in the bedroom. The only thing I do in the bedroom is sleep,” she protested.
“What? You’ve never fingered yourself?” I asked, probably a little too loudly judging by the look on her face.
“Oh my God. You did not just say that! We need to change the subject right now,” she replied, her voice an angry whisper as she clamped her hand over my mouth to stop me saying more. More than a little amused, I pulled it away and kissed her gently until she seemed calm again.
When our lips parted, she wrapped her arms around my middle in a big hug. I held her tightly to me as I bent down to whisper in her ear.
“When you do finger yourself, can I watch?” I asked. She burst out laughing before hitting me repeatedly.
“You are such a bad man Thomas Riordon, I don’t know what to do with you. Now let’s go, before you open your mouth again and I have even more Hail Marys to say after confession tomorrow.” She laced her fingers through mine and dragged me towards the Royal Oak, and I wondered whether or not to admit I wasn’t joking. Not even a little. The idea of having Evie spread-eagled on my bed as she fingered herself slowly was almost enough to make me come in my boxers, something I hadn’t done since I was a horny teenager.
“And she says I’m the bad one,” I muttered to myself, knowing she’d die of embarrassment if she knew what I was thinking. As it turned out I needn’t have worried about my hard on. Kieran pretty much killed it as soon as we walked through the door.
“Yo fuck nuts. You’re late,” he said, as he walked past me with a tray of drinks from the bar.
“You have all the best pet names cupcake. Did you get me and my girl a drink?” I asked.
“Don’t call me cupcake in front of your bird. You know it turns me on. And yes I got you a beer and the lovely Evelyn a vodka lime and lemonade. Sorry Ev, I didn’t know what you liked so I just got the sort of girlie shit Em would drink,” he said. I rolled my eyes at him, but Evie smiled gratefully, like he was the best guy in the world for buying her a drink.
“Thanks Kieran. That’s really kind of you. Let me give you the money for it. It must’ve cost you a fortune to buy a round for everyone,” she replied.
“Fuck no! I buy way more drinks than he does! I’m sure the tight arse can stretch t
o a vodka and lemonade,” I argued.
“Well Kieran doesn’t owe me anything, and it was very lovely of him to think of me so the least I could do is offer to pay him back,” she told me, folding her arms as she spoke. It was the universal signal to men everywhere that they were in the shit.
“Let’s hope some of your good manners rub off on him darlin’. Now you keep your money. Watching you put fuck nuts in his place is payment enough,” Kier replied, smiling big like a kid whose Ma had just chosen his side in an argument with his brother. I stuck two fingers up at him behind Evie’s back, not giving a shite if it was childish. It just made the arsehole smile wider.
When we got to our usual table, everyone bar Kier’s wife was sat together.
“Where’s Marie?” I asked.
“Jack had a rough night and Ma’s got him tonight, so Marie’s having dinner with her friend. I’m only stopping for one then I’ll go and pick her up so we can have an early night,” he replied. His smirk suggested that his poor Mrs wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night either. I didn’t blame him for skipping out early. If I had the choice of going for a drink with this bunch of ugly fuckers, or lying in bed with Evie, I knew where I’d rather be.
“I’m just nipping to the toilet, love,” Evie whispered, before kissing me gently on the cheek as she walked away. She was embarrassed to let everyone know where she was going, and it was cute as hell.
“Man you’ve got it bad,” Kier pointed out, as my eyes followed her gorgeous arse until I lost sight of her.
“Yep, I really do,” I admitted, grinning shamelessly.
“I’m happy for you mate. Me and Con were beginning to worry you were gonna end up some sad, lonely old man, living in one of our basements,” he said.
“Or one of those old fuckers who ends up dislocating a hip ’cause he still thinks he can pull the birds by dancing like a fuckin’ teenager when he’s in his sixties,” Con chipped in, laughing.
“I tell ya, jealousy is a fuckin’ bitch. All them years of dancin’ have made me a lean, mean, lady killin’ machine. Look!” I replied. Standing up, I pulled my top up with one hand and lowered the waist band of my jeans with the other, as I gyrated and rolled my abs sexily.
“Jesus man! Will ya put it away before that birthday cake I ate earlier makes another appearance,” Con said.
“Hey, you were the one takin’ the piss out of my moves. And if Em’s a bit moist after that show, well then you’re welcome,” I said. It was comical how fast his smug grin was replaced by the thunderous look on his face.
“You sure do like takin’ your life in your hands, don’t ya Tom? And forget about Con, if Ev hears you talking about making another girl moist, she’s gonna have your balls in a sling,” Kieran warned.
“Fuck! I was just takin’ the piss. I didn’t mean anything by it. Em’s like our little sister,” I reasoned.
“We know that, but her feelings are gonna be hurt, that’s all I’m saying,” he replied. I looked around, anxious to make sure Evie hadn’t heard me. As much as I didn’t like it, Kier was right. I was so used to sayin’ whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Everyone knew what I was like, and for the most part nobody gave a shit, but my experience with other woman ended up being thrown in Evie’s face more times than I’d like. I didn’t want my own big mouth to end up doing the same.
I chatted with the guys for a little while, but after ten minutes, she still hadn’t come back to the table. Turning around, I searched the crowd that stretched to the bar before I finally found her.
“Oh hell no,” I said, launching myself out of my seat.
“What?” Kieran asked, but I didn’t hang around to answer him. Storming through the sea of drinkers, I reached Evie in time to shove aside the low-life who had her trapped up against a pillar.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” I shouted angrily. The fucker looked so smug, I wanted to show him the underside of my left hook, but Evie wrapped her arms around me like a limpet and she wasn’t letting go.
“I’m alright,” she told me, but I could tell from the tremble in her voice that she was anything but.
“What’s going on Tom?” Kier asked, his voice deceptively calm. A quick look behind me and I could see the lads had followed. I wasn’t surprised. We always had each other’s backs. It’s just the way it was.
“Well, if it isn’t the spineless queer and his useless band of gay boys.” At six feet and three inches, Declan Murphy might’ve had his brother’s height and build, but he’d only ever be half the man Liam was.
“What are ya doin’ here Dec?” Liam said. “We stay away from the Holy Cross. You stay away from the Royal Oak. That was the deal with Dad.” It wasn’t a secret that Liam’s brothers hated him for being gay. It was even less of a secret that this particular brother was a fuckin’ idiot, long overdue for a beat down. Liam’s dad Stuart, and his arsehole brothers Declan, Jimmy and Eamon would rather Liam be dead than with his boyfriend Albie.
When the Murphy family found out Liam was gay, and that he and Albie were seeing each other, all hell broke loose and they beat Liam worse than I’d ever seen anyone get beat before. He was one the hardest fuckers I knew, and he took a pasting to protect Albie. If that weren’t love, I didn’t know what was. Only when Danny stepped in and confronted Stuart, threatening to out some secret between them did we reach an uneasy truce with the Murphy boys. A truce Declan was breaking by showing his face in our bar.
But getting away with beating someone like he had can make a man cocky. Declan Murphy was big, but the fucker was fat and out of shape. Sure he could throw a decent punch, but beer and cigarettes had taken their toll, and smacking Liam around was probably more exercise than he’d had in years. If Liam had thrown one punch, one single punch, Declan would’ve gone down like a sack of shit. We all knew it. But somewhere along the way, and more than a few drinks later, Declan had started remembering the incident through rose-tinted lenses. Seeing Liam go down without a fight made him feel invincible.
That self-delusion made him dangerous. Not to us, but those caught in the crossfire. The people we loved. Because if a reckoning ever came, if any of the Murphy clan lifted a finger against me or mine, we’d spill their blood in a heartbeat. But the spineless fuckers would want retribution for the humiliation. And it wasn’t us they’d come after. It was Evelyn, Albie, Em and Marie. It was the people we cared about. Liam took a beating, knowing full well that one punch might end the fight, but it would start a war.
For the last year there’d been an armistice between us. Calling it peace would be a fucking lie. We didn’t know what Danny had over Stuart Murphy, but it was big enough for him to call off his attack dogs. As long as they kept to themselves and caused no trouble, Danny’s secret would stay that way. But it was never a cease-fire that was built to last. The truth of it is that weak men crave violence. Not against those who would give them a fair fight, but against the helpless and the vulnerable. Because causing them pain would feed the lies they tell themselves about their own self-worth.
I hadn’t seen any of the Murphy boys since the day Danny had given his ultimatum, but Declan being there was a declaration of war. Stuart Murphy’s control over his sons was slipping, and seeing Declan trap Evie like that, had mine slipping too. I would set the world on fire to keep my family safe, and if that fire started with this fucker, so be it.
Chapter Sixteen
EVELYN
Every single thing about Declan Murphy repulsed me. From his nicotine stained teeth, to his grotesque beer belly and the repulsive odour of stale cigarettes that followed him constantly. I knew of him, just as sure as he knew of me. London might be a big city but the Irish Community here was tight knit, even if you didn’t know a person. If they were Irish and living in London, chances were you were connected through a mutual acquaintance somehow.
We were acquaintances at best, and certainly not friends. I knew that his father owned his own construction company, and was a mean drunk who liked to
hit his wife. At least that was the gossip. Whether it was true or not, I didn’t know. But on the few times I’d seen his mother, she looked like a hollowed out shell of a person. An empty vessel with no spirit. The Murphy boys followed in their father’s footsteps, such that they were. They worked for his Company, drank like fish and were well known for their violent tempers.
Declan, however, was the worst of the whole bad bunch. I’d only ever seen him a handful of times, but he always made me nervous. On Christmas Eve their da would drag them all to midnight mass after the pub kicked out. The combination of alcohol and the festive season ensured it was the one mass where the church was packed to the rafters, and the collection boxes full. But all through the service, I could feel Declan’s eyes following me.
Last year the library had a stand at a summer fair in Canning Town, and the same thing happened. All morning I’d felt like I was being watched, and when the sound of rowdy, obstreperous men in the beer tent drew my attention, I saw him. Gawking at me with hunger and hate in his eyes. Fortunately, I’d always been surrounded by family, friends and colleagues so I’d never been in the position of having to talk to him, until then. Humming along to the juke box on my way back to the guys, I wasn’t paying attention to much of anything, when he grabbed me by my wrist and pinned me against the pillar.
Momentarily stunned, I froze as he tilted his head towards me. Like a predator sizing up prey as he considered how best to dissect and devour them.
“Where are you goin’ in such a hurry darlin’?” he asked.
The Fire (Hurricane Book 4) Page 14