“He’s selectively deaf and has a short attention span,” Con replied, crossing his arms as he resumed surveillance on his daughter. Busy trying to get my baby to smile again, I ignored the both of them, looking up only when I caught sight of my baby mama heading towards me.
“See sweetheart? I told you these moves work. It’s why your mama can’t keep her hands off me,” I whispered to Hannah, but I knew from Evelyn’s smile that she’d heard me. Wrapping her arms around me from behind, she rested her chin on my shoulder as she hugged me.
“All done?” I asked, and felt her answering nod. Em, Liam, Evelyn and Ma had done a fine job with the food and cake, but despite the ridiculous amount on offer, nobody would be going home with leftovers. We were all waiting like locusts, ready to inhale the buffet the minute Em, who was busy meeting and greeting, had finished her speech.
Since the gym had reopened, Em had spearheaded so many amazing changes. Driscoll’s had always been open to wayward kids who needed an outlet for their aggression, or some place to keep them focused and off the streets. But with the backing of Con’s winnings and some serious fundraising, Em was able to take a lease of the building next door. The ground floor of which was now a kick arse commercial kitchen where she could offer hot meals to anyone who needed them, and upstairs was split into two rooms. The first was a common room of sorts, with table football, a juke box and a pool table. The guys and I fucking loved it, and we hung out there with the kids almost as much as we did the gym.
The second room was used as a study. There were desks, laptops, a printer, notice boards and a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with study guides, text books and novels. That had been my girl’s doing. She’d researched the syllabus for every subject the kids studied in High School, and made it her mission to lay her hands on every book she could to help them on their way.
Ma spent most of her time in the kitchen. The kids idolised her, treating her like their nan, and she fucking loved it. As the resident cook and babysitter, she was in her element and I’d never seen her so happy. When she wasn’t with Ma, Evie was more often than not helping someone with their homework. I knew it gave her a sense of purpose, but eventually, when her maternity leave was up, she’d go back to the library. Books were her siren just as fire was mine.
“You guys did a fantastic job,” Evie said, and I surveyed our handiwork. After years of putting up with our half-inflated balloons and pathetic decorations, Em had finally made us hire a helium canister. Once we’d filled the gym with as many green, white and gold balloons as we could, we took it in turns inhaling the stuff from the tank. I just about pissed my pants when Con, stone faced as ever, started talkin’ like a fuckin’ smurf. It was bloody hysterical until the girls caught us rolling around on the floor with laughter and gave us a lecture on helium poisoning and being bad role models. Wouldn’t stop us from doing it again later on though, when more than a few pints had been downed.
Liam rocked up to join us, little D and Jack on each of his hips while Albie carried Ava. I didn’t think it would be too much longer before they thought about adding some of their own rug rats to the gang. Liam might be silent and brooding, but the kids loved him. He’d make an awesome dad, despite Stuart’s shitty example.
For their combined crimes, his father and brother had both been given life sentences. Having read about the Canning Town fires in the paper, they’d copied the arsonist’s methods thinking the fire would be blamed on him. It might’ve worked too if he hadn’t already been caught, and if they’d checked out our security measures first - they never were the sharpest fucking tools in the box. Still, with them gone that chapter in Liam’s life was closed, and when Albie popped the question to him last month on a weekend break to Paris, he’d said yes.
He seemed settled and happy and for the first time in a long time, at peace with the world. Course, I’d been a bit worried Evie might think Albie’s proposal had been more romantic than mine, with the Eiffel Tower and shit, but she reassured me that she had no yearning to visit France and that my proposal had been perfect. She didn’t know yet, but I’d booked Disneyland Paris for our wedding anniversary, just to be sure.
“Danny would’ve absolutely hated this,” Liam pointed out.
“Yep. Kind of makes me smile though, thinkin’ of him up in heaven, cursin’ us black and blue ’cause there’s nothing he can do about it,” I replied.
“Hi everyone, thank you all so much for coming,” Em said, giving us our cue to quieten down as she spoke into a microphone. “I know a few of you haven’t been with us long enough to have known Danny Driscoll. This is the second of his birthdays that we’ve celebrated since he’d been gone and, as long as I’m alive, we’ll keep celebrating them.
“It’s important to all of us who knew him that we remember today, and what he meant to all of us. He was a wonderful fighter and a great man who spent his life teaching us that we are all worth something. That we all mean something to someone, even if sometimes we don’t feel it. Danny Driscoll saved me.” She paused, as her voice cracked with emotion. Em hated public speaking or anything that put her at the centre of attention, but she did this for him. “He gave me a family, and introduced me to the man I love. He changed my life, like he changed the lives of so many others. Every good thing we’re able to do here at Driscoll’s is because of him, and we do it in his memory. So if you have a glass, please raise it. To Danny Driscoll!”
“To Danny Driscoll!” We all shouted. Happy Birthday to You blasted through the speakers as some of the kids let off the odd party popper here and there.
“You know, he’s probably turning in his grave as we speak,” I said.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t let Em hear you say that,” Kier warned.
“What are you guys talking about?” Em asked, red-faced from her speech as she came over to join us.
“Just talkin’ about how Danny would love seeing us all together like this,” Con lied, giving me a look that dared me to argue with him.
“He would have, wouldn’t he,” she agreed, looking behind me. We all turned to follow her gaze. The girls had gone to great pains to put the training area of the gym back to how it had been before the fire. The only addition to the room was a series of candid, black and white framed prints that hung along one wall. Each one showed the guys and the kids training, or a moment from one of Con’s many title fights. But in the centre of them all was a diamond of a picture Ma had unearthed among a load of old photographs. In it, Con and Kieran were sparring while Liam - as serious-looking as ever - and me with a mischievous grin on my face, hung over the edge of the ropes waiting for our turn. In the corner sat Danny, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and one foot on the rung of his stool as he watched over us all.
Not a day went by that he wasn’t missed. Those first few months after we lost him, were fucking bleak. Grief is a bitch like that. But time goes by, whether you want it to or not. Life moves on and eventually, something will happen that makes you smile again.
And we did.
We smiled and we laughed. We took the piss and knocked each other about. We cried and we swore. We drank and we trained. We even made a baby or two.
One minute Danny was there, and the next he was gone. Life was fragile, but our family was not. And in the end, the family he left behind was, perhaps, his greatest legacy.
Epilogue
DANNY
It was a beautiful day. With the sun, warm at my back and a gentle breeze caressing my face, I climbed the steep hill before me. There was no ache in my joints, and for once arthritis didn’t hamper my every step. I was invigorated. Filled with so much boundless energy I could’ve run to the top, but I wanted to stretch out the journey. The scenery was far too breath taking to waste in haste.
Inhaling a lungful of the clean spring air, I waited for the hacking cough that never came. There was no shortness of breath or tightening in my chest, but it didn’t occur to me to question why. I felt happy. Peaceful. Content in the way of a child on Chr
istmas morning. Unknowing, when they waken sleepily exactly where they are, but in full knowledge that something good is happening. Excited, without being able to remember why.
As I neared the summit, I saw a flash of blonde hair I would’ve recognised anywhere. The skirt of her favourite red dress billowed as it caught the wind, and she smiled as her eyes met mine. My heart stopped, just as it did the day I first saw her in the park.
“You sure do take your time, Danny,” she scolded, but I knew she wasn’t mad.
“I’m sorry darlin’. You waited for me?” I said.
“Always,” she answered, holding out her hand. I didn’t recognise the one that reached out to take it. Gone was the wrinkled skin and the liver spots. Where once I’d been frail and old, now I was young and strong. I was the man she’d fallen in love with. Her touch made me feel so alive, and I knew I couldn’t lose her again. Pulling her to me, I reached up to thread my free hand through hair that was softer than silk.
“I’ve missed you something fierce, Lily. Promise you won’t leave again,” I begged.
“Cross my heart,” she replied, without a trace of sadness. There was nothing but a look of pure joy on her face that reflected my own. She was back in my arms and everything was right with the world.
The touch of our lips was explosive; like fireworks to my soul. A kiss filled with so much hunger and longing, I couldn’t bear for it to end. When we finally parted, I touched my forehead to hers and closed my eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent that was uniquely her.
“Where are we, love?” I asked as the smell of fresh, green grass competed with her perfume.
“Ireland of course,” she replied.
“I always wanted to take you to Killarney,” I said.
“And now we’re here,” she whispered. My eyes flew open as she moved away, but I needn’t have worried. She slipped her arm around my waist, and I pulled her into my side, kissing the top of her head as we carried on walking together.
“I have so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start. Is there time?” Despite her reassurance, I couldn’t help the worry that somehow I’d lose her again. As if sensing my anxiety, she pressed her free hand against my heart, and it slowly melted away.
“There’s time for everything Danny. We have forever.”
“I love you Lily Driscoll. I fell in love the day I met you, and I’ve loved you every day since.” Her answering grin was pure sunshine.
“I love you too, Danny. So much.”
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long,” I said.
“Ah Danny, love. I’d wait an eternity for you. You know that.” She smiled. “Now tell me everything.”
Keep reading for a sneak peak of City Under Siege!
A Note from the Author
Dear Readers,
From the beginning of The Hurricane series, I knew exactly how Danny’s story would end. That didn’t make it any easier for me to write. It’s no exaggeration to say that I cried buckets when it came to Danny’s scenes, but the only way to truly give him his happy-ever-after, was to reunite him with Lily. It was such an emotional, and monumental book for me, that I needed time to do Tommy and Danny’s story justice, and I sincerely hope I have.
The Driscoll boys have been such a huge part of my life for so many years, and I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every one of you who has followed the series and kept the love for Cormac O’Connell and all the Driscoll boys alive. This one is for you.
R.J. Prescott
About the Author
R.J. Prescott was born in Cardiff, South Wales, and studied law at the University of Bristol, England. Four weeks before graduation, she fell in love, and stayed. Ten years later, she convinced her crazy, wonderful, firefighter husband to move back to Cardiff where they now live with their two equally crazy sons. Juggling work, writing and family doesn’t leave a lot of time, but curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate for family movie night is definitely the best part of R.J. Prescott’s week. Her debut novel, The Hurricane, became a USA Today best seller and was a finalist in the Goodreads Debut Novel of the Year.
rjprescott.com
CITY UNDER SIEGE - Prologue
SARAH
THREE MONTHS EARLIER
The utilitarian metal clock, its ticking painfully loud against the silence, reminded me of the antiquated time pieces that hung on the walls of almost of my high school classrooms, and in most every office I’d ever been in. Absently, I wondered if they weren’t part of some cruel joke. Inviting pupils and employees alike to witness time slipping away within the four walls of their confines. It was these kinds of useless meanderings that helped me to bear the indeterminable wait without completely losing my shit. And I’d been close.
So very close.
Painfully near to screaming at the top of my lungs for as long as I could. The only thing that held me back was the knowledge that doing so would almost certainly lead to an immediate bullet through my brain. I didn’t want to die. When it came down to it, nobody ever really did. The instinct for self-preservation was stronger than most of us knew, and in the end, maybe that was all some people had left. But not me. The torrent of emotion raging inside me was so much stronger than a simple will to survive. In the beginning, there was only fear. But once the adrenaline had subsided, and the reality of my situation sank in, I found the ability to see past the terror and panic. To feel other things. Frustration. Helplessness. Rage. Pain.
In those final hours, I lived through all the stages of grief. Denial. Anger. Bargaining and depression. Now, finally, I was at acceptance. I accepted what was going to happen, and I hoped my life had meant something. That in the end, my actions had changed somebody else’s life for the better. I had been brave when bravery wasn’t the easiest choice, and for that I had some measure of peace. And then there was Tom. When I pictured his face, my heart wept. It was the cruellest of tragedies to be ripped away so soon from the person it had taken me a lifetime to find. But the real tragedy would’ve been to never have loved him at all. And in my darkest hour, he was here with me.
As I watched the clock hand tick over into one minute past midnight, making it officially the twenty second of January, I was struck by the irony. I was born on the twenty second, it was likely that I would die on the twenty second, and my only glimmer of hope had been that the twenty second Special Air Service would save me. I was past that now though.
After hours and hours of complete silence, voices were raised and doors slammed in a flurry of activity. Eventually, the door to my room flew open. A gun was pointed at my head while my captor screamed at me in a foreign language. Seeming to realise I didn’t understand, he gestured with his weapon for me to get up. The weight of the explosive vest strapped tightly to my chest made standing painful. But I knew from experience that not doing as I was told would lead to more discomfort. Apparently, I wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. Grabbing me by my upper arm with a bruising grip, he dragged me into another larger room off a narrow hallway that was filled with his associates.
Gone was the icy control I’d seen earlier. In its place was panic and unrest. The men argued heatedly between themselves, often pointing a gun in my direction as they spoke. My eyes wandered absently around the room as I tried to block out the noise. All of the windows I’d seen had been covered with closed blinds. The shafts of light piercing through the slats served as a reminder of the world that existed outside of this prison. Through the doorway, I could see part of a long window across the hall. The dark cloth draped across it had partially slipped. I understood then how the mind could play tricks, because a dead man stared back at me through the glass. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t real. What mattered was that the last face I’d ever see wouldn’t be looking at me with eyes filled with hate. Closing my eyes against the pain, I felt a single tear track slowly down my cheek, before the world exploded. After that, I felt nothing at all.
CITY UNDER SIEGE - Chapter One
&nbs
p; SARAH
As I watched both coffins lower slowly into the ground, I felt as though I was made of stone. Like any other statue in a graveyard filled with effigies, I stood in solemn tribute to the last of my immediate family. Rain pelted down mercilessly over the crowd of London’s finest, most of whom were completely unprepared for the brutal Yorkshire weather. My aunt Elizabeth told me it was ridiculous to have Dad and John buried here, and didn’t I care how much I inconvenienced their friends by making them travel all this way from London? It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I didn’t give a shit about any of them, but Dad wouldn’t have wanted that. So I said nothing and replied by booking the funeral anyway. If she had her way, there’d be a state procession that ended at St Paul’s Cathedral.
Despite what you might think, I didn’t drag everyone two hundred and fifty miles just to piss off Dad’s sister. I did it so that in death, they’d feel free. Like I did, standing on the Yorkshire moors with the wind in my face, remembering my mum dancing around with John and me like a crazy person. Dad’s family might come from money, but Mum had been a down-to-earth northern lass through and through. She’d been Dad’s moment of madness, and he had loved her like no other until the day she died. But cancer was such a cruel, merciless bitch. Not content with taking lives, she also stole the spirit of those she left behind. One day my beautiful, free-spirited, effervescent mum was teaching me to cartwheel through the long grass, and less than eight months later, she was gone, and with her the soul of her beloved. Dad was never the same after she passed. In his loss, his sister stepped in to help raise us and guide him as to the example he should set. Cottage holidays on the moors and Lake District gave way to cocktail parties on yachts in Monaco as she finally had him living up to the Tatem name. Eventually, even John and I drifted apart. With ten years between us, I was sent to an all-girls boarding school to finish out my education, and following John’s graduation from university, he joined Tatem Shipping and fell into the vapid wormhole of life as a shipping magnate.
The Fire (Hurricane Book 4) Page 30