by Dee, Cara
In reality, my thoughts were with Luna.
“No one can know until after Barcelona.”
She wasn’t even going to tell Conn, the married man she’d been screwing on and off for the past year.
I wanted to shake her!
I snuck glances at Liam every now and then, ’cause I was certain by now that he and Luna had feelings for each other. The heat and the tension between them…only blind fools and men could miss it.
“You’ve been quiet today.” Finnegan sidled up to me and threaded our fingers together. The sun was out at the moment, and he was peering down at me from behind his sexy Ray-Bans.
“I’m just enjoying myself.” I smiled and shrugged. “Dublin is gorgeous in the sun.”
He inclined his head and glanced around us. We were walking toward St. Patrick’s Cathedral, after which we’d stop for coffees and pastries somewhere. “Aye, it’s definitely a place to visit in the spring and summer,” he replied. “By the way, is Luna sick?” Shit. “If she’s hiding the flu or something in an attempt to stay on the Barcelona crew, I got news for her. Aunt Viv heard her throw up in the bathroom at Trinity.”
A flu or something.
“Not that I know of,” I responded with a slight frown. “I can talk to her.”
“Thank you. Tell her she’s got four days to get better, or she’s off the team too.”
She’d need approximately nine months, minus however many weeks along she was. She suspected five or six.
Luna felt better after dinner, and we all returned to the pub that was once again closed so we could have privacy. It allowed me to relax, and I tried to actually enjoy our vacation. Another thing that helped was when Liam took the stage in the corner and got the crowd worked up with folksy tunes.
Finnegan was talking to Kellan at the bar, both looking all serious, so I found a booth and sat down with my soda.
It wasn’t just me who’d acted weird today. Or Luna, for that matter. As I glanced around the pub, it felt like there was a strange atmosphere. Sarah was sitting with Viv and a few other women, but my high school friend was quiet. Eric leaned against the end of the bar and watched Liam in silence, and he appeared troubled about something too.
Then Shan—who was walking toward me—was wearing his own little frown.
Thank goodness for the others who were in high spirits, requesting songs, and living it up.
“How are you doing, honey?” He sat down across from me and set his beer on the table.
“I’m good.” Holy shit, I was lying a lot today. I guess I really was an O’Shea. “How’re you?”
He nodded slowly and flicked a glance at Finnegan by the bar. “I’m okay. A bit worried about my son.” At my look of concern, he leaned forward and elaborated. “He went to prison when he was still a kid in more ways than one. Since he got out, he’s grown up overnight. And now…” He gestured at our family and friends. “He’s at the top. The syndicate is his. It’s a big responsibility, and I suppose I want to make sure he has you to remind him to relax every now and then.”
Oh. I studied my husband. He was still talking to Kellan. Whatever it was that made them so serious had to be important. It was as if they didn’t know they were in a bar and had all their friends chugging beer and cheering for Liam to play “one more song.”
“I have to push him,” Shan told me. “He will make a brilliant leader, but he lacks some experience. That’s where Thomas and I come in. Thomas can advise and suggest, but he doesn’t rank high enough to make any demands. I can still play that card with Finn, and he has to be tougher in certain aspects. And it’s why it’s important he has you, Emilia.”
I processed what he’d said and couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened.
“Did something trigger this?” I asked. “I mean, the reason you’re telling me this now.”
He nodded once. “I can’t divulge any details, but yes.”
“Hm.” I took a sip of my soda and watched Finnegan some more. “Well, he has me,” I said firmly. “I’ll remind him.”
Shan reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Good. I knew you’d understand.”
I wasn’t sure I did, but that was the thing with this family. Sometimes you just had to roll with the punches.
Booze worked on my dear hubby.
The more I thought of it, the more I agreed with Shannon. Finnegan had to unclench sometimes and have some fun, so I started slinging him beer and shots when I “made rounds” to check in with everyone.
“Princess, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were tryin’a get me wasted.”
“Good thing you know better.” I patted his scruffy cheek and grinned.
The only one who wouldn’t relax tonight, it seemed, was Patrick. I had to pick my battles; I’d get him eventually, but for now, I counted this as a victory. Eric, Finnegan, and Kellan did a couple more shots, then joined Liam, Conn, and Colm on the little stage to show Dublin the finest that Ireland had produced.
“Emilia!” Luna emerged from the crowd with an apologetic look and told me she was heading upstairs.
“Are you not feeling well?”
She made a face and gestured subtly at the crowd, then leaned in to speak in my ear. “Conn’s wife just got here.”
Oh God. Yeah, I wasn’t touching that clusterfuck.
“Okay.” I nodded. “Get some rest.”
She disappeared behind the bar where Father Callahan was pouring beers at a rapid pace while chatting to Shan and Thomas.
Turning back to the stage, I eyed Conn and did notice he wasn’t flashing his signature grin. And he totally should, because as far as I was concerned, he hadn’t spent more than a weekend or two with his wife in almost a year. I couldn’t imagine that not putting a strain on a marriage.
It made me wonder what he actually felt toward Luna. Was it more than just casually hooking up?
Ugh, whatever. I just couldn’t care about that too.
“Callahan!” I heard Finnegan shout over the din. “We need ya up here, mate!”
Our friends and family hooted and hollered. I was missing something here. A tradition, maybe. Everyone was shouting the same thing, which I soon figured out was a song title.
“Only you can do it, Father!” Liam yelled.
Father Callahan laughed merrily and left the bar.
He took the stage and was quickly handed Liam’s guitar. Excitement tore through me when I spotted Finnegan retrieving a tin whistle from a case, and then he looked out over the small sea of people. I raised my soda and blew him a kiss. No, I wouldn’t miss this for anything, baby. He smiled and winked at me.
I walked a little closer and sidled up next to Eric and Autumn.
Liam was gonna play some Irish drum, and someone I didn’t remember the name of was tuning a banjo.
Finnegan adjusted the mic stand for Father Callahan and spoke into the microphone. “It’s been years, my friends, but it’s time to resume our traditions, innit? So without further ado… Dublin is ours—” He extended the mic over the crowd.
“The world is ours!” everyone yelled back.
I beamed and felt my heart race.
“All’a’ye know what to do,” Liam hollered. “Don’t fuck it up!”
People laughed.
A few seconds later, Father Callahan began, quickly followed by Liam and the crowd’s clapping.
…In the merry month of May, from me home I started
Left the girls in Tuam, so sad and brokenhearted
Saluted father dear, kissed me darlin’ mother
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother
Then off to reap the corn, and leave where I was born…
Sweet Jesus, I doubted Callahan was breathing. It was crazy fast.
…One, two, three, four, five
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road to Dublin…
As the second verse began, Finnegan filled in with the whistle, and shivers ran through me a
s I watched his fingers flit over the gleaming instrument.
He was amazing, as always.
…In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight, next mornin’ light and airy
Took a drop of the pure, to keep me heart from sinkin’
That’s the Paddy’s cure, whene’er he’s on for drinkin’
To see the lasses smile, laughin’ all the while
At me curious style, t’would set yer heart a-bubblin’…
I grinned and clapped with the others, and one song morphed into two that soon became three and four. Everyone’s mood had lifted, pictures were taken for future albums and blackmailing opportunities, and Conn and Colm put on their own show behind the bar where they served pints and shots like it was nobody’s business.
I took a breath of relief and felt the last of the tension leaving me.
On St. Patrick’s Day, Finnegan wore a smirky grin the whole day. It made me happy, but the happiest was probably Shan. All of us left the safety of our building early and made our way on foot to watch the parade.
Dublin was buzzing with energy, the sun was shining brightly, and everyone was wearing green. Hundreds of thousands of tourists flooded the country this time of year, and it was like the people were waking up the capital from hibernation.
“Today, we drink the black stuff!” Colm ordered and thrust a bottle of Guinness into my hand.
I reassured Finnegan quickly by only taking the smallest of sips. I hated stout anyway. Besides, I was done with my wine indulgences for a while too. The way I saw it, my lifestyle was enough for the baby to deal with.
“Let’s go, princess!” Finnegan caught me off guard and made me yelp when he threw me over his shoulder, and we disappeared into a green sea of loud people.
Oh my God, it was dizzying and wild.
“Put me down!” I insisted through breathless laughs. “Your son or daughter demands it too!”
He chuckled and, finally, let me down again. He hugged me to him and landed a smacking kiss to my forehead. “Fuck, how I needed today.”
I hugged his bicep and smiled up at him. “I love seeing you this way.”
He grinned, all hotness in his green beanie, green All Stars, and freaking suspenders. It was cold, but he wouldn’t wear a jacket. He’d said it would deprive the world of seeing his T-shirt, which read “There’s Some Irish in My Wife Now.”
“Tush!” Alec came up behind us with Liam, Nessa, and Shan. “Let me know if ye wanna sit on me shoulders so ye can see.”
I gigglesnorted and rolled my eyes. He found it oh-so-funny that he was taller than me.
Autumn and Eric joined us in the crowd too, and Finnegan couldn’t say no when his “blue eyes” asked to sit on his shoulders. Up she went, and I took a few photos of them. Their fingers were threaded, and he made her squeal with laughter as he clapped along to whatever song some nearby pub was playing. To be honest, there was more than one.
The noises grew louder and louder, and we heard people cheering down the street. It had to be the parade, not that I could see anything yet.
As I looked around us, I made eye contact with Sarah, who averted her gaze quickly.
Fuck—no. I wasn’t going to let her standard shitty mood ruin today.
“Come here, baby.” Finnegan guided me to stand in front of him—or, actually, on him. He gestured for me to stand on his feet and insisted it would be okay. I argued, stating there was only one row of people in front of us; I would see the parade once it reached us…and did I win the argument?
Not one bit.
“Better?” he asked in my ear.
“Maybe,” I yelled back.
He laughed.
I did see better, and the parade was unlike anything I’d experienced. There were floats, marching bands, so many colors, music, confetti, honking horns, and I was so, so, so glad Viv took so many pictures because I couldn’t look away.
Everything came at me at once, and I could only beam. Dublin was a feeling, and St. Patrick’s Day was an adrenaline shot. Combined, it was impossible to remain unaffected.
I was so glad we were able to have this vacation.
All was well. Really. Right?
“Goddammit.”
I finished attaching my earrings on my way to the bathroom, and I didn’t bother knocking. The façade Finnegan was putting up was finally cracking. I opened the door and found him in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around his hips, shaving gel on his face, the razor in the sink, and a trickle of blood slipping down his jaw.
“Here, sweetheart. Let me.” I took over while he blew out a frustrated breath and clenched his jaw. “You know, I’ve been trying to focus on the fun times we’ve had here, but something is up with several of us.”
He frowned and mulled things over as I cleaned the little cut on the edge of his jaw.
“Talk to me,” I murmured. “Can you tell me what’s going on with Patrick?”
He huffed under his breath. There was definitely something there.
I reapplied some shaving gel and grabbed the razor.
“A woman caught him and the others when they were leaving the club in Amsterdam.” He closed his eyes and stood still, and he kept his voice low. I could sense the tension in him, and I wanted it gone. “In a panicked moment, they decided to bring her with them.”
The questions piled up fast, but I kept my mouth shut.
“She’s some cautionary tale,” he said. “Hooked on heroin, used to spreading her legs—probably because she’s been forced to do it for years. I don’t know—she’s from some Eastern European country. Brought to Amsterdam to be entertainment.”
That was awful, not to mention painfully common. It was one of Gio’s business ventures we’d decided to stay away from, because it was so established, well-organized, and huge. We didn’t have enough people to make a difference without risking everything.
“Since they met up with us outside of Barcelona, Pat’s been keeping the woman in a house near the border,” he admitted. “It’s secluded, and she can’t leave. He gives her food and whatever, and he provides drugs in lockboxes that he sends her the combination to. Just enough to keep her from having seizures. Her body would collapse without the H at this point.”
“Jesus.” I tapped the razor against the sink, then ran it under hot water. “Do I want to know what the plan is for her?”
“Well, it was pretty fucking clear-cut up until Pat told me he’s developed feelings for the broad.”
“Oh my God.” I was stunned.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “He told me the other day. Now he wants to help her get better, send her to rehab or whatever.”
Finnegan let out a sigh and opened his eyes again, and he looked so tired. He gently grabbed the razor from me and resumed shaving his face in front of the mirror.
“Is there a chance it could work?” I asked hesitantly. “I mean, maybe she likes him too?”
“She’s a junkie. She likes whatever fucker gives her drugs.”
I winced. He was probably right, but what if…? People had gotten clean before. And that poor woman had been forced into a world of trafficking. No one could blame her for escaping her reality by using drugs, in my opinion.
“Have you met her yet?” I wondered and leaned against the counter. “I take it Patrick’s come to know her fairly well over two months…?”
Finnegan set down the razor once he was finished and bent over to wash his face. “It doesn’t matter. She’s unreliable, and I ain’t risking my family for Patrick’s latest flavor of the month.”
I made a face and handed him a towel. “Does Sarah know?”
He shook his head and wiped off. “Not that it matters.” He was shutting down again. We were due to leave for Mass, and tomorrow we were returning to Spain. We had a couple tough weeks ahead of us, and I feared Finnegan would be all business for the extent of it.
Shan had seen this before I had. It was why he’d told me to remind Finnegan to
relax every now and then.
“Mind if I meet you in the garage?” Finnegan asked. “I gotta call Eric about something.”
“There’s another one,” I said and left the bathroom. “Eric’s been down in the dumps too.”
“Aye, that’s a private matter, though. Nothing about work.” He ran a comb through his hair, then reached for his cologne. “I’m sure he’d tell you if you asked. It’s related to Autumn.”
Well, then. I was asking him today, no doubt about it. If there was anything I could do to help, I would do it in a heartbeat.
This change in the air was beginning to make me anxious. Finnegan was more somber than usual, Shan appeared troubled and fussed a bit over both his sons, Luna wasn’t feeling well, and Conn was staring at her throughout the service.
I didn’t even know what the priest was talking about.
It was a beautiful church, though. On our way in, Finnegan had told me that many of the O’Sheas had been baptized here. It was in the center of Dublin but on the small side compared to, say, St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It was cozy and dimly lit, with green walls, dark pews, and candles everywhere.
The place was packed to the last seat, and Eric had Autumn in his lap across the aisle from Finnegan and me. I hoped to get a minute alone with him after the service.
Finnegan placed a hand on my leg, making me realize I was tapping my foot restlessly.
I sent him a sheepish look.
“Stop worrying,” he told me quietly. “It’s been a long year. We’re all frustrated, but we’re handling it.”
I nodded and faced forward. He was right. Everyone was tired. We wanted to go home. A vacation wasn’t a real vacation when we had to watch our backs.
Christ, I missed Philly now.
27
Finnegan O’Shea
I let the mask slip the second I was in the car.