Tully: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance: Dangerous Doms

by Henry, Jane

  She tosses her head, ever the proud McCarthy Clan matriarch. “When my sons find out you laid hands on me, you’ll pay dearly.” I stifle a snort. Understatement of the fucking year.

  He reaches for her, grabbing her arm, when Father Finn speaks quietly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll not touch a hair on her head. Even I can’t hold back the wrath of the McCarthys if you harm one of their own.”

  Goddamn right. I’ll break every one of his fingers before I slice his fucking neck if he touches her.

  “Now, what makes you so clever you think we aren’t from the north, hmm?”

  “Oh, you’re from the north, alright,” Maeve says through clenched teeth. “But you’ve made it seem like you were the men of the mountains, didn’t you?”

  “We are, you stupid bitch,” one of the larger men says. His friend shakes his head at him, and he quiets.

  “You think we aren’t, then, hmm? We sent our housekeeper here to distract you. She was bloody good at lying for us, wasn’t she?”

  Maeve rolls her eyes. “Lies.”

  I stifle a groan. Jesus, Maeve. Don’t provoke them.

  “And why do you think we aren’t the Scots, hmm?”

  She purses her lips. “Because I know your face. I know your eyes. And I know precisely who your father is.”

  He glares at her. I look around for a point of entry that will get me in there. There are three of them and one of me, how the bloody hell will I take them? There’s no time to alert the others. I have to let someone know. I need backup. Everyone else is on alert at the mansion, but the real instigators are here.

  I take out my phone to shoot Keenan a message, when it buzzes.

  McKenna.

  I swipe it so fast I nearly drop my phone. Where is she? Is she alright?

  Tully, we need to talk.

  Where are you?

  I text her as quickly as possible, keeping an ear on the conversation inside. I can’t let them hurt Finn or Maeve, but I need to make sure McKenna’s safe.

  I went for a walk by the ocean. I’m down on the beach below the cliffs, the private McCarthy family beach. Where are you?

  STAY. THERE.

  She’ll be bloody safe there.

  The words inside are getting more heated, and I can feel the threat of danger in the air.

  Text Keenan, send backup to the parsonage and STAY THERE UNTIL I GET YOU.

  I shove my phone in my pocket. The doors are all locked, and I have no idea how I can get in without alerting the men inside, when it dawns on me.

  Meet me at the office in the parsonage.

  The office. Though there’s no office, when I was a lad, we’d all come here on break from St. Albert’s. Seamus would have us trim the hedges, mow the lawn, paint the fence, and do whatever else was needed for the upkeep of the house and grounds. Every once in a while, one of us would need to speak privately to Father Finn. With a twinkle in his eye, he’d always say, “Come into my office,” and he’d lead us to the pantry with two bar stools and a jar of sweets.

  If I go to the right… right under here, where the bushes meet the fence… there should be a window to the pantry. I push through cobwebs and dry, crunchy leaves to get to the door, walking as slowly as I can so I don’t make a sound. Above me, the window to the pantry’s wide open. It’s far enough from the others I should be able to get in.

  There’s only one problem. Father Finn has grossly misjudged my size. There’s no bloody way I can fit in there.

  “Christ,” I mutter under my breath, when a soft feminine voice comes from behind me.

  “I hear he likes to hang around here.”

  I swivel my head around to find McKenna standing right behind me.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” I ask. I could fucking throttle her. “Of all the times I need you to do what you’re fucking told, and you came here? I swear to God when I get you alone—”

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “Yes, yes, I know,” she says with a sigh, and is that a touch of amusement? This woman is in so much trouble. “But I couldn’t get through to Keenan, and you said you needed assistance at the parsonage, so…” She peers behind me, still speaking in a whisper. “What’s the trouble?”

  I clench my hands into fists, so angry I can’t reply, but seconds are ticking by and I need to get inside.

  She peers up at the window and wordlessly points. “Do you need to get in there?”

  “Aye,” I mutter reluctantly. I do not want her endangered.

  She looks to the window then back to me.

  “Sorry to say, Tully, but you’re far too big to get in there.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fucking brilliant.”

  She smiles cheerfully. “I can fit in there, though. Just like I did last time, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember, alright,” I mutter, in a whisper. “You’re the one that doesn’t remember what it’s like to feel my palm across your stubborn little arse.”

  She flushes and bites her lip. “Do you need my help or not?”

  I have no choice. I quickly tell her what’s going on. Nodding, she looks at the window again. “With a boost up, I’ll get in there. But we’ll need you inside.”

  “You’ll come around to the side door as quietly as you can and open the door for me.”

  “Aye.” She nods again. “Let’s do this.”

  She looks more alive than she has in days, her eyes bright and enthusiastic. Maybe she needs this, a sense of purpose, I realize, more than she needs my protection.

  I lace my fingers together to boost her up, and she sets her foot squarely in the palm of my hand. Before I lift her, though, I wrap my arms around her and give her a quick, fierce hug.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” I whisper in her ear. I know now that whoever attacked Mary did so because they were coming after her. It’s the only reason I can think of. “Please, for the love of God, McKenna, will you do what you’re bloody told in there?”

  She hugs me back and kisses my cheek. “Yes, Tully. You have my word.”

  You have my word.

  She has no way of knowing this is the phrase the brotherhood uses, every one of us, to promise one another that we’ll do what we say we would, but it has an unexpected impact on me. I squeeze her hand and kiss her cheek.

  “Good girl,” I whisper in her ear. “Stay safe.”

  The next second, I’m heaving her up and she goes, nimble as a little kitten, up through the open window. I can see her shadow run along the pantry to the right, and within seconds, the door opens and I enter with her. Voices rise and fall down the hall. They don’t know we’re here yet.

  I draw my gun and hold my finger to my lips. She nods, then points to the gun and back to her. She wants a gun? I roll my eyes and shake my head. I don’t like her shooting a damn weapon. She’s liable to hurt herself.

  She nods, then looks to the left and right. She grins when she spies something on the entryway table. Seconds later, she’s grabbed a thick, sturdy candlestick of the candle, her hands wrapped around the candlestick. Bloody hell.

  We walk down the hall, careful not to creak the old wooden floorboards, as the voices in the other room rise in pitch.

  “You can tell your father he’s a fucking coward,” Maeve says. “I know why he sent you, and anyone who hasn’t put to rest anger and retribution from bloody decades ago deserves the life of hatred he’s sown.” She’s furious. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her curse before.

  The men give each other orders, and one finally speaks loud enough for the rest of us to hear.

  “You’ll call Keenan, Father,” one voice says. “You’ll ask him to come here, to the rectory.” He turns to his friends. “And when he and the others come, we’ll ambush.”

  “Oh, aye, sir,” one man says, and he sounds fucking eager. I shake my head. It isn’t happening.

  “Feels like déjà vu,” McKenna says. “Just like the first time we were in the mansion.”

  That ended well. Let’s bloo
dy well hope this does, too.

  I gesture for her to follow me, and she does, for once in her life as obedient as could be. When we make it to the doorway, I quickly form a plan.

  I whisper my plans to her, and she nods.

  “Remember to do exactly what I say, McKenna.”

  She nods, her eyes wide and earnest.

  “Yes, of course. I promise you, I’ll do exactly what we’ve planned.”

  I kiss her cheek, the burning need to both hold her and protect her overwhelming me. “Please, McKenna. I want you safe and with me when this is all over.”

  She swallows a few times, and her eyes are misty. “Aye, Tully.” She kisses my cheek. “Me, too.”

  I take a candle from the side table and nod to her. In one swift motion, I whip it at the door. It makes a dull thwack sound, breaking and slumping to the floor, and the men inside leap into action. The door swings open, one of them standing directly in front of me. I quickly sweep his leg, and he falls heavily to the floor as gunshots ring out.

  I look to find the other two lunging toward us with their weapons. McKenna swings the heavy candlestick like a club and knocks one of them out, but the second dives at her. She screams when he tackles her to the floor.

  I don’t think. I make no actual conscious decision to act, but move on instinct. I dive toward them with the intent to kill.

  I don’t want to shoot. I want to kill him with my bare hands.

  I tackle him to the floor and McKenna screams. I use everything Malachy’s taught me. Kick one to the floor and immobilize another with an elbow to the neck. A third lunges at me, but I sweep his legs and he falls heavily to the ground. Disarmed, he’s helpless, as I lift him by the front of the shirt, only to slam my palm into his stomach, rending him a useless hump on the floor.

  I move as if I were created for this, to feel my fists connect. Someone shoots a weapon, but it wedges itself into a floorboard. The real fight is right here, fist to fist.

  “Tully!” McKenna warns me to duck just in time as the man I first attacked has the candlestick in his hand. I lunge at him, and wrestle him to the ground, pummel him over and over until his own are raised in surrender.

  Blood spatters onto the carpet.

  I’ve got two down, and one more still go to, when I see him reach for McKenna.

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  McKenna

  I’ve never seen Tully fight like this, with perfectly orchestrated precision and vicious, unrelenting blows. He doesn’t rely on his weapons but his fists and body, quickly incapacitating one man then the next. My arms ache from striking one for the men with the candlestick, but I don’t bloody care. I pick it up again, rear back, and strike one of the men just as he attacks Tully.

  “You bitch!” he howls, grabbing his neck that’s lacerated and bleeding thanks to the heft of my candlestick. I try to back away, but he’s too close, and before I know what’s happening, his hand’s around my throat.

  I can’t breathe. I’m shoving him, and he’s holding me straight up in the air, crushing my windpipe. Terror grips me, as I can’t draw breath into my lungs, and his grip is merciless. I kick my legs and slap fruitlessly at his fist.

  Maeve screams as gunshots ring out, but Tully’s a man on a mission. With swift, final blows, he sends the men on either side of him toppling to the ground, and in seconds, has the man that’s attacked me in front of him. He knees him with a vicious blow, and the man bends at the waist, dropping me.

  The look on Tully’s face is deadly. He punches, elbows, kicks and fights, his movements ruthless.

  I hear bone snap, blood spatters the ground, and the man who attacked me slumps to the ground, covering his head with his hands and still, Tully beats him.

  “Tully,” I say, reaching for his arm. “Tully, you’ll kill him.”

  And I know in my heart if he did it wouldn’t be the first life that he took. I know in my heart that’s precisely what he wants to do. To end him. To take this life, right here in the parsonage of Holy Family.

  “You’ll go straight to bloody Hell,” I tell him furiously, and that gets his attention. He blinks, then to my absolute surprise, he grins.

  “Never a truer word, lass,” he says, stepping over the bodies of the men to get to me. He wraps a bloodied arm around me, then drags me into the room to get Maeve and Father Finn.

  Maeve’s eyes are flashing, and she looks like she could kill the men herself. “Bloody well knew it had to be the Welsh,” she mutters. “I knew they framed the Scots, but I couldn’t prove it. I knew they’d never send Mary as a decoy. Never.”

  What is she talking about?

  Tully quickly unties her. “Y’alright?” he asks, and she nods.

  “I’m fine. I want Keenan here, though, and immediately. I have to tell him everything.”

  She pulls her phone out of her pocket, then freezes. She gasps. All anger flees her, and she points a trembling finger to Father Finn. “Oh, Tully.”

  Tully and I turn. Father Finn’s slumped over, the rope that’s bound him to the chair the only thing holding him up. Tully drops to one knee.

  “Father?”

  But I know before he inspects that it’s far worse than it seems.

  “Ah, Father,” Tully says sadly, his dark eyes cloudy and troubled. “Oh, God. I didn’t save all of you, did I?”

  He lifts Father Finn’s chin. That’s when I see a bloody wound by his neck. Tully takes his pulse, and shakes his head. Maeve falls to her knees and buries her face in her hands.

  I stand, frozen, in place.

  “What happened?” I whisper. “Tully?”

  “Stray bullet,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. “Caught him during the fight, it seems.” He drops Father Finn’s wrist. “He likely died immediately.”

  “Keenan,” Maeve says in the phone, not bothering to mask her weeping. She sniffs. “Come to the parsonage, please. Bring your brothers.”

  She hangs up the phone, holds Father Finn’s limp hand, and holds it to her cheek as she weeps.

  “He’ll join Seamus now, God rest his soul. The citizens of Ballyhock will never forget all he’s done for them. And the McCarthy Clan will give him a proper burial as well.”

  I feel cold and scared as I watch them mourn his loss. Right here in front of me, a man who impacted the life of every citizen in Ballyhock lost his life.

  The rain stops, bringing with it a sort of calm after the storm. Keenan comes, and Tully holds my hand. I’ve never seen a grown man cry, but now I see several. It’s a sight I hope I never have to see again.

  The years of hardship when these men earned their spurs seem to fade like sandcastles to the tides, their years of hardness erased as they take his body to be laid to rest.

  “I’ll tell you everything,” Maeve says, her eyes growing misty, and her face more tired than I’ve ever seen her. “Is everyone safe at home?”

  “Aye,” Keenan says. “There was an attack, but Carson caught it in a text string he’d been monitoring online. They knew exactly when and where we’d be under attack. He had no time to tell us, but he and Cormac handled it properly.”

  She nods.

  “Tully, how did you know to come here?” Keenan asks. Tully fills him in.

  “Thank you, brother,” Keenan says, clapping Tully on the shoulder. “I know you’re down on yourself for not saving both of them. But know this, Tully. If you hadn’t acted fast, my mother’s life would’ve been endangered as well. We lost a McCarthy today, God rest his soul. But Mum’s safe because of you.”

  The return to the McCarthy family home is a somber tone. Wordlessly, Tully slips his hand into mine and squeezes. I hold his hand and squeeze back. He bends and kisses my cheek. We’re good. We’re back together. I was silly and foolish to ever push him away.

  “Don’t go, lass,” he whispers in my ear. “We need you.” He swallows hard. “I need you, baby or no, McKenna.”

  And I know now… I need him, too. His fierce, unbridled protection
. His loyalty. His love.

  God, his love.

  The staff in hushed whispers ushers the men of the Clan inside the large home, and Sebastian’s called. We watch as they lay a clean sheet over the body, and Keenan makes the sign of the cross over the sheet. Every man and woman—I swear, it’s every single one of members and their significant others—drop their heads. I’ve never been a praying woman, but it seems the right time.

  I close my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. I didn’t know Father Finn well, but he’s a veritable fortress here in Ballyhock.

  Maeve cries quietly beside Keenan. He turns to her to embrace her, and she falls into his arms and weeps. Megan wipes tears beside Carson, and even bold, fearless Lachlan swipes a hand across his eyes.

  “Bloody hell,” Tully says, his own voice choked with emotion. Aileen steps forward, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and lifts her voice in song. I’ve been told she sings like an angel, but I’ve never heard her myself. The words she sings now are in Gaelic. The tune is haunting, her voice melodic and otherworldly. She lifts her voice and we watch her.

  'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear

  Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin…

  I know this song well, Mo Ghile Mear, and know the words she sings.

  The sleep is over, dream is done

  To the west where fire sets…

  Finally, she rests her hand on the sheet and bows her head. We leave in somber silence.

  In the foyer, Maeve clears her throat. “I need to speak to the men of the Clan. Any of the women who’d like to listen as well may.”

  Tully nods to me. “Are you coming, then, McKenna?”

  I nod. There’s a heavy weight on my chest. Between my own sobering loss and the death I witnessed tonight, I’m feeling somber and heavy. But I need to hear what she has to say, and I don’t want to be separated from Tully.

  We assemble in the sitting room, a large, comfortable room with a fireplace, stuffed armchairs, long coffee tables, and lamps that cast golden semi-circles on the burgundy carpet. Tully sits heavily on a leather armchair. I look about for another one to sit in, but he gives me a quick shake of his head, tugs my hand, and pulls me straight onto his lap. It feels fitting, and not at all awkward.