by Mia Malone
PADRAIG
by
Mia Malone
Copyright © 2018 by Mia Malone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
SHARING OR DOWNLOADING AN EBOOK WITHOUT PERMISSION IS EQUAL TO STEALING. SO PLEASE DON’T.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Books by Mia
The Brothers series
Gibson
Padraig
Dear reader –
Since you’re here – you might have read Gibson, and then you know the drill. If not, then here are some words about help I could use if you enjoy Padraig’s story.
I rely on the reader community to spread the word about this series as they see fit.
The marketing budget I have for The Brothers series is exactly zero, so ads from me won’t fill your social media flow, but there are a few simple things you can do to help:
Put a short review of it wherever you can (The shop you got it from, Goodreads, etc).
If you want to read more – pre-order Book #3, Joke (0.99$)
And tell your friends about this book…
About reviews: For an independently published author, reviews on bigger online bookstores are super important. It tells others if it’s worth paying for the book or not, but it also nudges the books up the ranking, so it becomes more visible. It doesn’t have to be long and detailed. Here are a few examples of what one could write:
“I hated this book. It was stupid and I won’t be reading the next one in the series.”
“I loved this book. It was heartwarming and sexy, and I will definitely read the other books in the series.”
“Oh my God, fantastic story, couldn’t put it down.”
“Meh. Not my thing.”
My thanks for any support will be to roll out all books in the Brothers series at pre-order price 0.99$ (it will become 2.99$ on release day), and if I get an encouraging number of reviews and pre-orders, I will try my best to move up the release dates.
Thank you for your support!
XOXO/ Mia
Four and Eight
He was the prettiest boy she’d ever seen.
His eyes looked like the chocolate her grandmother had put on her birthday cake and when he smiled, everything felt warm and safe in her belly. He was a big boy like her brother, but he always found time to sit with her when their families got together, and he listened when she told him stuff, like really listened as if it mattered. And when her puppy got run over by old man Thomas' truck, and they buried him in the garden, he held her hand and didn't let go even when she cried.
He’d told her how to say his name, the real way. Not like the others who said it the hard way. He’d explained how it was supposed to be soft, like spun sugar on her tongue, and she liked spun sugar, but she liked saying his name even more.
Padraig.
Fourteen and Eighteen
They stood in a circle, five boys who were almost men, angry and hard-faced. A tall, muscular man was grinning as he spun around slowly to watch the ones who surrounded him.
“You are twenty-two fucking years old you motherfucker,” a blond boy growled.
“Your mama knows you use words like that, Joke?”
“You can do whatever you want with any of the girls, but not with my sister.”
“I do whatever the fuck I want, Joke.”
“She’s fourteen,” a dark-haired boy with the face of an angel said in a voice that was calm but still vibrating with held back fury. “And she did not want you to push her up against the wall behind her grandmother’s restaurant.”
“Paddy Callaghan. You get enough girls, leave this one for me.”
“Gibson,” Paddy said quietly.
The order had been given, and a silver-eyed boy stepped forward to face the man in the center.
“You think you can take me?”
“I know I can,” Gibson said calmly.
When the man was on the ground, bruised and bleeding, Gibson stepped back.
“I’m right here if you want more.”
“Fuck you,” the man grunted and spit out some blood.
“Leave my sister alone,” Joke said.
“Fuck you too.”
The dark-haired boy crouched and stared him calmly in the eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’ll tell you who you’ll never touch ever again, and you will nod to assure me you understand our message.”
Their eyes held and the steely look in Paddy’s was unyielding. Relentless. Frightening.
“I gotcha, man.”
“Whoever you want.” Paddy leaned closer. “But you will never, not ever again touch…” He moved another few inches and kept his gaze firmly locked with the man’s.
“Jenny Tucker.”
Twenty-four and Twenty-eight
He was in a shed at the far end of his yard. Drunk off his ass and wondering how his whole world had turned into the nightmare he was living.
Oh, he’d smiled, and said all the right things. Bought a fucking wedding present, for Christ’s sake. Laughed with his friends. And swept back shot after fucking miserable shot until he’d stumbled out of the restaurant and walked away, unable to make his face smile one more time.
“Paddy,” a low, gravelly voice shouted. “You here?”
Gibson. He could talk to Gib. He’d find a way out of this hell. Gibson always had his back and he would this time too.
“He usually doesn’t usually drink this much,” a soft, breathy voice said.
Paddy sank back down. Fuck. He’d forgotten. There was no way out.
“Shit happens,” Gibson said. “Go on home now, Marybeth, and I’ll find him. Bring him back to my folk’s place and let him sleep it off there.”
“Thank you, Gibson.”
He heard them move away and didn’t call out. All he wanted was to close his eyes and never, not fucking ever wake up again.
“I hope I don’t have our baby tonight,” the woman said.
“You have a month to go yet.”
Padraig Callaghan sat up slowly and with a little difficulty. Rubbed his face with both hands and took a deep breath.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
He wasn't going to give up after all because he'd always have that. Life fucking sucked, but he'd have his daughter. He'd call her Annie, and maybe he didn't have the one thing he'd always wanted, but he'd have her.
Thirty-four and Thirty-eight
“You never loved me,” he snarled, and she raised her bruised chin.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Fuck you,” he spat out.
“Leave now, and I won't tell my brother what kind of husband you've been.”
“Your fucking brother,” he muttered. “Never liked me. He and his precious friends can go to hell.”
“Goodbye, Martin,” she said and opened the door. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
When he'd left, she sank down on the floor and rested her back against the door.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” she mumbled, fighting in vain for control.
After a few seconds, she gave in and let the tears run helplessly down her cheeks, stinging like soft fire when they reached her split lip. She got up and saw the reflection of her face in the mirror. Today had been a lot worse than before, and one eye was swelling rapidly. The cut on her lip didn't look bad, but it would be visible. She'd always been able to
hide it before, but that wasn't an option this time. Joke would go ape-shit over what he'd see.
And they’d all know.
She’d have to go away for a while until she’d healed, and she didn’t know where. Martin had been a crappy husband but he'd at least been someone, and a twinge of loneliness burned through her soul. Then she straightened her back, knowing she would do what she always did. She'd clench her jaws and keep walking.
Without someone at her side.
Like she’d always done.
***
“You never loved me,” she said with tears in her voice.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Fuck you,” she spat out, and he raised his brows.
Marybeth never used words like that.
“I’m leaving,” she whispered.
“You’re not taking Annie,” he told her.
There was no way he’d ever let go of his girl. She was the only thing in his life that was good, and she’d stay with him.
“Like I could ever take Ann from her precious daddy,” Marybeth said in that whining voice he’d disliked when they met and grown to hate over the years. “I’ll go to my parents, and we can talk about Ann visiting them later.”
He couldn’t help himself. She was a distant, uncaring mother who never gave his girl an ounce of love. He’d seen it for ten years, so he knew it and had tried to make up for it by being the best father in the world for his Annie.
He still reared back when she showed so openly how little she cared for their beautiful girl.
“Goodbye, Marybeth,” he said and opened the door.
She walked away without even looking back, and he sighed as he walked into the quiet, empty house.
Without someone at his side.
Finally. Thank fuck for that.
Chapter One
Present time
Padraig
“Doug,” Paddy said smoothly and shook the other man’s hand.
“Paddy,” Doug returned the greeting. “Appreciate you coming down on such short notice. Do not appreciate you feeling the need to bring security.”
He nodded at Gibson who stood slightly behind Paddy. Gibson tipped his chin in a silent greeting but didn’t respond.
“Gib and I were heading this way for a job anyway,” Paddy said, lying his ass off.
Doug was president of the Wolves MC, and they might be one of the less violent clubs, but it wasn't as if he'd walk into an emergency meeting with a president of any MC on that man's turf without anyone having his back. Doug knew this too, so he was well aware that Paddy was lying, and his words were all for show. They’d allowed Gib to enter their compound, though, and the three men were left alone, which was a clear signal the Wolves didn’t want trouble.
“Fair enough,” Doug grunted. “Gibson. Good to see you.”
“Likewise,” Gibson murmured calmly.
“We have a problem,” Doug said and indicated they were to sit down at the empty bar at the back end of the room. “Ever heard of Muerta?”
Paddy raised his brows and shook his head.
“Me neither, until late last night. New group, moving in. Drugs mostly but what I heard is they do whatever for money.”
“Muerta? South American?” Paddy asked.
“That’s the hell of it. They’re from nowhere.”
“Nowhere?”
“Every piece of shit thrown out from whatever group they started out in is welcome, apparently. They got Americans, Mexicans, Colombians, Russians, Afghans, a few Chinese.”
“No shit?”
“I shit you not,” Doug muttered. “They even have a fucking Norwegian if you could believe it.”
“I thought those guys only skied and saved the goddamned planet,” Gibson grunted.
“Apparently not,” Doug said. “From what I heard through the vine, this one’s too fat to ski but not too fat to hold a sniper-rifle.”
None of this was good news in any way at all. The men in Muerta would have ties to a lot of other groups, and some of those ties would be sour, but some would be good. Good for the assholes, and not for him, Paddy thought.
“How did you hear about them?”
“They tried to get one of my guys to scout for areas on national land where they could grow pot.”
Huh. That had been a pretty stupid thing to do.
The Wolves did not do anything related to drugs. Most of them had a Native American heritage, and all were skilled trackers and hunters. They used their skills to find people who were missing. Or people who were hiding. Paddy knew they sometimes took care of what they found in ways which weren’t always in exact accordance with the law, and he did not care one bit. When it came to the clubs, the Wolves were one of the better ones, and Doug ran a tight crew. They were respected, and a little feared, and it was widely known they stayed clear of anything related to drugs.
“They’re idiots?” Gibson muttered, and Doug scoffed humorlessly.
“It appears so.”
“They’re moving our way?” Paddy asked.
“Might,” Doug said. “Can't say that they do, but the hell of it is; can't say that they won't either.”
The men were silent for a while, thinking about what it would mean if they were looking to settle in their area. They’d be a newly formed group made up of people thrown out of the cartels and mafia groups from all the fuck over, which would make them a group of seriously bad people with no organized structure. They’d have infighting as well as the other bad shit they’d bring.
Fuck, Paddy thought. Not what he wanted to head his way, but they’d deal.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m calling my marker, Paddy,” Doug returned quietly.
Fuck it. Gibson had been targeted by an asshole criminal, and he'd discussed that situation with Doug, knowing it would be resolved in a way which would be highly satisfactory to everyone involved. It had been, and now it was time to pay the Wolves back for that favor.
“What do you want?”
He felt Gibson moving beside him and gave him a glance, one brow raised. Gib settled back, and Paddy turned to Doug.
“They’ll not settle in Wilhelmine, Paddy. It’d be too visible with all them fancy skiers and hikers passing through. Too many eyes. They’re not gonna go for any of the cities either because they’re already split between other groups, or at least mostly. Not many places they can go and my backyard is one of the few.”
“Right,” Paddy grunted and waited for Doug to continue.
“My cuz is with the tribal police. Got other friends. They’re all in, but I want the Brothers to have my back if these Muerta-assholes make the stupid decision to unpack their fucking bags anywhere near me and mine.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Paddy asked slowly.
“Don’t know yet. Hope to hell it won’t be needed. Ears on the ground for now, and we’ll see.”
Their eyes held for a few seconds and then Paddy nodded slowly.
“You got it.”
Doug exhaled as he nodded too and turned to Gibson.
“This is not me going around the marker to ask you for a kill, Gibson. Know it isn’t your thing, and we don't need it. We want the alliance and your strength. The strength of the five of you.”
“Six,” Gibson said calmly. “My boy moved to Wilhelmine.”
“Which one?”
“The cop,” Paddy answered, and clarified, “Callum.”
“What’s his role?”
“Enforcer,” Paddy said. “Gib’s second for now, then we’ll see.”
“No shit?”
“Apple did not fall one inch from the old tree,” Paddy murmured warningly. “In all aspects, Doug.”
When their eyes met, Paddy knew Doug understood exactly what he was doing. He was spreading the word about Cal, warning them about his strength but also spreading the word that like his father, Cal couldn't be used for a kill.
“Glad to hear that,” Doug said. “We’re not getting younge
r.”
“Speak for yourself,” Gibson grunted, but his lips twitched which took the sting out of his words.
Doug grinned and started talking about Muerta, mentioning names and places he’d heard through his sources. Paddy listened and began making plans to protect his home and the people living there. When they were done, Doug leaned back and relaxed.
“Heard you got yourself domesticated, Gibson?”
“Yup,” Gibson confirmed but didn't elaborate.
“I miss Maleena,” Doug said, and Paddy felt his brow go up before he could stop them.
Doug's wife had died eight years earlier, and he never talked about her. They'd spent her last ten years battling cancer, and when they lost the fight, Doug disappeared. Came back six months later, looking the same and picking up his life as if nothing had happened. But he never talked about her.
“Yeah,” Paddy said.
“Miss my woman, but I also miss having an old lady,” Doug went on.
What the hell was he angling for now? It wasn’t like they usually sat around and talked about their private lives like a group of gossiping women. Paddy also knew that Doug might not have someone permanently in his bed, but the parties in the Wolf compound were well known for being far beyond rowdy. He'd been to a few, and there were always plenty of women in attendance. Doug had first pick and used that right often.
“How's Jenny Tucker these days?” Doug asked suddenly, and both Paddy and Gibson straightened.
“Don’t think that’s any of your business, Doug,” Paddy said, with none of the calm humor left in his silken voice.
“Is that so?” Doug asked. “We haven’t seen her in a while.”
What the hell?
“Is that so?” Paddy asked back.
“You didn’t know?” Doug said with a smirk which he didn’t like, and he liked it even less when Doug continued, “She comes here sometimes, parties with us.”