We had no idea how many paparazzi would be waiting for us at the airport. Apparently my ugly mug made for a good story. I barged through them without so much as a smile, making Earnshaw roll his eyes. Fuck it. I was on the grid now. Ireland’s bad boy of boxing.
The papers would no doubt dredge up details of my tragic upbringing and Em’s horrific past, but as long as Em was good, I didn’t give a shite. If everything we’d endured up to this point was necessary to bring us to where we were now, to the man I was today, then I’d still do it all over again.
Life isn’t about settling for what you have and making the best of it. It’s about getting back up when everyone else around you is counting you out, and fighting for what you want. As I walked out into the cold winter’s night, surrounded by my family and with my wife’s hand in my own, I knew exactly what was worth the fight.
Epilogue
Emily O’Connell
My graduation ceremony was much more boring than I thought it would be. It was blind luck that the seat allocated to me was one of only a few seats with a view of O’Connell and the boys. I thought O’Connell looked good in pretty much everything, but seeing him in a tailored steel-gray suit had me weak at the knees. As if he was wasn’t eye candy enough, Danny, Liam, Kieran, and Tommy were all decked out in their best as well. Seeing so many hot guys sitting together had definitely set tongues wagging. I didn’t mind that. I was definitely used to women staring at O’Connell. I was married to him, and even I wanted to stare today.
The last seven months had gone by so quickly. Despite O’Connell’s concerns, Earnshaw hadn’t jumped ship after his win and was as much a part of Driscoll’s as ever. In fact, the endorsement deals he’d set up after O’Connell’s win meant that, if we were very careful, O’Connell wouldn’t have to work again if he ever got injured. He had his whole career ahead of him and would probably end up striking it rich, but I’d rather live cautiously comfortable than extravagant and reckless. As much as he loved boxing, I wanted to make sure he could give it up at any time. His health would always be more important to me than the money.
I bounced my knee up and down impatiently while I waited for my name to be called. Like most of the families here, we were all heading out for dinner after this. I let the boys decide where were going so chances are it would be a steakhouse.
It was my surprise after that I was most looking forward to. Our house was finally finished. O’Connell promised to let me drag him around for the summer so that we could pick all the decorations and furnishings together. He made out like it was a chore until I found a stash of interior design magazines under the bed. No one was more excited to move into our own home than he was.
Over the last few months, O’Connell had split his time between training and working on the house, with a lot of help from the boys. We were all going back there after dinner so they could show me what they’d done. I don’t think there is anything I could ever do that would repay the debt I owed to them. This big, loud, brash group of burly, tattooed fighters were my family. Before them, I didn’t even know what that meant. Now I couldn’t live without them.
I wish I could tell you that happy ever afters wash away the sins of the past, but they don’t. I still couldn’t sleep without making sure the door was locked, I wouldn’t drink if we went out and O’Connell was drinking, and, from time to time, I still had nightmares about Frank. I kept up with my counseling sessions. O’Connell would always take me if he was home and often came in with me. And there were still demons to battle.
O’Connell hadn’t seen his mother since before I was kidnapped, and now that he knew Frank had paid her to get me away from Kieran, I figured there would be a reckoning there if they ever saw each other again. My feelings toward my own mum were complicated. Shortly after we got back from Vegas, the policeman friend of Danny’s paid us a visit to return my wedding and engagement rings to me. They’d raided Frank’s flat in Canning Town and had seized evidence as they put a case together against the people he’d had been working with. They would have kept it as evidence, but Frank was dead now so they had no need of it.
O’Connell had them cleaned and polished by a jeweler and blessed by Father Patrick before he put them on my finger again. He was romantic that way. As I stared down at them now, glistening in the sunlight, they didn’t remind me of what I’d been through, but of how far I’d come and how well I was loved. As for my mother she was still alive though I didn’t know where. I figured the police would have told me if she had died. At this point I didn’t really care. I had all the family I’d ever need. One day, God willing, we’d add to it with a baby of our own, but even if that was never on the cards for me I had a life I never dreamed I’d have, and I thanked God every day for it.
“Emily O’Connell.” The dean called out my name at last, and I walked to the front of the auditorium and climbed the stairs to get my first-class degree in mathematics. After this, I was taking the summer off with O’Connell, who’d just weeks ago won his first title defense.
I was going to become a teacher. That disappointed a lot of professors who encouraged me to take a master’s degree. I knew they thought I was throwing away so many opportunities. But the truth was, I didn’t want a think-tank job or one in the city earning six figures. Money wasn’t important to either of us. When I talked things over with O’Connell, after meeting with my tutor and worrying that I’d made the wrong decision, my husband told me to pick the option that I thought would make me happy. It was as simple and as uncomplicated as that.
“Congratulations, Mrs. O’Connell,” the dean said to me as I shook his hand. I took my degree and turned to the audience, as we all did so families could take our picture. Kieran, Liam, Tommy, and O’Connell all whooped and hollered as they clapped, with Danny noisily swearing at them to pipe down because they were embarrassing him.
I grinned from ear to ear, having never felt so proud. My life wasn’t a fairy story, but the people I loved taught me that I chose how it ended. And if there was one thing I was sure of, it’s that it would be a hell of an ending.
Did you miss O’Connell’s first fight?
Please see the next page for an excerpt from The Hurricane.
Chapter One
Oh, my God, I am so late! I ran down the street, my heart pounding. The early morning commuters trying to make it into the office were oblivious to my plight as I dodged in and out of people. My thin summer shoes offered nearly no protection against the bitter bite of the frosty morning. By the time I opened the back door to Daisy’s Cafe, my teeth were chattering and my fingers were stiff with what I was sure was the onset of frostbite. I had no idea what I was going to do when winter really set in. I was barely scraping together enough money for rent and food, let alone having to worry about gloves and a winter coat.
“Mornin’, Em.” Mike, the owner, smiled as he turned the bacon over in the pan. For the last few weeks, I’d been pulling extra shifts at the cafe and then studying when I got home. I thought I could handle it, but after waking up at my desk half an hour ago, I knew I was wrong.
I wasn’t surprised that Mike didn’t seem mad. I’d never been late for a shift before, and more often than not, I was the last to leave. Daisy’s had heating, after all. Heating and company. Two of the things I was in need of most at the moment.
“Sorry I’m late,” I mumbled to Mike. I avoided making eye contact and raced to hang up my coat and tie my apron. Tapping down the pocket, I made sure I had my pad and pencil and quickly scraped my hair back with one of the elastics kept permanently around my wrist. Wrestling it into a messy bun, I weaved through the kitchen and grabbed a pot of coffee.
I passed Rhona who’d been at Daisy’s since the doors first opened.
“Slow down, love,” she said with a warm smile. “You just need to do the refills and take the order for table two.” She breezed into the kitchen without waiting for a reply.
Daisy’s was one of the only cafes around that offered unlimited tea and coffee refills with a meal, whi
ch meant the place was usually packed for breakfast. After running around topping up coffees, I said hello to Danny as he sat down at his usual table. We chatted for a bit and, promising him a fresh pot, I headed to the kitchen to pass Mike the order for table two.
As I walked back out, I froze. Sitting next to Danny, and glancing at me over the menu, was hands-down the hottest guy I had ever seen. His nose had a slight crook in it, which made me think it was once broken, but that was the only flaw in his otherwise perfect face. Razor-sharp cheekbones, tanned skin, and dark hair added to the beauty that seemed completely at odds with his stature. If it weren’t for the broken nose, he could be a model, but I knew that whatever this man did was dangerous, because everything about him exuded violence. I had no idea who he was, and the fact that he was sitting with Danny should have eased me, but it didn’t. My internal alarm was going off big time. From the set of his shoulders, to the sheer size of him, he looked like nothing but trouble. Whoever he was, it looked like Danny was raking him over the coals about something.
Danny was a small, wiry man, who couldn’t have been much younger than seventy-five. The deep grooves in his face and leathery skin spoke of hard living, but he was no frail pensioner. Mike was twice the size of Danny, but even he was a little bit scared of him. From my very first shift at Daisy’s, he’d strolled through the door a few minutes past opening, plonked himself in an empty booth in my section, and beckoned me over—which soon became our morning ritual.
But that first day was different; I’d been absolutely petrified of everything and everyone. Most regulars had gravitated toward the other girls’ sections, wary of the new girl messing up their order. Danny had no such compunctions, though. He’d sat straight down and called out, “Hey, sunshine, come and get me a cuppa coffee. I don’t bite.”
Shaking like a leaf, I filled his cup and, by sheer force of will, avoided spilling the scalding liquid all over his lap. If he noticed my nerves, he’d never said anything. He rattled off his order then unfolded a crisp, clean newspaper and read silently until I brought out his breakfast. When he was finished, I removed his plate and refilled his coffee.
“Thank you, sunshine,” he said, without smiling and without looking up from his paper.
Things went on that way for a few weeks, and when I finally stopped shaking, he spoke to me. It was never anything too personal, just remarks about the weather, questions about school, and what I thought of my professors. In the beginning, I did my best to find one-word answers, but just over a year later, Danny was the closest thing I had to a friend.
I wanted to run and hide in the kitchen. But hiding wouldn’t do me any good, it never did. Ten horrific years of my stepfather, Frank, knocking me around had taught me not to speak unless spoken to and not to make eye contact. Whenever I felt threatened, those were the rules I fell back on.
Moving quickly through the tables, I wiped down a couple, gathered up a few dirty dishes, and after dropping them off at the kitchen, I could procrastinate no further and headed to Danny’s table.
“Two full fried breakfasts please, sunshine,” Danny croaked, with his usual scowl. If he ever did smile at me, I was a little worried that his weather-beaten face might crack.
Lowering my eyes, I gave him a small nod but didn’t reply. It was our usual routine, and he was familiar with it. Without asking him, I filled up his coffee cup, and my hands trembled. It had been months since that happened, and I knew if I had to ask Danny’s companion if he’d like coffee, my voice would crack. I turned toward him with the coffeepot in my hand, and my eye caught on the sleeve of his white T-shirt. The biggest biceps that I’d ever seen strained the seams, and beneath, the edge of a tattoo was visible. It looked like a series of intricately woven Celtic designs. From what I could see, the artwork was beautiful.
“O’Connell, do you want coffee or not?” Danny snapped at him. I flinched at the sharpness of his tone, but he did, at least, save me from speaking.
“Yeah, sure,” the guy replied lazily, almost bored. I shook badly again, and I was sure that I’d spill it, but I didn’t. Gathering up their menus, I all but whispered, “I’ll be back with your order soon,” and fled to the kitchen to hide. The guy’s eyes were boring a hole in my back as I walked away.
Ten minutes later, their order was done. Taking their warm plates through to the cafe, I placed the identical breakfasts down in front of them and escaped.
“You keep your eyes off that, boyo. That one’s not for you,” I heard Danny warn quietly.
Danny was born and raised in Killarney, Ireland, and I very much doubted that the forty years he’d spent here in London had softened his accent much.
“Why was she shaking so badly?” the man Danny had called O’Connell asked in a deep, husky voice with a slight Irish lilt that was just about the sexiest thing that I had ever heard.
Danny sighed deeply before answering. “You probably scare the shite out of her. That one’s special, but she ain’t for you, so you’d best mind yourself and leave her to her business. Now, stop looking after something you can’t have and think about what I said, ’cause if we have one more conversation about you drinkin’ and fightin’, you eejit, then you and me are gonna have words!”
The rest of the conversation was lost on me. The idea of Danny threatening this mountain of a man with anything would be enough to make me to smile, if he hadn’t mentioned the fighting. Truth be told, you only had to look at O’Connell to know that he was dangerous. It was hard to tell how tall he was, but by the way he was crammed into that booth, I’d guess he was big. Broad shouldered and ripped, he looked every inch a fighter, but it was that relaxed, almost bored, indifference about him that sold the package. He could take care of himself, and he knew it.
A few more of my regulars made their way over to my section, and after doing my rounds with the coffee and rushing back and forth with orders, I realized that the seat across from Danny was empty. I let out a deep breath and began clearing the table.
“Give my compliments to Mike,” Danny told me, as I stacked up the plates.
“Sure, Danny,” I replied. “Can I get you another coffee?”
“No, thank you, sunshine. My bladder control is not what it used to be, and I’m gonna find it hard enough to get back to work as it is.”
This was more information than I needed to know. I was sure that he threw it out there just to get a rise out of me, and I humored him by rolling my eyes.
“Make sure you wrap up warm, then.” I gestured toward his coat and scarf on the bench. “It’s bitter out.”
I dealt with ringing up his check, and before he’d even closed the door behind him, Katrina Bray was up in my face. With her shirt pulled tight against her impressive cleavage and a skirt rolled higher than her apron, she stomped her way toward me.
“What the hell was Cormac O’Connell doing in your section?”
I gave her the one-shouldered shrug. “I have no friggin’ clue, and you’re welcome to serve him next time,” would be my response of choice, but I kept my mouth shut. Katrina was the last person that I needed to start an argument with.
“You have absolutely no idea who he is, do you?”
She obviously deduced this for herself, given the vacant look on my face. Without waiting for an answer, she flounced off in a cloud of cheap perfume. Rhona, having heard the whole exchange, shoulder bumped me on her way back to the kitchen.
“Go on, girl. ’Bout time that madam had a bit of competition, and once upon a time, I wouldn’t have minded a piece of that boy, myself. I wouldn’t be turning a blind eye if I was twenty years younger.”
“Need some help?” I motioned to the dishes in her hand, trying to change the subject. It had completely escaped her notice that I was neither flirting, nor being flirted with. I was no expert, but I was sure that you actually needed to talk to someone to start a relationship.
“No thanks, love, I’ve got it. Your section is getting pretty full.”
She nodded back towar
d the cafe. Seeing she was right, I hurried back to take orders. People were pretty slow about coming into my section to begin with, but once they saw me waiting on Danny every day, they slowly started drifting over. The breakfast and lunch shifts flew by, punctuated by evil looks from Katrina. I guessed from her attitude that O’Connell was on her hit list and she hadn’t scored with him yet. Which would put him in the minority, from what I heard.
When Katrina wanted a guy, he usually didn’t offer much resistance. She had nothing to worry about from me, though. If O’Connell came in here again, she was welcome to him. However good-looking the package, I didn’t need that kind of trouble in my life. It wasn’t as if he’d ever give me a second look anyway.
By the time my shift ended, I was glad to be heading to class. Waitressing was okay, and it was nice to have some company, but school was where I really lost myself. Getting a place at UCL had been the scariest and most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to me. None of it would have been possible without my former teacher Mrs. Wallis. I had been wriggling around in my seat, trying not to let the chair touch any of the fresh bruises hidden under my sweater when she had approached me. With tears in her eyes, she had told me she knew I had a difficult home life, and as I was nearly eighteen, there was a way of escaping. If I wanted her help, I would have it.
That was the nearest that I ever came to breaking down. Part of me wanted to scream at her that, if she knew, then why didn’t she tell social services so they could get me? I think we both knew that would only have made things worse though.
I didn’t scream at her or cry, but actually setting out the bare bones of a plan was terrifying. The fear of being caught, and of my stepfather, Frank, discovering what I was doing, had me feeling sick every minute of every day. Using Mrs. Wallis’s address, I had applied for university places and identification. When I turned eighteen, I changed my surname legally. I accepted a place studying applied mathematics at University College London, and now, eighteen months later, the only person who could ever connect Emily Thomas from Cardiff, South Wales, with me was Mrs. Wallis, an elderly home economics teacher who was the only person I’d ever trusted.
The Aftermath Page 24