by Alta Hensley
Ahh, so the four were brothers. That made sense. I didn’t even need to pretend to be a psychic to see the resemblance in the men’s faces… or their expressions. They all had that arrogant asshole look down pat. And demeaning Granny G’s beautiful store? I wasn’t having any of that shit.
“What?” I gasped, attempting to throw daggers with my eyes to communicate my disgust.
I’d worked my ass off to build on to what Granny G had started and left me, and hearing him call it crap made my fists clench at my sides. Taking another long look at the men, refusing to concede I had guessed wrong, I said, “Sir, I’m sensing there is a… bar or something down the street that you and your brothers might find more appealing.” Sure I’d scored a direct hit, I smirked.
“Sweetheart, I’m sensing you are full of shit. If you have any magical powers, then I’m Merlin himself,” one of his brothers cut in.
They followed me as I tried to escape their hostility. I’d had enough of them, and I realized there was no way I could fight all four of them. My only hope now was trying to ignore them and act like I didn’t give a fuck… as hard as that was.
“What you are is a liar. You manipulate your way into their wallets and cheat good people out of their money,” one of the men said. His voice was stern, but never once was he yelling.
A wave of fury coursed through my body as I spun on my heels and stared into the most unyielding pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Then I paused and noticed they all had the same color eyes. Deep, rich, captivating. They weren’t supposed to challenge me. They weren’t supposed to make me feel like I was a charlatan. They weren’t supposed to be winning.
And they damn well weren’t supposed to make me wonder how those lips would feel against mine. Every single one of them. Four mouths and… fuck! What the fuck was wrong with me? They were complete strangers and assholes. I should be kicking them out of my shop and threatening to call the police, and yet…
I reached for the ruby pendant around my neck. The jewel that was supposed to shield me from negative energy, strengthen me, and give me outstanding leadership qualities didn’t appear to be working. I knew I should dismiss them all and offer my assistance to my other clients, but even after whirling away, something had me turning back. My hand shook as I tried to regain some composure.
“If you don’t believe in witches, spells, and magic, why are you even here? Don’t you boys have someplace else you would rather be?”
“Because we’re here to give you a warning,” the taller of the brothers said. His voice lowered as all the men stared at me with intensity I found intoxicating. “You picked the wrong person to try to con, and we won’t let you fool an innocent girl.”
“What? Who is this girl I supposedly tried to con?” I asked, having no idea who or what he was talking about.
“Alana O’Shea. She’s… naïve and easy prey for people like you. You stay away from her.”
So, he was one of ‘those’ men. Men who thought they knew everything. Men who liked to keep the ‘little woman’ in her place. To be honest, I was a bit surprised the Alana I knew had chosen such a Neanderthal to be with. And he brought his brothers along to threaten me?
Stepping closer to him, I stood within inches of this sexy yet infuriating man. Masculinity overpowered my senses, and a crisp smell of pure testosterone had my pulse quickening. Okay, maybe I could understand her choice of boyfriend, but that didn’t keep me from standing up for women everywhere. I also tried not to focus on the fact there were three other men just as sexy in appearance, but also just as infuriating.
“If I remember correctly, Alana is a grown woman who has the right to make her own decisions even though I find her choice of you for a boyfriend questionable. Regardless, I will do and say whatever I choose.” I couldn’t help but give a contemptuous sneer at each of the four in turn.
If looks could kill, I’d be nothing but a crumpled ball on the floor. It was amazing how ice could survive the fire in his eyes, but it did as the glare he gave was so cold it sent shivers down my spine. He leaned closer, pinning me to the floor with nothing more than his gaze.
“Alana is our kid sister. She’s easily taken advantage of, and we’ll not allow someone like you to hurt her.”
Sister. I hate to admit I felt a teensy bit of guilt about the relief of hearing Alana was his sister and not his lover, but then felt a wave of pity for the girl I’d come to know. She had four brothers like these?
I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin, hoping to God I wasn’t revealing how uneasy these men were making me feel. “Like I said, Alana is an adult and, I might add, you all could stand to learn common courtesy from her.”
One of the other brothers grabbed my arm and forced me to look at him. His jaw clenched. “I don’t give a shit about manners. What I care about is my sister. This is the only time we are going to tell you. Leave Alana alone, or we’ll make damn sure you do. The O’Shea brothers are not people to fuck with. Alana is our family, and the one thing we pride ourselves on is protecting that. Don’t mess with her if you know what’s good for you.”
Had he just threatened me? The O’Shea Brothers? Who did he think they were? Did he think saying their name like it was some famous outlaw gang would have me shaking in my boots? Was he kidding me with his action movie warnings? I no longer noticed or cared about the patrons who were staring in awkward silence. Any hope of rebounding from this day was futile. Good looking or not, the ability to make my blood race and my nipples harden notwithstanding, I was not going to let these men disparage my granny’s shop, and I sure as shit was not going to let them bully me.
I was not someone to fuck with.
“And how do you plan on doing that? Do you think I’m afraid? I’m done with all of you. It’s a waste of my time trying to talk to you. You aren’t interested in having a conversation; you only want to give ultimatums. So, if you don’t mind, I would like all of you to leave my store. Now,” I demanded.
For the first time since meeting, one of the brothers’ face softened. There was a twinkle in his eye as he took a step closer. He reached out and slowly ran his hand down the length of my arm. As much as I knew I should jerk away, I couldn’t. Neither could I deny that his touch caused my long-denied body to shudder.
What was it about these men?
“Sweetheart, we don’t take demands from anyone.” He leaned in and softly whispered in my ear, “You don’t want to mess with us, Monet Guinevere McKnight. You may think you’re strong. But we will always be stronger.”
With one last glance around the store, he joined his brothers and they strolled out the door, leaving nothing behind other than having every sense in my body on alert and wondering how in the hell he knew my full name.
Chapter Three
Rogan
I knew my sister believed anything anyone said. Sheltered, gentle, and fragile, Alana was my brothers’ and my responsibility. She’d never truly recovered after the boating accident that killed our parents. A gun shipment from Ireland had kept me and my brothers from joining our family at the lake the weekend after Alana graduated from high school. My father wanted to stay back and help us with the deal, but we had assured him we had it under control, and Alana deserved a normal weekend to celebrate. Plus, we had joked with him that our mother would have killed him if he didn’t go along.
Witnesses who’d been interviewed stated my family had been on the lake for several hours, laughing and waving at passing boats, having a wonderful day. When the explosion happened, everyone had been stunned and yet as horrific as it had been to lose my parents, I’d been grateful Alana had been spared.
She’d been waterskiing, crisscrossing the boat’s wake, doing turns and enjoying a beautiful summer day when the concussion from the explosion had thrown her off her skis, knocking her unconscious. If my father hadn’t been such an overprotective Irish father and a stickler for safety, and she’d not been wearing a life jacket, Alana would have drowned. As it was, she’d been found fl
oating among the debris and been pulled unconscious from the water. She didn’t wake up for five days and when she did, and learned our parents were gone, she blamed herself. I remember holding her, rocking her as she sobbed, stating if only she’d not begged to go around the lake ‘one last time,’ then our mother and dad would still be with us.
Investigators explained there had been a gas leak in the inboard motor, perhaps caused by an eroded seal or loose connection. Fumes had built inside the casing, unnoticed by my dad who was driving the boat or by Mom who had been standing beside him, watching her daughter. Though declared an accident, we knew differently.
My brothers and I knew the real cause.
We knew who to blame.
We knew who was already bragging and claiming he had finally ended the reign of the mighty Irish dynasty by taking out the patriarch—our father—the almighty Finnley O’Shea.
Dallas Callaghan.
My brothers and I found solace in the fact my parents never knew what hit them. Something sparked and caused the fatal blast, the sound echoing over the water, flames shooting into the air. Despite my brothers and me, as well as others, reassuring her she was in no way responsible for the freak accident, that if she’d been in the boat on the way back to the slip, she’d have also died in the explosion, Alana carried a burden of guilt that changed her very existence. Though we were prepared to be patient, to work with her through her depression, my sister had surprised us all.
When she woke the day after learning of the accident, she was a different person. Gone was the look of sadness, her shoulders no longer slumped in defeat. Instead, her eyes shone brightly, her smile coming easily. Grateful though leery of the change, my brothers and I consulted a number of specialists. All had assured us Alana didn’t suffer from any physical ailments. A number of doctors had said the trauma had been too much for her. Her mind had shut down, rewired itself in a way that allowed her to cope. She now lived in a self-created world with no hate, no fear, no sadness, and no harsh reality. Alana laughed, she played, and she lived life as if she were still a child. She hadn’t been able to take advantage of any of the scholarships offered her by various colleges. My brothers and I moved her out of our parents’ house and into a safe, secret location no one knew of, determined to make our sister’s life as easy for her as possible until we could finalize our end goal. Facing the world as an adult was too much for her now, so we had no choice but to face it for her.
Alana looked up from the velvet poster she liked to spend hours coloring with her markers as she heard us all walk in. She was so much smaller than any of us her body seemed dwarfed by the huge oak table she sat at.
“Hi, Brothers!”
I sat down in the old wooden chair across from her. I couldn’t help but smile at her angelic appearance. Dressed in a pale-blue dress, a cardigan with embroidered flowers running down the front, her blonde hair resting on her shoulders, she seemed so soft. As much as her mental condition frustrated me at times, I almost envied her pure joy in the simple things. She was lost to reality and needed constant direction. But in all actuality, I was the one who truly needed Alana. Without her, I would have fallen into that pit I’d barely avoided. I’d had so much darkness in my life that I needed her light. I’d be lost without her kindness and her unconditional love. We all would.
“What are you doing home so early?” Alana asked as she focused her attention back on her coloring.
When learning Alana had ducked into a tea shop one day when an unexpected rainstorm caught her unaware, I’d been glad my sister hadn’t gotten soaked to the skin. But after she continued to talk about the place for days, making it sound like some sort of mixture of Oz and Narnia, I’d decided to do a bit of investigation. And after watching Monet spin a bunch of malarkey about the healing power of some special tea to an unsuspecting elderly woman, I’d known she was a fraud. “We went to that witch’s den you spoke of.”
Alana’s head snapped up. “You did?” She stared at each one of us with shock, but then she smiled. “It’s not a den, it’s a shop. And don’t you think it’s lovely? There are plants and crystals that sparkle.” She paused. “Did you see the…” Alana looked around the room as if expecting to see others in our house, leaned forward on the table, and whispered, “The witch?”
“Yes.” I somehow managed not to roll my eyes.
“She’s really pretty, huh? I thought all witches were ugly.”
The word pretty was an understatement to describe that woman. I might not have been able to truly describe the shop, but I could remember every single detail about Monet. The ridiculous costume she’d been wearing did nothing to dispel her beauty. Just the memory of her luscious curves had my mouth watering. Her curly hair made her appear sensual and seductive. Her perfect pouty lips just screamed to be kissed. My cock throbbed as I remembered the way her green eyes had darkened with anger. Her temper was undeniably sexy, but her attitude and her false claims—my sister’s fascination with her—those were completely unacceptable.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to get the vision of the most beautiful, annoying as hell woman I’d ever seen out of my mind. I didn’t give a shit how gorgeous she was. I didn’t want her within a thousand miles of my sister.
“Listen, Alana. I don’t want you going back to that store again. Are we clear?” Derrick cut in.
Alana lifted her chin and squinted at him. “Why? I like the witch.”
“She’s not a witch,” Nolan, always the practical one, said as he sat down beside her.
Alana crossed her arms against her chest and pouted her lips. “Yes she is. You don’t know everything.”
I took a deep breath. The need to protect my sister, mixed with the growing frustration of Alana’s naiveté was almost too much for me. But I was determined not to lose my temper.
“Alana, we don’t want to argue with you. I may not know everything, but I do know that, witch or not, we want you to stay away from that woman,” Cal said calmly.
When her pout didn’t disappear, I leaned forward again, my hand pulling her arms down from their position of defense. “I love you, Alana. We all do. I’m just asking that you trust we know what is best for you—for us as a family. We O’Sheas need to stick together more now than ever. We can’t let anyone in and risk getting hurt. Understand?”
“You guys don’t trust anyone. You are always hovering as if I’m going to get kidnapped or something.”
Our father had always shielded Alana from the family business while she was growing up. He expected his sons involved in all aspects, but my father came from an old-school background where you cherish your women and protect them from danger. My mother knew what earned the food on the table, and I’m pretty sure Alana did as well. But after the accident, it was as if Alana was blind to what Cal, Nolan, Derrick, and I still did for money… and for revenge.
I couldn’t exactly argue with that statement. We did protect her, and we took every precaution we could. My brothers and I knew Dallas Callaghan was ruthless and would do anything it took to get at us.
Letting out a loud sigh, I picked up a marker and began to color on Alana’s poster. As I filled in a leaf on a tree, I pictured the new life my brothers and I had been working on coming closer to fruition, and it gave me my next words.
“I promise you things are going to be great for all of us. When we move, you’ll be safer and we won’t have to hover as much. But until we leave, you really need to stay inside.”
She began to color again, but I still heard her sigh. “But what am I supposed to do until then? You expect me just to sit here all day and color?”
“No, of course not. You do an amazing job keeping our home.” Realizing that sounded as if we only considered her as some sort of maid, I shook my head. “Nolan bought you a lot of books, right? Ones to help with our life change? Aren’t you busy studying some of the skills we’ll need in our new home?”
“Yes, and I’ve read about canning and stuff, but that isn’t enough. I also k
nit and sew, but those things I do by myself. It’s more fun to learn new things with someone else, and Monet knows so much. But now you all are trying to keep me away from making a friend.”
We weren’t doing that… well, okay, maybe we were, but we had our reasons. A woman like Monet was not a good influence on our innocent sister.
“Once we’ve settled into the new house in Ireland, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to make lots of new friends in the small town nearby,” Cal offered in the calm and soft voice he only used with Alana.
“Friends you approve of, you mean,” she said, surprising me a bit with her words. Alana wasn’t one to argue… ever.
“It’s important to all of us that you are happy. And, well, we will be moving away. I don’t want you becoming attached to someone who is not really a friend,” Derrick chimed in.
When her lips tightened, I forged ahead. “You love to watch things grow, right? You’ve always wanted a garden?”
At her nod, I smiled.
“Well, I promise you’ll have a huge one when we move. Alana, it really is going to be wonderful, and we are tying up loose ends now to make it all happen. But we’ll be leaving soon.”
“Sooner than we first planned,” Nolan added.
Her gaze met mine, and she finally gave me a small smile then smiled at the rest of our brothers. “I know, but I also know you’re wrong about Monet. She’s a good person. She’s kind and doesn’t treat me like some… some child. She has a lovely garden and knows so much about plants. Monet says they offer healing powers for common ailments. Did you know she makes tea from flowers she grows herself?”
I didn’t particularly give a shit where the damn tea came from. The only thing I cared about was learning my sister evidently had had more interaction with the woman than I’d believed. We were so close to leaving this hell behind us, and I didn’t want anything or anyone to put Alana’s life at risk. She couldn’t be out in public right now. It wasn’t safe. Dallas would be hunting down O’Shea blood even more now that we’d sent him a message using fire as our voice.