Aside from the familiar faces like Daisy and Garret, there were many that I didn't recognize. Some wore the cut of the Druids and some didn't. One of the men present looked for all the world like a young lawyer or something. He was wearing a sharp suit with a red tie. I might have expected someone looking like him to feel uncomfortable amongst these rough sorts, but he was laughing and cheering at some unheard joke along with all the rest. Whoever these northerners were, they looked like they knew how to have a good time.
Ronan and I stood in the entryway for a moment before someone finally noticed us standing there.
"Oi, Ronan! 'Bout time ye showed up, wanker!" came the call from Garret, who was standing behind the bar. I'd gotten to know Garret relatively well over the past months. Ever since our first meeting, Daisy had done her best to act like a surrogate mother to me. She told me what I needed to know and gave me all the juiciest gossip about what was happening with the Druids. She and Garret had been a couple as far back as anyone cared to remember, and that pretty much made Garret my surrogate father.
Usually a greeting like that brought a chorus of cheers to a happy room like this, but for some reason today it brought a cloak of silence with it. It was like all the air went out of the room all at once. All eyes turned to face us, and I felt very uncomfortably like the center of attention. Surprisingly, Ronan seemed to have a similar reaction. I was used to watching him be the center of attention - that comes with the territory when you're the leader of a motorcycle club - but today was different. He started walking into the room with a nod to Garret, as if he knew ahead of time just what he was there for. I followed behind him, not sure of my place in all of this.
The crowd seemed to part before us, and I saw who we were walking towards. At the back of the room, with a group of strangers all around him, was an older man with thinning grey hair and a face that seemed like it had one too many sunburns over the years. He reminded me of the way Ronan's jacket looked after a hard ride on a hot day - cracked and weathered but still tough enough to hold together.
"Hello, Ronan," the older man said, "Nice of ye to make an appearance."
Ronan held his eyes steady on the man. The blue of his eyes seemed to shift subtly from day to day, and today they were the deepest I'd ever seen them. I could feel the intensity in his expression and I began to get scared about what sort of person could cause such a reaction from the man I knew and loved.
"Hello, Terry," he said, "Thanks for coming and drinking all of our whisky."
That line got a few quiet laughs from around the room, but you could still cut the tension with a knife. It seemed like everyone was waiting for something to be said, but only Terry and Ronan knew what it was.
"An' this must be your American bird," Terry said, raising his glass slightly in my direction, "Ye be sure this one don't steal your pants, now." I wasn't sure what he meant, but he got another few quiet laughs, mostly from the Belfast crew. Whatever the joke was, it seemed like Ronan was the butt of it.
I could see that Ronan was about to speak, so I stayed silent for the moment. "This is Catrina," he said, before turning to me. "Cat, this is my dad."
My jaw dropped but I quickly picked it up again. Terry was Ronan's father?! In the two months I'd known him, he'd barely spoken of his dad. From the few things he did say, it always sounded like his dad was dead - not leading another chapter of the Druids up in Belfast. I was immediately clouded with confusion tempered with anger. Why had he concealed this from me? Why didn't he tell me that his dad was the person coming to visit today? I was so full of questions, but I knew better than to voice my concerns in this place. Instead, I smiled at Terry and put my arm around Ronan in a show of support. I was uncertain about the last part, but he put his arm around me and I breathed a relaxing sigh, knowing that I'd made the right choice.
Suddenly I understood the hesitation and anxiety I'd seen in Ronan all morning. Whatever the real story was between them, I was certain that it wasn't happy. There was some kind of terrible rift between them, the cause of which I could only guess at. I still had my concerns because of the way he'd concealed the truth from me, but I knew that the best choice was to stand by my man. Ronan meant too much to me to throw this in his face.
"She's a fine looking woman, boy," Terry said to Ronan, "Better'n th' likes of you deserve, anyway."
Ronan gritted his teeth but said nothing. Terry was doing his best to poke the bear at every turn, but I couldn't imagine why. All around us were the Belfast and Dublin members of the club, mixing amongst each other with comfortable ease. But for some reason these two simply couldn't see eye to eye.
"Ah'm just rollin ye in it, lad," Terry said, and I felt his hold on me relax slightly, "Let's go do our business, shall we? Leave these boys to do the drinkin' while we do the hard talkin'."
Ronan nodded and let go of me. He leaned close and gave the faintest hint of a smile which told me that the cheerful man I'd gone to sleep next to last night was still in there somewhere, he just couldn't let that side of himself out right now. He motioned towards the door to the room where the club held their meetings and Terry walked towards it. They stepped in together and shut the door behind them. As soon as it was closed, the revelry in the clubhouse seemed to resume where it left off when we were first noticed. Rather than talking about what had just happened, everyone seemed far more concerned with drinking and laughing. I was standing alone amongst a sea of strangers and suddenly felt more isolated than I had ever felt in Ireland.
I walked over to the bar and grabbed the stool next to Daisy. She was busy attempting to tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue, to the red-faced laughter of Garret, who was still behind the bar. He was laughing so hard I almost wanted to stop her so that he could catch his breath. Finally she managed the knot and pulled it out of her mouth, displaying it for everyone around to see. Garret applauded her and bent over the bar to give her a kiss. I admired the simple joy that existed between these two. I thought I'd had that with Ronan, but it felt more and more like it was just something he could turn off and on as he chose, and that frightened me. What if he decided to turn it off and never go back?
Daisy noticed me sitting beside her and her expression immediately changed from joyous triumph to concern. She put her arm around me briefly in a light hug.
"You alright, darlin'?" she asked. "Weren't expecting Terry, were ye? I could see it on your face."
I let it out all at once, unmindful of who might be listening in. "He never told me, Daisy! I he never fucking told me his dad was still alive! The way he talked about him, it was like he was gone forever. What the hell? Seriously - what the hell?!"
Daisy nodded along with everything I said.
"I know, I know. There's a history between those two as I'm sure you can imagine. Fathers and sons have issues even when things are rosy, and these two are nowhere near that friendly wit' one another."
"So what happened between them?" I asked her. "And don't give me any shit about not wanting to spill Ronan's secrets - I deserve to know."
"Yer right, Cat," she said, "It's like this - Terry used to be the leader of the Dublin chapter, but he got old and tired of the business. He said it were gettin' too violent for someone like him. So he decided to move on up to Belfast and start a new chapter that would be more like the 'old days'. He wanted Ronan to come up with him, but the lad refused. He saw it as his chance to take over as the leader."
"That's horrible," I said, "It's so callous, it doesn't sound like Ronan at all."
"Don't be too hard on him," she said, "It's more than just that. Northern Ireland's a different sort of place, and Ronan'd spent his whole like in Dublin. He didnae want to give up everything just because his da' wanted to move someone else."
I calmed down slightly, seeing the wisdom in what she was telling me. "That makes sense, I guess."
"Terry never forgave him for it though. He'd always assumed that Ronan would follow him anywhere, but now he acts like Ronan stole the club out from unde
r him. Truth is, Terry's th' one who made the wrong choice. He thought he could make the old club new up in Belfast, but 'tis just more o' the same up there, isn't it? He just can't admit that Ronan knew better."
"So, what are Terry and the others doing down here anyway?" I asked. "Ronan wouldn't tell me."
"They're tryin' to decide what to do about the new gang thas' moving into Belfast hard. Terry and his boys aren't set up to deal wit' 'em, so he's come down here to beg 'is son for help. Wouldn't think it to hear the way he talks to the boy, but that's the story anyhow."
"Who's the new gang?"
"Some American boys, actually," she said, as if just realizing towards the end of the sentence that she was speaking to an American.
"Wait, really? An American club in Ireland?" I blurted out.
"Yah, some rough bunch from California. Thas' probably part o' why Terry's bein' so hard on ye," she said, "Feels like Ronan's sleepin' wit' the enemy or somethin'."
I grumbled and grabbed for a beer that Garret had just finished pouring for himself. He had been trying not to eavesdrop too much, but he knew enough not to refuse me a drink. He handed it over and began pouring a new one for himself. Some California gang is moving into Belfast and that makes Terry mad at Ronan about me? It seemed so convoluted. I wasn't from California. I've never even been further west than Cleveland. These Americans had nothing to do with me, but my presence seemed to be complicating an already thorny situation for Ronan. I saw clearly now why he'd been so anxious. He must have known how his father would react to me, and so he was probably hoping I'd just decide not to come to the clubhouse today, but was too polite to say I shouldn't be there. I suddenly wished I'd decided to spend the day at the bank talking about my house.
I changed the subject and told Daisy about my new tattoo. In all the excitement, I'd nearly forgotten about it. I showed it off and both she and Garret said it was fine work. Garret said that Wil had done all of his own tattoos - of which he had more than a dozen. Daisy had a couple pieces by him as well, including her large back piece which was a huge and intricately detailed flower - her namesake. I was still a bit ruffled over the events of the morning, but their cheerful conversation and the tall beer I was drinking seemed to even things out quite a bit.
Just when I was getting comfortable, the door to the meeting room opened and Ronan stepped out with Terry following behind him. Ronan looked upset, but Terry was smiling. The only way that would be the case is if Terry had gotten what he came for - the Dublin crew must be headed to Belfast to deal with the Americans. Ronan's concern was for the safety of his members and the way he felt about giving in to his father's wishes, doubtlessly.
The mood in the room changed as soon as they entered. All around me, Belfast members were finishing their drinks and getting their jackets on. It looked like the whole crew of them were going to roll out immediately. Terry grabbed his own weathered jacket off of the back of the chair he'd been sitting on when I was introduced to him. Ronan made his way over to the bar where Daisy and I were sitting.
Garret came to the same conclusions I had about the way the meeting had gone. "We're headin' up north then?" he asked, and Ronan simply nodded.
He put his arm around me and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "I'm sorry about all this, truly, I'll make it up to ye." I gave him a quick kiss as acceptance of his apology.
The Belfast crew, along with Ronan, myself and a handful of other Dublin folk went outside to see them off. I noticed that the guy in the suit and tie went to one of the luxury cars. I was still uncertain who he was or what he was doing in a place like this, and I made a mental note to ask Daisy about him later. Terry stood by the passenger side door of the car, barking orders at the men who were mounting their bikes around him. Ronan stood beside me, watching them get ready to leave. He still had the hard, angry expression he'd been wearing ever since we walked into the clubhouse.
Terry waved a hand at him and called out, "Don't worry yourself, boy. Seems to me that ye've got more'n enough practice at fuckin' Americans - this lousy crew will just be more o' the same!"
Ronan broke away from me faster than I'd ever seen him move before - and he was quick on his worst day. He covered the distance between the two of them in a matter of seconds. I barely had enough time to register the shocked expression that formed on Terry's face before Ronan's fist collided with his jaw, all his momentum propelling him with such force that Terry bounced off the hood of the car before crumpling to the ground next to the tire.
Ronan stood above him with his hands curled into fists. All around us, bikers were tensing up in case this turned into more than just a violent argument between father and son. Daisy shrieked and Garret held her close.
I saw all of the anger that had been building in Ronan for the previous hour boil to the surface and he screamed down at his father, "We'll fight your fuckin' war for you, but you ever say an unkind word about her again and I'll kill ye - I'll fuckin' kill ye, ye soddin' bastard!!"
For a long moment, Terry merely laid on the ground, his eyes wide as he stared up at his son. He rubbed his jaw - upon which a massive bruise was already starting to form. "Thas' my boy," he said and Ronan growled low and bestial at him. Ronan stepped back but kept his fists clenched. Terry got up from the ground and sat down in the car, slamming the door shut without another word. Rather than sit around waiting for another incident, the Belfast crew immediately began driving off. Both cars and a half dozen bikes drove out of the lot, leaving Ronan still watching them with his fists nearly shaking with rage. Only when they began to disappear around the curve did he finally let his hands drop to his sides.
I ran to him and threw my arms around him, which seemed to remind him that I was, for the time, still safe. He looked at me and I could see that his eyes were watering. "I just..." he said, "I just couldn't stand there and let him say that." I kissed him again and again.
"I know. I know," I said, "I love you."
Everyone made their way slowly back into the clubhouse. Some went back to the conversations and drinks they'd been having before the Belfast crew had left. Some went elsewhere. Ronan led me by hand past the bar and through the hallway covered with photographs towards his room. On the way I happened to glance at the old picture of Ronan as a child, sitting on a bike with his father standing beside him. I saw the man I'd just met in that photo, but twenty years younger. More and more I was beginning to understand the reasons Ronan had for wanting to get away from him - to forge his own destiny without his father.
I closed the door to Ronan's small room at the clubhouse behind us and went to sit with him on the bed. He had his head in his hands, but looked up when I got to him. The fierce quality to his eyes seemed to have faded and he smiled at me in that calm way that told me things were getting back to normal.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Cat," he said, "I just didn't know what to say. I kept hoping ye'd never have to cross paths with him."
I nodded. "I understand," I told him, "It's alright. I know why you didn't want to see him and I know why you didn't want to talk about him. Thank you."
My thanks for his defense of my honor pushed him over the edge and I saw tears begin to fall from his clear, blue eyes. He leaned in and kissed me and I received him gratefully. I had seen two sides to this man in my months in Dublin - the fierce warrior who would stand up to anyone and the charming romantic who would wear fluffy slippers and buy me flowers. Now I was seeing a third side which I had never expected - the vulnerable man who needed my warm embrace as much as I needed his. Some might think that his tears would diminish the rugged and charming image of him I had in my mind, but the opposite was true. He was becoming more defined. Every secret I learned and every facet of his personality that I saw only pulled me deeper into my feelings for him.
We continued to kiss and his warm hands slid across my shoulders. I knew what he was feeling. With so much excitement and anger and fear surrounding him, I could see on his face that he needed to feel me beside him. I sli
pped off my light jacket, inviting him to do the rest. His hands worked quickly, undressing me with practiced precision. When it came to getting me naked, Ronan had a surgeon's hands.
I unbuckled his pants and pulled them down to his knees with him still sitting on the bed. I could see that his cock was already becoming hard, but I wanted to help it on its way, so I bent over his lap and pushed it between my lips. My tongue danced over the warm head and I could feel it growing and hardening in my mouth with every passing moment. Ronan's hands were still on my body, caressing between my hair and my back. He always said that he loved touching my back. It was such an original compliment that it got me every time.
I took him deeper into my mouth, soaking his now thickened manhood with my tongue, making him ready for me. I wanted to make sure he knew without question that his display of vulnerability hadn't shattered my image of him. I wanted him to know just how much I wanted him, every minute of every day. My tongue danced around his shaft, and I heard a soft moan from above me as his fingers curled in my hair, pushing me deeper onto him until I felt the pressure of his head against the back of my throat.
When I knew he couldn't get any more ready I pulled head back up, letting his cock drop from my lips and moved to mount him. I put my knees on either side of his body and held his shaft in one hand behind my back, slowly guiding myself down on top of him. His face was pressed against my chest, kissing across my bare breasts and teasing at my nipples with his tongue. I felt him slip inside of me and pushed myself down hard, swallowing his whole member in one long thrust.
I put my hands on his shoulders and he put his on my waist, guiding me up and down as I bounced on him. Giving myself to Ronan like this was the best way I had of showing him just how much I wanted him. Words never seemed to do the job - only actions would suffice. I pushed myself up and down, guided by his hands, feeling the way his hard cock was pushing into me with every downward thrust. My wetness was dripping against his shaft, and his body was already shuddering with every impact as I came down upon him.
Northern Sons Page 3