Dublin Nights Series Box Set: On the Edge & On the Line

by Brittney Sahin

  I nodded as another drop of rain smacked against my cheek.

  “Who says I need to fight to be happy?” His eyes narrowed at me as his hand went to the back of my neck. “You make me happy, Anna. I choose you. I choose family. Remember?”

  Was I family? We’d known each other for less than three months. “Will you truly be satisfied with being a man in a suit? Not a boxer in the ring?”

  “A man in a suit?” He laughed. “At least I’m not the beast, I guess.”

  “Oh, Adam, you never were.”

  He smiled. “Come to Rome with me this weekend?”

  We still hadn’t managed to go. “Dublin, Rome . . . you’re making my dreams come true, Mr. McGregor.”

  “I’ve only just begun.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me as the rain started to hammer the streets, splattering against the black cement.

  Epilogue

  Adam

  I held the red tie in my hands and raised a brow at my girlfriend. “You want me to put this on my eyes? Are you pulling my leg?”

  “Please.” Anna raised her hands between us, palms pressed together as if in prayer. “Just trust me.”

  Her green eyes were bright. Alluring. She was so goddamn beautiful to look at that sometimes I wondered if she were real. Could she really be mine? I wasn’t sure what I’d done to get in the good graces of God, especially with my horrid mouth, but Anna was evidence enough that there was a higher power, and He or She was smiling down upon me.

  “Of course I trust you.” I released an exaggerated sigh. “Put it on me.” I handed her the tie, and she fastened it around my forehead, sliding it over my eyes. “But tonight, I fully anticipate using this to cover your eyes while I do delicious and wicked things to your body.”

  “What?” She was laughing, and I hated that I couldn’t see her mouth.

  “You heard me. You can cover your eyes with this tie, or I can tie your wrists with it.” My lips spread into a smile. “Either works for me.”

  “You’re so bad.” She poked my chest, and I blindly captured her wrist, yanking her against me.

  “But you like it.”

  Her lips brushed across mine, and she nipped at my bottom lip. “You are going to be in so much trouble tonight,” I teased.

  “Mm. I can’t wait,” she whispered against my lips.

  I slipped my hands down to her jeaned arse and squeezed. I groaned and shook my head. “Now, where are we going?”

  “Patience, Mr. McGregor.” God, this woman loved to torture me. “You’ll need to get inside the passenger seat of your car.” I started for the tie, but she reached for my hand. “I won’t crash your Porsche, I promise.”

  I blew out a breath. “Being blindfolded while you drive my car is not exactly what I had in mind when I taught you to drive a stick.”

  Then I heard the sound of my car door opening, and she was urging me inside.

  “This better be one hell of a surprise. I’m hoping it doesn’t involve clothes.”

  I heard the sound of the engine a minute later, and Anna reached over and patted my leg. “Don’t worry, love,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll get us there in one piece.”

  “Mm. Hm.”

  “It’s a five-minute drive. Relax.”

  “Five minutes with you behind the wheel could give me a heart attack. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t see.”

  “I’m not that bad of a driver,” she yelped.

  “Not that bad, hm? Maybe you should stick to riding horses, love.”

  A playful slap on my chest had me shaking my head, biting back the laughter. “Or just stick to riding me.”

  “Adam,” she warned.

  I held my hands up in submission. “Okay. Okay.”

  I attempted to relax as she drove. Moments later, I fumbled around with the controls for the music. She brushed my hand out of the way.

  “Are you serious?” I said as she settled on a station. “Justin Bieber? Now this is officially torture.”

  “The fact that you even know this is a Bieber song means you listen to him!”

  “You tell anyone, and I’ll—”

  “Uh huh. Sure.” She chuckled.

  A few minutes (and one Bieber song) later, she stopped the car.

  Anna came around and opened the door, helping me out. Not being in control was something I wasn’t quite used to.

  “You ready?” she asked, wrapping an arm around mine.

  A soft blast of heat greeted my skin. We must’ve been inside. The smell of fresh paint met my nostrils, and I pinched my brows together, trying to figure out where we were.

  “Okay. I’m going to untie you now.” Her voice was shaky, but why? What had her so nervous?

  I kept my eyes closed as she removed the tie.

  “Open your eyes,” she said softly.

  It took me a minute to figure out what I was looking at. Several kids from the center were standing before me with smiles on their faces, and so were my brothers, my sister, Ma, and Da . . . and we were standing in a boxing studio. There were mats on the floor, two fighting rings, heavy weight bags, free weights, and other equipment, throughout the large space.

  “What’s going on?” I took a step back in surprise when my eyes landed on the back wall. Painted in red letters were the words McGregor’s Gym; beneath it, in ancient Gaelic, were the symbols that matched part of my tattoo. Family.

  Anna came around in front of me and slid her hands over the sleeve of my jacket, resting on the spot where I had marked myself, long before. “You see? I don’t think you need to choose between family and fighting. I think we had it all wrong. I think you can have both.”

  My mouth parted open, prepared to reject her words, but she swept a finger up to my lips. “I’m not saying you should fight competitively.” She shook her head. “But when I saw you training at your home that night, well, you were moving so gracefully. It was actually kind of beautiful. Martial arts doesn’t have to be brutal. It can teach respect and discipline, and I was thinking that maybe you’d enjoy sharing your knowledge with others.” She cleared her throat and took a step back, opening her palms in the air. “After some heavy persuasion, your sister agreed to help me, and we had this studio built for you. It took a couple months, but we thought this could be another haven for the kids.”

  A martial arts studio as a haven? I wasn’t so sure about that. But if kids were going to learn to fight, maybe it was better they did it here under the supervision of an adult. They could learn how to assess an opponent, to know when it was appropriate to fight.

  I dragged my palms down my face and looked over at my family. “Are you serious?” I looked back at her. Part of me was excited, but I was also terrified. In the last three months, I hadn’t even gone near a boxing studio. I didn’t need fighting because I had Anna. But . . .

  “Why?” I choked out the word, suddenly overwhelmed by my emotions.

  She shot me a nervous smile. “Because I love you. And I know you say that you don’t need it, that you’re happy without fighting, but—”

  I pulled Anna into my arms and kissed her, pressing my lips hard against hers as my hand cupped the back of her head. I didn’t give a damn who was watching. I loved this woman so damn much that I couldn’t breathe.

  After a minute I stepped back and stared at her. Anna was panting a little, her eyes shimmering. “Thank you.”

  Those two words could not begin to capture how appreciative I was of her.

  “So you’re okay with this? Not mad?” She bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands in front of her.

  My gaze slid across the room and over at the fifteen or so people around us. No one was saying a word, which was highly unusual for this group.

  “I could never be mad at you.” I smiled at her as I reached for her hand. “But there is one thing.” My heart tapped inside my chest like a hard-clenched fist, pounding and pounding. I dropped to one knee, still holding her hand.

  I barely heard the g
asps from those surrounding us as I looked up at her. All I could focus on was the courageous woman before me. Her hand was trembling, and I brought my other one over it to warm her.

  I bowed my head for a moment before looking back up at her with a smile. “I’m completely screwing this up,” I muttered. “I had this whole thing planned for next weekend—I was going to take you to the Ha’Penny Bridge. I got a ring and one of those lover locks . . . of course I left those at home.” I exhaled a deep breath as I noticed Anna’s free hand cover her mouth.

  “But I’m a bloody idiot—I can’t wait another week. Or even a day. Marry me, Anna. Marry me. You talk about how I’ve made your dreams come true, love. Please, Anna, make mine come true, too.”

  Tears streaked down her cheeks as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

  I stood back up, staring into her emerald-green eyes. I held her forearms, bracing myself—not sure if I could remain upright.

  “Kiss her! Kiss her!” the kids chanted, and I think even Ma was, too.

  “Well?” Anna smiled through her tears. “You gonna kiss me or what?”

  My throat constricted, and I couldn’t speak.

  I was so utterly happy.

  Gloves on, gloves off—it didn’t matter anymore. If Anna was by my side, I’d be the luckiest Irishman on God’s green earth.

  “Anna McGregor,” I murmured. “I love the sound of that.” She gasped as I swept her off her feet and pulled her tight against me, holding her in my arms. Our lips locked . . . and Anna stole my breath, just as she’d done the first time I laid eyes upon her.

  Bonus Material

  BONUS SCENES

  Bonus scenes have not been professionally edited. They were previously exclusive to newsletter subscribers.

  Five Years Ago

  Adam

  It was just one left hook.

  Just one.

  I lower my forehead against the glass outside the hospital room as the Garda slap the cuffs on my wrists behind my back.

  My chest is tight, and I can barely breathe as I steal one last glimpse of Owen from over my shoulder before I’m escorted away.

  How the hell did this happen?

  “Is that really necessary?”

  It was Da. How did he know I was here? He’s out of breath as if he ran here. I’m surprised he’s even in town. The guy is always gone.

  “Sorry, Mr. McGregor. Following protocol,” the officer says.

  Da has a lot of respect in the city, but then again—he’s one of the richest men in Dublin. And by default, so am I.

  I keep my attention averted to the floor as we head toward the lift. I can’t look Da in the eyes.

  “I’ll meet you at the station, Son,” he says to me as the doors start to close, and it’s then that I look up and catch his eyes.

  I don’t see anger.

  I see disappointment. And I don’t blame him. He’s been doing everything he can to stop my fighting since I started almost seven years ago. And now . . . Owen may not walk because of me. I fecked up.

  “Come on,” the officer says once we reach his squad car.

  I duck my head as he urges me inside the back of his vehicle.

  “What the hell is someone like you doing mixed up with Donovan Hannigan?” the officer asks as he begins to drive.

  I look out the window, staring at the people walking alongside the street in a daze.

  I know what’s going to happen once I get to the station. They’re going to want me to spill everything I know about the notorious crime lord.

  And as much as I hate him, hate myself—hate everything right now, I know I can’t say shit.

  Adam

  Money goes a long damn way. Money gets you out of jail. Money bails you out from when you fecking hurt someone so bad they’ll probably never walk again.

  I raise the tumbler to my lips as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are dead. My entire body is numb. And it’s not because of the seven drinks I’d already had.

  I swallow and step back, throwing the glass at the mirror, watching it break—brownish-gold liquid streaks down, hiding my reflection.

  I grip the short strands of my hair, pulling in anger.

  “Adam Fecking McGregor.”

  My body stills at the sound of Donovan’s voice. How the hell did he get in?

  I lift my head and slowly face him.

  He has two guys at his sides. Two guys that I once considered friends. But judging by how they glare at me, we are anything but.

  “Did you talk to the Garda?” Donovan asks while approaching me. He steps on top of my blue floor mat, glances down at the shattered glass by my feet, then narrows his eyes at me.

  “If I did—wouldn’t you be in jail right now?” I look over at Finn and Preston standing by the door. They have gloves on their hands. Just great. They came for a fight, didn’t they? I’m not in the mood to raise my fists right now—maybe never again.

  “I think you should bite your tongue, son,” Donovan says.

  “Son?” I laugh. Yeah, he was like a father to me, but he put Owen in that ring. He knew he shouldn’t have been in there. I can only blame him in part, though. I went through with the fight. “You’re nothin’ to me now.” I start to turn from him, but his hand comes down over my shoulder.

  “You’re not done. You have a fight coming up in a month. I don’t care how much money your da offers me—you’re done when I say you’re done.”

  Da offered him money? Why am I surprised?

  “It ends now, Donovan. You can’t control me anymore,” I rasp and face the bastard again. I’ve never stood up to him before. I never needed to. But I’m drunk and pissed off.

  Donovan reaches out and fists my T-shirt, his face coming within centimeters of mine, and I don’t flinch.

  Hell, I don’t care.

  Numb—remember?

  “You’re a fighter. Are you really going to let some loser that couldn’t hold his own stop you?”

  “I’m done,” I grit out and finally shove free of him.

  Donovan looks back over his shoulder at Finn and Preston and tips his chin their way.

  I blow out a breath. “I’ll keep my mouth shut about you to the Garda if you just leave me the hell alone.” I’m not up for a showdown. I want out. I want this done.

  “Are you threatening me?” Donovan cocks his head, his brows snapping together.

  This is a bad idea. But I can’t fight anymore.

  I could have killed Owen in that ring.

  Murder. Fecking murdered someone.

  Finn and Preston flank my sides.

  And when Donovan steps back out of the way, I bow my head and close my eyes—allowing the pricks to hit me. To knock the shite out of me—because I deserve it. I deserve it after what happened to Owen.

  Holly McGregor

  “Adam?”

  I walk down the hall in search of my brother. Da hadn’t planned on telling the family about what happened to him, but when the newspapers aired Adam’s dirty laundry to the world, he didn’t have a choice.

  I need to see my brother, and he hasn’t been answering his damn mobile.

  “Adam,” I call out again as I approach his gym.

  I slowly turn the knob and push open the door.

  My brother is on the floor, leaning against the wall, one knee is propped up with a glass in his hand.

  I can’t seem to move. When he glances my way, my hand presses to my mouth to stifle a cry. His shirt is off. His body is covered in purplish-black marks. His cheek swollen and bruised.

  “Adam. What happened to you?” I finally rush to him, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.

  He’s sitting there like nothing’s happened to him. He even takes a drink and casually rests the tumbler on his jeaned thigh. “I’m right as rain. No worries, Holly.”

  “Are you kidding, Adam?” I kneel down next to him and cup his cheek, urging his face my way so I can get a better look at him. “Can you walk? I need to get you to a ho
spital.”

  The smell of alcohol on his breath is strong.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He tilts his head back, resting his skull against the wall and shuts his eyes.

  “Did Donovan do this to you? Did that arsehole beat you up? Why?”

  Adam doesn’t speak. And I don’t know what to do, so I stand up and slowly move away from my brother—a man I barely recognize at the moment.

  I leave the room and call my brother, Sean—Adam’s twin. “I need your help,” I say once he picks up the line.

  Holly

  It’s been five weeks since Adam put that fighter in the hospital. Five weeks since I feel as though I lost my brother, too.

  He’s become someone different.

  Cold. Withdrawn.

  He hasn’t come to the office since he was in jail.

  But he’s gone to the bars, from what I’ve heard. Whispers of gossip all around town.

  He’s been getting drunk on a nightly basis.

  He needs help.

  “He’s going to be angry when he sees us,” I say to Sean as we stand outside the bar. I’m mentally preparing myself to face my brother. A slow curl of fear sweeps through me. How can I be afraid of Adam?

  But I am. I’m not afraid of him hurting me. No, of course not. But I’m afraid he’s gone—forever.

  I’m not sure if he changed because of what happened to that fighter, Owen, or if he died on the inside when he stopped doing the thing he loved—fighting.

  “Maybe you should go wait in the car and let me handle this,” Sean says while squaring his hands on each of my shoulders.

  I’m a coward right now because I want to say yes. But I toughen up and shake my head no. “I’m coming with you.”

  Sean blows out a breath and looks at the door. “Let’s do this.”

  We enter the pub. It’s a small place, not too big, so I should be able to see him. We know he’s inside because we followed him like creepy stalkers from his flat in the city here.