Page 103 of See You Maybe

“You can trust me,” Chris said quietly, eyes earnest.

Declan still hesitated, staring at his friend. Finally, he heaved an enormous sigh. “It all went to shite.” He took the glass and leaned back on the cushion, resting the glass on his knees. His eyes focused on the dark amber liquid. “You know about my mother’s family... the bars. What you don’t know is there are other less legitimate sources of income… more complicated branches of their business.”

Chris’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Guns, drugs, protection, smuggling… you name it. If there is a way to make money, the McGrath’s have a piece.”

Chris’s eyes grew huge on his face. “Do you mean like the mob?”

Declan leveled a look at his friend, not answering the question, and took another sip. “Seamus’s father’s family is in a similar line of work… but not at the same level.”

Chris’s brows knit. “Was that the trouble he was in?”

“Seamus has never had a proper position in either family. Between him and his cousin Padraig, they’ve pissed off all kinds of important people. I was there to bail him out again, but it wasn’t enough this time. I suppose I knew inevitably the lines would blur for him, and he’d be more of a front-line soldier.” Declan gulped his whiskey to drown his anger at his brother’s stupidity.

“What are you saying? If he is a member of the family, why doesn’t he have a position?”

“My mother is the youngest of seven, so she was never involved with the true day to day of the business. Seamus’s father was close to the Riordan action but not a decision maker. Seamus has had a hard time reconciling the two sides of his blood.” Declan huffed a sad laugh. “He so desperately wants to make a name for himself. Now he has.”

When Chris opened his mouth with another question, Declan took another gulp. “Only Seamus could have fucked it up this bad and ruined me along with him.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“Seamus used our uncle’s name, and brokered...” Declan waved his hand, the whiskey making the words hard to find. “An agreement. But our uncles cut him loose after his last disaster, and the Albanians figured out Seamus was promising something he couldn’t deliver. Not the kind of people you want angry with you.”

Declan rubbed absently at the ache in his chest. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, but at the last minute, Padraig had food poisoning, and Seamus thought I’d work as a stand in.”

“You just have to stand there,” Seamus begged. “I need your size. Spread those shoulders of yours and look menacing. It is a simple exchange.”

“Seamus, you said you’d take the job?—”

“Please.” His brother interrupted. “Don’t make me go alone.”

Every fiber in his body told Declan it was a bad idea. The exact thing his father feared. That his loyalty to his Irish family would put the Bloom Empire, and his own life, at risk. But raw and reckless from leaving Rose only an hour before, and faced with his brother’s panic, he caved.

It would be better if he were there, he’d rationalized. Seamus had a temper, and easy as the exchange was supposed to be, Declan might need to remind his older brother to stay calm.

The drive north to Dublin had given Declan time to think. Looking at his watch, and knowing Rose’s plane was taking off, his heart rebelled at the idea of her being gone.

Why couldn’t they be together? What was the point of being Declan Bloom if he couldn’t have whatever he wanted? He’d find Rose, explain his deception. They would make it work. He would keep her.

It was obvious something was off the minute they entered the empty pub that night. The Albanian contingent was already there, but so were three Russians, easily identifiable by their tattoos.

His body on high alert, Declan met the eyes of the youngest of the Russians, easily ten years younger or more than his companions. There were no visible tattoos across his knuckles, so Declan wasn’t sure what his position in the group was. Intelligent gray eyes met his, and in that stare, Declan saw the same unease he felt.

Ten minutes later, when the Albanian who had been speaking with Seamus, suddenly turned and plunged his knife between Seamus’s ribs, it took them all by surprise.

Declan had been in his share of fights, both in the family pubs and on the rugby pitch, but it was the first time his life hung in the balance.

One heartbeat, he was pulling his brother back away from the knife before the next strike could connect. On the next beat, pain blazed across his ribs, and his gun was out and firing. Before the man’s body hit the ground, someone yelled in a thick Russian accent, “No witnesses.”

Then mayhem.

The next part of the nightmare Declan clearly remembered was the older Russian barking orders, and the younger man shoving Declan toward the door. Declan looked over his shoulder, but Seamus, hand clutched to his side, met his eyes with the hardest look Declan had ever seen on his older brother’s face.

“Run, Dec. Go home. You were never here.”

It wasn’t until they ducked into an alley several streets over and leaned against a brick wall, panting heavily, that Declan realized his companion had blood all over him, and that his own side was dripping.