Page 21 of Dublin Devil

“Aye, I am. Thank you.”

“Do you need help on the stairs? Sean said you were having trouble this morning.”

“No. I’m sure that was just morning stiffness. I’m fine, thanks. I’ll meet you down there.”

“Alrighty. If you need a hand on the stairs after all, just holler.”

I listen as Bryan’s footsteps retreat, and he goes back downstairs. Why are Sean and his brothers so nice to me? Honestly, they’re nicer to me than my own brothers.

It’s tough to get up with my ribs aching the way they are, but I roll onto my other hip and use the end of the bed to pull myself onto my feet. Once I’m upright, the pain eases off a bit.

Straightening as much as my side and my hip will allow, I glance in the mirror. I’m a hot mess. I look like I should be on a poster for domestic abuse. There’s not enough coverup and foundation in the world to erase the purple of my cheek and the scabbed hamburger scrapes where Vladmir’s ring cut me.

Why should I care what I look like? It’s not like I’m here to impress anyone.

I step into the upstairs hallway and shuffle toward the top step. Gripping the railing, I push my hair out of my eyes, so I won’t fall.

“Holy fuck. That’s brutal.” Brendan’s voice drifts up to me and I pause.

“We can’t let shit like that stand, Sean,” Bryan adds.

“Och, we won’t, little brother. I promise you that. These fuckers will bleed. Strike for strike. Punch for punch. Kick for kick. They’ll wish they never set foot in our city.”

I ease down the stairs, step by tortuous step, being careful with my footing.

“As soon as Tag gets here and gives us the go, we’ll school these fuckers on how things work in Dublin.”

I wonder what they’re talking about. Maybe that’s how I redeem myself. Would Da forgive me if I brought him something juicy from behind the Quinn curtain?

Possibly. It would have to be good, though. Like who they’re planning to go after and why.

I shuffle into the kitchen and find Sean and the twins at the table. The three of them are bent forward, staring at the screen of a laptop. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Should I leave?”

Sean’s gaze meets mine and heat hums over my skin. His twin brothers look up at me, too, their gazes intense.

“Why do I feel like a bug under a microscope?”

Before any of them answer, Tag comes striding in behind me. “All right. I’m here. What’s this about?”

Sean turns the laptop toward us and my breath catches. It’s me on the screen and I’m getting beaten up down by the river last night. “Mattie McGuire is negotiating a gun deal with the Russians—more specifically, with representatives of the Shadow Sickle.”

Tag scowls. “Bratva? What the fuck is he thinking? We don’t want those crazy fucks in Ireland.”

Sean straightens and runs his fingers through his long hair. “No. We don’t. But that’s how Piper got beat up.”

All eyes turn to me, and I take a couple of steps to get away from Tag. My butt bumps against the counter sooner than I like and I realize I can’t get any further away from him.

Tag shakes his head. “Your father is fucking reckless. We were coexisting under a truce that has done us well for almost three decades.”

“Guns are our territory, not his,” Brendan snaps.

Tag nods. “Our fathers divvied up the business arrangements, and it’s worked well for years. Your family gets hard drugs, hit men, and sex trafficking, and we deal in party drugs, restaurants and night clubs, and guns. Everything else is fair game. Why the fuck is he so power hungry now that he wants it all?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not involved in the business.”

Tag scoffs and points to me in the company of Vladmir and Arkady. “Apparently, that’s not true.”

“But itistrue. I’ve wanted to be involved. I’ve begged my parents for years, but Da said I had nothing to offer.” Hot tears sting the cuts on my cheek, but there’s no stopping them.

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