Page 63 of Dublin Devil

My boots have barely touched the asphalt of the driveway when the mechanics of the door kick in and my way is clear. Keefer Gallagher is standing on the porch of the clubhouse with the gate remote and closes things up behind me.

Once I’ve parked my ride, I dismount my girl and unbuckle the strap under my chin. I leave my helmet and gloves on my seat and shuffle my way over to the porch steps.

“You look like shit, boss.”

“And you’re a fucking pageant queen?”

Gallager chuckles. “Fair enough. So, Kelvin let you out of bed, did he?”

“Didn’t have much of a say in it. Three days of fucking around in bed is about all I can take.”

I mean that in the sense of not being able to ride or work, but my subconscious mind takes that as a cue to revisit every erotic image of what three days of fucking around in bed with Piper could’ve looked like.

Shit. I’ve gotta get a grip.“So, what did I miss? Give me the highlights.”

“I’m sure Tag’s told you most of it. We’ve had five separate fires and lost two trucks.”

“Aye, Tag told me. He said we managed to salvage most of the warehouse contents, so it was only about a ten percent loss.”

“What’s this ‘we’ you speak of? I don’t recall you being there while we sucked in smoke and hand the hair burned off our arms.”

I arch a brow. “I’m not in the mood for your lip today, K-man. Keep it up and you’re liable to get your balls twisted off by a pair of gardening shears.”

My VP laughs and opens the door. “Come on in, boss. I’m not sure why, but the guys missed you.”

“Sean!” The boys rally around and welcome me back, one of them offering me a beer, and several of them asking to see the damage.

I accept the beer and decline the show and tell.

Shuffling over to the bar, I lean against the rail and twist the top off my drink. “Where’s Kieran? I need him to do something for me.”

Frenchie throws a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s working in the paint shop. You want me to get him?”

As much as I hate the idea of moving, there’s no sense in fucking up Kieran’s artistic genius. The guy has a gift and whatever bike he’s working on, it’ll be better without the process being interrupted.

“Nah, I’ll go to him. Thanks, man.” Pushing off the rail, I head down the hall toward the side door. The paint shop is a two-bay garage that the boys sealed off and pimped out so that Kieran could have a studio to work his magic. The boys know better than to get into his space.

And that means the conversation I’m about to have with him will remain private.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Piper

Iknock on the wide, brown door of the modest stone house overlooking the canal.Be home, Clare. Please be home.Clare Malloy has been my partner for half a dozen projects in college and is the only one I can think of that my parents might not know about.

When the door opens, I breathe again. “Hey, Clare. Sorry to drop in unannounced?—”

“Sweet mother, Piper, what happened to you?”

I tilt my head and pull my hair to cover the side of my face. I’m still sporting the remnants of a black eye and the gruesome scabbing of Vladmir’s Bratva branding. “It’s a bit of a long story. Can I come in? I need your help.”

“Of course, come inside.”

I follow her down the cramped hallway, and she blocks the entranceway to the living room. “A friend from school popped in. We’ll be in my room.”

“What kind of friend?” her Da asks.

“The girl kind, Da. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

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