Page 40 of Dublin Devil

And though I’ve got ‘don’t fall for a fucking McGuire’ running on a constant mantra in my head, deep in my dark, selfish heart, I know it’s too late.

I fell for her the moment I scooped her off the sidewalk, bloody and beaten. Because if that’s what her family and her life did to her, she needs someone to watch out for her—to put her safety and happiness first.

My boots beat a heavy rhythm as I make my way over to where Kieran is overseeing the loading of the shipment into our trucks. He’s standing far enough back to let the dock workers do their thing, but he’s still got an open line of sight to everything being done.

Beside him, I pull a hand-rolled cigarette out of my pack. “Everything been quiet?”

Kieran gives me a quick nod. “The biggest drama was the seagulls swooping in and taking Frenchie’s bagel right out of his fucking hand.”

I look over to where the big black biker is scowling by the truck. “Did someone feed him? He’s an asshole when he’s hangry.”

Kieran laughs. “Duke had a couple of granola bars in his tail bag, but I don’t think they’ll hold the big guy over for long.”

I laugh. “It’s a fucking soap opera some days.”

“Just with more guns and leather.”

“True story.”

The forklift driver sets another pallet into the back of the truck and Frenchie uses the jack to move it deeper into the box.

“How much more do we have?”

Kieran checks the manifest he’s holding. “Two more skids and we’re gone.”

“And who’s at the warehouse?”

“Renzo and Deek are inside, and we’ve got two on the roof and four on the grounds.”

Good. That’s good.

Kieran and I shoot the shit as the dock workers finish the unloading and then Kieran heads over to give them each their thank you packages.

Supporting the local economy and treating Dubliners right is part of the Quinn business model. Well, that and making sure everyone knows what happens to them if they fuck us over.

My phone rings and I step away from Kieran talking with the workers and head back toward my bike. “Give me the good news.”

Gallagher grunts at the other end of the line. “Do you think that actually works?”

“It was worth a shot. Are you saying you’ve got bad news?”

“Not exactly.” There’s a pause on the line as he takes a draw on his cigarette and then exhales. “The message has been sent to Campbell and his men that the Quinns are pissed.”

“Good. And did anything come of that?”

“We found out that Campbell’s not over Tag’s woman killing one of his boys.”

“Boo hoo. They were killing my brother.”

“Just telling you what we found.”

I take a long haul on my own smoke and exhale a cloud of sweet-smelling bliss. “Anything else?”

“I just got a call from Beau. The boys on patrol spotted Ryan McGuire, Billy Gravely, and a half-dozen McGuire boys crossing the Samuel Beckett Bridge twenty minutes ago.”

“Coming to the north side in broad daylight?”

“Yep.”

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