Page 45 of Myla: The Hawthornes

Cian opened his mouth to say something but didn’t get a word out before the doors at the end of the room swung open and Aoife came striding through.

“Sis,” Bas called, shooting to his feet. Brody moved almost as fast.

They hurried toward her, and before their larger bodies blocked her from view, I could see the small, exasperated smile playing on her lips.

Lou and Frankie followed the boys slowly, giving them a moment with Aoife before they barged in. I went to follow them, but Cian’s hand on my thigh held me in place.

“If I tell you to go home,” he said seriously. “You’re gonna listen.”

“Have I ever listened?”

“This time you will.”

“We’ll see.” I patted his hand and pushed it off my leg.

“Myla,” he called out in warning before I’d taken a single step.

“We’ll discuss it,” I conceded. “Can I go say hi to Aoife now?”

Cian’s lips twitched. “I guess.”

“Glad I’m here?”

“Yep.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t call to warn you.”

Chapter 8

Cian

The minute I’dseen Gray sitting with my aunt like he belonged there, I knew that shit was going to get way more complicated than I’d anticipated—which was saying something since I’d fucking stabbed a guy earlier in the day. Gray was brought in for the big stuff that needed strategic planning and a whole lot of intricate details to pull off. Sure, he showed up for other things, he was always smack dab in the middle of what was going on—but we weren’t close. The fact that he’d shown up when my family was in the middle of a crisis didn’t have anything to do with wanting to support us. He was there because I’d stepped into some shit. Problem was, I had no fucking clue what I was dealing with yet.

Strangely, they’d let Myla and the girls come with them. It was the only thing that kept me in my seat instead of racing back to make sure everything at the house was okay.

“Smart of you to send a photo of that tattoo,” Brody explained after the girls had gone off to find drinks. “I was pretty sure I recognized it.”

“Yeah?” It had just looked like a random-ass tattoo to me.

“The anchor and flowers,” Brody continued. “Knew I’d seen it before but couldn’t figure out where.”

“Get to the point, man,” I muttered.

“Heroin,” Gray said flatly. “What Brody’s dancin’ around is that tattoo goes on all of John Smith’s boys. Biggest supplier in the western states.”

“Say what?” I asked, my mouth feeling strangely numb.

“Dealers got ’em small,” Gray explained. “Meat of their thumb, back of palms, behind the ear, neck. The bigger fish you are, the larger they get.”

“Fuck,” I breathed.

“How big was your fish?”

“Tattoo took up about half of his forearm.”

Bas whistled quietly.

“Medium fish,” Gray mused. “You kill him?”

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