Page 3 of Whiskey Kisses

“Yes!” She raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Good tastebuds.”

I chew thoughtfully, examining the flavors. “It’s kinda weird, but I like it.”

“Feel free to take some home, then. Lucky and Liam think they’re gross.”

“Where is Lucky? He back yet?”

“Yeah, he’s upstairs in the office.”

“Well, what about Liam Kelly? Is he around?” I call loudly, looking around. “I’ve got a delivery.”

There’s a far-off woot, followed by rapid footsteps thumping down the stairs. Liam slides into the kitchen on socked feet, his blue nose pit bull Shelby skidding in right behind him. His unruly black curls are so much like his dad’s when we were little it’s like traveling back in time. “Hey, Uncle Tris!”

I extend my fist in greeting. He bumps it, twisting to see what I have behind my back, but I lift the wrapped package over his head. "Not so fast, Liam-a-saurus Rex. You've got to catch me first."

He chases me into the living room, where I let him tackle me to the couch. “Gotcha!”

Shelby barks, licking my face. Sighing dramatically, I sit up and surrender the box to Liam’s outstretched hands. “Fine, fine.”

"What did you get me?” he asks, ripping open the box.

“More toys?” Lucky appears in the doorway, pushing his sleeves up. “You know you spoil him, right?”

“Don’t worry.” I lean back against the couch, hands clasped behind my head. “I’ll spoilallyour kids just the same.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Bria calls from the kitchen, but Lucky just smirks. I give ‘em a year before he knocks her up, grad school or not.

“What is this?” Liam asks, all smiles as he examines the gadget.

“It’s a planetarium projector,” I explain, pointing to the picture on the box. “It makes your ceiling look like the night sky. There are different settings for?—”

“Wow!” yells Liam, holding the projector aloft for a second as he flings himself at me. “Can we do it now? Can we look at the stars right now?”

I catch him with a grunt, positioning him so he’s not leaning against my bad arm. At five, he’s not as little as he used to be, or as soft, now all pointyelbows and knees. “Sure, bud, when I get back. I gotta go someplace with your dad first.”

“Be careful with Uncle Tris.” Lucky plucks him off me and sets him on the floor. “He’s still healing, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Liam casts a worried glance at my arm, giving it a gentle pat. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I ruffle his hair as I stand. “I’m tougher than I look.”

He wraps his arms around my middle and squeezes. “You look very tough to me.”

The familiar dinof Dubliner’s welcomes Dad, Lucky and me as we duck into our usual snug, a warmly lit booth in the back of the pub. A couple of patrons sitting at the bar greet us with hearty handshakes and hellos as we pass by. Everyone knows my family. My father ran Saoirse, Boston’s most successful crime syndicate, for the past two decades and my brother runs it now. Most love us, some hate us. But everyone respects us.

Jacey stops by with three pints as we settle in. “From your buddies at the bar.”

Dad doesn’t drink as much as he used to for health reasons, but he lifts a glass toward the bar, tipping his chin in acknowledgment. “Sláinte.” Lucky and I follow, raising our glasses.

“May your troubles be less, and your blessings be more,” someone calls back, sounding sauced. I sip my beer with a snort. It’s just past one in the afternoon.

“How are things?” Dad asks, setting his glass aside. His bright green eyes, so like mine, study me from across the table like he might glean something important he can’t from our daily phone calls and texts. “Abioye and Ramirez give you the all-clear yet?”

Dele Abioye and Dr. Javi Ramirez have been working with me since high school when I branched out from competitive Brazilian jiu jitsu into MMA. They work together to handle the intricacies of both my training regimen and my health, so the last year has been really different for all of us. Before, I trained to win. I was Callaghan’s top fighter, oneof the best in the Northeast. Now, I’m training just to get back into the ring. My only opponent is my own body.

I shake my head. “Javi doesn’t think I’m there yet, so Coach doesn’t want to push it. I’m close, though—a couple more months.”

“I know it’s taking longer than you want, but you’re doing everything right.” Dad’s eyes soften. “You’ll get there.”

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