Page 49 of Dublin Brute

I set my fork down and lace my fingers together. “There are a lot of local myths about it—some of them bizarre and slightly hilarious—but the truth of it is simply sad. One of Da’s competitors snatched Sean off the street one day after school. My brother was being used as leverage, but Sean foiled their plan. He pulled a metal vent cover open far enough to squeeze through but got sliced up pretty bad in the escape.”

Sean would hate the sympathy in her gaze if he were here, but it means a lot to me. It means that she’s listening, and she can still see us as people.

“I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”

“Aye, it was, but something good came of it, too. That’s when Da really took hold of the reins. He invited the heads of all the families together, devised a truce, outlined territories, and clarified that women and children were off limits. You see, Daunderstood there was no stopping organized crime, but if the men behind it could be bound to a code, Ireland would be a safer place.”

“And that’s the Quinn Laws?”

“Aye, Da created the laws and our family works damn hard to live up to that code of ethics. The people of North Dublin understand that and trust us to do our best to keep them safe. Many of the locals remember how things were when the powerful families had no order. Those were dangerous times.”

She looks torn. “But what about not breaking the laws at all? Wouldn’t that be better? Why not let the authorities handle things?”

Oh, my sweet girl.“That’s a lovely notion, angel, but it’ll never happen. There are too many people around the world making too much money off the suffering of others, police and authorities included. Drugs, guns, trafficking, assassinations, political unrest, corporate takeovers, there’s no stopping it. Power creates a vacuum. If we stood down and stepped out of the game, there would be a half-dozen groups fighting for control within weeks. And I guarantee they won’t be living by a code. No. We focus on our part of the world and work to keep people safe.”

Does she understand? I’m studying her body language and searching her gaze, but I just can’t tell. When she drops her chin and goes back to her breakfast, I’m even less sure.

I try again. “There’s a big difference between laws and justice and sometimes the right thing to do is break the rules and fuck people up. It’s not perfect but neither is the legal system society follows. We’re all just doing our best.”

She meets my gaze and I can’t tell if me telling her this is helping or not.

“Tell me about growing up with four brothers.”

Hope blooms in my chest, and my shoulders relax as I launch into stories about our childhood shenanigans. Maybe if I can keep her talking and show her that we’re just people with dangerous jobs, she’ll realize we’re not so different after all.

Because no matter what she said, we’renota mistake.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nora

“Idon’t know what to say.” I lean back in my chair, staring at the remnants of this thoughtful breakfast: the coffee from Jo’s, the delicious meal prepared fresh by a woman who obviously cares enough about Brendan and his brothers that she’s run their household since they were children.

She wouldn’t stay there for decades if they were monsters, would she?

“Just say you’re not closing the door on us. All I want is a chance.”

Logically, I know there’s no hope, but looking into his wide green eyes, and seeing the pleading hope swirling there, I don’t have the heart to shut him down. Not after he spent the last hour baring his truths.

I stand, collect my dishes and head to the sink.

“Leave it. The dishes can wait.”

“I enjoy tidying up when my mind is spinning. Besides, there isn’t much. It won’t take me long.”

Brendan grunts. “It won’t takeuslong. If you think I’ll let you clean up after me while I stand here and watch, you haven’t been paying attention.”

I have, actually. There isn’t anything Brendan has said or done that I haven’t committed to memory. Together, we clear the table and rinse the dishes under the warm, soapy water. We chat about the differences in our lives. How toast at the sink is my usual start to the day and his is a sit-down family breakfast with all the fixings. We work in tandem, our hands brushing now and then, and it’s nice.

It’s ridiculously domestic and I love every moment.

His focus on me is intense, to say the least, but also something I could so easily become addicted to. No man has ever made me feel like what I say matters—but Brendan hangs on every word.

Either he’s the best actor in the world, or he’s as captivated as I am.

And if he’s not, what’s the point of pretending? Why would he expend this much energy if he wasn’t genuinely interested in me? With all he has going on with those eyes and that body, he could charm supermodels into his bed without breaking a sweat.

I’m cute, but I’m way out of my league with him. I’m nowhere near hot and confident enough to be the eye candy a guy like Brendan would have on his arm. Hell, with the simplest come-hither curl of his finger, he could have any woman he wants.

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