Page 3 of On The Rocks

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so charmed anymore. In fact, I felt like somebody had punched a hole through my chest.

“Your da got a good turnout,” Mam murmured, pulling my stare back to the scene at the church, where people milled around, talking to the priest, who we’d called in to conduct Da’s service. Catholic clergymen weren’t in abundance in small-town America, so Father O’Malley, our family priest, had kindly flown in from New York to lay Da to rest.

The townsfolk treated him like a rock star. The church in Hambleton was the hub of the community, so Father O’Malley was akin to royalty in their eyes, and he was lapping it up.

The man speaking to him at that moment was one I respected almost as much as Da.

John Stone—formally known as Dagger—was the ex-president of the Speed Demons, the local motorcycle club. John had been buds with my da since the day we moved here, and they’d stayed friends ever since.

The Speed Demons MC and my bar, The Lucky Shamrock, were copacetic. If the club had a big party and needed booze or bartenders, we’d supply them. My brothers and I frequented their parties, and they frequented ours. We supported each other, and our relationship remained solid throughout the years because I was good buds with Bowie, John’s middle boy.

John and his wife Elise had turned up to pay their respects, along with his sons and their wives. Abe Decker had also come, another ex-Speed Demon who had taken over as Mayor ofHambleton a few years before, after the last one was exposed as a criminal.

Hambleton may have been a small town, but some city-type bullshit had gone down.

John’s assessing stare fell on me, and he dipped his chin respectfully before his gaze slid to Mam. “Maureen, sweetheart. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Elise stepped forward to take her hand. “If there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Mam’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Thank you for coming. My boys are rallying, so I’m good.”

John nodded. “Lorcan will be missed.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “He surely will.” Her chest compressed with the deep, emotional sigh she released. “Will you come back to the bar and raise a glass for my husband?”

Cash, John’s oldest son and the new president of the MC, grinned. “Try and stop us. We all admired Lorcan. It’ll be our honor.”

Mam’s gaze followed the priest as he made his rounds, talking to the congregation. “I need to ask Father O’Malley about the wording on your Da’s headstone.” Grabbing Aislynn’s arm, she pulled her away to catch up with the priest.

“She looks shellshocked,” John said thoughtfully, his stare still on Mam. “Can’t blame her, though. She doted on your pop.”

“She’s held it together,” I explained. “It’s after today she’ll feel it. There’s been so much for us all to do and arrange, and it’s weirdly kept her mind off the fact Da’s not here. It’ll hit her like a ton of bricks once everything calms down.”

A hand clasped my shoulder, and Bowie muttered, “We’ll be here, Cal.”

I twisted my neck to look at my bud, one side of my mouth hitching. “Thanks.”

“We sent Lucie to help man the bar,” Breaker, the club’s VP, informed me. “He’ll stay until you close.”

Despite myself, I chuckled softly. “Still can’t believe you called your prospect Lucie.”

“I told the stupid bastards,” John huffed. “Hardly gonna strike the fear of God into our enemies with prospects called fuckin’ Lucie. That bullshit wouldn’t have happened when I was Prez.”

Cash’s lips twitched. “Blame Atlas. He’s in charge of new recruits now Abe’s a civilian. Though, with a name like Lucien, the poor fuck was always gonna draw the short straw.”

Bowie and Breaker sniggered.

“Apologies, Callum,” John bit out. “Thought I was bringin’ my boys to pay their respects to your pa. Didn’t realize their bodies had been taken over by Beavis, Butthead, and their ugly pal Ball-ache.”

For the first time in a week, I laughed. “It’s all good. Da will be up there laughing his ass off.”

John skewered his sons with a look. “Hmm.”

Bowie jerked his chin toward the church doors where Father O’Malley was talking to my cousins. “Who are the suits? And why do I get the feelin’ they’re a little bit too interested in what’s goin’ on?”

My gut twisted. “They’re our family from New York. Da’s cousin Patrick, the head of the family business, his boy, Liam, and then his brother Tyrone, and his boys, Conan and Niall.”

John’s lips thinned. “Your pop told me about ‘em. I know who they are. The million-dollar question is, what the fuck are they doin’ here?”

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