Page 5 of On The Rocks

Kennedy let out aharrumph. “I won’t let them intimidate Callum.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said appreciatively. “It’s nice you looking out for me and all, but Break’s right. Don’t get involved. You can help me more by watching, listening, and helping me deal with the legal side of whatever’s coming.”

“You reckon there’s a problem?” John inquired.

I shot him a knowing look. “If the Doyle’s are involved, I can’t rule it out.”

“Surely your pop wouldn’t have done anything to fuck up your inheritance?” John mused.

“No way,” I assured him. “My da was all about passing the bar down through the family. It’s what keeps us fed and gives us a roof over our heads. He would have cut off a limb before he put it in jeopardy.” My eyes flicked toward my cousins. “If Paddy’s been invited to the reading, it’ll be the aul fella wanting to give him a message from the grave.”

John dipped his chin. “It’d be just like Lorcan to want to have the last word.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “There’s nothing Paddy can do to me. Da never involved him in the business. He probably asked him to come to look out for us.”

“Right,” he drawled, not appearing at all convinced, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

John was right; there was no reason for Patrick Doyle to be at the reading of Da’s will. The fact he was even there had secretly sent me into a tailspin.

The Irish Mob hadn’t flown two-thousand miles just to raise a glass for my aul fella, so the question remained...

What the fuck were they doing here?

And more to the point, what did it have to do with me?

CHAPTER 2

CALLUM

Hours later, I watched from behind the bar as the strains of a harmonica and the twang of a banjo filled the bar.

Tyrone closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and began to sing the opening lines to “Dirty Old Town.”

My hand automatically wiped the inside of a glass with a towel while I watched the patrons swaying in time to the tune. I forgot how Tyrone Doyle fancied himself as a modern-day Daniel O’Donnell at every fucking wake he landed in. Clearly, he could carry a tune, but he was no Bono.

My eyes caught T’s, and I rolled them left to right as if to say,Jesus Christ.

Tadhg grinned at me, then turned back to the tables to grab some dirty glasses.

My stare slid to Donovan, who’d caged Lucy Bloom against the wall and was in the process of sweet-talking her while trailing his index finger down the side of her neck.

Lucy was the town bike; most of us had ridden her at some point. Usually, I didn’t regard girls that way—I mean, I wasn’t exactly the Virgin Mary myself—but Lucy was a special kind ofeasy, and Donny was a special kind of cunt even trying to get into her knickers at ourathair’swake.

I was surrounded by idiots—the exception being my mam—and I had to leave them in charge when Kennedy read my aul fella’s will while I dealt with whatever Paddy was about to throw at me.

Jesus, help me.

I caught a flash of blonde and turned to see Kennedy beckoning me from the corridor leading to my office. My stare went straight to Patrick, who was already looking over at me from his place beside Tyrone, and I jerked my chin to indicate it was time.

Paddy shot Liam a knowing look and got to his feet, fastening the buttons of his black suit. I walked out from behind the bar, and together, we headed up the corridor toward Kennedy, who was waiting at my office door.

“Sorry about Lorcan,” Paddy murmured in his half-American, half-Irish lilt, which was ridiculous since he’d never stepped foot on Irish soil.

My brothers and I all had U.S accents, seeing as we were born and raised here, except for the odd Irish word or phrase that we’d picked up from my da or Mam over the years. Unlike Patrick, we didn’t pretend to be something we weren’t.

My mam’s accent was strong, but then she hailed from a pretty town in the center of Ireland called Roscommon. She was a good Catholic girl of nineteen when my aul fella fell in love with her at first sight when he was thirty years old.

Da had moved to the States when he was twenty-two. He hailed from Belfast originally and often went back to see his folks. He met Mam in her local pub when he visited a friend, and six weeks later, he wifed her up and brought her back to New York with him.

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