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“My father.”

Moving on instinct, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and ripped off my covers. Sliding out of bed, I hobbled toward the bathroom door with 999 already dialed.

“Johnny, what are you doing, lad?” Gibsie called after me.

“The right thing,” I hissed, furious.

“Should we talk to your dad first?” he asked. Climbing off the bed, he moved toward me. “He’s the barrister, lad, and we don’t know what’s—”

Holding a hand up to ward Gibs off, I pressed my phone to my ear and concentrated on the operator’s voice. “999, what is your emergency?”

“My girlfriend’s in danger,” I hissed down the line, losing the fight to control my emotions. “She’s only sixteen years old. She’s a minor and she needs your help. She lives at Elk’s Terrace in Ballylaggin, County Cork, okay? Did you get that? 95 Elk’s Terrace. She’s really small, okay? Fucking tiny. She can’t defend herself and I can’t get to her—” Trembling from head to toe, I pressed my forehead against the cool tiles in the bathroom, clenched my jaw, and growled, “I need you to send someone over to the house right away because her scumbag father has been beating the shite out of her.”

* * *

“Well,” Gibsie said grimly from the bathroom doorway when I had ended the call. Folding his arms across his chest, he gave me a nod of approval. “You are the definition of the cat amongst the pigeons.”

“Christ, Gibs.” Exhaling a ragged breath, I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead and hissed, “How did I not see this?”

“In all fairness, lad, how were you supposed to?” Gibsie offered with a sigh. “Look at your parents, Johnny. Hell, I’d put money on John having never raised a hand to you before.”

True.

“Exactly,” Gibsie filled in, reading my thoughts. “It’s hard to imagine something like that happening when it’s so beyond the scale of normal for you that it’s pretty much incomprehensible.”

“It didn’t click,” I choked out, wrestling with the huge tsunami of guilt rising up inside of me. “I just…I didn’t see this in my head.”

“Listen, I texted your dad,” he told me. “He’s on the way, Johnny, lad. He’ll help us.”

“Good,” I replied, tone clipped, as I tried to catch my breath and process this. “I’m going to need him to take my case when I go down for murder.”

“Think he’ll represent me, too?” Gibsie asked. Shrugging, he added, “When you’re embarking on hell, it’s always good to have a buddy.”

5

I’m Your Brother

Shannon

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing that assaulted my senses was the sunshine beaming in from the window, mixing in with the sound of beeping monitors, and bringing with it a throbbing in my brain.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Confused, I looked for Johnny, but came up empty.

He wasn’t here.

Panicking, I patted the mattress, twisting my head from side to side as I tried to scope out Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh or Gibsie.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay.” A large hand wrapped around mine. “I’m here.”

“Joe?” I croaked out anxiously, feeling my heart race at a hundred miles an hour as I desperately sought him out. “Joe?”

“Shh, take it easy,” a vaguely familiar male voice replied. “I’m right here, Shannon.”

Rejecting the stranger’s voice, I shook my head and reached for the tubes in my nose. “Joey?” I croaked out, voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. Yanking the tubes free, I inhaled a deep breath, gasping for precious air, something my brain demanded I do. The moment I did, pain seared through my entire chest and I cried out, my hands automatically moving to my side.

Mybandagedside?

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