Page 2 of Dublin Charmer
I don’t understand that one bit.
Ginny is a goddess. She has never made me feel insignificant or less than. With her, there is no pretense, no ‘you’re the youngest,’ no ‘stay out of the way, Finny’.
She’s always been good to me.
I give her a nod, and she answers with a lift of her glass. It’s nothing, but it’s a comfort in a room full of noise and expectations.
I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, letting the sounds of the party wash over me. Maybe tonight isn’t about feeling left out. Maybe it’s about seeing things for what they are—and what they’re not.
My brothers are fighters, warriors, leaders.
But me?
Where do I belong in all of this?
The hum of conversation fades into background noise as I get lost in thought—at least until Tag catches my attention. He’s across the room, standing with Jimmy, deep in the kind of conversation that hardens jaws and tightens shoulders.
Tag lifts his chin, a silent summons.
No rest for the weary.
I push off the wall and make my way over, weaving through the crowd, accepting good-natured shouts and claps on the back. Toasting and smiling, I make my way toward my oldest brother.
Brenny hands me a shot of Fireball, and I throw it back before downing the last of my whiskey. The cinnamon burn feels good, and I reach to the tray of a passing server to swap my empty glass for a fresh tumbler.
The room has taken on a lovely spin, and I have no intention of wasting the buzz. Tonight is a party.
“Happy Christmas, Finn,” Ginny says as I get close.
“To you as well, Ginny. Save me a dance, will you?”
“Och, you know I will.”
I clink glasses with her and make it over to Tag and her father.
“Finny, I was telling Jimmy what you dug up about Gravely’s plan,” Tag says.
I look over my shoulder to make sure Laine isn’t within earshot. “Christ. Are you trying to put us in the doghouse? Your wife said no family business tonight or there will be hell to pay.”
“Aye. She means it, too.” Tag chuckles. “She described in great detail how she would torture anyone she caught dragging down the evening with talk of death and deception. But I’m willing to take the punishment for the both of us, little brother. Don’t you worry about that. So go on. Tell him.”
Jimmy folds his bulky arms across his broad chest and fixes me with a look that weighs heavily. “Aye, what have you got, kid?”
Kid.I hate when he calls me that, but I don’t flinch. Why would I? I’ve been ‘kid’ or ‘little brother’ or ‘Finny’ my entire life. I’m twenty-six years old, and the people in my family treat me like I’m still fourteen.
Knowing we likely haven’t got much time before Laine’s radar goes off and we’re busted for talking shop, I fill Jimmy in.
I tell him how Billy Gravely’s been stockpiling. Not just manpower—he’s bringing in guns, heavy ones. Outsourcing through contacts in Belfast, and I’ve traced some chatter that puts him in talks with lads from the mainland too. This isn’t small-time posturing.
Jimmy’s jaw tightens. “So, he’ll be making a move.”
“Aye, he will. What we don’t know is where he’s aiming his assault. He could be after the McGuire brothers—to take out Niall and the others to claim all of South Dublin for himself. Or he might well be gunning for us.”
“Or both,” Tag adds.
I nod. “There’s that, too.”
Jimmy swears under his breath, low and vicious. “Fucking Gravely.”
