Page 7 of Coal
Turning on my heel, I walk out of the main room to my office, where I throw myself on my chair and slump against the headrest to wait on Blue.
***
None of us are impressed with the information we’ve found out, and we leave for Ireland earlier than we expected, as I want to get the lay of the land before we even think of meeting this fuckhead and his family. Not much could be found out about the son, and there was almost nothing about his daughters.
While we may not be looking forward to the upcoming meeting, we were enjoying the long ride. It had been months since we’d been out on the road like this, and if I’d missed it, then I’m sure that my brothers had. Maybe in the summer, we’d look at doing a poker run with the Crows. That is, if they even did something like that here. If not, we’d start one. It was a great way to raise money, and it would be good for the community to get to know us. Something to think about.
It was late when we arrived at the place we’d be staying at. Before we’d left England, I’d reachedout to Adam and asked if he knew of anywhere discreet to stay. He’d put me in touch with his uncle, who was happy to have us stay in one of their rental properties.
It took us ages to get through all the Dublin traffic, and it took everything in me to keep hold of my temper as cars pulled in front of us, forcing us to pull up. Motioning to my brothers to pull in closer so that we moved as one unit, stopping that shit in its tracks.
We eventually made it through and got to the address we’d been given. It was on the outskirts. We drove down a quiet road that only had four houses on it, with green fields and trees surrounding it. It was like a completely different world to the noise and chaos of the main city we’d just left behind, and immediately I relaxed, not realising how tense I’d been. As we rode closer to the houses, an older man stepped away from a door and walked towards the road.
My attention may have been focused on him, but I didn’t miss a shadow standing in the door of the house at the corner. Stopping my sled just short of the older gent, now that I was closer, I could see the resemblance to the O’Sheas of Fitheach. Dismounting, I took my helmet off and held out my hand towards him, stating, “You must be Sean O’Shea?”
“That I am, lad, and you must be the new bikers that have set up shop in Southampton. Welcome to Ireland,” he smiles as he introduces himself to each of my brothers before turning toward the house over the road and lifting his hand.
We watched as a dark-haired, bearded dude prowled over with a huge-ass fucking dog following at his heels. I’m not sure what breed it was, but it looked about the size of a horse. It was ugly as fuck, and I wouldn’t like to meet it on a dark night. Saying that, I wouldn’t like to meet this guy either, I thought as he came closer. I could tell straightaway he was related to Sean by his looks, but that was about it.
Whereas Sean had an open, friendly demeanour, this guy was hard-faced, muscular, and had the coldest dark eyes I’d ever seen. Definitely not someone you fucked around with.
“This is my nephew, Butcher; he owns the houses on this road and rents this one out.”
Holding out my hand to Butcher, I wait as he studies it before wrapping a hand around mine in a quick, hard shake before letting it go. He just nods at the rest of my brothers.
Sticking his hand in his pocket, he pulls out aring with keys on it and proceeds to remove one. Handing it to me, he tells me, “I’ve stocked the house with basics to keep you going for the two days you’re here. And the merchandise you asked for is on the dining table broken down, so you should be able to fit it in your saddlebags.”
“Thanks,” I say, surprised because he didn’t seem like the guy who’d think of that. “What do we owe you?”
“Nothing,” he mutters, then continues as if talking pains him, “if you need anything else, knock on my door,” he motions to the house over the road. “There’s no-one renting next to you at the moment, so you won’t have to worry about noise.”
Just then, a car drives up the road and pulls into the driveway next to Butcher’s. His entire body stiffens when a blonde, curly-haired woman steps out of the car; her head comes up when she notices us, and she waves, smiling a wide, friendly smile before opening the back door and helping a little girl with the same curly blonde curls as her mother out.
A growl rumbles from the man next to me, and he pins me with a dark gaze before eyeing my brothers, coldly saying, “She’s off-limits to you.”
Sean chuckles at his nephew’s words and gets the same glare we did, but he doesn’t seem perturbed about it at all.
Not wanting to rock any boats with our allies’ family, I nod and reply, “Got it, brother, the lady’s off limits. You don’t have to worry about us, though we’d never hurt a woman.”
He stares blankly at me, and I’m wondering what he’s thinking when a small voice pipes up excitedly, shouting, “Butch, Butch, you back,” and a tiny dynamo comes barrelling down the road towards us. Immediately, Brass and Iron stand in the road, ready to stop any cars with their bodies if they have to.
Butcher moves and moves fast, hurrying forward and scooping up the tiny tot.
The woman over the road shouts out in a frustrated voice, “Mikayla Jane, what have I told you about running away from me?” She then proceeds to stomp over to us after her runaway child, who is looking very comfortable and not at all worried, sitting on the arm of the very large, angry-looking man.
Brass and Iron stand down. He gives them a chin lift before turning his attention to the little girl. And all he says is one word, “Mikayla.” I knowit’s the disappointment in his tone that has her little mouth turning down and bowing her head to rest against his forehead, “I sowwy Butch, but I missed you.”
If I’d wondered if Butcher had any softness in him, it came through loud and clear when he tells Mikayla, “You say sorry to your mam and promise me you won’t do that again. It’s dangerous, baby, and my heart will hurt if something happens to you, okay? Do you understand?”
She lifts her head and nods, cupping his face. She says with a cute fucking lisp, “I pwomise.”
It’s cute as fuck, and I can see my brothers struggling not to laugh. Sean is biting his lip, watching his scary nephew all but melt in the face of the tiny ball of sunshine. Her mother reaches us, fire in her eyes as she looks at her mini-me and crosses her arms.
Butcher’s eyes flick towards the pissed-off woman before he turns his attention back to her little girl, “And what do you say to your mam?”
The tiny tot turns big eyes to her mother, who instantly softens her stance when her little one says, “I sowwy, Mammy.”
She sighs and reaches for her daughter, whoshakes her head. “I stay Butch.”
