Page 57 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“What rumors?” he asked, although he’d heard the whispers and they hadn’t been a surprise. Jimmy didn’t have what it took to be in the champion circuit. Declan used to think he’d have a shot at it, and maybe he would have if he’d continued with boxing.
“Well, it’s rumors, mind you. He might drink more than he should and run with some fast women. Then there’s the talk of drug use. Some say those things have made him meaner. But he’s still a worthy opponent, Declan. We wouldn’t set up the fight otherwise.”
Jimmy and him. Fighting. His heart was pounding. God, Sorcha had been right. This was the last thing he’d expected to face tonight. And yet…
“I’ll be ready. Don’t worry.”
This was his chance to pay Jimmy back for every misery. In the beginning, he’d wanted nothing more than to avoid Jimmy, but now…he thought maybe he could win.
“Of course, of course!” Cormac gesticulated widely with his short arms. “After all, Jimmy was your first and last fight—with you winning the first and him winning the last. Oh, it’s a grudge match for the ages, and we’re going to sell more tickets than we have seats for. With the prize money I negotiated, should you win, you could buy the butcher shop and then some.”
“That’s good news.” Declan cracked his neck. The money seemed small in comparison to him beating Jimmy right now. His anger over Morag had made him reckless in their last bout. Not this time. He would be relentless, and they would see which of them lay on the floor at the end, blood and sweat dripping from his very body.
He would not lose. He wouldn’t allow it. His every focus had to be on putting Jimmy on the floor until he couldn’t rise before the final count.
“Jimmy’s manager told me that he’s never been as eager to fight anyone as you,” Cormac said, knocking him in the arm.
Every putrid cell of rage inside him broke through the confines where Declan had buried it. “Not as eager as me. Excuse me. I have more training to see to tonight.”
With anger raging through his blood, he turned and walked out of the pub.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Declan had up and left.
Kathleen sat back in her chair, her whiskey untouched. She’d been raised with seven brothers, so she wasn’t a stranger to erratic male behavior. But she was super pissed he’d gone home without saying a word to her.
What the hell was the matter with him?
You just didn’t up and walk out like that.
He’d known what tonight meant to both of them. Hell, he’d agreed to come. Of course, she hadn’t planned on the impromptu beer contest. That had certainly shifted the focus off their informal date. She would own that. But still…
News of the fighter he’d be facing was on every person’s lips in the pub. Already people were making bets after Cormac’s dramatic telling of how he’d finalized the arrangements for the fight late this afternoon. With a Jimmy Slavin, she’d heard. Liam had called him a mean and dirty bastard.
People were buzzing with the news at the tables around her, saying Declan would have his hands full but would no doubt make Caisleán proud.
When a few people exclaimed about Declan disappearing, wanting to talk to him about the fight, Seamus puffed up and said Declan was probably so eager to fight his old nemesis that he’d immediately gone off to the boxing club.
“Should we join him, boys?” he’d all but bellowed, and Donal and Eoghan and Declan’s father had left with him to do just that. They’d taken the whiskey bottle on their table with them.
“There’s something screwy about this,” Kathleen muttered to Ellie.
“Agreed,” she said. “Let’s go talk to Brady.”
They headed to the bar, Kathleen leading the way, and as soon as she reached it, she called out, “Hey, Brady! What do you think about Declan fighting this Jimmy guy?”
“What?” he asked, pausing in his polishing of a pint glass.
Like her brother, Danny, Brady seemed to hate fingerprints on his glassware. “Declan fighting this Jimmy guy?”
He gripped the glass and looked away. “He and Jimmy have a long history between them. Declan’s last fight— Never mind. He’ll do fine. Excuse me. I need to see about refills.”
“Was that weird?” she asked Ellie quietly.
Her friend pulled a face. “Brady doesn’t usually look like someone bashed his head in when he’s behind the bar.”
“And Liam doesn’t usually call people mean and dirty bastards.” No, he was the peaceful type, inclined to like most everyone.
