Page 89 of The Loves We Lost
“Bates. There’s a group of Irish men at the gate. Say they are looking for Spark and Iris, but I can’t find either of them.”
“They’re Irish?” I ask, climbing to my feet. Halo follows suit.
“Yeah. Said his name was Cillian O’Ceallaigh and—”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I got it.”
When I stride out to the gate, Cillian looks like he just walked out of GQ’s summer beach edition. Linen suit, white shirt. He must be melting, but he looks as cool as ever, his dark hair slicked back, his eyes as sharp as his suit.
“Bates,” he says, his Irish lilt cutting through the space between us. “What kind of a fucking welcome is this?”
I nod to Noah to open the first gate, letting them into the no-man’s-land before the second inner gate. “Why are you here?”
“Got a call from Iris about two hours ago telling me I had to come to the Iron Outlaws clubhouse this afternoon. That she had something important to tell me.”
“I’ll go see if I can figure out what’s going on,” Halo says.
“You going to make me stand outside while you do that?” Cillian asks.
Making him wait makes me grin. “You can never be too careful when the Irish mob comes knocking.”
“Like you bikers are sin free,” he says. “Like we didn’t spend a little time up close and personal last night.”
We’d helped the Irish do a little housekeeping against the Italians, who were trying a land grab that ended with three more bodies in the Hudson.
When Halo emerges from the clubhouse, it’s with Spark, who is all dressed up. And when I say dressed up, I mean he’s in a crisp white shirt. His cut has been cleaned. The jeans he’swearing are brand new, and he’s wearing a pair of black cowboy boots instead of his usual black shitkickers.
Spark’s holding the hand of Michael, Iris’s younger brother, who is dressed in a near identical outfit, plus his usual headphones. Michael yelps with excitement when he sees his older brother, Thomas.
“You can open the gate,” Spark says.
“Want to tell us what’s going on?” Cillian asks as the second gates open, letting him and about seven of his men in, including Iris’s brother.
“I’m marrying Iris in the yard in about fifteen minutes. She thought you might want to be the man to give her away, given you’re the closest thing she’s got to a father.”
“What?” The single word falls from a lot of lips. Mine, because, holy shit, this feels like something we should have been aware of and planned for. Cillian, because he’s her uncle and surrogate father who has an issue with her being connected to the Iron Outlaws. Halo, because he’s looking at Spark like he just grew a second head. And Iris’s brother Thomas, probably because he feels like this was something he should have been included in.
“You didn’t think to ask me if you could marry her?” Cillian asks.
Spark shrugs. “No need. You aren’t her father, and she can marry whoever she wants. If that pisses you off, you can leave. Saint is Iris’s backup if you say no. But if you want to be happy about it and involved today, then I suggest you plaster a smile on your face and get on with it. Because, seriously, anyone upsets her today and I’ll shoot their fucking balls off, Irish mob or not.”
“Always a treat talking with you, son,” Cillian says.
I bite back a grin. Cillian has grown on me since we attempted a truce. Not sure Spark is helping with the relationship building today, but he also has a point.
“I’m not your fucking son,” Spark snaps.
“What the fuck,” I say, hugging Spark. “You’re getting hitched for real?”
Spark’s mean face softens, and he looks back at the clubhouse. “Yeah, we’re doing it. Got fed up with waiting for her to be mine in the eyes of the law. Briar is just helping Iris finish dressing. Only she and Saint know.”
“Well, let’s get this party started then,” I say.
Another car pulls into the lot. “The celebrant,” Spark says when a guy who could easily be confused with Santa gets out of the vehicle. “A friend of Saint’s from the military.”
“I’ll take care of him and Cillian. You want me to tell everyone it’s happening? Because they’re going to ask why there is a sudden influx of Irish men in the compound.”
Spark grins. “Yeah. Tell ’em. And get them seated out back and shit.”
