Page 2 of Bloody Union

They straighten their backs, the respect shining in their eyes. "Boss, she told us that she wasn't arriving until morning."

Seamus narrows his eyes, "Finish your drinks, we're leaving."

They're instantly on edge, something is going on and I’m not sure what.

"Need any help?" I ask quietly and Seamus grins. "I’ll take that as a no. But if you change your mind, you've got my number."

He nods, "I'll see you tomorrow, Dante." Just as I thought, he wouldn't ever accept my help. It would be seen as weak. "Enjoy your evening." There's a reproach in his voice, is he warning me to behave? I grin darkly at him, I’m not a man who can be controlled. I'll do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.

Romero slides beside me, his face deadpan but I know him, he's boiling with rage as we watch the Irish leave.

"Not now," I warn him.

"It'll be a bloody wedding yet." He grins.

There's not been a bloody wedding in the Famiglia for over a decade. "They won't start a war, not at a wedding."

He raises a brow, "You sure about that?"

I glare at him, of course I'm not fucking sure. But they'd be dead by the end of it. "Fuck, I need a drink."

"You need to get your dick wet."

I grit my teeth, trying not to kill my brother.

"You never know when to shut the fuck up do you, Romero?" Alessio grins.

Romero shrugs, "I'm going to die someday."

I ignore their stupidity and turn my eyes to the women that are around the bar, some have their heads down, others giving me the fuck me eyes. None of them hold my attention for very long.

Romero lets out a low whistle. "Fucking finally," he mutters and my gaze follows his where two women have just walked into the bar. There's a busty brunette who's wearing a tight pink dress and matching heels, but it's her friend that I'll be fucking by the end of the night. Black leather pants look as though they've been painted onto her, black boots that reach her knee and a red fucking top that clings to every curve of her body. Her blonde hair is curled, falling around her neck and down past her breasts. Both walk in as though they own the place, heads held high as they saunter toward the bar. The barman's eyes widen but he serves them.

They find a corner in the bar and stay there, the girls don't care about the appreciative looks that they're getting. Not once have they glanced around the bar to see who's here. Fucking stupid.

"How the hell are they not surrounded by now?" Alessio muses and I agree, not that I'd admit it. They've been left alone even though their beauty by far outshines any other women.

The night wears on and the women haven't so much as looked at anyone in the bar. It's pissing Romero off that they haven't glanced at him, he wants the brunette.

My hand reaches for my gun when I hear a man growl, "Bitch!" Three fucking Russians stalk toward the women. I'm slightly impressed that both women stand and glare at the Bratva bastards. Fucking hell, they have a death wish.

One of the Russians backhand the brunette viciously making her fall backward to the floor. The blonde woman steps forward and raises her brow. Jesus Christ. The hum of bikes is in the far distance. I watch as she tells the Russian that he's a dead man, before one of the other Russians punches her in the ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs. She doesn't back down, she stands tall and glares at the Russians.

Alessio, Romero, and I get to our feet, I notice the barman is tense, his eyes on the girls. The rumble of bikes grow closer, they're outside. Within seconds, eight fucking bikers walk in. The women sigh and turn to the door where the bikers have their eyes on them, the blonde steps back, whereas the brunette takes a step toward them.

"Which one?" the biker asks and the brunette smirks as she slides her eyes to the guy that backhanded her. "Time for you to go home," he tells her and she nods, the blonde steps toward her and they walk past us. One of the bikers grabs a hold of the blonde’s arm and pulls her toward him. "You good?" he asks, his eyes taking her in and for some reason I want to rip his fucking hand of her.

She steps out of his hold. "No worries, Ace, I'm grand," she says with her thick velvety Irish accent.

"You sure."

She nods. "Positive."

The biker regards her closely, "Time for you to go on home." I can't make out the blonde's reaction to his demand but I see the smirk on his face. "Before your brothers catch you here."

Her bell like laughter rings out and I feel it in my gut. What the fuck is going on? "Come on, Kinsley," the blonde laughs, "before your brother starts to lecture us."

The biker grins as the girls leave the bar. His eyes narrow in on me, a warning in his eyes. He nods to his brothers and they pick up the asshole that backhanded his sister and the other two fuckers that are with him.

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