Tiernan A Dark Irish Mafia Romance - Jane Henry Page 0,2
half expecting to see Keenan lifting. He’s an early morning riser like myself, but today the bench is vacant.
I drink my water, then begin lifting, but my mind is elsewhere.
I want back in the goddamn ring.
I want to earn that money.
I want a pretty girl to spend the night with.
It seems nearly every one of my Clan brothers has found someone, all but Tully the loner, and Boner, but Tully’s more like the team mascot as well as a brother of the Clan. Tall and gangly, he’s a man whore with the best of them, spending most of his evenings he isn’t working at The Craic, our local sex club.
Keenan’s married with children, as is Cormac. Nolan’s married to my sister Sheena, and Clan brother Lachlan to my sister Fiona. Tully’s seen a few women here and there, and though he hasn’t settled, it certainly isn’t for lack of opportunity.
I chalk it up to watching Fiona and Sheena begin to raise families, as if doing so can heal them from their broken upbringing. And a part of me longs for that. Though I’m grateful I’ve been welcomed into this home, I want a family of my own. One that I’m in charge of, that I watch over, a family to provide for and protect.
I lie flat on my back and press weights, pushing myself to the max while my muscles strain, and sweat pours off my body. It feels fucking good to face this challenge, to welcome the pain in my muscles. I was a right gangly teen, but one could say I’ve come into my own.
I drop the weights and breathe between sets, when the door to the workout room opens and Keenan enters.
“Mornin’, Tiernan,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
I nod. “Keenan.”
At nearly forty years old, Keenan has the face of a much older man, the strain of his role reflected in the gray at his temples and beard. But still, he keeps himself in tip-top shape. While other mob leaders let their money and prestige sometimes get to them, Keenan fancies himself just one of us.
I grab the bar and continue to lift.
“You hear from Lachlan lately?” Keenan asks, heading to a treadmill.
I shake my head. “Not in a day or so. Everything alright?” My voice is strained with the effort of talking while I lift.
“Oh, aye,” he says. “But he had a follow-up with Calum in Boston, and I figured if he found anything out you’d be the first to know.”
I shake my head. It’s been three years since Lachlan and I were together in Boston, but it already feels like a fucking lifetime ago.
A shadow crosses Keenan’s features, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You sure everything’s okay?”
He nods, picking up his pace on the treadmill.
“Aye. I did find something interesting out, though.”
“Did you?”
He nods. “You remember Fiona’s friend Aisling?”
“Aye. How could I forget the little brat?”
Billows of blonde curls, a ready laugh, and bewitching eyes capable of conjuring up trouble in her sleep. I remember my sister’s best mate well.
The memory comes quickly, unbidden. It’s a warm day in Ballyhock and I’m only seventeen years old.
“Tiernan! You can’t catch me!”
She squeals with laughter and Fiona’s on her heels, both of them laughing their damn heads off like stealing my t-shirt’s the funniest thing they’ve ever seen. They’re barely out of primary school, but fancy themselves all grown up now, what with boys and cars and mobile phones. But they’re still silly little girls, and they get under my fucking skin.
“You give that back.” I follow them, not chasing them like they’ll have me do, but stalking after them. They’re quick, but they don’t know the cliffs of Ballyhock like I do.
I’m home for the weekend, since I normally board at St. Albert’s. Keenan wanted to see me, and to check on my progress at school. So Nolan picked me up last night. I woke up early this morning and trained hard. I want to be a man of the Clan like the men I admire, and they push their bodies to peak physical shape routinely.
I woke up at the crack of dawn, went running with Nolan, lifted with Lachlan, then ate breakfast with them. After an intense meeting going over international travel and guns trade, I came out to the Cliffs for a walk. But the sun beat down mercilessly, a rare warm day in Ballyhock. I stripped off my shirt and put it under my head as a pillow, and drifted off to sleep.