the counter. I glare at him and deck him back, harder than he hit me.
“Fuck off,” I tell him. “Christ.”
I finish the second pint and order a third.
Boner’s eyes widen, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Now, now, lad, keep it in yer pants, will ya? Easy does it.”
“Boner,” Tully says quietly. “Leave off.”
Boner shakes his head and gets to his feet. “Fine, then, I’ll leave you two pussies to drink up. I’ve got a much stronger appetite to fill than that.”
And he’s off, leaving me and Tully alone.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says with an apologetic wince. “I didn’t know bringing up —”
“It’s fine.”
He closes his mouth and nods, looking away off in the distance as he sips his pint.
I feel better by the time I’ve finished my third pint. I don’t drink much, but like most men of the Clan, Guinness flows in my veins like blood, and occasionally I need my fill.
“Join me in the back?” Tully asks. He gives me a curious look. I haven’t joined them in the back in so long, he must wonder what I’m playing at, what he can expect from me. The back of the Craic is where the real action takes place, anchored with club safewords and a team of security guards. I’m tempted, but I’m not sure I can even think of another woman. Though there’s literally nothing between me and Fiona, it feels like a form of betrayal.
“It’s stress relieving to have your way with a pretty girl,” Tully says quietly. “Get a fucking blow job and forget about the seriousness of life, lad.” A low pulse of need begins low in my belly. Your own fucking fist in a shower’s like licking an ice cube when you’re dying of thirst. It slakes the need, but only for a moment. And Christ, it’s been so fucking long.
“No commitments,” Tully continues, feeding me the words I need to hear in small bits. “Go in, go home, no harm, no foul. They’ll lose their fucking knickers if you walk in there.”
Members here know the McCarthy clan, and the women are eager to please. It surprised me at first. We’re no fucking saints. Keenan explained to me we’re sort of celebrities here, and I’ve seen with my own eyes that he’s right. Though we’re criminals ourselves, we keep the seedier lot out of Ballyhock. The Clan is responsible for Ballyhock’s low crime rate and affluence. We give generously to the church and the schools, solidifying ourselves as benefactors. Robin Hood and his merry men, as it were.
Every man of the Clan is financially set for life, granted a home, the protection of the brotherhood, and damn near anything he needs. It’s also no secret that when a man of the Clan claims a woman, she becomes the epicenter of his universe. In turn, the women of the Clan are passionately devoted to their men.
But over the years, as the men have married off, the single men of the Clan have dwindled. It’d go to your head if you let it, knowing that the women here are eager to be with one of us. Boner takes full advantage. Though I haven’t been here lately, I’m told it isn’t unusual to find him with not one woman but two on his arm, sometimes more.
I polish off my pint, throw a tip in the jar for Rafferty, who gives me a thankful nod, and I jerk my chin to Tully. “I’ll join you,” I tell him. “But no woman for me tonight.”
Maybe tonight it’ll satisfy me just to get a whiff of what my brothers like.
“Good lad,” Tully says, smacking my back in approval so hard I nearly lose my footing. He rises, and we walk to the entrance at the back. “And anyway,” Tully says, sobering. “Is it true that Keenan’s got you going to Boston?”
“Aye.”
And we did, making very specific plans for me to join up with Tiernan and solidify our alliance with the Boston connection. I’ll do what my Chief tells me. I’ve sworn a blood oath to do just that. But my heart is here in Ballyhock.
When we enter the back, the lights dim, and music filters through speakers overhead. The smell of drink and sex is thick in the air, and I won’t deny it appeals to me. But I can’t lose control. A man of the Clan doesn’t have that luxury. Still, a little stress relief appeals deeply.
“Boner’s wasted no time,” Tully mutters approvingly. Boner’s got a