Disclaimer: This a Stephanie Plum FanFiction Story. All recognizable characters belong to the fabulous Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing her amazing characters for a while.
Warning: Language
A/N: OK, so I went full-on Irish in this story. I used all the writing prompts, and then some, from the Facebook Group Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction March 2022 Writing Challenge. Thank you to txbabefan for the read through to help de-Irish it (is that a thing?).
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Lucky Enough
Stephanie rolled into McGinty's Irish Pub, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting as the door closed behind her. Music played in the background, and she heard the raucous laughter from a group of men playing pool, but otherwise only a few patrons were scattered around. It might be St. Patrick's Day, but at two in the afternoon, the real festivities hadn't kicked off yet. Stephanie climbed up on the barstool at the end of the scarred wooden bar, waiting for the bartender to notice her. She might have to wait until hell froze over, given her luck lately.
A big burly man with shaggy red-brown hair and a beard to match ambled over. "What can I get you, lass?"
Stephanie's shoulder tilted up. "A beer?" It was more a question than an answer.
She didn't know much about Irish beer, and this place seemed far more authentic than she'd initially expected when she'd come in on a whim. No signs for Budweiser, Corona, or anything else she recognized.
"We don't have any of that green beer here." The burly bartender raised an eyebrow at her.
"Just surprise me. As long as it's not Guinness."
"Been a day, has it?" His lilting Irish brogue made her smile.
"It has."
He nodded, sat a drink coaster on the bar in front of her, and moved away to fetch her mystery drink. Stephanie traced the symbol on the coaster, an intricate, interwoven design that was obviously Celtic.
Her fingers absently followed the lines as her mind wandered. The bartender had been right. It had been a day. Maybe one that had been a long time coming, but one just the same. It hadn't started out that way. In fact, her day had started sedate, which should have been the first clue things were about to blow-up, and in her case, that could mean figuratively or literally depending on the day. She'd brought in a skip without incident. No rolling in garbage, falling down stairs, ripped jeans, or car sacrifices to the junkyard god. Connie had just signed her check with a flourish, one she planned to promptly spend at the mall on a new pair of boots the minute she walked out the door, when Ranger had walked in. In retrospect she should have just run, but common sense and good judgement had never really been her thing, and today didn't prove to be any different.
Ranger was six-feet of pure male perfection that could make a girl weak in the knees and forget the word no. Dark hair, dark eyes, perfect features, and lots of deep, dark secrets. They'd been circling each other for years, with the occasional romantic skirmish thrown in just to keep her off balance. Ranger had been a lot of things in her life over the years. Mentor, friend, benefactor, and lover, but never boyfriend.
Stephanie was in love with Ranger and had been for a long time, but Ranger didn't do relationships, and Stephanie didn't do hook-ups. At least not very often. Every once in a while, her hormones got the better of her and she tumbled into bed with Ranger. It was pure fire and magic that always ended the same way. The next morning, he'd walk out, and that goodbye kiss would be like a wrecking ball to her heart.
Ranger loved her too, but that love didn't come with a ring or a future, and sometimes she thought maybe she didn't care. Ranger had been the one constant in her life that always supported her. From the moment she met him in that little diner, he'd been in her corner. His love was unconditional, unlike her boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, as of an hour ago, anyway. A not so tragic end to a novel that had gone on a few chapters too long.
She had grown up with Joe Morelli, and theirs was a storied relationship that no one would ever mistake for a fairy tale. Morelli was a detective with the Trenton PD. He was a good cop, a good man, a decent lay, and a shitty boyfriend. They had been on-again, off-again for years. Both on them frustrated with the dynamic, but not enough to change it.
They talked about marriage, but neither one of them was all that eager to get to the altar. Morelli didn't much care for her job, and she didn't much care for Morelli's cozy relationship with his ex-girlfriend, Terri Gilman, or his family and his crazy grandma Bella that was definitely in league with satan, practicing the dark arts.
Anytime they got too close to the marriage line, one of them would pick a fight and they'd break-up over something inconsequential and stupid. Only this time, what they'd broken up over wasn't exactly inconsequential, it was the exact opposite. It was everything.
She sighed. The sound more pathetic whimper than resigned. That's how she'd ended up on Liberty Street in an Irish pub in the middle of the afternoon. Where was that damn beer, anyway? As if he'd read her mind, a beefy hand deposited a pint on the coaster in front of her.
"It's pretty. What is it?" She asked the bartender and pointed to the coaster.
"Celtic spiral."
"What does it mean?" Stephanie asked.
"Birth, death, and rebirth." Came his gruff reply.
Wasn't that fitting Stephanie thought and eyed her beer as the bartender headed over to help other patrons. The beer was a rich golden hue, and she took a tentative sip. A faint sweetness graced her tongue, followed by a creaminess she wouldn't have associated with beer. A highlight of hops balanced the sweetness, making it light crisp, and very drinkable. Maybe the Irish were onto something. The glass said Harp Lager, but she had no idea if that was what she was drinking. If the Irish grew their men like they made their beer, stumbling into an Irish pub might be just the change in luck she was looking for.
The door opened, allowing sunlight into the dim interior, and three men filed in, silhouetted by the bright sun behind them. All three were big, tall, and muscular, and unease prickled along her scalp as a warning. There was something in the way they carried themselves that screamed danger. The door closed, and she got her first good look, and it did nothing to ease her wariness.
Two of the men flanked the tallest one in the middle. He was clearly the guy in charge. All three men wore suits, and all three were carrying. Her eyes were drawn to the boss. The way he carried himself, his presence dominated the space, and made the bar feel small, almost crowded. He moved with languid grace and controlled power that radiated off of him in waves.
He scanned the bar with practiced precision, taking in everyone and everything at a glance. The way he walked screamed predator, and the hard edge to his handsome face made an involuntary shiver drift down her spine, and the little hairs on her arm stand straight up. This was a dangerous man.
He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit that probably cost more than her last three cars combined, and expertly hid his gun. His wavy hair was dark brown, maybe even black, a little too long, and despite his best efforts, a tad unruly. She wondered if it was as soft and silky as it looked. A dark lock kept falling forward across his forehead, giving him a roguish charm that probably worked well with the ladies. He had a square chiseled jaw, with just a hint of stubble, and beautiful, lush lips that Stephanie had no doubt could be cruel. He was at least six three, and muscular. His suit showcased his broad chest and powerful thighs. He was equal parts attractive and terrifying.
He drew closer and his eyes locked with hers. Piercing blue, they scanned Stephanie from head to toe, with detached interest taking in everything. His perusal was slow and deliberate, and he didn't even try to be subtle in his assessment. It wasn't provocative or lewd, it was more like he was gathering all the puzzle pieces and fitting them together in his mind to form a complete picture. The gulp of beer caught in her throat, and she sputtered and coughed.
The corner of his mouth tipped up, and he continued towards her, his eyes locked on her face. She sat frozen like a terrified rabbit, praying the wolf didn't notice her. His head dipped in greeting as he passed by, and relief flooded through her, making her stomach queasy.
He took a seat at the end of the bar, two seats away from her. One of his bodyguards was stationed at the entrance and one at the back of the bar. The bartender came over, a huge grin on his face. They spoke in a language Stephanie didn't understand and did some complicated, secret handshake.
Stephanie's eyes were drawn to him like a magnet, and she stole a couple of sideways glances as she nursed her beer.
The bartender returned with two glasses of whiskey. When the man wrapped his hand around the tumbler, Stephanie noticed the hint of a tattoo peeking out from the cuff of his shirt and the tattoos on his knuckles.
He turned and caught her staring, and she gave him a tight smile she hoped assured him she wasn't a threat. Getting gunned down in an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day wasn't at the top of her list, and given her luck lately, it wasn't outside the realm of possibilities.
"What butter and whiskey won't cure, there is no cure for." His deep, rich voice reminded her of the aged whiskey he was drinking. He had a slight Irish brogue that lent a roughness to his deep timbre.
The man slid a whiskey her way. "Go on, lass, you look like you could use it."
Stephanie stared at the glass like it might be a poisonous snake, debating the wisdom of accepting a drink from a dangerous stranger. Her eyes darted to his face, and he gave her an encouraging smile.
He motioned to the whiskey with his head. "Give it a lash."
Stephanie's hand wrapped around the glass and she raised it to him in salute. "Thanks."
She took a small sip, and the buttery smoothness coated her tongue and slid down her throat, warming all the way to her belly. It was good and probably very expensive. In her experience, whiskey usually tasted more like gasoline. This one was soft and velvety and tasted like apricots, honey, and toasted nuts that lingered on her tongue. She thought the whiskey might fit the man. Polished on the outside, easy on the palate, and dangerous to your good judgement.
He moved a seat closer, and Stephanie tensed, the hair on the back of her neck rising in warning.
"Easy lass, I'm not going to hurt you."
Stephanie gave him a skeptical look. "Isn't that what people tell you right before they do something bad?"
The man studied her for a minute, and she tried not to fidget under that intense blue gaze. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. A disaster, a hot mess, a desirable woman? Morelli had reduced their relationship to sex and chocolate cake, and Ranger? Well Ranger, just never defined what was between them.
A beat passed, and the man tipped his head back and laughed. A beautiful, rich sound that caused her body to hum and tingle. Her eyes drifted to his throat where a Celtic cross nestled at the base and peeked out of the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. That surprised her. He didn't seem like a man that would bend easily to another's doctrine.
"Fair point." He smiled at her. A good one that reached his eyes. It changed the cold piercing blue to something warmer and more inviting.
He held out his hand to her. "I'm Declan."
Stephanie's eyes flickered to the gold pinky ring on his right hand as she slipped hers into his. Big and warm, his hand completely dwarfed hers in a handshake that was firm but polite.
"Stephanie." She replied.
"Stephanie." He repeated, tasting her name on his tongue like a fine wine. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
Stephanie rolled her eyes, and his smiled widened.
Beautiful wouldn't be how she would describe herself, certainly not today. She had on a pair of jeans ripped at the knee, a plain white t-shirt, and well-worn bates boots. Her hair had long ago returned to its unruly, curly state, and cascaded in a wild tumble around her head. At least she'd swiped a couple of coats of mascara on her lashes, and slicked on some tinted lip gloss. She'd like to think she'd played up her two best features, her blue eyes and her generous lips. By the way his eyes flickered to her mouth when she nervously licked her lips, Declan certainly thought she had.
"Fair enough." He conceded. "I see my Irish charms are not working on a Jersey girl." He held up his hands in surrender, and her gaze flickered back to the ring. His eyes followed hers.
"It's a Claddagh ring, and no, I'm not married." He pointed to the ring and placed his palm flat on the bar so she could inspect it. Unless things were a lot different in Ireland, a pinky ring didn't exactly scream marriage, and it wasn't what drew her attention. She had to believe there was a story there.
"On the right hand, with the point of the heart toward the fingertips, it means the wearer is single and might be looking for love." He winked at her.
They both knew love in this case probably didn't mean everlasting, more like just for the night.
Stephanie's eyebrow quirked up at him and she inspected the ring. Two hands clasp a heart, with a crown on top.
"What does it mean? The heart, the hands?"
"The qualities of love. The heart that's entangled." He pointed to the heart in the center of the ring. "The friendship that should always accompany it. That's what the hands mean, and the crown means loyalty. All the elements necessary for true love."
"It sounds like a story there?" She murmured.
His gaze sharpened, and she was afraid she had crossed the line.
"Thanks for the drink." Stephanie said, and turned away from him. His voice surprised her, and she turned back.
"I bought it for a woman." He said simply.
"What happened?"
"I never got the chance to give it to her." He gave her a wry, lopsided smile. His eyes took on a faraway quality, and the next part he said, more to himself than her. "My little sparrow flew the coop."
"I'm sorry."
His gaze swung back to her, and his head dipped slightly in acknowledgement. "Me too, lass, but it was a long time ago. I wear the ring to remind myself not to waste opportunities in this life, to go for what I want."
Stephanie considered what he had said for a minute and her mind drifted to Ranger and Morelli and the complete shitshow that had happened outside the bonds office. A sadness washed over her. It was good advice, but it didn't always work out. She knew that first hand.
"A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for what ails you, but if you can't have that, sometimes the next best thing is talking to a handsome stranger in a bar."
Stephanie couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped. "Is that so?"
His shoulder tilted up. "It might be a wee bit self-serving, but sometimes we have to make our own luck."
Declan took a sip of his whiskey. "What is it, man trouble, I'm guessing."
"Isn't it always?" She threw him a baleful look.
"Good point. Now go on, tell me what the plank did."
Stephanie furrowed her brows. "Plank?"
"Idiot." Declan clarified.
"How do you know he was an idiot?"
"Well, lass, he's a man, which pretty much guarantees it." Declan took another sip of his whiskey and waited.
Stephanie let out a long sigh. "It's actually two planks." Stephanie tilted up her shoulder in a half shrug.
"Blimey o'reilly, that is some trouble."
Stephanie wasn't even going to ask for clarification on that one, mainly because his tone had clearly conveyed the message.
"Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, and we should get the bottle, aye. We might need to be a wee bit banjaxed for this one." Declan raised his hand and caught the bartender's attention. "Bring the bottle Liam and some crisps. My stomach thinks my throat's been cut."
"I'll get you some Shepard's pie." Liam called back.
Declan turned his attention back to her, and Stephanie blew a curl out of her face. Was she really going to spill her guts to some stranger she'd just met in a bar? Why not? She could tell him things she would never admit to another living soul, because they'd never have to see each other again.
"I've been dating this cop for a few years now. We grew up in the same neighborhood, and we have history."
"Good history or bad history?" Declan asked as Liam dropped off the bottle.
"Both. I guess." Stephanie scrunched up her nose. "I had the biggest crush on him in high school. All the girls did. He was a couple of years older, the varsity football quarterback." She gave a Declan wry smile that pretty much said it all. "One night around closing time he came into the place I worked. One thing led to another, and…" Her voice trailed off.
"I get the gist." Declan nodded.
"Well, let's just say I didn't hear from him after that. The worst part, he talked about it all right, just not to me. He wrote it all over the bathroom walls."
"Fecker." Declan murmured.
The stormy look in his eyes caught her off guard, the anger palpable.
"I didn't see him for two years, and when I did, I jumped the curb and ran him down with my dad's car. Broke his leg."
Declan's eyebrows shot up before he schooled his expression. "Nice one."
It was oddly comforting that Declan thought what she had done was warranted.
"I didn't see him again for a few years." She wasn't sure why, but she didn't think it was a good idea to tell Declan she was a bounty hunter, so she glossed over the next part.
"Things happened, and we were thrown together. He's changed a lot. Grown-up, matured." Her shoulder tilted up. "We started dating, and we have been on-again, off-again for a few years."
"But?" Declan prodded.
Stephanie brushed her hair back from her face. "I don't know. We just never seem to be on the same page about our future. He doesn't like my job; and I don't like his family. He's looking for something more traditional than I think I can ever be. Anytime one of us gets serious about marriage, the other picks a fight and we break-up over stupid shit, like eating the last piece of bread."
"So why do you keep going back to him?" Declan studied her, and it felt like he saw right through her. It was clear Declan didn't miss much.
"He's familiar, he's comfortable."
"Do you love him?" Declan asked.
Stephanie mulled it over for a minute. "I do."
"But then there is the other plank."
Her eyes shot to his, and he gave her a knowing look. Her body felt raw under his scrutiny and she took another long drink to calm her nerves and buy time. Her mind drifted to Ranger, and Stephanie couldn't help the smile that crossed her face before she remembered where they had ended up today.
"Tell me about him." Declan prodded.
"He's amazing. He's everything, but sometimes I think he's like a rainbow, beautiful to look at but unattainable."
"But you love him."
"Yes," she whispered. "With everything I've got. He's smart, strong, kind. He supports me, protects me, and he loves me in his own way."
"Then what's the problem?"
"He doesn't do relationships, and his life plan doesn't include marriage." She said simply, because that was it in a nutshell. That was the only reason she wasn't with Ranger. "I know he's seen some dark things, done some things he isn't proud of, but I don't understand why he can't make room for me in his life. I don't care about those things, because I know the truth."
"And what's that, lass?"
"That he's a good man, an honorable one."
Declan nodded in agreement. "Bad men do good things, and good ones can do bad. The world is rarely black and white, it's more shades of grey."
Stephanie had a feeling Declan knew a lot about shades of grey.
She gave Declan a rueful smile. "I call him batman. He's my superhero. He saves me from myself, and understands me in a way no one else does, but I don't know who he really is, because he won't let me into his life."
Stephanie swiped away the lone tear that had popped out and ran down her cheek.
"You know, lass, a little fire that warms is better than a big fire that burns, sometimes."
Declan reached out and used his knuckles to brush away another tear. His touch was whisper soft, and she supposed she should be embarrassed she was crying in front of a total stranger, but she wasn't. Declan understood, and there was no judgement in his face, just empathy.
Stephanie nodded. "I know. I kept telling myself to just settle down with the cop. Be happy. Sometimes I think I pick a fight so we can break-up and I won't have to give up batman. I'm not sure I can, even though I know I should."
"You stay with the cop because he's familiar, and he's comfortable. That's convenience and safety; not love. Sure, you have history, some good, some bad, but you really want to be with this batman, but he doesn't want marriage, and that's the hold-up?"
"Or a relationship." Stephanie clarified.
Declan gave a soft snort. "You're already in a relationship. You just don't have a ring. A man that loves, supports, and protects a woman is in a relationship."
A beat went by, and Stephanie absorbed what Declan had said.
"Do you even want to get married? If you could have the man without the ring, would that be enough?
Stephanie shook her head. "I don't know, probably. I'm not sure I even want to get married. I want someone that will love me, cherish me, and be faithful. I want a partner." She whispered.
"Then don't be breaking your shin on a stool that's not in your way." Declan admonished. "Sounds to me like you already have all of those things."
Stephanie let out a ragged breath. "None of that matters, anyway. Not after what happened today."
Declan's brow quirked up, and he poured her another healthy dose of whiskey, and slid her glass back to her.
Stephanie took a slug, and let the liquid fire work its way down her throat and into her belly, bringing a sense of calm.
"The cop and I are in the off-again phase of our relationship, but we've been circling back to the on-again stage the last few days, we just hadn't officially agreed we were back on yet. I was supposed to meet him tonight to talk and work things out."
Stephanie rolled her eyes at the talk part of that statement. Talk really meant make-up sex. Declan's mouth twitched up, but he wisely blanked his expression when she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Anyway, I was at work and batman strolled in."
"You work at the same place?" Declan queried?
"No, just the same line of work." She gave a vague wave of her hand. Stephanie thought that might be a bit of an exaggeration, like saying a guppy and a shark were both fish.
Declan nodded and Stephanie continued. She really didn't know why she was telling some stranger she'd met in a bar about her completely messed up life, but something about it felt right. She'd been wrong about his eyes. They weren't cold and calculating, they were warm and understanding. Something about him made her trust him and want to tell him all of her secrets.
"Batman asked to talk to me, so I joined him in the alley outside of the office to avoid the office gossips. He had a job he needed help on, and needless to say, I could use the money. He keeps his distance when I'm dating the cop, but when I'm not, everything is fair game. I've missed him, you know. When I don't see him for a few days, he's all I can think about. It's silly."
"No, lass. That's not silly at all." Declan's hand reached out and covered hers and he gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Batman kissed me, a good one, like maybe he'd missed me too, but the cop walked up and saw the whole thing."
"He saw you lob the gob, did he? I could see where that might put a spanner in the works."
Stephanie winced. "If that means tongue down his throat, dry humping him in the alley, and moaning like a porn star, then yeah."
Declan grinned. "Close enough."
"The cop told me in no uncertain terms we were through, and batman punched him for calling me a few choice words."
"It's often that a person's mouth broke his nose." Declan nodded sagely.
"The cop and batman have history. The cop suspects I've been with batman when we were in one of our off phases. He never asked, and I never told, but now there is no way to ignore it. It was shoved in his face and he is pissed. He stormed off, but at least he didn't arrest batman for punching him."
Stephanie scrubbed her hands down her face. "All I felt was relieved that it was well and truly over this time. There is no coming back from that, not after what he said to me. Of course, the entire Burg is going to be buzzing with this latest gossip. I'll be branded a harlot, and my mother will be mortified." Stephanie rolled her eyes.
"There is no such thing as bad publicity except your own obituary." Declan gave a soft chuckle.
Stephanie groaned. "You've never lived in the Burg and you don't know my mother. But that wasn't the worst of it."
Declan nudged her glass to her, and she took another swallow. The liquid burned straight to her stomach giving her courage.
"Then I did something really stupid." Stephanie pinched the bridge of her nose at the memory, and let the mortification wash over her.
"You were acting the maggot, were ye." Declan gave a sympathetic nod. "We all do from time to time."
Somehow Stephanie couldn't see Declan doing anything quite this stupid, but she kept that to herself.
"I told batman I loved him. Then I said I was tired of waiting for someday, and if someday wasn't today, it wasn't coming, and I was done. You know what he did?"
"No." Declan's voice had taken on a cautious note.
"Nothing. Absofuckinglutely nothing. He got a call and left. Just drove off." Stephanie put her hands out, palms up, and shrugged her shoulders.
"That's a pisser."
Stephanie gave a watery laugh. "Yeah, so the jokes on me. No batman and no cop."
"Maybe what you need is a new man." Declan replied. "Neither of those blokes deserves you."
"Are you offering?" Stephanie gasped and her hand went up over her mouth, as her eyes locked with his.
She watched the blue of his eyes deepen, and her stomach clenched. She couldn't believe she said that. It must have been all the whiskey. It addled her brain and loosened her tongue.
Declan's eyes flickered toward the door and then back to her. He gave her a wolfish grin. "Tempting, but I learned the hard way to never scald your lips with another man's porridge. I even have the scar from the gunshot to prove it."
Stephanie didn't think Declan was actually joking about the gunshot.
"I'm pretty sure there's no porridge to scald your lips on." Stephanie hedged.
"Eh lass, if it's drowning you're after, don't torment yourself with shallow water."
Stephanie shook her head. "You lost me on that one."
"You were settling for the cop, living half a life, and you would never be satisfied. Your heart knew it, even if your brain didn't. You took a chance and went all in."
Stephanie snorted. "Yeah, and look at how that turned out."
"Well, by the looks of things, better than you thought." Declan motioned with his head to the door.
One pissed off looking Ranger was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at Declan's bodyguard that was blocking his entry.
"I'm guessing that's batman."
"Yes." Stephanie whispered.
"You probably should have mentioned you're Manoso's woman and the famous, or maybe infamous, bombshell bounty hunter."
"I'm not. Well, not the Manoso's woman part. The infamous part is probably true."
"Aye, lass, you are. Word on the street is you fuck with Stephanie Plum and Manoso will disappear your ass." Declan gave her a pointed look.
"You know Ranger?"
"Our paths have crossed." Came Declan's cryptic reply.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
"I guess I should go talk to him." Stephanie hedged.
Declan smiled at her and fished around in his suit pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to her. She looked down and her fingers trailed over the raised embossing on the card. A shamrock and a telephone number. No name, no title, no company.
"If you ever want to grab a drink, or..." Declan's eyes drifted over her again and this time his assessment wasn't quite so detached. Heat rushed to her face.
One of Declan's bodyguards approached. "Sir, Mikey is here."
Declan nodded, and the bodyguard stepped back. Declan slid off the barstool.
"My business associate is here; I've got to go."
Stephanie stood and held out her hand to him. His big hand engulfed hers and his gaze flickered over her face, and their eyes locked.
"May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past." Declan raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. "It was a pleasure. Good luck, lass."
Stephanie snorted. "A little of that Irish luck would be nice about now."
"There are only two kinds of people in the world: the Irish, and those who wish they were. But today, you are in luck, because we're all Irish on St. Pat's."
The corner of Declan's mouth tilted up and he gave her a sexy, panty dropping smile, as his thumb brushed across the back of her hand before he let it go. Stephanie could see Declan was a dangerous man in more ways than one and the blush staining her cheeks deepened.
"Thank you for the talk and the whiskey. Good luck with your business meeting." She told him a little breathless from the encounter.
"I've already had the best kind of luck today. A fine Irish whiskey and a conversation with a beautiful woman. Besides, you know what they say." That lilting brogue was slightly more pronounced, his voice rougher.
Stephane smiled up at him and gave a negative shake of her head.
"If you're lucky enough to be Irish… You're lucky enough."
Declan headed to the back of the pub and down a long hallway, and his two guards followed. She watched his retreating back until he disappeared out of sight. He was an enigma. He'd been a perfect gentleman and a good listener, but there was a hard, ruthless edge to him. She wondered just who he really was.
Ranger's voice beside her pulled her away from her musing. "Babe." The wariness in that one word spoke volumes.
Stephanie turned to face Ranger, his expression blank and unreadable. Irritation, with a side of humiliation, pulsed just under the surface.
"Ranger." She greeted him.
"How do you know Declan McShane?"
Stephanie glanced down the hallway where Declan had disappeared. She really wanted to tell Ranger that was none of his damn business. She'd confessed her love for him, and his first question was about Declan.
"I don't." And that was the truth.
The entire time they talked, it had been focused on her and her messed up love life. She hadn't learned a single thing about Declan, other than he wasn't married, and they both knew that had been by design.
"You want to stay away from him. He's bad business."
The card Declan gave her burned in the palm of hand. Yeah, Ranger didn't get to tell her what to do or who she could or couldn't talk to. Stephanie slipped Declan's card into the pocket of her jeans.
"Who is he?" she asked.
"The head of the Irish mob."
Stephanie felt all the blood drain from her face and she sat back down on the barstool a little lightheaded. She'd been having drinks with the Irish devil and spilling her guts about her crappy love life to the head of the Irish mob. Well, that seemed bad on so many levels, and oddly empowering at the same time.
Maybe it was all the whiskey lowering her defenses and removing the filter from her mouth, but Stephanie was done ignoring the elephant in the little pink tutu dancing on the bar.
"If you have something to say, then say it. Otherwise leave, I have a fine Irish whiskey to finish." Stephanie gave him a challenging look and crossed her arms over her chest in a futile effort to protect her heart.
Ranger crossed his arms, mirroring her stance and evaluated her. Stephanie just waited. She'd been waiting and hoping for years now, what was five more minutes? If she could carry on a perfectly normal conversation with the head of the Irish mob, she could manage Ranger. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to quell a building migraine.
"Let's go someplace and talk." Ranger reached for her and she jerked away from him.
"No. You can talk right here."
Ranger sighed, like full-on honest to god sighed.
"OK babe." He raked his hand down his face. "I'm sorry I bolted out of the alley, but Ram got shot."
"Oh god, is he ok?"
"He will be. He caught one in the vest, but the vest failed and the bullet penetrated his chest. A lot of blood and chaos, but it didn't hit anything vital. He'll be in the hospital for a few days."
"I'm sorry." Stephanie whispered.
Ranger locked eyes with her. "Me too."
Stephanie's heart was banging against her ribcage and she thought it might explode. What did that mean? He was sorry he couldn't give her what she wanted? Sorry he'd run out of the alley after her big confession. Sorry he ever met her? Her throat constricted and dizziness washed over her. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was her last shred of dignity being ripped in two.
She scrunched her nose and pursed her lips, as she looked for her voice, praying it didn't betray her.
"Someday is never coming, is it?" Her voice was raw with the emotion she'd kept bottled up for the last three years, as it poured out in the space between them.
Whatever happened today, they both knew nothing would ever be the same. There was no going back to being just friends. It wasn't just her voice; her whole body was raw. Every nerve was on fire, and heat rushed to her face even as a cold sweat broke out at the base of her spine.
"No, someday isn't coming." Ranger confirmed.
Stephanie's stomach dropped, and she thought the whiskey was going to come back up, as she swallowed hard against the rising bile. Stephanie had wanted this conversation here and now, but she was rethinking the wisdom of that choice.
He stepped forward and cupped her face, his forehead resting against hers. "Babe, someday isn't coming, it's here."
"What?" She stammered as her addled brain tried to catch up and make sense of what he was saying.
"No more running, no more pretending." Ranger whispered and pressed his lips to her forehead.
"Are you saying…" Stephanie's voice trailed off.
Ranger's low laugh vibrated through her, and she wound her arms around his neck. "I'm saying I want to put a ring on your finger, and I want you in my bed every night, and I want to wake up to you every morning."
"Why now?" Stephanie stammered. She didn't want him to say all these things because she'd backed him into a corner. Things he might regret later.
A smile played across his lips. "Because you finally admitted you love me."
"I've loved you for." Her voice trailed off and she thought about how long she'd been in love with Ranger. "Well, forever basically."
"But you never said it,. You weren't ready, and I didn't want us to be like you and the cop. Make-up and break-up, rinse and repeat. I wanted us to work, I wanted our relationship to be the forever kind."
"Oh." Stephanie breathed, a warm tingle flooded her body as her blood buzzed in her ears.
Ranger evaluated her. "That work for you?"
"Yes."
"Good because now that someday is here, I want to get started on it right away. You ready to get out of here."
Ranger wrapped his arm around her and tugged her towards the door, to the future full of endless possibilities. Stephanie gave one last glance towards the hall where Declan had disappeared. He was standing in the doorway, and when she caught his eye, he gave her a little two-finger salute and a wink. While Declan might not be a leprechaun that could grant her wishes, he had given her exactly what she needed. Perspective. She didn't find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, she found something better. Her voice and the courage to demand what she wanted. Maybe Declan was right, and today everybody was Irish, because she definitely had the luck.
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A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! If Declan seems familiar, he was featured in For Loyalty and Revenge.