A/N: Big thanks go out to eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE for her brainstormy-ness and help. Check out her BDS fic "Breath To Sanctify." Another big thanks to my beta Batman McGhee! Her grammatical help has been fantastic! Hope you all enjoy what comes next. Please don't forget to Read and Review! Love ya'll!
Chapter 11: I Don't Feel Like Dancing
It was a massive crowd. Finding one girl was turning out to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Damn near fucking impossible. Looking over the multitude of bodies, Murphy saw a blonde woman move quickly away from the raised seating area; away from the dance floor. Something about the way she'd looked over at him raised the hair on his neck. Tugging on Connor's arm he dragged him towards the direction she'd moved.
Casually, he squeezed between the dancing bodies mashing against each other to the beat. He approached the bar, signalled to the bartender for a beer and watched the blonde out of the corner of his eye. Connor pulled up behind him. Looking at the beer in his brother's' hand, he laughed.
"What? Ye didn't have enough to drink back at the house? Mind ye, it's so bloody hot in here ye almost need it."
Connor shook his jacket lightly. Neither of them could take the coats off. Light enough for a walk on a windy day; both jackets were concealing their arms. They'd managed to sneak them past the bouncers on the way in by pushing them back with their elbows as they were pat down. Once inside however, the heat of all the people was nearly stifling. Murphy could feel the sweat already trickling down his back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blonde leaning with her back to him. He pulled the collar on the jacket up so it camouflaged his face. Connor was slugging down a beer beside him.
"What are ye looking at?" his brother asked loudly in his ear.
"That girl, something seems off. Just doesn't seem right." Murphy replied.
His brother followed his own gaze down the bar at the slender blonde bombshell. She was dressed to the nines in a slinky green dress that was littered with sparkly things that reflected lights akin to a neon sign that said, "Open for business." The dress fell quite short of her knees, leaving little to be desired as Murphy's eyes trailed down her legs that were held up by heels that could only be described as too fucking high. She was quite the looker from this angle.
As much as the blonde made him uneasy, he had to keep an eye out for Branna. If she was still flying high and mighty on her own piss and vinegar it was a likely chance she'd get herself into a tight spot. He heart winced at the thought of her getting herself seriously hurt because she was pissed he did the right thing.
* * * *
She knew he was watching her. She always knew when he was watching her. His eyes seemed to bore a hole into her back. Sipping on her drink she leaned against the bar. Fuck, these heels were so not a good idea. Her feet ached, it felt like her calves were exploding out the back of her legs and her toes had gone numb.
To make things even sweeter, her inner thigh holster was itching from the heat. She was sweating all over. Branna felt the tip of the knife against her upper thigh. The holster itself was the kind that wrapped around your waist and then angled down to the upper groin area on the leg. The length of her skirt barely covered it. She'd breathed easier when security patted down the outside of her skirt, and steered clear of her bare legs.
She scanned the crowd looking for the blonde head of Colin Fitzpatrick. She hadn't seen him all night. Once she thought that maybe she had seen him slip into the bathroom but she hadn't been close enough to tell for sure.
Laying the straw of her drink on the bartop, she took a long swig of the fruity drink. It tasted like mangos. She hated mangos. She'd decided when she got here that she'd play the part of a blonde bimbo and flashy blondes didn't chug a beer back. They liked those fruity mixer things. At least, that's what Branna had thought. What she hadn't counted on was the stiffness of each drink she took. It tasted like nothing was in them, but she'd begun to feel their effects after her fourth – the pineapple margarita.
The music was beginning to sound fuzzy in her ears. When she turned her head to scan the opposite side of the room, she had to steel herself against the urge to vomit. She was drunker than she'd thought. Keep it together, she thought. Hold out for just a little while longer than ye can go home. She repeated the mantra in her head until the world was still again.
Peeking out of the corner of her eye, she saw Connor and Murphy scanning the room. Probably looking for her. Fucking Connor. She knew she shouldn't have told him where she was going. Murphy looked like shit. In the dim light, his face looked sunken and shallow. When he turned to watch her again, she saw his eyes were red. Serves him right. He needs to feel some agony for a while. Immediately, she regretted it. She remembered the agony she put him through when she left him the first time. She knew the well of pain that she'd opened. It only seemed fair that he get to execute some revenge. She deserved it, she thought grimly.
* * * *
Again, Murphy watched the blonde try and lean casually against the bar. She looked awkward and uncomfortable. It made his concerns even more imminent. He watched the couple beside her stand and leave. As she slid into the seat, he saw the glint of a knife against her inner light as she crossed her leg over her knee. He kicked Connor in the leg.
"What the fuck was that fer?" his brother cried in surprise.
"That blonde has a knife on her." He leaned in close to his twins' ear. "She could be working for Colin."
Connors eyes narrowed with understanding. Murphy knew his brother could sense how he felt about the blonde woman. Connor had always been able to understand Murphy's feelings. His gut instincts. They slowly rose as one, Murphy taking the lead; and slid down the bar slowly. Trying to get closer.
The blonde was busy watching the dance floor and idly sipping some bright yellow concoction with a straw. They would move slowly, one standing and pacing before finally edging closer. They were only a few feet away now. Suddenly, she abruptly stood up. Her sky-high heels wavered a bit as she teetered towards the bathroom.
They watched for a minute more and then Connor casually tailed her. Murphy grabbed another beer and sauntered after his brother. It was then that he saw the large security guard suddenly step forward and cut off Connors view of the woman. Stretching up, his brother looked over the crowd. Within seconds Connor was marching over to him.
"Ye were right again my dear brother." A grin splashed across his face.
"What are ye talking about?" Murphy asked questioningly. "What did ye see?"
Connors grin got even wider.
"Ye said the blonde had made ye feel uneasy no?"
He nodded.
"Yeah, something about her just didn't settle right."
"Well that might have something to do with the fact that Blondie is Branna." Connor started to laugh. He took Murphy's beer and took a long chug.
Murphy shook his head. Had he heard right? The blonde with the legs to forever was Branna? She was wearing heels? God he'd never seen her in anything but jeans and shorts. What the hell was she doing in a sparkly frock? And she was blonde? It couldn't be Branna. Too many things didn't fit with what Murphy knew. Or thought he knew. His mind interjected.
"It can't be Branna ye eejit. That woman is blonde. Branna is not."
Connor smiled again, taking pleasure in his twins' confusion.
"I watched her walk into the bathroom. Before the door closed, another lass stepped in and I saw her plain as day. She's wearing a wig."
At this Murphy was shocked. She'd really pulled out all the stops. She'd changed her appearance and even put on a fucking wig. Murphy was astonished. This was so unlike the Branna he'd known. Yet, in a strange and comforting way, he felt better knowing that she'd had the common sense to disguise herself.
"Should we tell her the jig is up?" Connor asked, letting his brother be the deciding factor in the result of their tracking.
Murphy shook his head. Let her be the hero tonight. As much as he knew he did the right thing, seeing the pain on her face when he'd said no had nearly paralysed him. He knew exactly what he'd seen there. She still loved him. It was plain as day. He should have known, she hadn't left him because she'd fallen out of love. She'd left because she was terrified he would expose her, and that he didn't love her anymore. Returning his thoughts to the present, he shrugged.
"Let her think she's got it handled. We can hang around, make sure she doesn't cause too much of a ruckus."
The brothers leaned against the railing. They had a clear view of the bathroom from here. Branna came out of the bathroom, wig replaced. She slipped through the crowd of people with ease, she was a near shadow. Murphy watched as she went to up to a bar, and returned with yet another fruity looking drink. She looked uncomfortable. That much was obvious.
He watched closely as two men appeared to hover around in the background. One of them was a tall, burly man with a bull neck. He casually sidled in beside her for a minute. Murphy watched as he tried to make casual conversation. She didn't give him a reply. Obviously feeling the snub, the man retreated back to his friend. Bull neck looked over at her again, Murphy couldn't make out exactly what was being said but he knew that it was about Branna. The burly man and his friend moved a few feet closer.
Neither was close enough to seem threatening, but Murphy knew what he was looking at. He quickly hopped the railing and he felt Connor behind him. He stalked across the dance floor, keeping his face turned away enough so Branna wouldn't see him come up the stairs on her side of the room.
Casually he walked up to the closer man. He went to pass by him and as he did, he pulled the Beretta out of its holster and pressed it into the man's lower back.
"I can see what ye be thinking, but she's off limits. Ye leave her be or I will shoot ye dead. Ye hear me?" Murphy whispered into the man's ear. The man was frozen on the spot. He nodded and Murphy shoved him into the fray of bodies. His friend, having witnessed what had happened, simply nodded at him and took off.
Now, Murphy was looking at Branna's back. The dress seemed to hug all the right places. Those heels, they were ridiculously uncomfortable looking but they seemed to take her already stunning legs and turn them into these gams that went into oblivion.
"She looks pretty damn good Murph. In fact," Connor said with a laugh, "She looks fucking hot. I don't think I've ever seen a woman with legs like that."
Murphy scowled and gave his brother a shove. Connor just laughed and took his beer again. The laughter gone from his face, he saw his twin's seriousness.
"Ye know we can't fend off every fool in here who wants a go."
He looked over at his brother. He knew he was right. It was a waste of time to try and fight off every man who wanted to try and talk to her. He knew in his head that it was the right thing, to hang back and let Branna take care of herself. She was armed at least. The knife, small as it may be, could prove useful. That alone was almost sufficient for Murphy to breath easy.
His heart however, saw her standing there looking as beautiful as he'd ever seen her, and knew that he couldn't let her stay on her own. The thought of some drunken idiot pawing his hands all over her made him feel sick. The thought that Colin Fitzpatrick might suddenly appear and take her made him panic. No, they should get her out of here, back to their flat. Where he could at least keep and eye on her.
As Murphy realized this, he was struck by how natural it felt. Even know, after all this time, he just wanted to protect her. He knew well enough that she was more than capable, but the nausea of worrying thoughts made him tense. Would it be any different? He couldn't agonize about it now. Moving forward, he stepped up to her. All of a sudden, it hit him.
The smell of booze was almost overpowering. He realized then that she wasn't tottering simply because of the shoes. She was bloody well blitzed! He chuckled to himself as he watched her try and finish her drink. She leaned a little to the left as she tried to take the last of what was in her plastic cup. If she hadn't been intoxicated, it might have actually been quite cute. Murphy knew was what coming and he dove. She fell over into his arms.
* * * *
Branna felt the world stop. Her stomach lurched forward as she fell sideways. She'd lost her balance tipping the remainder of whatever it was she was drinking. She'd had absolutely no idea what was happening until her ankles buckled and sideways she went.
Someone had caught her. Taking a deep breath, she resisted the urge to purse her stomach contents all over his boots. The mystery man helped her stand back up. It was quite a trial, getting her ankles underneath her was like trying to stand up a cooked noodle. He finally helped her get propped back up against the railing and she could look up and thank her rescuer.
She started to open her mouth when she saw the familiar smirk. Her heart sank. Murphy was trying to refrain from laughter. He saw right through her disguise. How disappointing.
"Are ye ok lass?" he said with a touch of concern in his eyes.
She really wanted to be angry. Angry that he would put his nose in after all that's happened. But her head was starting to hurt, and she wasn't going to be able to resist the phone call to God for much longer. She wanted to walk away from him; she urged her legs to move. She didn't budge. Sighing, she flapped her arms once in reluctance.
"Jus take me home." She slurred.
God! Is that what she sounded like? Inebriation didn't even cover where she was now. Murphy nodded with a smile and slid an arm around her waist. Connor came out of nowhere and followed suit on her opposite side. Between the two brothers, they helped her get to the front door of the club with little to no injury.
Outside, as they walked towards the corner, she breathed in. The fresh air felt wonderful, wonderfully refreshing and wonderfully nauseating. In a flash she was hobbling to a dumpster down the side of a building. She didn't feel the wig slid off her head but it somehow ended up in the bottom of the dumpster. She felt a hand on the back of her head and sighed. Murphy was holding her hair back. At least she thought he was until the grip tightened and she was jerked backwards onto the pavement.
* * * *
Connor'd seen her face go from glossy to green as soon as they stepped outside. She was holding out like a trooper. He had no idea how much she'd had to drink previously but judging by how she darted for the nearest bin, he could be pretty sure it had been a fair amount.
From the entry to the alleyway, they waited. Murphy'd wanted to go and make sure she was all right. He'd had to stop him.
"Normally, it'd be the gentleman thing to do Murph, but Branna isn't yer normal woman. I think she'd just prefer to be ill in peace. It's late enough, she'll be fine."
His brother finally relented and lit a cigarette. Then they'd heard a crash from behind them. Taking off at a run, the brothers tore down the alley. It was dark enough that they couldn't see the face of the attacker, but enough light caught the sparkles on Branna's dress that they could see she was on the ground.
Murphy drew his gun and fired a shot. It clipped the attacker in the shoulder. As they got closer Connor stopped short. Realization prickled his neck. He looked over at Murphy; his twin looked as if someone had dumped an ice bath over his head.
The figure stepped over Branna's limp body and into the light. Sandy blonde hair hung loose at his shoulders and his eyes were liquid pools of brown. He had fresh slash marks across his cheek. Connor heard Murphy sigh in relief that she'd managed to get a few digs in. They stood rigid as the man's face lit up.
"Well, if it isn't the Saints of South Boston." He said
Standing in front of them was Colin Fitzpatrick.