"Mharaigh mé trí Rúiseach."
I killed three Russians. Torrin had grown up learning English and Irish simultaneously, but she still questioned if she had heard her cousin correctly. As it was, Aven was sitting on one of the barstools with a calm, relaxed smile on her face. The tension was there though, in her eyes.
Torrin continued the conversation in Irish. "How did that happen? Did they come here?"
"No. I went to see Murphy, and the Russians were there. They were pressing the boys for information about us, and the leader put a gun to Connor's head."
"That's why you wanted Roc to stay. So he would be safe."
"Safer here than there," Aven replied. "They're all upstairs now. When things slow to where Alana can keep up, you should come upstairs, too. We all need to talk."
"Aye, we need a plan."
Aven shook her head. "Not about that. Yet."
"What then?"
"The Russian called you my mafia cousin."
Torrin was now certain that her Irish was too rusty and she had not heard Aven correctly. In English now, she asked, "Would you repeat that in English? Don't think I heard ya correctly, and I don't use my Irish nearly as often as you do back home."
Aven looked around the bar. "I don't think you want me to repeat it to where everyone understands."
Her fears confirmed, Torrin nodded but said nothing. Aven moved back to the kitchen; Torrin could hear her exchanging greetings and superficial conversation with Tiger. The late lunch rush would begin soon. At least that gave her some time to think some things over. Time, but not enough time, she felt.
"Think they'll put it off until coffee?" Torrin suggested, leaning her head through the kitchen doorframe.
"We may not have that kind of time," Aven replied.
"We have enough time," Connor spoke up, coming through the kitchen door with Murphy and Rocco. "It's possible no one even knows those guys are dead yet. Best not to raise flags by leaving the pub in the middle of the day."
Aven nodded and headed up for the apartment, Murphy hot on her heels. Torrin stood back, fumbling with her hands. Why was it that Connor suddenly made her nervous all the time? Because he's taken you by surprise before and even though you think you hate surprises, you liked it coming from him. You want it to happen again, her mind explained. She rolled her eyes at herself as she went back to stocking clean glasses under the counter and in cabinets behind the bar.
"Need any help?" Rocco offered.
Torrin stopped and raised her brow. "You two are going to help me out here today?"
"Sure, why not?" Connor agreed with a coy smile.
Both men shed their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, and got to work behind the bar. Torrin was freed up to check on tables, help Alana, and even assisted Tiger in the kitchen. When the bar was slow, Connor came out to bus tables. An hour-and-a-half passed, bringing Aven and Murphy down to help, too.
Despite the dark cloud looming over them, the group enjoyed a calm, easy day in the bar.
.&.
They stood awkwardly in the living room for a full couple of minutes before either of them spoke.
"You've got blood on your dress, love." Murphy gestured to a spot of blood just below the waistline of Aven's dress.
"Oh …" Aven hurried to the kitchen, wet a rag, and tried frantically to wipe the blood away. "It's not coming off …"
She began to really scrub at her dress; Murphy gently took the rag from her hands and threw it in the sink. Then he put a finger under her chin, raising those green eyes to his blue ones.
"First time you've killed a man?" he asked. To his surprise, however, she shook her head.
Pulling her face away from him, Aven leaned over the sink. She felt sick. "Far from it. I suppose you'll find out more later, but it's kind of my line of work."
Ignoring the obvious questions for the time being, Murphy asked, "Why's this one different then?"
"I don't know," she whispered. As she turned to face him, a tear rolled slowly down her cheek, followed by others. She didn't bother to wipe them away or trying to stop them. "I've been in these situations, where I either shoot or let someone else die. Important people. But never anyone important to me … Not like this."
Murphy nodded. "Not when someone you care about had their life on the line."
Aven nodded. The tears were coming fast, and now she swiped at them as though they were burning her skin. A couple of choked sobs escaped her throat, and she struggled to hold back more.
"Aven, come here," Murphy said, reaching out for her.
She shook her head. "You don't understand, Murph. I stepped into that apartment for me. I don't know what I'd do if you boys got hurt. If you … you know. Can't remember the last time I've been able to trust anybody but Torrin. When we were growing up …"
Her resolve crumbled and the sobs came one after the other. She buried her face in her hands and turned away from him, hoping he would just leave. After a few seconds she thought he had, but then she felt strong, warm arms encircling her.
Murphy pulled her back against his chest; Aven didn't have to move. She wanted to turn and bury her face in his shoulder, breathe in his smell and listen to his heart. A heart that was still alive, still beating, because she had taken action. She stepped into the apartment and killed those Russians because she didn't know now how to live without the brothers in her life. Or Rocco, for that matter.
Yes, all three men were important to her, but especially this one here now. Nevermind I'm fond of you like she had told him before she punched him. Aven Donaghue had fallen in love with Murphy MacManus, she guessed around the time that they had stayed up past sunrise talking. Never having been in love, the thought scared the shit out of her. Still, she just couldn't sit by and not tell him anything anymore.
Taking control of her sobs, she turned to face him, throwing her arms around his neck. "You can't ever leave me, Murph. I went to the apartment because I needed to talk and you were the one I wanted to talk to about everything. My mind is always ten frames ahead in the worst case scenario. It's how I'm so good at what I do. You were dead on the floor in my mind. That's why I killed them."
He smiled to himself. "Then you're a girl after my own heart, love."
Aven hugged him tighter. "You'll never leave me then?"
"Never," he promised, his voice husky. He pushed his face into her hair, kissing her neck and breathing in her smell.
She pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I better change my clothes. Then I may rest a bit before going back down to the pub."
"I'll stay with ya."
She gave him the first hint of a smile he had seen since they came up to the apartment. God, he was so in love with her. He remembered the exact moment he realized it, but it had scared him. Connor was right when he used the word bewitched. Yes, Murphy had been taken with Aven the moment he laid eyes on her, but once he got to know her, it changed everything. She was just like him. He never thought it would happen that fast, but then again, he had never met a girl like Aven.
When she came back out, Murphy was seated on the couch. Aven wrapped a throw blanket around her shoulders and laid down with her head on his lap. Murphy ran his fingers through her hair while the TV played in the background.
"I told my mother about you today," he told her.
"You did?" Aven's voice was sleepy, but he could hear her smile.
"I did," he confirmed, then continued as he watched her fall asleep. "I told her that I'd met a pretty Irish girl, with waves of dark hair and eyes the color of the hills of Ireland."
"That's quite poetic, Murph," her sleepy voice teased.
He chuckled. "Go to sleep, ya little brat."
.&.
Torrin had the pot of coffee ready once all the customers had cleared out. The girls had gone to the church, met with their contact, and were assured that things were safe for them, at least for the time being. Their contact was even aware of Aven killing the Russian men who had threatened the brothers earlier, but that had already been smoothed out. It all seemed too easy to Aven, but Torrin reminded her not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Rocco locked the front door, and they all sat around one of the tables.
"Just start from the beginning," Rocco prompted the girls. "We're listening."
Aven nudged Torrin while she lit a cigarette. "You start, then."
Torrin reached for the pack of cigarettes in front of her cousin. "Even I'll take one of these if we're going to be digging into all this shit." She took time to light it, wincing a little as the smoke burned down her throat and into her lungs. "Best to start at the very beginning then. You know that my ma and Aven's da are siblings. Her father introduced my parents to each other."
"Maybe you oughta back up and tell them how the fathers met," Aven interrupted.
"Right. There's the punch line, isn't it?" She took a deep drag off her cigarette, exhaling the poison. "Our fathers were gophers for the Irish mafia at the time. When we were born two and three years later, they had been moved up to soldiers. Over the years, they got moved up even higher. Aven's father was able to move on to other things and decrease his involvement as we got older, but my father – my father went all the way to the top. The only men who are above him now are men so close to dying they've probably seen the face of God."
Rocco raised his brow. "Your dad is head of the fucking Irish mafia?"
"More or less," Torrin admitted quietly. "It's not something I'm proud of. I hated that life. We were always lying for him, covering our tracks. I can't stand the sound of silence. It was only ever silent in our house when things got really bad. It meant that people could come for us, or I would be sent off to my grandparents for some indefinite amount of time, not knowing if my parents were alive or dead or what. Both of our families came here to get away from the heat of things for about five years, when we were thirteen and fourteen. After high school, I chose to stay here. I didn't want to be part of it anymore."
"Fair enough." Connor put a hand on her arm. "It's not who you are, though. You've made a different life for yourself."
She sent him a silent 'thank you' in the form of a smile. "In a nutshell, that's my story. I know how to take care of myself because I was forced to learn growing up. Never knew what was going to happen. I don't tell anyone because, like you said, it's not who I am. I'm a business owner, and I do things right."
Aven, knowing her cousin well, handed her cousin another cigarette. "Well told."
"Yeah, well, now you get to tell yours," Torrin returned, lighting the new cigarette.
"Thanks for the reminder." Aven poured another cup of coffee and lit another cigarette. Torrin had no idea what was coming next, and it wasn't going to be pretty when she found out. "My upbringing wasn't so immersed in mafia life as Torrin's. Mind ya, we never wanted for anything, either of us. My father taught me and my brothers how to shoot a gun at a young age, how to fight, how to think on our feet. I always loved it, the times he taught us those things. I was good at it because, like I told Murphy earlier, my mind is always ten frames ahead, it seems."
"What, like a fuckin' psychic?" Rocco asked.
Aven snorted. "Hardly. I just think of the possibilities faster. Anyway, it made me good at it. When I went back to Ireland after high school, I was recruited by an … organization. They wanted younger recruits who weren't made for the military but not necessarily for higher education, either. He's never come out and said it, but I think my father had something to do with them coming to find me."
"So, what, like CIA or something?" Murphy questioned.
"Something like that," Aven shrugged. "About six months ago, I came back to the States. Torrin was getting ready to purchase the bar, so I offered to go in with her. I'd done some bartending before I worked full-time for the organization, and had the experience she needed to make sure the place was sound."
"Not that I'm complaining, but what made you come back?"
Aven looked over at Torrin. She took a deep drag of the cigarette and then laid it in the ash tray to let it burn out. She pushed her coffee mug back from the edge of the table and took a deep breath.
"I was notified by the organization who employs me that there was a section of the mafia here in Boston causing some noise that we needed to keep an eye on. I got my background information and recognized the shot-caller here in Boston. Everything else fell into place, and here I am."
Torrin's cheeks were pink and anger burned in her eyes. "Who was the guy?"
"It's not important," Aven told her. "What's important is that we've figured out this shit with the Russians –"
In a rare showing of any anger at all, let alone extreme anger, Torrin stood and flipped the table over. "Fucking A, Aven! Tell me who the hell it is!"
"Gavan," Aven finally admitted, standing within feet of Torrin. The volume of her voice grew with irritation as she spoke. "It was Gavan fucking McConnelly, all right? The man you've been seeing is calling the shots for every goddamn Irish asshole in Boston. Maybe even a bigger area than that. I took the case to look after you, Tor! If he found out that you were Peter Hannigan's daughter, my God, how he would use you to get to the top! You don't even see that!"
Torrin didn't reply. There was a moment of calm before the storm before she rushed Aven, tackling her cousin to the ground. Not to be outdone, Aven quickly maneuvered on top of Torrin in an effort to defend herself. Rocco moved to separate them, but the twins stopped him.
"Let them fight it out," Connor advised.
Two sets of fists and two sets of legs and feet were flying around, landing with hard thuds and drawing blood from the other girl. They wrestled around the bar floor, cursing in Irish and trying their best to be the winner of the fight.
"Cat fight," Rocco mumbled.
"This ain't no cat fight," Murphy noted. "Not one of 'em has pulled hair or scratched the whole time."
Connor chuckled. "All right, gents, let's break 'em up."
It took Connor and Rocco to pull Torrin away while Murphy got a good hold on Aven. They stopped fighting, but it didn't stop the yelling.
"I did it to protect you!" Aven yelled. "You could be held hostage, drugged out, or worse, do ya know that? I was in the middle of a serious project, Torrin, and I dropped everything to come here and make sure you were safe. Why can't you see that I did this for you?"
Torrin's breathing slowed; she pulled away from Connor and Rocco. She wiped the blood from her nose and moved forward towards Aven. Aven loosed herself from Murphy's hold and stood firm, waiting for another attack.
Instead, Torrin leaned forward and hugged her cousin. She didn't speak, just waited for Aven to recover and hug her back.
"Thank you," Torrin said quietly. "For looking out for me. For caring enough to look out for me."
Aven nodded. "You're welcome."
A/N: I forgot to mention before that all my translations are just from Google Translate, so if they're incorrect … I apologize.
Thanks for stopping by to read!