Red-faced and fuming, the Gard turned on his heels and stalked out, leaving us alone in the room.
“Well shit,” I mused, begrudgingly impressed. “Flexing your muscles there, John?”
“It’s always good to practice.”
“I bet.”
He smirked. “So, am I representing you?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you want to stay out of prison.”
“Fuck.” Reaching up with my still-cuffed hands to scratch my nose, I pointed to the stack of paperwork in front of him. “Is that all about me?”
“Every page,” he replied, pushing the stack towards me. “Front and back.”
Shoulders slumping in defeat, I leaned back in my chair and studied him. “Why are you helping me?”
“Why did you hit the Ryan boy?”
I shrugged. “He had it coming.”
“Try again.”
I met his unyielding stare, before blowing out a breath and mumbling, “You clearly already know why.”
“Indulge me.”
“Because if I didn’t, your son would have, and he has a hell of a lot more to lose than I have,” I came right out and told him. “Is that indulging enough for ya?”
He didn’t look one bit surprised by my admission.
Because this man was smart.
Hell, he was sharp as a razor.
“You protected my son’s future, and now I’m here to protect yours,” he finally said, folding his arms across his chest. “Sounds like a fair trade if you ask me.”
“Except that I don’t have one of those.”
“I’m sure my wife would argue that statement.” He smiled ruefully before adding, “You’ve won yourself a fan, Joey Lynch.”
“Your wife,” I deadpanned, repressing the urge to groan when a sudden pang of intense pain and hunger attacked my senses. Fuck, it was never going away. “Can’t see how when your wife doesn’t know shit about me.”
“And you clearly don’t know shit about her – excuse the term of phrase,” he replied with a smirk. “She has a feeling about you.”
I narrowed my eyes, instantly suspicious. “A feeling.”
He nodded. “She wants to help you.”
I stiffened. “I don’t want her help.”
“Ah, but do you need it?”
“Can you just get to the point?” I flat out asked him, feeling confused as fuck. “I don’t do beating around the bush. Just tell me what you want.”
“First, I’m going to get you out of this mess,” he said, rising to his feet. “And then we’ll talk.”
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE – OR SAFE
JOEY
After spending a grand total of seven minutes in front of the judge, John Kavanagh not only had my case thrown out, but had somehow managed to coerce a judge – a fucking judge – to take pity on me enough to apologize to me.
If I wasn’t drowning in the unbearable pain of my latest comedown, I would have been seriously impressed with the man’s powers of persuasion.
Completely fucking reeling, I sat in the passenger seat of his high-end Mercedes after court, too overwhelmed to argue when he took me back to the manor.
I needed something.
Anything to take the edge off.
The adrenalin that had been pumping through my veins earlier had long since deserted me, leaving my body cold to the bone and every muscle attached to me aching. It didn’t seem to matter how fiercely my mind protested or my heart resisted; the physical pain from withdrawals was too goddamn much for me to handle.
I hated myself for not being strong enough to push it down anymore, but it was too big for me.
It was too big of a fight.
I couldn’t win.
“Sit down, Joey love,” Edel instructed when I walked into her kitchen a little while later. Feeling like an intruder I wanted to be just about anywhere else. “How are you feeling? How’s your face? How did court go? Oh, you poor love, you’re all battered and bruised.”
“Give the boy some breathing space, sweetheart,” John said, following me over to the island. “Sit down, Joey. We can talk.”
I didn’t want to sit down.
I wanted to talk even less.
But I owed the man my freedom.
If a conversation was all he wanted as payment for keeping my ass out of prison, then I would gladly give it to him.
Slumping down on a stool at the island, I had to resist the urge to lash out and react when his wife literally put her hands on my head.
“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the donkey,” she strangled out, investigating my scalp like a mother would check their child’s hair for lice. “What happened to your skull?” she demanded, pushing clumps of my hair aside, as she trailed her fingers over my head.
My father happened.
“Edel,” John said in a slightly sterner tone. “He’s not Johnny, sweetheart. You can’t touch the boy like that.”
“But he’s—”
“Sweetheart.”
“Right, right.” Thankfully, she removed her hands and took a step back, giving me some personal space. “Sorry, Joey love.”
“It’s grand,” I said trying to appease her and wanting them to know that I was grateful for their weird intrusion on my life. Even if I couldn’t stop the full body shudder that rolled through me. “I’m ah, I just…I’m not a hugger.”
“Not a hugger,” she repeated, sounding like she was storing that piece of information safely away. “Got it, love. No hugs.”
“Relax,” John coaxed, giving his wife a wink. “Just be yourself, sweetheart.”
“I’m trying,” she replied, as she buzzed around the kitchen like a tiny blonde whirlwind, fetching cups and saucers. “I’m just nervous.”
“Why?” I asked, instantly on edge. My gaze flicked to John. “What’s going on?”
“Remember earlier, when I said that we would talk after court?” John answered, tone eerily calming.
I nodded stiffly, hackles rising.
“Well,” he continued to coax. “My wife and I have been doing a lot of talking lately, and we wanted to speak to you about the possibility of—”
“We want to keep you!” his wife blurted out, causing John to drop his head in his hands and groan. “All five of you,” she continued, hurrying over to the island and catching ahold of my hand. “Especially you.” She smiled down at me. “I think I want you the most.”
“The fuck?” I choked out, yanking my hand out from under hers. “What are you…” Shaking my head, I practically fell off the stool in my bid to get away from this strange woman and her hands-on nature. “You want to keep me?”
“Tact, sweetheart,” John groaned, biting down on his fist. “Where’s the tact we talked about?”
“I forgot,” she argued before turning her attention back to me. “That didn’t come out right, Joey love.”
“Listen.” I held a hand up to warn her off. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Keeping my back to the kitchen cupboards, I stepped sideways in my bid to escape the second coming of Mother Teresa. “And how good you’ve been to my sister, but I’m not interested in anything else, okay? I don’t need anyone… keeping me. So, I’m going to go home now.”