Page 31 of Irish Vice

Madden’s afraid of me. Or he’s afraid of what I’ve said. Or he’s afraid of what he’s doing, cornering me on the edge of a crowd, where Braiden is only a shout away.

He growls: “Someone needs to teach you some respect, bitch. Put you on your knees and give you something real to gag on.”

“You’re such a big man, aren’t you? Threatening to rape your brother’s wife.”

“I wouldn’t fuck your scabby cunt if?—”

A high laugh trills in the air, the sound of honest amusement, of humor and flirtation. Madden jerks back like someone tased his crotch. I look over his shoulder and see Fiona in the precise center of the room.

She strikes a pose, jutting out one hip and raising her glass to the chandelier. “I’ll see your limerick, Declan Fitzgerald. And I’ll raise you another.” She folds both hands around her whiskey, her schoolgirl pose ruined by her bare shoulders. “There was a young fellow named Tucker…”

Before she can finish her rhyme, Braiden looms behind Madden. “Not walking into another wall are you,deartháir?”

Madden glares, but he doesn’t try to answer. Fiona finishes her filthy poem, and the room explodes with laughter.

Braiden extends his hand to me, like he’s asking me to dance. Or maybe he’s helping me across a yawning chasm. “Mrs. Kelly?” he says.

I want to tell him that’s not my name. I didn’t agree to take his, even when I thought we were legally married. But under the current circumstances, I won’t place even the smallest wedge between us.

Madden’s a liar. Madden’s a jerk. Madden’s a paranoid, delusional moron with a fixation on my being Russo’s tool.

But Madden is also Braiden’s Clan Chief, his second in command. Whatever squabbling the brothers have done for thirty-five years, they’ve figured out how to make things work. I disrupt that balance at my own peril.

Fiona calls out from her circle of admirers, “Sam! Come on! It’s your turn now. Let’s hear your dirtiest limerick!”

I’ve left Braiden waiting all this time—too long. And now every man in the room is staring at me, waiting for me to join in the fun.

12

BRAIDEN

Samantha looks like a child lost in the middle of a county fair. Staring at my hand, she shakes her head, wiping her palm on her skirt instead.

And that skirt…

She looks like some sort of fertility goddess done up in flowers. There’s enough cloth that a man could hide under there—and I’ve given it some thought since I saw her walk through the doorway.

My fingers itch to back her into the same corner where Madden had her. But I wouldn’t waste my time talking to her. I’d get a hand under those flowers and tease her till she’s soaking wet. Then I’d finger-fuck her till she hides her face against my shoulder to scream.

“Come on, Sam,” Fiona calls. “One quick limerick. Prove you’re one of the Boys.”

The crowd parts. Samantha stumbles forward as if Fiona’s got her in a trance.

I reach over and slap Madden’s head. “I catch you bullying her again, and we’ll settle it with fists.”

He scowls. “Not bullying,deartháir.Keeping an eye out for my Captain.”

The thing is, he might truly believe that’s what he’s doing. Fromhisperspective, Samantha’s just a quick fuck I dragged to the church after knowing her for less than a week.

He’s never seen the work she does at the freeport. He wasn’t there the morning Russo bulled his way into her apartment, saying he’d have her wed by sunset. Madden doesn’t know I love her.

Truth be told, Samantha doesn’t know that last bit either. I didn’t realize it myself, until my arm was torn open by that bullet at the freeport.

It still feels too raw, saying those words out loud. Now that Samantha knows about Birte, it’ll sound like I’m trying to manipulate her:Sure, I’ve got a first wife, an Irish virgin I’ll never take to bed. But you’re the one I truly love. Drop those knickers,piscín, and let me fuck you blind.

Right. Sure. She’d be a fool to believe a line like that.

But I’ll tell her. In a way she’ll believe. Soon.