Page 15

CHAPTER 15

Jax

T he son of a bitch showed up the next day after Dee received the letter from the county. I should’ve known he’d come to gloat. The second I heard his smug, self-satisfied voice, my entire body tensed like a coiled spring. I hated the motherfucker for treating Dee the way he did, for being someone who Dee had once loved (yeah, so jealousy was a real thing for me with Dee), and for being a general arsehole .

“Well, well, well.” Cillian O’Farrell sauntered into the pub, dripping with arrogance. I had to grind my teeth to stop myself from snarling at him like I was a rabid dog.

“Isn’t this a cozy little gathering? What’s the matter, folks? Cat got your tongues?” The feckin’ gobshite was gloating.

I glanced at Dee, who had gone rigid behind the bar, her jaw set tight. Her expression didn’t waver, but I could see the fire in her eyes. She didn’t even look my way before snapping, “Get out, Cillian.”

It wasn’t a request; it was a command.

Of course, Cillian ignored her. Men like him didn’t respect boundaries because they were dumber than a sack of hammers. Instead of heeding the mood in the room, he strolled up to the bar, all swagger, with Aoife trailing behind him. She smiled tightly at Dee, preparing herself to enjoy the show. Rotten awful people.

“Now, now, Dee.” Cillian spread his hands like he was some benevolent king. “Don’t be like that. I just came to congratulate you on how successful Ballybeg is going to be. After all, the council finally came to their senses, didn’t they?”

The pub fell deathly quiet. Even the old boys who usually pretended to mind their own business were staring openly now; their pints paused midair. I gripped the edge of my barstool to keep myself seated, every instinct in me screaming to intervene. But I knew Dee didn’t need me to get arrested for rearranging her shite ex’s face.

Saoirse got in front of him. “Get the feck out. We don’t serve wankers like you.”

“I’m gonna own this place, bitch.”

Okay, now, that wasn’t cool. “You call her a name again, and I’m going to test how far my billions go, arsehole, in bailing me out of jail because I fucked you up,” I spoke quietly, not even bothering to look at Cillian.

Now, some men were born smart, and some were not. Cillian fell in the latter category because he leered at Dee, “Standing between progress again, Dee? God, you’re pathetic.”

Okay, now….

Dee stepped out from the bar and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Hold your tongue, lad, or you’ll lose it.” This came from Liam Murphy, who was sitting next to me.

“Yeah, control your feckin’ tongue or…like Liam said, you’ll lose it,” Liam Ryan added. He was seated on Liam’s other side.

“Don’t make us hurt you, lad,” Seamus threatened. He sat next to Liam Ryan.

“Old man?—”

“Dee, honest to God, you gotta let me knee this arsehole in the nuts,” I cut him off, my tone pleasant like I was fixin’ to offer him a slice of pecan pie.

Aoife stepped forward. “Dee, we’re only here to talk.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Mrs. Nolan shouted from across the room.

“Yeah, she doesn’t,” Mr. Nolan cried out in support of his wife and Dee.

“It’s the farm, Dee, you know that,” Aoife continued like the Nolans hadn’t spoken.

Dee kept her hand on my shoulder, holding me the feck back.

“Aoife, love, you can take your offer and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Dee smiled wide.

Cillian’s grin faltered, but only for a second. He shook his head, chuckling like she was some stubborn child throwing a tantrum. “Ah, Dee. Always so fiery. But you’ll come around. You don’t have a choice.”

I couldn’t stop the low growl that escaped my throat, but Dee caught it. She turned her head slightly, her gaze locking on mine, and without a word, she gave me a look that said, Let me handle this .

So, I did. Barely .

She took a step closer to the prick, her voice rising. “I will never sell to you. Do you hear me? Never .”

But Cillian wasn’t done. He lowered his voice, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re in over your head, Dee. Do you think you can fight this forever? You can’t even afford the taxes on that land. They’re due soon. So, unless you’ve got a pot of gold hidden somewhere, I’d say you’re running out of time.”

Her expression didn’t change. “My taxes are my business.”

Cillian’s smirk widened. “You can’t afford to be sentimental, Dee. Sell the land, take the money, and save yourself the trouble.”

I didn’t realize I’d stood until my chair scraped the floor. My fists clenched at my sides. Dee sighed and glanced at me, saying pretty much silently: “ Heel, boyo .”

I was about to tell her that wasn’t going to happen when she walked up to Cillian and stood nose to nose. “Get out.”

Cillian hesitated, glancing around the room. The regulars were watching him like wolves circling prey, and for once, he seemed to realize he wasn’t welcome.

“Fine.” He looked at the door and then back at her. “Think about it, Dee. Because once the taxes are due, you’ll be begging me to take that land off your hands, or they’re going to auction it off for buttons.”

“Get the feck out, arsehole,” Ronan cried out, stalking out of the kitchen, a butcher knife in hand.

Dee groaned. “Lord, give me patience,” she muttered.

Aoife and Cillian all but skedaddled, that was the only way to describe it.

The door slammed shut behind them, and the tension in the room broke like a snapped wire.

Liam raised his pint and shouted, “Here’s to telling that gobshite to feck off!”

A few cheers went up, but I couldn’t focus on anything but Dee. She was standing, staring at the door, her fists clenched and her breathing shaky.

I took a step closer to her, lowering my voice. “You alright?”

She turned to look at me, her eyes softer now. She exhaled slowly as we walked to the bar. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me handle it.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, torn between pride for her and frustration for having to let her deal with that dickhead. “That was really hard, Dee. You know I wanted to deck him, right? Just once. Right where it counts.”

She chuckled. “I know. Me too. And I appreciate it.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the bar as Ronan joined us, still muttering curses under his breath about Cillian, his butcher knife still in his hand.

Dee glanced at me again, mischief in her eyes. “You really wanted to punch him, aye?”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Dee, you have no idea. But you handled him like a pro.” I raised my beer. “To Dee.”

Everyone cried out, “ Slainte .”

She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes told me I’d done the right thing—even if it killed me to sit back and let her fight her own battle.

So, is this what it meant to fall in love? That you suppressed your urges and respected those of the person you loved, even if it crushed you to do it.

Fuck, but the singer who said only love hurts like this was freaking right because it feckin’ hurt to see my woman in distress and not being able to do shite to make it better.