Page 4

4

LOCHLAN

W hen Jasper drives off with Evelyn in his back seat almost passed out, I slink back into the club and find my way back to the bar. I watched her saunter in, already mostly drunk and dressed like a floozie. Draco would kill me if he knew I let her prance around the dance floor like that, grinding on her friend, then that asshole who would've taken her home and done unspeakable things to her. When he asked me to keep her safe, I took it personally.

Moody, I slump into a seat and nod at Siphon who slings drinks. He tips his chin up at me ever so slightly, letting me know he's on his way with my Tennessee Fire, and I cross my arms, leaning on the bar with my elbows planted. The music still thumps, but they've turned it down a bit now, ever since I made a show of telling that prick off. He should've known better than to fuck around in my club, and especially with Draco's daughter. It's not like people here don't know how things work.

"Pissy tonight, hey?" Connor sinks onto the stool next to me facing outward toward the dance floor while I flick a glance at Siphon hoping he's got my drink ready. I've already had a few, but not enough to simmer my bad mood. This week hasn't been the best, and I haven't found a way to calm down yet.

"Do you even know me?" I grumble, thinking of that pervert putting his hands on Evie's hips, dry humping her thigh like he owned her. Things like this irritate the fuck out of me and I can't even say why, though Ro's wife Maeve would tell me some psychobabble about PTSD and why Maelyn's death is the root cause of it all.

I still see the building engulfed in flames when I shut my eyes at night, hear her screams when the room is silent. It's why I prefer the pounding noise of the club, why I sleep with the fan on.

"Fecking hell, Loch. Lighten up." Conner bumps me with his shoulder, and I grunt disapprovingly. None of them get it, and I don't want to sit and talk about my feelings to explain. It'd be better if they just fuck off entirely. The past eighteen months have been nothing but one fucking terror after another.

If it wasn't dealing with my brothers and their women getting kidnapped or attacked, it was watching my own life start to unravel. I know I’m spiraling, drinking too much, angry all the time, and there is no fucking way to stop it. So I just keep my head down and bite my tongue a lot. Eventually, my life will stop spinning, and I'll see straight again. Or I'll die first. One or the other.

"Picket line got hit again yesterday…" Connor is keeping tabs on what’s happening with the Doyles and the way they're pushing in on our territory. They want the docks because it means they can control imports and exports in Dublin, at least part of them. But knowing Ronan, they'll come to full-scale war before he allows that to happen.

"I heard." Nodding at Siphon who delivers my drink, I look down and take it, and he gets the point. He's not oblivious to who I am or the fact that this is a family-owned establishment. But he is smart enough to know when to avoid a conversation.

"Ro thinks they're gonna go after O'Connor again." Connor speaks out of the side of his mouth before slurping a large drink of beer. I don't want to hear about the front line, the way Doyle and his men are assaulting legitimate labor strikes to push our buttons. I want to get wasted and fucked and pass out so I don't have to feel so damn angry.

"Yeah, well I'm benched, so tell someone who fecking cares." The whiskey goes down smoothly, burning my throat, warming my gut, and Connor scoffs and shakes his head.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You came home from overseas and you were fine. Then all of a sudden, you turn into this raging maniac. You know why Ro benched you. You're a hothead. Look at the way you flung poor Evie O'Leary out the side door like a two-bit whore who bit your cock." Connor isn't ready for me to launch off the chair and pin him to the wall by his neck, and I'm surprised by my own swift action. My jaw is clenched, hand wrapped around his neck at the mere mention of my treatment of Evelyn.

"You have no right," I growl, blinking rapidly in a frantic attempt to rein in my temper. "Draco put me in charge of her safety and you feckin’ saw who she was dancing with."

My chest heaves. I loosen my grip, and Connor shoves me away, then jerks his jacket back into place. He's angry with me, and maybe he has a right to be, but I can't shirk my duty to protect Evie.

"You need to get a grip, Loch." My younger brother steps up to me and presses his chest against mine, staring me down like he's going to put me in my place. "You know if you blow your lid the way you did two weeks ago again, Ro will send you away. He won't have you fecking up with so much on the line."

My mind races, anger swirling around my thoughts and hooking in with barbs that tear at my conscience. My memories are all jumbled—seeing Maelyn walk into that building, seeing Evie pass out on Jasper's back seat. I was her partner, tasked with keeping her out of the line of fire. It was my job and I failed.

"I'm…" I can't speak right now. Words don't come. Connor puts a finger into my chest and his nostrils flare.

"I saw it in your eyes when you heard about Siobhan being taken… You're not right up there." His finger taps my temple, and I swat his hand away. "You gotta back the feck off."

Shoving him hard, I let out a roar, and people scatter around us. He slams into the wall and comes back at me with his shoulder lowered, readying to ram my gut, but I sidestep him and stick out my foot and he goes tumbling into a group of people dancing. They gasp and move away, and I stalk toward him as he gets up, but he holds up his hands in surrender and shakes his head.

"I'm out… I'm done with this shit, Loch. Get your head out of your ass before you hurt someone or yourself." Connor dusts his hands and moves toward the front of the club, and people around me are staring.

Blocking them out, I turn and head back to the bar where my drink sits. Maybe he's right and I'm out of control, but how am I supposed to somehow magically get in control?

He's right. When our brother's partner was kidnapped by the Doyles, I had some sort of break from reality. I lost it, nearly shot the chief, and now I'm paying for it. Poor Evie probably didn't deserve the way I grabbed her and dragged her out, but something inside me saw a red flag fly and I had to protect her at all costs.

"Give me another," I grunt at Siphon, and he nods at me, turning to refill my glass. Now I'm going to drink until I can't stand straight and hopefully pass out so I'm out of my misery. If not, I'm going to end up hurting someone just like Connor said. And that'll only make me look even less reliable.