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Authors: Alistair McIntyre
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didn’t have any claim to me.” Her anger grew with each swallow of sugary tequila; Brendan could see it in her eyes. “We knew each other for years, and you never asked me out.”
“And I’m only back in town for three days before you ask me out?”
“Are you fucking serious, Brendan?” she snapped, adopting the overly loud voice of someone who’s had three margaritas in thirty minutes. Brendan gave no response, instead opting to take the last swig of his beer.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” He knew he should just end this and go home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. “Things must be going real well in Casa del Rhodes if you’re going on dates with your husband’s brother while he’s out of town.”
“ I don’t need this.” She got up, grabbing her purse in the process. Brendan remained at the table for a moment, irritated with both himself and Michelle, but most of all furious at his brother for sins past and present. One look over his shoulder revealed a dozen pairs of eyes following Michelle from the bar.
Screw it. He couldn’t leave things like this. He drove the bottom of his clenched fist into the thick wooden tabletop and found both pain and relief. Instantly feeling more centered, he got out of the booth and followed Michelle towards the back of the bar, wondering where she was headed; her truck was parked out front at the diner. The patrons of the bar watched, some concerned, some smiling. Brendan dismissed them and pursued Michelle out through a backdoor positioned between the doors to the restrooms.
Now in the alley behind Trish’s, this little blowup had gone far enough. Brendan gently grabbed Michelle’s arm, trying to maintain his cool and not hurt her unintentionally. She was drunk, and still his friend, no matter what. Her face still prominently displayed all the fury such a small package could handle, but Brendan didn’t care. All of a sudden he just felt the need to hold her in his arms. When Michelle didn’t immediately recoil from him, he slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“Oy, you,” came a familiar voice from behind him. Brendan spun quickly, knowing immediately that despite his best intentions, someone was about to get hurt.
Chapter 16
Standing next to the bar’s dumpster was Mohawk, and Brendan wasted no time. Conditioning took over and he charged at the man, knowing he’d probably need to withstand at least one good smack from the man’s club. The man’s smirk turned upside down comically at Brendan’s rush, but Brendan wasn’t laughing. The club glanced off his shoulder as he drove the tattooed Englishman up, and then straight down into the dirt. If he’d stuck around in high school football, his coach would’ve been proud of him.
Michelle screamed behind him, but the bloodlust had taken over. Brendan ripped Mohawk off the ground and slammed the man’s face into the corner of the dumpster. The disgusting crack said it all. Brendan let Mohawk slump lifelessly to the ground, grabbing the club out of his limp grip.
Facing the other way now, Brendan got a good view of some thug struggling to contain Michelle, as three others approached Brendan warily. Seeing their leader’s head caved in probably sent an intimidating message, but two of these idiots hadn’t listened too well. They charged Brendan, but unlike Mohawk, he wasn’t skittish. His club cracked the first guy’s head across the path of the second, knocking both to the ground.
As the guy on top of the pile tried to get up, Brendan was on him, grasping the man’s head between his hands and then slamming his knee into the bridge of the thug’s nose. A muffled cry resounded from behind the man’s hands as he fell, covering his bleeding face.
Brendan turned to the man holding Michelle, who’d stopped thrashing about. Her wide eyes displayed shock at Brendan’s
“And I’m only back in town for three days before you ask me out?”
“Are you fucking serious, Brendan?” she snapped, adopting the overly loud voice of someone who’s had three margaritas in thirty minutes. Brendan gave no response, instead opting to take the last swig of his beer.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” He knew he should just end this and go home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. “Things must be going real well in Casa del Rhodes if you’re going on dates with your husband’s brother while he’s out of town.”
“ I don’t need this.” She got up, grabbing her purse in the process. Brendan remained at the table for a moment, irritated with both himself and Michelle, but most of all furious at his brother for sins past and present. One look over his shoulder revealed a dozen pairs of eyes following Michelle from the bar.
Screw it. He couldn’t leave things like this. He drove the bottom of his clenched fist into the thick wooden tabletop and found both pain and relief. Instantly feeling more centered, he got out of the booth and followed Michelle towards the back of the bar, wondering where she was headed; her truck was parked out front at the diner. The patrons of the bar watched, some concerned, some smiling. Brendan dismissed them and pursued Michelle out through a backdoor positioned between the doors to the restrooms.
Now in the alley behind Trish’s, this little blowup had gone far enough. Brendan gently grabbed Michelle’s arm, trying to maintain his cool and not hurt her unintentionally. She was drunk, and still his friend, no matter what. Her face still prominently displayed all the fury such a small package could handle, but Brendan didn’t care. All of a sudden he just felt the need to hold her in his arms. When Michelle didn’t immediately recoil from him, he slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“Oy, you,” came a familiar voice from behind him. Brendan spun quickly, knowing immediately that despite his best intentions, someone was about to get hurt.
Chapter 16
Standing next to the bar’s dumpster was Mohawk, and Brendan wasted no time. Conditioning took over and he charged at the man, knowing he’d probably need to withstand at least one good smack from the man’s club. The man’s smirk turned upside down comically at Brendan’s rush, but Brendan wasn’t laughing. The club glanced off his shoulder as he drove the tattooed Englishman up, and then straight down into the dirt. If he’d stuck around in high school football, his coach would’ve been proud of him.
Michelle screamed behind him, but the bloodlust had taken over. Brendan ripped Mohawk off the ground and slammed the man’s face into the corner of the dumpster. The disgusting crack said it all. Brendan let Mohawk slump lifelessly to the ground, grabbing the club out of his limp grip.
Facing the other way now, Brendan got a good view of some thug struggling to contain Michelle, as three others approached Brendan warily. Seeing their leader’s head caved in probably sent an intimidating message, but two of these idiots hadn’t listened too well. They charged Brendan, but unlike Mohawk, he wasn’t skittish. His club cracked the first guy’s head across the path of the second, knocking both to the ground.
As the guy on top of the pile tried to get up, Brendan was on him, grasping the man’s head between his hands and then slamming his knee into the bridge of the thug’s nose. A muffled cry resounded from behind the man’s hands as he fell, covering his bleeding face.
Brendan turned to the man holding Michelle, who’d stopped thrashing about. Her wide eyes displayed shock at Brendan’s
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