Page 20 of Puck (The Lost Boys MC)
Stone’s shoulders flexed before he backed into our view to lead the people into our temporary clubhouse. “The name’s Stone, and these are my men.”
A man with dark red hair and green eyes that looked familiar came to the forefront, followed by three younger men that looked to be variations of the older one. A father and his sons, how quaint. And yet, their accents did nothing to settle my gut the way Stone said it would.
But nothing could have prepared me for when the sea of men parted, revealing the reason why Mr. Fitzpatrick’s eyes looked so familiar.
Is that—
“These are my sons,” the man said, “Torin, Rowan, Shea, and Korin. And this is my daughter, Brigid.”
The guy named Rowan chuckled. “Don’t let her stature fool you, though. She’s the strongest out of all of us.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
The second my eyes fell upon hers, I froze in place. Holy fucking hell, I’d just fucked our new contact’s daughter. I almost swallowed my tongue, causing me to cough, which warranted a glare from Stone yet again.
And as I turned my back to compose myself, I let the reality of my situation wash over me.
Good God, I am so fucked.
I turned back around and found Brigid blushing, but not looking at me. Stone was in the middle of introductions as he went around the room, introducing the men and Brigid to the rest of the gang.
Then Clancy himself turned to me. “And who’s this lad with the green gills?”
Stone chuckled. “This is Puck. He’s a bit hot-headed, but he’s loyal and he throws a mean upper-cut.”
I shook Clancy’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He nodded. “Likewise. I like a man that can handle himself in a fight.”
I shrugged as I released his hand after shaking it. “I don’t like guns, so I don’t use them if I don’t have to.”
The room fell silent and I swear Stone’s glare could’ve killed me had the thing wielded daggers. But all too soon, Clancy’s bombastic laughter pierced the silence. Everyone fell into step behind him, laughing and chuckling as if the man owned the ground we sat upon.
Then he placed his hand behind his daughter and brought her to the forefront.
“This is Brigid, my daughter. It seems you and her have this gun thing in common.”
She cleared her throat. “Not really a fan of them either.”
If anyone figured out what had happened between the two of us, I was fucked. Stone would kick me out, Clancy would surely send one of his sons to off me, and then my body would be buried in cement underneath the foundation of some fucking office building somewhere on the other side of the goddamn country.
Still, I kept my composure and nodded before I turned to Stone.
“Well, now that introductions are done, why don’t we go somewhere and talk?” he said.
As I watched Clancy lead his team of children behind him down the hallway, I kept my stare on Brigid. She refused to look at me and every time she attempted to steal a glance, she looked away when our eyes connected. My stomach sank to my toes. I knew she had to be mad at me, but why the hell didn’t she tell me about her damn family?
Probably for the same reason you don’t tell anyone about the crew.
My mind raced with all sorts of things. Did she know who I was last night? Was I some sort of target? I mean, Clancy didn’t introduce anyone else personally to his daughter except for me. Holy shit, was I the weak link in some sort of chain they wanted to exploit? The idea of being duped like that boiled my blood, but as I watched Brigid walk away, she peered over her shoulder at me.
Something was definitely off with her.
“Uh, Dad?”
Clancy stopped in his tracks. “Yes, Brigid?”
I didn’t like the tone of voice he took with her, but instead of shrinking in size, she rose to the occasion. She lifted her head high as everyone stopped in the middle of the hallway and I wondered if she was about to expose us.
I braced myself, waiting for my life to fall apart.
But then, she asked a question I hadn’t expected. “Why don’t you guys go on ahead? Negotiations aren’t really my thing. I’d rather stay out here with the women and make sure no one comes up on us hot.”
Clancy’s eyes darted around the room. “We’ll need your—”
Brigid cut him off with a glare so fiery and piercing that my own face grew pale. Her father cleared his throat, sliding his hands down his suit coat as if someone had just assaulted him. He looked around, smiling at everyone before his eyes dropped back to his daughter.
And with a curt nod, he spoke. “Rowan.”
“I don’t need a watchdog,” Brigid said.
