Nolan: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms) Read online

  Nolan

  A Dark Irish Mafia Romance

  Jane Henry

  J. Henry Publications

  NOLAN: A DARK IRISH MAFIA ROMANCE

  Copyright 2020 by Jane Henry

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover photography by Wander Aguiar

  Cover design by PopKitty Designs

  Contents

  Free book

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Previews

  About the Author

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  Synopsis

  She's my nemesis.

  My prisoner.

  I'll make her beg for mercy.

  I'll make her scream my name.

  I'll make her mine.

  Sheena Hurston's been a thorn in my side for years.

  But when she tries to bring my family to ruin, I'm done playing games.

  She will pay for what she's done.

  No one comes before my family.

  Sheena belongs to me.

  Chapter 1

  Nolan

  I walk along the rocky cliffs that overlook the Irish Sea, the most beautiful view in all of Ballyhock. Seems my brothers find solace here, so why can’t I? But I don’t. Every step I take makes me more restless, more antsy.

  Today’s the second year anniversary of my father’s death.

  I kick a rock with the toe of my boot and watch it tumble downward until it splashes in the sea below, quickly swallowed up. Gone. A hard, dangerous weapon one second, forgotten the next. An omen? I’m feeling melancholy tonight.

  Up until a year or so ago, I reckon I was the one no one really respected in The Clan, the class clown. And hell, I earned that title, drinking myself to damn near death before I’d hit my twenty-fifth birthday.

  But that was the old me. Before my father died. Before my brother Keenan took the throne as Chief and I moved up in rank. Before I kicked alcohol and took hold of my own life.

  I take a smoke out of my pocket and light it up, inhaling the nicotine into my lungs and letting it out slowly. I traded one vice for another, I suppose, and why the fuck not. A man’s got to have an outlet. I won’t touch drink anymore, and honestly rarely smoke, but tonight… tonight’s a night I need fucking something.

  Two years ago tonight my father was killed by a rival, a fucking Martin. We’re at peace with them now. My brother Cormac married the tribute they offered. But they aren’t friends of ours. We’ll honor the truce between us, but the Martins are dead to us.

  What would my father think of me now? Seamus McCarthy ruled with an iron fist. He worked tirelessly to establish the McCarthy Clan as the most powerful leaders in all of Ireland’s underground. It matters to me to honor that.

  I knew from a very young age, I never measured up to my father’s expectations. He expected his boys to be strong and valiant, rulers of this land who feared nothing. And I let him down. Until recently, my older brothers felt the same. Keenan, the eldest, barely hid his contempt for me. But I can’t blame him. I wasn’t someone who earned respect.

  But that was then. And this is now.

  My brother sits on the throne as leader, Cormac heir to the throne, and I’m third in command. Keenan and Cormac are fathers now, their wee babies growing in number as the years pass. Keenan has two babes and Cormac one, but it’s only the beginning of a new generation. Where do I fit in the grand scheme of the McCarthy clan?

  My phone dings and I glance at the text from Boner.

  Club tonight after the meeting, brother?

  Boner would live at The Craic if he could, and hell, some days I don’t blame him. We’re well-known members there. Took me a while to get comfortable going without a drink, but now I welcome it.

  I take another drag and draw it into my lungs.

  Maybe Sheena will be there.

  Sheena, the gorgeous, headstrong lass I’ve had my eye on for damn near as long as my father’s been gone. The fucking investigative reporter that doesn’t know what’s good for her. The girl I love to hate.

  Last year, there was an incident at the club that scared the hell out of her, and it took some time before she’d come back to the club. She keeps her distance from me, though. She knows I’m onto her. I caught her trespassing on our land once, and I thought I’d put a decided end to her snooping. But hell, if I’m honest, I hope I haven’t.

  I’d like an excuse to punish her again.

  I frown out at the sea again. Now that I think of it, I haven’t seen her recently.

  Where’s she been?

  The better question is, why do I fucking care?

  I kick another rock into the sea for good measure.

  I swipe my phone on and my finger hovers over the keyboard. Do I want to go tonight? I shake my head. I want to see what the meeting brings, first.

  I shove my phone back into my pocket, crush the cigarette beneath my heel, then pick it up to toss in the bin inside. The girls get all cranky if you leave a butt by the cliffs, and I know better than to get under their skin.

  “Nolan.” I look up to see Carson coming from the town centre, a steaming paper cup of tea in one hand and a paper bag in the other. His dark hair’s cut short, and damp, as if he’s just showered, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. Looks like he got his run in before the meeting tonight.

  “What’s the story, Carson? What’s in the bag?”

  Carson grins and looks down sheepishly. “Bit of pastry,” he says.

  I look at him in surprise. He’s religious about his damn diet and working out.

  “For Eve,” he says, with a smile. “She’s been cravin’ it.”

  Carson’s woman Eve is six months pregnant, and he’s managed to keep it a secret this long. They’ve dated casually for years, but never made a commitment. I’ve no doubt the code of The Clan is to blame for this, since the men of The Clan typically marry for reasons that benefit us all: arranged marriages to form a truce, betrothal to solidify bonds, tributes as payment for sins.

  “Did you tell Keenan yet?” I ask.

  Carson shakes his head.

  “Can’t keep it quiet for that much longer, can you, Carson?” I shake my head.

  He grimaces. “Aye. You’re right.”

  “Tell him tonight.”

  He shakes his head. “Soon,” he promises.

  As the younger brother of The Clan, I’m the one they all approach first, to suss him out, I suppose. Keenan’s an excellent leader, loyal and fearless, but tight as a drum. Stern. He followed in my father’s footsteps. And though I consider Carson my brother, he isn’t related by blood, so he’s careful.

  Carson’s mum was an English woman by birth who worked for my family her whole life. Widowed when Carson was just a baby, she grew sick when he was only a child. S
he gave Carson over to my father to raise as his own. Said that she trusted him, respected his code, and knew that her son would be taken care of for life.

  He is. He lived in our home, then attended St. Albert’s with the rest of us.

  “You’ve got to tell him, Carson,” I say. “For a logical brainiac like you, I’m surprised you haven’t made this conclusion already.”

  Carson’s Clan bookkeeper, the smartest of the lot.

  He runs a hand through his hair again, making it stand up on end, and for the first time, he looks scared.

  “Well, no. Truth is, she doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  I turn sharply to look at him, shocked at what he’s saying. He was excited for this, eager, already the proud papa ready to light a cigar.

  “Come again? Why not?”

  “I mean, it isn’t the first time she’s gotten pregnant, Nolan. She’s lost one before this. She’s a bit… nervous, is all.”

  “Ahhh. Christ, brother, I’m sorry to hear that. And you don’t want to tell Keenan until she’s comfortable with that?”

  “Aye.”

  I clap him on the shoulder. “Understood. So mum’s the word for now, but don’t let it get on too long. Reckon it’s good not to wait too long, aye?”

  Carson gives me a sideways grin. “Look at you, all responsible-like. I remember the days when you—”

  The second clap on the shoulder isn’t as friendly. He guffaws, trotting up the stairs ahead of me, but drops the conversation.

  I can take crap from him, but the truth is, I remember it well, too. The days when I was carefree and drunk off my nut for most of the day. Seems those days weren’t that long ago, and it’ll take fucking years for my brothers to respect me again.

  Boner’s at the door, waiting for us. Tall and lanky, he bounces on the balls of his feet like he’s ready to run a race. He takes a swig from a flask at his hip and puts it away when he sees me. My cousin by birth, he’s as close as a brother to me, and he doesn’t like to tempt me with drink. He knows it eats at me, though.

  “Say yes, lad,” he says, ruffling my hair. I duck, and give him a playful punch to the gut. “C’mon,” he says, gasping. “It’s Cinco de Mayo, brother. You know what that means.”

  “Fifth of May? Important if you’re Mexican, but we’re Irish, dumbass.”

  He opens the door and the three of us head into the main entrance. The house smells of freshly-baked bread and Irish stew. When we open the door to the study, a faint but pretty voice sings a lullaby in the distance.

  “Aileen?”

  “Aye,” Boner says with a smile. “Newest babe doesn’t sleep well, Aileen’s got her in the library to give Caitlin a bit of rest.”

  I nod.

  “Poor lass.”

  “Who’s that?” Cormac’s pouring himself a whiskey by the sideboard when we enter. My older brother, second in command, he’s the biggest of all of us, burly and strong, with a thick dark beard and new ink on the back of his neck. Though he’s the official Bonebreaker of the Clan, stern as hell and the first I’d want by my side in battle, he’s got a gentler side to him as well. The only resemblance between us is the McCarthy family green eyes.

  “Caitlin,” I tell him. “I hear the babe’s keeping her up at night?”

  “Aye,” Keenan says from the desk across the room. He’s typing on his laptop and doesn’t look over at us. His own eyes look bleary from lack of sleep. “Mam says it’s colic or some such. I’ve been putting Seamus to bed and Caitlin’s been taking the baby.”

  The eldest of all, Keenan resembles my father, his dark brown hair showing signs of gray at the temples and beard. He isn’t as large as Cormac, but he still dwarfs the small desk. It’s his wife Caitlin with the new colicky baby.

  “Hire a nurse, brother,” Cormac says.

  Keenan shakes his head. “Caitlin won’t hear of it. Says it’s her job and the time will pass.” He smiles. “So I let it go.”

  Though Keenan’s the stern, fearless leader of The Clan, he adores his wife Caitlin. He’ll let her have this one thing.

  “And anyway, you know mam’s over the moon, helping with the grandbabies.”

  “Of course. Granny’s in her glory.” Cormac grins.

  Carson takes a glass from the sideboard and pours himself a drink as well. Christ, I miss the drink, the social part of having a bevy together.

  “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your anniversary, Keenan?” They married the day my father died.

  “Aye,” he says. “We’ll celebrate at the weekend, though.”

  I look around the room, Boner and Carson in one corner, having a drink, Cormac beside them and Keenan at the desk. Sometimes, Keenan only calls the inner circle, and sometimes he calls the larger group in as well.

  “Is this it tonight?” I ask Keenan, kicking back in an overstuffed chair and propping my feet up on the ottoman.

  “Lachlan’s on his way in,” Keenan says.

  The door opens, and Lachlan enters as if summoned.

  “Speak of the devil,” Cormac says.

  Lachlan grins. “What?”

  He’s large and strapping, but barely over the threshold of boyhood. With his dark brown hair cut short, he looks a bit more mature than when we first met. Back then, he had the look of a damp, freshly-birthed puppy with paws too big for his body. He’s come into his own now, a real man of The Clan, though his bright hazel eyes are still full of mischief. I was the youngest member of the Clan until we recruited Lachlan from St. Albert’s, our finishing school. As he’s learned to curb his temper, he earned his way into our Clan with his sharp eye and quick wit.

  “Alright, boys,” Keenan says. He shuts off his laptop, leans back in his chair, and props his fingers together. It’s a gesture so like my father’s. I wonder if the others remember this is the anniversary of my father’s death. “Got something to discuss.”

  We joke and kid like the brothers we are, but when Keenan speaks, the room falls silent.

  “Father Finn’s been to see me,” Keenan begins. “Had a few things to say this morning. Seems the parishioners of Holy Family have some concerns.”

  Father Finn was my father’s younger brother, the local parish priest, and our most valued informant.

  Cormac sits up straighter.

  “Concerns?” Cormac asks. “About us?”

  “Aye,” Keenan says. “At least, that’s what it appears to be.”

  We keep our noses clean with the locals. We keep crime off their streets and amply fund their churches and charities. We’ve got half the police force in our pocket, and the other half doesn’t care what we do as long as we keep the peace and the money flowing. It’s unusual for any of the locals to question us.

  Keenan frowns. “Seems there were some articles, and it seems there was a certain reporter who got their bees in a bonnet.”

  All eyes come to me. I know exactly who they’re talking about.

  “Why’s everyone looking at me?” I ask. “I’m not her keeper.”

  “Maybe you should be,” Lachlan says, and by the way the others nod, it seems they share the sentiment.

  Jesus.

  Sheena goddamn Hurston.

  “Honest to Christ, haven’t even seen her in a month or so.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Keenan says.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “How about you, Lachlan?” I say. There’s something about the lass that spells danger for me. She tastes like the pull of liquor. I went there once, and it dragged me under. My gut says if I go there with her, I’ll suffer the same demise. She’s a drug, that woman, beautiful and dangerous, and her mission in life is to bring us down.

  “Me?” Lachlan scoffs. “She doesn’t look at me with doe-eyes, brother.”

  “Oh come off it. Doe-eyes? What is this, feckin’ Disney?”

  The men laugh, but they’re still looking at me. I swing my gaze to Keenan.

  “Keenan, what do you want from me?”

  “Answers,” K
eenan says.

  “Then I’m not the man for the job. She hates me. Doesn’t trust me at all.” And I don’t blame her, not with how I’ve treated her. I don’t regret it, but we hardly have a working relationship.

  “Hate’s just the start of a relationship,” Cormac says with a smirk. “A very good start, and one you can work with.”

  He ought to know. His first encounter with his wife left her ready to kill him. One year later, she adores the very ground he walks on.

  “Not all stories end in a fairy tale happy ever after, brother.”

  “Of course not,” Keenan says. “But Cormac’s right. Ask mam.”

  Keenan knows, too, having taken Caitlin as prisoner years back now. And my mother, she was wed to my father before they’d ever met, an arranged marriage between clans.

  “Forget her for a minute,” I argue. “Even if I could get her to pay attention, to fall for me as it were, I want nothing to do with the woman.”

  “Nolan,” Boner says. “Who do you think you’re talkin’ to? This isn’t the damn confessional, son. I’ve seen you around her enough times to know. The girl isn’t hard on the eyes. And she’s got a thing for you.”

  “Does not.” I’m not letting this go. They won’t cajole me into this.

  “Does too,” Lachlan says. “Tully and I noted it during the last party night at the club.”

  I glare at him. Who’s side is he on?

  “In any event, we’ve no choice, Nolan,” Keenan says. Serious green eyes meet mine across the room. My oldest brother’s always been the one in charge, our fearless leader, and he doesn’t back down now. “Bottom line, we need answers. And she needs to know once and for all that she isn’t to mess with us.” He pauses. “You know I’m not above what the Clancys did decades ago.”