Whiskey Rebellion

by Toni Aleo

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Books by Toni Aleo

  About Whiskey Rebellion

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Assassins Series

  Taking Shots

  Trying to Score

  Empty Net

  Falling for the Backup

  Blue Lines

  Breaking Away

  Laces and Lace

  A Very Merry Hockey Holiday

  Wanting to Forget

  Overtime

  Rushing the Goal

  Pucks, Sticks, and Diapers

  Face-off at the Altar

  Delayed Call

  Twenty-Two

  In the Crease

  Bellevue Bullies Series

  Boarded by Love

  Clipped by Love

  Hooked by Love

  Taking Risks

  Whiskey Prince

  Becoming the Whiskey Princess

  Whiskey Rebellion

  Patchwork Series

  (Paranormal)

  Pieces

  Broken Pieces

  Pieced Together (Coming Soon)

  Misadventures Series

  Misadventures with a Rookie

  Standalone

  Let it be Me

  Two-Man Advantage

  Make sure to check out these titles and more on Toni’s website.

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  Also make sure to join the mailing list for up to date news from the desk of Toni Aleo.

  I have to make the pain stop.

  I want to feel alive, and I do when I’m drinking and partying the way I should have when I was a teen. Instead, back then, I was preparing to become the Whiskey Princess, a role assigned to me from birth.

  A lady never drinks to the point of blacking out, nor does she go home with men she meets in bars. But I went home with him…Jackson.

  He was more than just a one-night stand, but I learned that a wee bit late and he was gone. Or so I thought.

  For when I return home, Jackson is there, and he finds out very quickly who I am.

  Problem is, I’m not sure that I’ve ever known who I really am.

  I can tell by looking into her blue depths that she’s absolute trouble, but I have to have her. It’s only for one night. Some fun, and I’ll be on my way. My time here is done, and I’m ready to move on to my next adventure.

  What I don’t realize at the time is that she is my next adventure.

  Lena excites me. She blows my mind. And her brogue? It has me in knots. I don’t even care about the rumors that surround her.

  She’s hurting. I want to help her, but then my time is up.

  Can I leave her?

  I have to leave. I have no choice.

  But I love her.

  For all my ladies who can’t live in a cage.

  be free.

  be happy.

  be rebellious.

  be you.

  A phone is ringing.

  “Shut yer phone off, ya fuckin’ bastards,” I yell out to the room, but I’m only answered with groans. The ringing, I swear it gets louder as it continues. Scrunching up my face, I throw a pillow over my head and groan. I’m pretty sure I’m still blasted. Ugh, me head. But the ringing doesn’t stop. Opening one eye to try to keep my head from blowing its top, I look around the full room. Different people lie around my penthouse, and when I look beside me, some guy is lying there. He’s decent-looking enough, so that’s fair play, though I do wonder if I slept with him.

  Looking under the blankets, I see I’m naked as the day I was born.

  Guess so.

  Not sure how we got back to my room, but ah, fuck it.

  When the ringing stops, I let out a sigh of relief and cover my face once more with my pillow. The night before was a raver for sure. I don’t know who half the blokes are in my room, but then, I just don’t care. I wanted a good time, and I got it. I only wish I remembered most of it.

  Just as I’m about to fall asleep once more, though, my phone starts again.

  “Bloody hell, why?” I groan into my pillow before throwing it to the side. Hitting a few bottles on the way, it falls to the floor before a crash makes the room start to move. As I hold back the vomit trying to escape, people start rousing, gathering their things. The hostess my ma tried to raise wants to get up, thank them for coming, but the woman I’ve become doesn’t give any of the fucks. Off with the lot of them. They drank on my dime and probably didn’t even thank me.

  Wankers.

  When motion starts beside me, I look over at the guy, and he grins at me. “Hey, beautiful.”

  I roll my eyes. “We fucked, yeah?”

  His blue eyes widen. He’s pretty, for sure. “You don’t remember?” I shake my head, and he looks away. “Yeah.”

  “All right, then, nice time. See ya.”

  His eyes widen more before he scrambles out of the bed, the lovely word “bitch” falling off his lips. “Right back at ya, ya wanker.”

  He just glares back at me as my phone starts to ring again. “Fucking hell,” I groan, finally finding it in the pocket of my jeans under my bed that still have my thong wrapped up in the legs. Apparently, no name and I were in a hurry. Pausing, I look over my shoulder. “Ya used a condom, yeah?”

  He slides his pants up. “Yeah, and you said you were on birth control too.”

  I nod. “Good.”

  “Are you?”

  “I am.” Then I pause. “But ya used a condom, right?”

  He nods. Though, I don’t think he’s giving it to me true. “Yeah.”

  Fuck. I’ll go to a clinic tomorrow. Damn it.

  When my phone starts to ring once more in my hand, I want to scream, but I see it’s my brother. “Ah, fuck, what does he want?” Sitting up, I look around the room. People are heading out, not even a glance at me as they go through the door, leaving me alone in my room. But that’s how I spend most of my nights if I’m not throwing ravers or going to raves. I’m usually alone. Alone with the demons that haunt me to me core. Demons I’m trying to drown with pills and alcohol.

  Ugh, my ma would be so upset with me.

  Which is why I don’t answer my phone when she calls. I only speak to my brother. ’Cause he’d find me and kill me if I didn’t. Surprised my ma and da hadn’t done that yet. Though, probably ’cause I keep moving.

  When the phone goes off once more, I cuddle into my pillow as I hit the answer button.

  “Howya, Declan.”

  My brother growls into the phone. “Eight times, I called ya, Lena. The fuck ya doing?”

  “Sleeping, ya wanker. It’s like six in the morning.�
��

  “It’s ten in the morning.”

  I check the desk clock and shrug. “Feels like six.”

  He sighs heavily into the phone. “Ya drinking again?”

  I scoff. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

  “So ya drunk?”

  “No, no. Hangover like a fat pig after a grand meal, though.”

  “Lena. Jaysus, why?”

  “’Cause I was thirsty?”

  The disappointment is deafening in his voice. But then, what do I expect? He is the Whiskey Prince. The owner of the most profitable distillery in all of Europe, hell, maybe the world. He has over five lines of his own whiskey. He loves his family, and he loves his wife like no other. He is the poster child for what the O’Callaghan children are supposed to be. What I used to be.

  Looking down at my naked body and all the bottles around my room, I guess I’ll be lucky if they let me keep my name.

  “Ah, fuck, Lena, what are you doing?”

  Oh, the lovely question my brother has been asking me for the last six months. I had a good stint in Dublin, where I lived on my own and tried to find myself. I thought I did well. I was happy. I had a studio apartment and found myself into pottery. Which is insane since I never liked getting dirty before. But being able to make something out of a blob of clay made me feel something. As if I were able to mold my life like I did the clay. I was doing so well that I was so happy for almost two solid years. I went home to see my family often, I still was involved in the everyday routine of O’Callaghan expectations, I was still the wee baby whiskey princess.

  But then all that changed.

  Now, as I lie in bed with a headache from hell, my brother on the line, yelling at me, I almost don’t know how I got here. I mean, I do. I flew to Amsterdam with the sole purpose of getting fucked up. Of not feeling anything. Not the fear, the pain, the guilt that I’d let down my family. I shut down. I stopped receiving calls, I stopped talking to old friends, I hung with people who were a bit on the sly side, and I just didn’t care.

  Which was so unlike me.

  I used to care about everything. About my family, about who I was going to be. I wanted to be my ma, the lady of Mayo, but now, I don’t even know how to be her. Not that my ma would give me a chance to. She’d take one look at me and probably cry. Swallowing hard, I look in the mirror across from my bed. My hair isn’t bone-straight anymore since I don’t spend the time on it. I let it kink up, and the rest of me looks damn well disgusting. When I left Dublin, I left everything. My clothes, my shoes, all that had been made for me. So, I’ve been wearing jeans and hoodies, mostly. Trying to blend in so the damn media can’t find me. I’ve done well in that respect. Though, somehow my brother seems to find out about every one of my wee mistakes.

  “Don’t ya see you aren’t yerself, Lena?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it feckin’ matters. Yer my sister.”

  “So?” I answer, shaking my head. “Yer off living a good life, Declan. Worry about that, not me.”

  “I always worry for ya. Where are ya? I’ll come to you.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Lena—”

  “Declan, I’m fine,” I reiterate because there is no way in the nine rings of hell I’m going home. I can’t. I just can’t. “Now, what’d ya call me for so early in the morning?”

  “It’s still only ten.”

  I roll my eyes. “Same thing. Whattaya want?”

  He lets out a long breath, and I can hear the pure disappointment in his sigh. He misses me, as I miss him, but he wouldn’t understand my demons. He has his own things to worry about. Amberlyn, his wife, keeps him on his toes. She’s nowhere near the princess she’s supposed to be, and I admire her for it. She does as she pleases and doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Well, she cares what Declan thinks, which is sweet and something I want. Or wanted. Away from home, I can be like Amberlyn, not caring one damn bit. I can wallow in my pain or just try to survive.

  I don’t have to pretend. I can just be.

  “Amberlyn had the wee little one this morning.”

  Everything stops. Honestly, it does. I remember when Declan told me they were expecting. How excited I was to be an aintín. I wanted to go home on the weekends to spend time with them. I had so many plans. So many things I wanted to do to make the wee little one happy and to love me the most, of course.

  Glancing back in the mirror, I am disgusted by my reflection. What happened to that girl?

  “Ah, wonderful. Congratulations.”

  I hear him suck his teeth. “Thanks.”

  “And the name?”

  “Ronan Tomas.”

  A small smile pulls at my lips. “So, a boy, then. The next heir to Mayo?”

  His voice is tight. “Yeah, you knew that.”

  Did I?

  I shrug. “Nonetheless, it’s wonderful. Give Amberlyn my best, yeah?”

  “Will you not?” he asks, and I feel the fight coming.

  “I can text her, I guess. But yer there, aren’t ya?”

  He pauses for a moment. “So ya won’t come home, then?”

  I want to laugh. They’d all lose it at the sight of me. “Ah, maybe. Let me see if I can move some things around.”

  “Move some things around,” he repeats. “Whatever do ya need to move? Yer next rave? Or yer next club appearance that you say you try to hide, but the paper tells another story.”

  I grit my teeth. “I do try to hide it. They damn well find me.”

  “Because you are flaunting yer arse all over damn London.”

  I pause. “How’d ya know I was here?”

  “’Cause I know, Lena. Damn it, come home. This is enough.”

  “Enough? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “You’ve done everything wrong, Lena. I don’t know why ya lost yer way, or even what happened, but just come home. We can fix it. I miss you.”

  Biting my lip, I ignore the tears that start to gather in my eyes. “I’m fine.”

  “So ya want to come home to meet yer nephew?”

  I run my hands down my face. “I told ya, I’ll see.”

  “This isn’t you, Lena. I don’t even know who this is.”

  The problem is, I feel the same.

  And as my gaze meets my reflection in the mirror, I swallow hard. My face has sunken in, gone are my cherub cheeks, and my eyes are dull. When the tears start to fall from them, I’m not sure I’m okay with that anymore.

  But that doesn’t mean anything.

  I can’t go home.

  “I’ll talk to ya later, yeah?”

  “Lena—”

  “I love you. Give the wee one a kiss for me,” I answer before hanging up my phone and throwing it down toward my jeans. Falling back into my bed, I cover my face with my hands as my tears stream down the sides of my face.

  One thing is for sure, though. Lena O’Callaghan, the Princess of Mayo wasn’t looking back at me just now.

  Actually, I don’t know who that was.

  I’ve done lost me way.

  And I’m unsure how to find it.

  “Mom, I get it. You miss me. But I’m not done.”

  “Jackson, honey, you’ve been gone almost a year and a half.”

  I roll my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her that I don’t want to be home. That I want to be out exploring the world and living. Fuck, doesn’t she get that I don’t want to be trapped in one place? I can’t handle that. I can’t feel stuck or held in place. I need to be free. Maybe it works for her, but I haven’t been happy in one place since I was old enough to know there were other places to explore. I’ve had a list since I was thirteen, and damn it, I’m going to get to the end of that list.

  “Mom, I told you this was happening.”

  “You said you’d be gone a year, maybe. But that’s not the case now. Do you have any plans of coming home?”

  “No,” I answer honestly, which I know pisses her off. I h
ear my stepdad, Tom, in the background, yelling about something, probably the fact that my mom is so upset. But I don’t care. I have been a damn good kid my whole life. I wasn’t like my younger brothers who got mixed up in drugs and alcohol. I worked my ass off and wanted something more than our little town outside of Calgary. By the grace of God, here I am. Doing something more. And I refuse to let anyone hold me back. “Please don’t be upset, Mom. I miss you, you know I do, but I’ve got things I want to do.”

  “Can you at least come home for a weekend?”

  I let my head fall back as I groan loudly. “Mom—”

  “No, this is ridiculous. You’re my firstborn, but you’ll always be my baby, and you know darn well I favor you over everyone. I miss you.”

  “Wow, thanks, Paige.”

  I laugh at Tom’s comment as I glance at the clock. I’m surprised my regulars haven’t started coming in. It’s well past the start of their usual drinking time. “You can come visit me.”

  “And sleep in whatever hole you’re sleeping in?”

  I laugh at that. She’s so dramatic. “I’m actually in an apartment here.”

  “Oh, goodness, wonderful! At least you’re not sleeping in a tent.”

  “I love my tent,” I say simply, and I can hear the frustration in her voice.

  “Which I don’t understand when you—”

  “It’s what I want. It’s how I always pictured this. Living on the land, exploring, and just getting by.”

  “You don’t—”

  “But I want to, Mom. We have this argument every single time we talk. Don’t you want to hear about my adventures?”

  “No! I want you to come home.”

  “That’s very selfish,” I accuse, and she laughs.

  “So only you get to be selfish? Manchester misses you! She cries for you, daily.”

  I smile. I do miss my horse more than most of my family—not my mom, of course—but between her and Manchester, I’d say they were the reason I got homesick when I did. It sure as hell wasn’t the frozen tundra of my hometown. Or even the amount of work I had to do climbing trees. No, it’s my girls that make me homesick. “My sweet girl is fine. Brady sends me pictures all the time, and I even FaceTimed with her.”