Thug: The Doyles: A Boston Irish Mafia Romance

by Sophie Austin

  "I hear you got into a bit of a scuffle the other day. That can't be a good thing for a convicted felon."

  The words piss me off. It’s meant to throw me off guard and reclaim the power after having caught him by surprise in his own place.

  "Oh, wait. I'm sorry. You never actually went through the justice system. Your daddy bought off the judge? Is that what happened?"

  Rage hits me hard, but I don't let it show.

  "You know Jimbo," I find myself saying. The stricken look on his face at that name is worth the ridiculousness of having to say it. "I'm not the only one who got into a fight this week. It seems that someone sent two men to my uncle’s house to hurt him. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  James Carney sighs.

  "I can hardly be held responsible for the actions of locals," he says.

  "It might be so, but I have a question. Is your son Patrick on the island? Because one of the men looked an awful lot like him. Sorry about the black eye I gave him. That’s got to be an embarrassment at your fancy parties.”

  The look on Carney's face immediately becomes more guarded. I can tell from the emotions racing across the mask that he keeps mostly in place that he didn’t know. On one level, it should ease up the anger I’m feeling at him. But it just makes me feel like he’s sloppy.

  By the way he's bristling there's a better than not chance that he’s not entirely surprised that Patrick was in on the stunt.

  When he looks at me again, it’s all white teeth and silver hair and Back Bay charm.

  "Listen, Mr. Doyle, our families have a complicated history. But I'm sure under the circumstances that we can work out something that will benefit us both. Come to an arrangement, as it were."

  He's just finished speaking when Siobhan walks in the room. At the sight of her, my chest pulls tight, and I'm struck at how beautiful she looks in a long blue sundress with those strawberry blonde curls pulled back off her face.

  But I don’t miss how upset she looks.

  The only consolation is that she is looking at her father and not me. I’m not exactly undeserving of her anger, though.

  "Hi Siobhan," I say brightly and rise quickly. Just saying her name sends heat through me.

  But she's not paying attention to me, just gives me a distracted hand wave that says sit down.

  "What's this about arrangements?" she's asking her father.

  James Carney looks uncertain for a moment, and then slips into what I imagine is his paternal, protective father mode. At least that's what he thinks is happening. He smiles calmly at his daughter.

  "Honey, Mr. Doyle here and I just have some quick business to discuss. We'll be leaving shortly and then I'll be ready to take your mother and you girls out for lunch. Would you go upstairs and ask your mother where she’d like to dine?" But even as he speaking his eyes go back to me.

  “How do you know my daughter?”

  "Small island," I say quickly, trying to distract him. I’m not surprised that Finn hasn’t mentioned that he’d found me in her room. James would obviously hold that as another of Finn’s failures. I almost feel bad for him, except he’s a sleazy asshole. Anyway, there's no reason that she needs to deal with her father getting angry over time we might've spent together.

  Siobhan still hasn't taken her eyes off her father's face. "I heard you talking. Did something happen? Did something happen with Patrick?"

  There's a shift, a shift that so subtle, you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it. The kindly parent changes to a strict, angry face. But I see the way that James Carney is looking at his daughter, and I want to rip him limb from limb. It's anger. How dare you disobey me? The look seems to say. We'll discuss this later.

  I don't think is a man who is physically violent with his children. But violence takes many forms and I've seen enough of Siobhan to know that some kind of difficult upbringing has made a mark.

  It makes me regret my own, selfish anger at her. She hadn’t done anything except tell me a truth I didn’t want to hear.

  But when you care about people, you tell them what they need to hear, and not just what you think they want to hear.

  Her eyes move unsurely to me. In that minute, I make a decision.

  I promised that I wouldn't be one of the men using Siobhan for my own ends.

  And in the end, I’d still managed to hurt her and to let her down, because I wasn’t willing to face my own truth.

  And while I've done my best to keep her out of this, I also won't be one of the men who doesn’t trust a grown woman with as much passion, intelligence, and self-control as she has. I won’t treat her like she can’t handle dirty details and hard conversations.

  "Siobhan, two days ago two men –Patrick and one of his pals – paid my uncle Danny a visit. It was over the Fitzgerald property," I say calmly.

  Fury flares in James Carney's eyes. "How dare you?"

  "Is Mr. Fitzgerald, okay?" Siobhan's face wilts into a mask of concern.

  “Uncle Danny’s okay,” I cut in. “I got there in time.”

  James Carney’s eyes lock on his daughter, as he tries to get things back under his control. "Yes, honey. It does sound as though there was some sort of scuffle. People make bad decisions when tempers run high. No one should know that better than your brother." Something passes between them.

  Something I don't understand. Siobhan's face rearranges itself into a placid mask.

  "The good news is that Mr. Fitzgerald was unhurt. I, of course, am very relieved to hear that, as I would never condone such violence,” Carney’s saying.

  It's a complete one-eighty. But I get the feeling it's not the first time it's happened. Siobhan looks disbelieving but seems to steel herself as she turns away.

  I’d been under the impression Siobhan doesn’t usually question her father.

  Yet now I’m wondering if she actually had, but maybe hadn't been as brazen or open about it.

  "Luckily, there was a thug in residence to protect Mr. Fitzgerald." He's looking straight at me.

  Thug.

  Dirty Irish trash.

  A Doyle.

  Not good enough to be sitting in my office, never mind talking to my daughter. All those things are written on his face.

  Siobhan looks from her father to me and says in a tight voice, “Alright. Father, I’ll leave you here to finish up.”

  She turns to me and says very primly, "Lovely to see you as always, Kieran.”

  My eyes track her as she goes, and I’m eager to get to the point so I can get the hell out of here.

  "Listen, I came to give you a friendly warning. You're not getting that house. It's being turned into an Inn.”

  Carney's reaction surprises me. He actually laughs.

  "Doyle, if your plan is to slap an Inn sign on the front and call it a day, you are going to be sorely mistaken. You’d need to pass a hospitality inspection, to have paying guests, to run a credible operation. No offense, but I think we both know that's beyond you."

  He stands, and I follow. I'm headed out the door when he says, "Listen Kieran, this is nothing personal. It's just business. I do want that land, but I also have fond memories of that house. It's a great space and people deserve to enjoy it. No one enjoyed it more than Kathleen."

  My eyes snap up at his mention of my mother's name, and I'm surprised to see what looks like pain and regret there. How did he know her?

  Ask your uncle why my father really hates your father.

  My uncle’s story about my mother’s other suitor.

  It was James Carney. Jesus Christ.

  "I don't want trouble. Danny has been in that house alone, as it slowly falls to pieces, for more years than I can say. For a variety of reasons, now's the time to make my move. But I promise you that if I take over that property, it will be treated with respect. Whatever we build there will be something beautiful and something it deserves.”

  Lies, with maybe a trace of truth.

  He won’t get a chance to let the world
find out.

  “You didn’t get my mother, and you won’t get that house,” I snap.

  I don’t wait for a response, and instead head straight down the drive and along the street to my truck. I'm surprised to see Siobhan standing next to it. My heart practically stops.

  My body is instantly on alert, and I'm fighting the urge to touch her.

  Her father would never allow it. And after how I’d behaved the other day, completely lacking in self-awareness, blind to the gilded cage she was trapped in because I was too obsessed with my own issues, she’d never allow it either.

  And that’s what matters.

  "I have an idea. Meet me at your uncle’s in two hours?"

  I find myself nodding, not as much because I'm processing her words. More because the thought of seeing her, of having a chance to talk with her and maybe work this stuff out, is too much to resist.

  I spend the next two hours pacing the kitchen. Vinny sits at the table, watching me but saying nothing.

  I hear a light knock on the back door. Siobhan stands there, looking absolutely breathtaking. She's wearing the same dress that she did earlier. But she's done her hair and make-up, and expensive jewelry sparkles at her throat and on her ears. She doesn't need any of it. But I'll admit the effect is striking.

  "Hello, Kieran. Hello, Vinny. Do you have a second so we could chat?"

  It's the strangest thing. Something about this woman leaves me unsure of exactly what to say.

  "This place looks great. You both have done an amazing job fixing it up. I wasn't sure that I'd heard your plan right until I saw the sign. Inn?"

  "Yeah, we’re going to make this place a Bed and Breakfast."

  "I think you're going to need a few things to make that credible," she says with a soft smile. “One thing might be a name.”

  We all come up short. "What do you mean?"

  It’s taking an effort for her to be patient. "Kieran, if you're going to pass a hospitality inspection and convince the zoning committee that you have a legitimate plan to run a bed and breakfast here, I think having an actual name and not just a small sign that says “Inn” is probably the first step."

  She’s right. This is why we need Seamus. He's on his way over but I worry that he’s not going to get here in time. Things are moving too fast.

  I didn't notice Danny join us in the kitchen until Siobhan greets him.

  "Congratulations, Mr. Fitzgerald. I hear you're about to become an innkeeper. I was just telling these gentlemen that I think it's important to have a good name and a good sign out there before tomorrow."

  We bat around ideas for a few minutes but nothing's really sticking. Siobhan turns those wide, pale green eyes on me. I'm in danger of being lost in their depths again.

  "What do you think, Kieran? What would you call the place?"

  She's done it again. I'm not the guy in the room that anybody asks what he thinks.

  I think back to that little ring in my back pocket that I bought for Siobhan.

  "Maybe the Claddagh Inn?"

  She seems to consider, and then raises her eyebrows. "It's a little on the nose, but honestly, I like it. It leaves no doubt that an Irishman came to town and decided to open an Inn.”

  Everyone laughs, and I feel something ease in my chest that I thought was going to be tight forever.

  The Claddagh represents love, loyalty, and friendship. If I can’t have love with Siobhan, I hope we can at least have friendship. The thought of having this woman in my life in some way, in any way, calms a level of panic that I didn't really understand I was feeling.

  "About that sign. Vinny, can I put you in charge of that?” Siobhan says.

  It registers that she's taking command of the situation. It goes straight to my cock.

  What happens next surprises me. "Vinny, if you can cut the boards, I can paint the sign," Danny is saying. "I'm not as good at art as your mother was, Kieran. But I can easily paint well enough to create something that will be ready for tomorrow."

  Siobhan smiles approvingly, then adds, "Could you get something ready for tonight? Say 8 PM."

  We all exchange glances, but Danny agrees and he and Vinny leave to cut the sign.

  She gives me a steady look.

  "Show me the rooms."

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Kieran, if you don't think my father will not have the hospitality inspector here at your house at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning. You're completely mistaken. It’s a big help that you’ve been restoring the place to historical accuracy, but we need things as polished as possible."

  I know she's right. And it’s thanks to her that we’d aimed for that historical accuracy in the first place.

  "This place needs to look the part. You need rooms that look like they're ready to hold actual people. In fact, you going to need actual people here but that's something we can talk about later."

  She hands me a pad of paper and a pen and I follow in her wake as she moves easily through the rooms. "Add hand towels. Let's look for some light breezy curtains. And I think the spreads will do for now, but we can order something different later."

  The only word I'm really hearing is “we.”

  We finally make it to top floor to the room where my mother's art is displayed. "Kieran, do you think that you could hang some of these paintings throughout the house? Not only could we point to an art exhibit by a well-known artist who once lived here, but I think the family connection will really fit into the narrative of the Claddagh Inn.”

  It's becoming something more tangible. Not just a plan to evade James Carney's maneuverings, and not just something that will buy us time. She's actually seeing it like a real bed-and-breakfast, and that’s helping bring the whole thing to life for me as well.

  "There are couple of stores here on the island that have most of the things we’ll need. I think with one shopping trip. We should be able to get enough to cover the most glaring issues and make you appear to have several rooms outfitted for guests. I'm going to give you the name of a cleaning crew that will be able to come out today. This place needs to be scrubbed from top to bottom. Not a single thing overlooked. Do you understand?"

  I am so ready to do her bidding.

  I give her a mock military salute. "Yes, ma'am."

  She blushes. "Listen Kieran, I know that there are some unresolved things between us."

  If only she knew.

  "I know how my father will play this. And I understand from an optics and society point of view exactly how you can establish the kind of tasteful, historical society-friendly inn that means more beds, more tourist money and more prestige for the island. They’ll eat it up. Let me help you. Let’s try to resolve this without any more fighting.”

  Without fighting? I feel a bit of shame. I want to defend myself, to explain that some goons showed up and were threatening an old man. But she shakes her head.

  "Save it, Kieran. I'm under no illusion of what happened with Patrick and your uncle. But I also know that it's not only good for your uncle to have the Inn, but it will be good for you to see that sometimes there are different ways to fight your battles."

  Our eyes meet, and she touches me lightly.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Not for the fighting, but for how I’d behaved the other day. “I’m sorry that when you were brave enough to tell me the truth that I lashed out. But you’re right, Siobhan. I’ve been acting like I’ve had no say in my life, and that’s a chickenshit way out of dealing with the hard stuff.”

  She smiles softly.

  I take a deep breath.

  “And the other stuff I said, about a fancy husband and forgetting this summer?”

  Her eyes widen. She’s ready to take me down again if she needs to, and it’s incredibly sexy.

  “I was being chickenshit about that too. I said it because I’m afraid you won’t want me in your life once this summer is over.”

  She runs a delicate hand through my unruly hair and I lean into her touch.

  “Of course
I want you in my life,” she says. “It’s just complicated. And we need to take care of things here first.”

  She’s right, of course. I’m getting used to acknowledging that. I take her hand a press a kiss to her palm, and she heads down the stairs.

  The rest of the afternoon I spend getting the things Siobhan outlines. When we get back, it's almost dinnertime. The sign is done and looks fantastic. The cleaners have come and the house sparkles. Much to my surprise, people are setting up chairs in the ballroom.

  Siobhan beams at Vinny as I walk into the space. "And the catering is all set?"

  "Fish and chips for forty."

  “Excellent. Very authentic.”

  I look from Vinny to Siobhan. “And what’s all this then?”

  That's when Siobhan clues me in. The summer launch of the Claddagh Inn is happening tonight. In three hours, in fact. Some of the island’s most important people, including the hospitality inspector and key members of the zoning board have been invited. Two guest musicians will be playing to kick off the first night that the Inn’s hosting guests.

  "Will I count as a guest?" I say, sounding stupid.

  "Actually, I'll be your first guest," she said brightly. My eyes move to hers, surprised.

  "The lease is up on my cottage. Initially I had planned to stay in Chilmark for the last two weeks of summer, but the idea of a room at a charming historical B&B that such a close walk to everything? Who would refuse?”

  She gives me a warm smile.

  My heart might beat out of my chest.

  That’s when it hits me.

  "Two musicians?"

  “Yes, Kieran. While you've been busy picking out hand towels and curtains – excellent job there, by the way – I’ve been planning a party. Tonight, Martha's Vineyard's world-class violinist in residence will be performing solo. She’ll also be doing a set accompanied by a very talented guitarist."

  It's all coming together. I'm realizing what she's doing, and I suddenly have to swallow hard. I look at Vinny. “Can you give us a second?"

  He drifts off, looking relieved to be away from all the feelings.

  Siobhan crosses the small distance between us.

  “Thank you,” I say. I wrap my arms around her. I know I shouldn't. This woman is so far out of my league. But she brought exactly what we needed, the polish we needed. The place will need a lot more work over the fall, but she knows how to create a façade that will placate the people we need to have on our side.