Kiss Shot (Dublin Mafia: Triskelion Team, Book 2)

by Zara Keane

  “Well, now. Isn’t that a surprise?” Shane shoved his workout clothes and old underwear into his sports bag and slung it over his shoulder. He made to move past Lar to the exit, but his cousin blocked his path.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Shane?” Lar demanded. “You’ve been moody for weeks. Is it because I’m serious about Gen? I’m not going to dump my friends because I have a girlfriend. Surely you know me better than that?”

  “I sometimes wonder if I know you at all,” Shane said.

  “That’s cryptic, even for you. Come on, man. Spit it out. What is going on?”

  He’d said too much already. Lack of sleep. Stress. Confusion over Ruthie Reynolds blasting back into his life. Whatever the cause, he had to pull himself together. “I’m frustrated with my slow progress. I’ve never had as many problems accessing information as I’ve experienced with the Boston case.”

  As part of Shane and Lar’s exit strategy from the family “business,” they’d struck a bargain with Frank. They each had to fulfill a job in order to leave the family “firm” without inciting a war. Shane’s job was, officially at least, to use his internet skills to trace the people behind the attack on his father’s club in Boston five years previously.

  “You’ll get there. I’ve never known you to fail yet.” Lar’s grin turned sly. “I hear Ruthie Reynolds is back in town and all grown up. Have you seen her yet?”

  Shane’s shutters slammed down. “Why do you ask? I haven’t been friends with Kevin in years.”

  “I know, but Ruthie isn’t Kevin. Something happened between you and her, didn’t it?”

  “Actually, no.” That had been the damned problem. The last time he’d seen her before he’d left for Australia, they’d shared the most memorable kiss of Shane’s life. Memorable until he’d belatedly developed a conscience and had been on the verge of leaving when Kevin had walked in on them and freaked out.

  “Just saying. Ruthie is a much better bet than banging Adam Kowalski’s girlfriend on the sly.”

  “What do you care? I don’t interrogate you about all your past hook-ups.”

  “I’m not interrogating you, man. Just expressing interest. You were always sweet on Ruthie.”

  “Concentrate on your own love life,” Shane snapped, “and let me concentrate on mine.”

  “All right. Keep your hair on. I was only wondering. I hear she’s turned into a looker. Who’d have thought it? I remember her being plain and gangly with braces on her teeth.”

  “Ruthie was always pretty,” Shane said. “It just took the world a while to wake up to that fact.”

  Lar eyed Shane closely. “You’ve been on edge lately, and I don’t think Ruthie Reynolds is the cause. Is there anything we need to say to one another?”

  “I don’t know,” Shane couldn’t resist saying. “Is there?”

  Lar’s expression darkened. Before he could respond, Dan came over. “Would you guys stop yapping? The punters are starting to arrive, and you’re scaring them off.”

  “I was about to make tracks.” Shane slapped Dan on the back. “If you’re looking for an early morning sparring partner, I’ll be here at six tomorrow.”

  Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Since when did you start training before dawn?”

  “Since sleep decided it didn’t like me. Better than tossing and turning or looking at porn.”

  His cousin threw his head back and laughed. “So sparring with me is preferable to having a wank. You sure know how to deliver a compliment.”

  “It’s a talent of mine.”

  “Will I see you at the office later?” Lar asked, one eyebrow arched. “You owe me your report on the Donnelly assignment.”

  Shane gritted his teeth. He could just as easily email the report to his cousin, but he had no wish to antagonize Lar. Not yet, at any rate. “I’ll come by at three. I need to update you on The Lucky Leprechaun investigation as well.”

  With a parting salute, Shane sauntered out of the gym and headed for the side lane where he’d parked his bike. Before he entered the lane, laughter floated out to greet him, followed by the pitiful sound of an animal in pain. He quickened his step. Four boys in their early teens had cornered a mangy-looking puppy and were throwing rocks at it. Judging by the smell, they’d doused the poor creature with gasoline. Sure enough, one of the boys slipped a cigarette lighter from his pocket and held it up with a smirk.

  Shane’s heart lurched in his chest. Without a second’s hesitation, he barreled into the boy and held his wrist tight. “No, you little fucker. Drop it now.”

  The boy yelped in pain and let go of the lighter. His pals took one look at Shane and read murder in his eyes. Without waiting for their fallen friend, they turned and fled.

  Shane hauled the kid to his feet. “Derek O’Malley, isn’t it? I know your dad and I’ll be having a word with him.”

  O’Malley spat on the ground. “Go ahead. Dad doesn’t care what I do.”

  “He’ll care by the time I’ve finished with you. Now get out of my sight before I do something you’d regret.”

  The kid took to his heels, leaving Shane and the bedraggled puppy alone in the deserted lane.

  Shane bent down and held out a hand. The animal whimpered and cringed away from yet another human who might hurt him. “It’s okay, little guy. I mean you no harm.” He scooped the creature into his arms, not caring if the gasoline stained his clothes. The puppy struggled to get free, but Shane held tight. He needed to get the animal clean and check his wounds, and the closest place was Schneider’s.

  When Shane reentered the gym, it was starting to fill up with the early morning clientele. The men’s eyes widened when they clocked Shane and his smelly new friend.

  Dan and Lar ambled over and regarded the puppy with matching expressions of horror. “What the hell happened to him?” Dan demanded.

  “He was tortured by that little shit Derek O’Malley and his cohorts. They were planning to set him on fire. Fucking psychos.”

  “The O’Malleys are all nuts,” Dan said with a grimace. “They make Frank look sane.”

  Lar moved closer to the puppy and recoiled at the smell. “Jaysus. That’s got to be the ugliest dog in creation. What is it, anyway? Did a sausage dog mate with a squirrel?”

  “Fuck off,” Shane said. “He’s prettier than you.”

  “You sure it’s a him?” Dan asked, eyeing the dog dubiously.

  Shane turned the animal over. “Yeah, it’s a him all right. Can I use the kitchen to give him a bath? I need to wash the petrol off him.”

  “You sure you want to do that?” Lar asked, deadpan. “Leaving it on for a while might help him get rid of a few fleas.”

  “Fleas?” Dan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I can’t have a dog with fleas in here. Health and safety will close me down.”

  “I’ll be five minutes, tops,” Shane said. “I want to give him a rinse and check if he needs to see a vet.”

  “An anti-contamination facility might be more appropriate,” Lar said. “That thing looks like the lone survivor of a radioactive spill.”

  “The pair of you have no heart,” Shane said with dignity. “Don’t listen to them, Patches.”

  Dan’s jaw dropped. “He has a name? Jaysus, Shane. You’re not thinking of keeping him, are you?”

  “I’m not chucking him back outside to be finished off of by Hannibal Lecter’s protégés.”

  “Seriously,” Lar said, “Patches? As in ‘flea-infested patches?’ Or are you referring to his mottled fur?”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Shane said but without rancor. Maybe he did need to rethink the dog’s name. “I’ll clean him up and find a vet. If he has an identity chip, we can track down his owners.”

  Dan snorted. “No one in their right mind will lay claim to that dog.”

  Shane looked down at the pathetic bundle in his arms and felt oddly protective of the broken little creature. “Someone, somewhere, loves you,” he said to the puppy. “And we’re going to find t
hem. In the meantime, let’s go and get you cleaned up.”

  7

  Ruthie checked the address on her phone. Yeah, this was the place her dad had mentioned. A simple sign proclaiming Schneider’s Boxing Gym hung over the entrance of the modern building. Judging by the plaques that framed the door, the upper levels were comprised of offices and residential apartments, while the two lower floors belonged to the gym. She checked her reflection in one of the shiny plaques. The lip gloss she’d applied at the last second before leaving her father’s house had disappeared, but the rest of her looked presentable. Back in her safety zone of combats, boots, and T-shirt, she felt less exposed than she had in last night’s more revealing outfit, and better equipped to tackle the task ahead. Joining Dan’s gym would give her an excellent opportunity to dig for information on the Delaney family, and allow her a chance to run into Shane again.

  A shiver of desire coursed through her body. Despite the awkwardness of the other night, she longed to see him again, and not just to pump him for info. But lustful thoughts of Shane Delaney were best left for a later time. Right now, Ruthie had a job to do…and dirt to unearth. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside the gym.

  Schneider’s was a temple of testosterone. Half-naked men lounged on benches, watching other half-naked men train at the bags or in the rings and commenting on their form. Two guys were in a ring, sparring. Ruthie squinted. The one in the red shorts was Dan Schneider-Delaney, Shane’s cousin and the proprietor of this establishment. Dan’s opponent was Jack Cotton, her father’s neighbor. They were both good, but Dan was clearly the pro to Jack’s competent amateur.

  The men nearest to Ruthie registered her presence and stared her up and down with matching expressions of incredulity. She itched to give them a withering put-down, but if she intended to become a regular at Schneider’s, antagonizing the clientele wasn’t the way to begin. Ignoring their stares, she strode up to the reception desk. A young man clad in boxing gear sat before a computer, frowning at the screen. He glanced up when Ruthie approached and his jaw slid south.

  “Hey. I’m Ruthie Reynolds. I’m looking for a place to train, and my dad recommended Schneider’s.”

  The receptionist blinked several times. “You’re Big Mike’s daughter?”

  Ruthie knew what he was thinking—how did a bruiser like Big Mike produce a skinny thing like her? “Yeah, he’s my father. Do you have a registration form I need to fill out?”

  The receptionist gestured to the ring where Dan was still throwing and ducking punches. “If you want to join, you’ll need to talk to the boss, but he’s occupied at the moment. Want to take a seat at the bar while you wait?”

  “Sure.” She flashed him a smile, and his expression softened.

  “Here.” He shoved a brochure and a plastic chip across the counter. “Use this token for a free drink.”

  “Thanks.” Ruthie pocketed the chip and headed for the bar. When the men already perched on barstools caught sight of her, a hushed silence descended. Ruthie rolled her eyes. She slung her sports bag onto the floor and glared at them. “What’s the matter? Never seen breasts before?” So much for her intention to keep her mouth shut.

  The guy beside her turned tomato red. “We don’t usually see women in here.”

  “Well, you’re seeing one now.” Ruthie claimed a free barstool and ordered a mocha-flavored protein shake. While she was sipping her drink, she scanned the gym. It was a large, open-plan arrangement that had been cleverly divided into four half levels. The reception area and bar overlooked the boxing rings. A short flight of steps led up to the training area with bags. According to the brochure, the weights room, exercise machines, and showers were located on the lower levels.

  The door behind the bar opened. Shane Delaney emerged, clutching the ugliest puppy she’d ever clapped eyes on. It had the long body and stumpy legs of a dachshund, combined with huge, floppy ears and a bushy tail. Shane’s face lit up when he saw her, displaying none of the awkwardness she felt after last night’s drama. “Hey, Ruthie. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  But she’d known she’d see him…or at least hoped she would. She struggled to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and concentrated on the cowering puppy in Shane’s arms. “What’s with the dog? Is he yours?”

  “A few local brats were abusing him outside in the lane. I chased them off and cleaned him up. I’m about to take him to the vet.” He cradled the little dog to his chest. “What are you doing here? Is your dad training?”

  “No. I’m here to train.”

  Shane shook his head. “Not today. Women’s hours are on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.”

  “Only two evenings a week? That’s bullshit.” Ruthie glowered at him. “Dude, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your dick plays no part in a boxing match.”

  “It’s not about being sexist. Dan only has one shower area, and it’s open plan. He doesn’t want any trouble, so he makes sure the gym is women’s only two evenings a week.”

  She shook her head. “Twice a week isn’t enough. Not for me.”

  “Can’t you find another place to train? A regular gym with kickboxing classes, or whatever they call it in fitness studios?”

  She gave him a withering smile. “If you’re referring to tae-bo or boxercise, I’m a little beyond them. I have to practice six days a week to maintain my form, and I need access to a gym where people have a clue about professional boxing.”

  Indecision flickered across his face. She was wearing him down. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “Gen—Lar’s girlfriend—sometimes joins him and Dan for a training session early in the morning, before the gym officially opens. Let me talk to Dan and see what we can arrange. But right now, I have to take care of this little guy.” He stroked the puppy’s fur, and the animal trembled with fear. “Besides, Dan is best approached alone. He’s grumpy at the best of times, and there’s some strain between his mother and brother at the moment.”

  Ruthie beamed at him. “Thanks, Shane. I’d rather train here than trek across the city to find another boxing gym.”

  “I can understand that, but you have to see Dan’s point of view.” Shane dropped his voice a notch. “Look around you. Kilpatrick isn’t the best neighborhood, and this gym attracts a rough clientele.”

  Ruthie snorted. “Do you honestly believe women are only in danger from guys with rough backgrounds?”

  “Of course not.” His expression softened. “I just wanted you to understand that it can get rough in here at times. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Her stomach churned. His concern for her welfare brought all her guilt about using him to the fore. She sucked in a breath and forced a smile. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m asking to train at a boxing gym. Of course I’m going to get hurt.”

  “You know what I mean.” Shane’s expression darkened. “Some of the guys won’t like to hear ‘no’ as an answer.”

  “They’ll have to get used to it,” she said. “Unless, of course, I say ‘yes.’”

  This drew his full attention. “Who would you want to say ‘yes’ to?” he asked, his eyes darkening.

  “I don’t know, Shane,” she teased. “Can you recommend someone to me?”

  Shane gave a rueful grin. “I’m no matchmaker. Hell, I can’t even find the right woman for myself.”

  She stepped closer to him and had to strain her neck to look up at him. “I didn’t think you wanted to find the right woman. You strike me as the sort of man who likes his space.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I do. But certain activities are best enjoyed with a partner.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Care to elaborate?”

  Whatever Shane might have said was interrupted by a whine from the dog. Despite the puppy’s matted fur and unfortunate appearance, there was something about his pitiful expression that tugged at Ruthie’s heartstrings. She held out a hand and let the dog sniff her. After deciding she wasn’t about to hurt him, he treated her t
o a quick lick before cowering back.

  “Poor little guy,” she said, gently touching the dog’s ripped ear. “He’s been through the wars. Do you have a vet in mind? If not, I can recommend Dr. McGrath on Griffith Avenue. He looks after Dad’s greyhounds.”

  “Thanks.” A long pause. “I don’t know much about dogs.”

  Their eyes met and Ruthie’s heart skipped a beat. How did he manage to look sexier every time she saw him? She darted a glance around the gym. Dan was still in the ring. No possibility to schmooze him for a while. Maybe she could use the chance encounter with Shane to her advantage. “I’m no expert on dogs,” she began, “but I know a little, even if Dad’s greyhounds were always kept in kennels outdoors. Kevin’s allergies, you know.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, and then gave her a sly grin. “No chance of foisting the puppy onto you, then?”

  “Absolutely none. You’re going to have to find a home for him. Maybe the vet can suggest a good animal shelter.”

  “Speaking of the vet…” His sheepish expression made her smile. “Are you here by car? I took my bike this morning. I wasn’t expecting I’d need to transport an animal.”

  “And you’d like me to give you and your new friend a lift to the vet,” Ruthie finished for him, seizing the opportunity. “All right, but on one condition.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “But not unexpected. You persuade Dan to let me train here five days a week. I don’t mind coming in early if that’s what it takes. I’ll even agree to shower at home.”

  Shane appeared to consider her proposition for a moment. “Fair enough,” he said finally. “I’ll talk to Dan this evening and let you know what he says.”

  “Thanks, Shane.” Ruthie beamed at him and stroked the puppy, earning her another lick. “Now let’s get this guy to the vet.”

  When Shane and Ruthie walked into the vet’s waiting room, the place was packed. A squawking budgie and a howling dalmatian battled for attention. A harassed-looking mother comforted a screaming toddler, who’d received bad news about his gerbil, while his younger sibling took the opportunity to make a bid for freedom.