TWO
Donovan
Donovan wanted another beer, but Declan’s asshole of a brother had taken the last bottle. He stared at Quinn with his chin lowered and what he hoped was a threatening glare. Quinn O’Malley was a jackass. Three hours after meeting him and Donovan already knew that. He was taller than Declan, but not as wide, with a build that was a lucky draw from a blessed gene pool. The guy wasn’t an athlete—he just looked like one. Like his half-brother, Quinn’s hair was coal black but messier, unkempt like he just couldn’t be bothered. From what Declan had told him, Quinn hadn’t had to do much in the way of working or earning a damn thing; his rich mommy and daddy took care of that for him. Donovan couldn’t talk, but at least he was being proactive. He was getting an education. Now that both Quinn’s folks were dead, he’d begun to squander what they’d built and Declan was held responsible for stopping him before he had frittered everything away.
Quinn further proved his asshole status by sitting on top of the damn cooler. “You’ve a problem, mate?” Quinn asked Donovan, stretching his long legs out in front of him, looking at Donovan like he was itching for a tussle.
“Nope. Just wondering when Declan and Autumn will be back from their beer run.”
“Not for ages, I reckon. Bit of stuff like her and I’d say bollocks to you all.” Quinn grabbed his dick, rubbing himself like an idiot. “I’d give that one a ride she’d not forget.”
“Oy, mind your tongue, boy.” Joe, Autumn’s father, landed a hard whack to the back of Quinn’s head.
“Bugger off, oul man.” The venom in Quinn’s voice was forced, as though he wanted Joe to think he was a threat. But there was a slight tremor in his voice and Donovan thought that Declan was right. Quinn was piss and vinegar and needed to be knocked off the pedestal he’d created for himself.
Joe’s large fingers came around the back of Quinn’s neck and the man leaned down, his mouth inches from Quinn’s ear. Donovan pretended he wasn’t listening to Joe treating O’Malley like the punk he was.
“This oul man will knock you into next month, you arsehole, if you sully my daughter’s name with that rotten mouth of yours.”
Whatever insult Quinn would have thrown at Joe died on his lips when Declan came through the back gate, his arms around a case of beer, and Autumn walking at his side.
“Alright then?” Declan asked, nodding to Joe who stood a bit too close to Quinn. “What’s he done now?”
“I haven’t done shite, you pouncy bollocks.” Quinn’s movements were sharp, sudden and Declan stood in front of Autumn, shoulders rounded as though he expected his brother to cause trouble.
“Pouncy bollocks? That the worst you can muster?” Declan’s laugh was condescending and bitter and it seemed to get under Quinn’s skin. He stepped in front of Declan, his mouth curled into a sneer.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Joe came between the two brothers and neither seemed to like it, but something behind Declan’s shoulder caught Quinn’s attention and he seemed to forget the insult he planned for Joe and his brother.
Declan turned, handing over the case to Donovan as Quinn walked past him, his eyes zeroed in on Sayo as she met Autumn in the center of the patio.
“Jaysus,” Quinn said, running his fingers through his thick hair. Actually, Donovan couldn’t blame the guy. Sayo was almost too beautiful, with a tiny frame, yet elegant long limbs and eyes that were darker than an oil slick. Even the vividly dyed pink hair didn’t diminish her beauty and Donovan understood why Quinn had forgotten his argument with Declan—he got it all too well. Before the younger Irishman could take two steps in Sayo’s direction, both Donovan and Declan moved in front of him.
“Don’t even think about it.” Donovan bent his head, eyes hard and threatening. He didn’t like the look on Quinn’s face or what that expression told him Quinn wanted to do to Sayo.
“She yours, Donley?”
“She’s off limits.” There was no flinch, no instance of caution in Quinn’s posture when Donovan got right in his face. It was a pissing match, one Donovan wouldn’t back down from. Sayo wasn’t his, would never be his, but she didn’t need some entitled jackass screwing with her. Especially not right now. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Don’t even breathe the same air she does.”
The bastard grinned like Donovan’s threats were nothing, like he was accustomed to ignoring warnings. “And if I do?”
“Then we’ll have a problem.”
Declan stood just between his brother and his best friend, eyeing Quinn with that cool, composed smirk of his that Donovan knew meant he was gearing up to throw his considerable weight around. “Get this straight right bloody now. Those girls,” Declan threw a nod in the direction of the grill where Sayo and Autumn chatted with Joe, “aren’t to be messed about. Not one of Autumn’s mates. They aren’t to be bothered. You do that, little brother, and you’ll have greater problems than keeping out of prison.”
The fire went out of Quinn’s eyes and he frowned, spat once on the ground right next to Declan’s foot and muttered “Bugger off” before he turned back into the house with his brother watching after him, shaking his head.
“O’Malley is an arsehole,” the Irishman said, handing Donovan a beer.
“He needs to learn to watch his mouth, Deco.”
“I’ve punched him twice, mate. Both times well deserved, mind you. That jaw of his is fecking solid. Knocking him about does nothing. Lord, he’s barely here for half a day and already he’s trying to chat up my woman and hacking off anyone who looks at him. He only stopped running his gob when Autumn kneed him in the bollocks after he went for her arse.”
Donovan choked back a smile, coughing when he spotted the proud expression on his best friend’s face. That grin widened and Declan winked at Autumn as she called to him across the patio. The look they shared had Donovan rolling his eyes, staring over the large fence surrounding the property. He meant to walk off, not eager to stand witness as Declan and Autumn eye fucked each other at two in the afternoon. But the redhead pulled her attention to Mollie and Vaughn as they walked through the back gate, then she came to Declan’s side as her friends greeted each other.
Her stare was skeptical and suspicious as she looked up at Donovan. “Okay, spill.”
“About what?” Donovan said, worried momentarily that Layla had been running her mouth. He didn’t need a lecture from Autumn or a throttling from Declan for acting like Quinn.
“Layla.” Autumn crossed her eyes, frowned and Donovan’s heartbeat sped an extra beat. He managed to force a smile, try for nonchalance as he felt both Autumn and Declan’s stare sharp and calculating.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he told Autumn, taking a long swig from his beer.
“Mollie said Layla made a pathetic excuse for not showing today, claiming she felt shitty. Which I know is bullshit. She wouldn’t miss Joe’s ribs for anything unless she didn’t want to avoid drama. So, it has to be you.”
Donovan swallowed, annoyed that the little brat was complicating an already messed up situation. But he remained calm, kept his composure and shrugged, dismissing Autumn’s accusation. “That girl is crazy, Autumn. I haven’t done anything to her.”
The redhead opened her mouth, likely had another meddlesome question ready, but Donovan waved her off as he walked over to join Mollie and Vaughn, ignoring Declan when he called after him. He closed his eyes once, trying to forget about Layla and her stupid excuses.
“Hey man,” he greeted Vaughn, patting his shoulder.
“You good?” The Marine was tall, taller and much wider than Donovan and if Donovan hadn’t known the guy, he might have been intimated. But he did know Vaughn, and knew that he was a protector, keeping Mollie safe after the threats that had been made to her a few months back.
“I heard your cousin placed in the CrossFit regionals. A buddy of mine told me he was training him.” Donovan nodded, but didn’t really hear the Marine when he began explaining the program that Donovan’s cousin would have to endure for competition.
Donovan’s mind was too full of memory, of sensation—of Layla’s skin sweaty and shining in the low light of his bedroom; her stomach muscles flexing as Donovan kissed her navel. He’d been drunk, he’d been careless, but he’d wanted Layla. He wanted her again. But she was an infuriating brat. She was the nuisance that complicated everything, that had his best friend staring at him across the patio, a silent warning working across his face.
Layla was a splinter underneath Donovan’s fingernail, throbbing, bothering him daily, for years, ever since he could remember. He’d only gotten a break from her after their fathers had their falling out when Donovan was eighteen, back when his father was still a damn drunk fucking up everyone’s lives. But then Layla’s friend Autumn had hooked up with his best friend Declan and, well, her irritating presence had been forced back into his life. And like all irritations, Layla needed handling. Donovan thought a conversation about her dumb excuses was a good place to start.
Oh, yes… the next time he saw that girl, they were going to have a little talk, no excuses. He wasn’t letting her off that easy.