Thunder boomed, lightning streaking across the night sky in jagged arcs, briefly illuminating the dark room Reagan stood in. For the better part of two weeks, rain had constantly poured. While she didn’t think herself to be superstitious, she couldn’t help but think perhaps this was Mother Nature’s way of telling her that waiting in the cold, damp basement for a man that had been dogging at her heels for the last six months was not where she was meant to be.

As far as days went, hers had already gone downhill early in the morning when she had received a call from her bank, informing her that she was late on the lease, again, for the space that was home to her family’s pub. She could have told the man the truth. That times were hard—not to mention the salaries she owed the few employees she had, plus her own bills, rent, and helping out her family.

Or the little fact that more than half the neighborhood was being shaken down by the very men she was in the room with…

But they wouldn’t care about that, only when she was going to send in the check.

Reagan could still remember the good days when The Parting Glass Tavern had thrived. Her parents’ marriage had improved—but that could have also been because her dad had cut back on his drinking—her brother, Jimmy, had come back around after keeping his distance for years. And more than anything, she had finally been able to move out of her childhood home and was now providing for herself.

All had been well until her dad’s drinking had caught back up with him. She didn’t mind working the sixteen-hour days, not even the stress that it put her under trying to run a pub by herself now that her mom and dad were practically nonexistent, but she did mind that once again, her dad’s problem was going to ruin them.

That was if the McCarthy family didn’t ruin them first.

There were a plethora of crime families that called New York home. Russians, Albanians, Italians, and Colombians to name a few, but in Hell’s Kitchen, where working class Irish families lived and thrived, it was only those of similar blood that could spark fear in the natives. Some weren’t necessarily bad, could even say they were decent people by watching after the neighborhood, making sure that any problems that came about were dealt with quickly and quietly.

And when Johnny D from apartment 316 got in that jam for stealing a car from a rich tourist, it was the Flanagan crime family that had gotten him out of it.

But the McCarthys? They only cared about the profit—the bottom line. And if that meant tearing through the streets, hurting people and breaking things to make sure it was understood they were the ones in charge, they did it.

Ever since they had transplanted from Dublin to Hell’s Kitchen ten months ago—where their base of operations was still located—everyone, at one time or another, had felt the unforgiving hand they extended. At first, they had approached under the guise of protection, promising that for a price, they would make sure that no one would harm their businesses. While Reagan hadn’t needed such protection—not when she had a bartender/cook that looked like he could bench a semi-truck and live—but she had understood the lure all the same with the local gangs always making a fuss.

For a while the McCarthy boys had seemed content with this, but soon, not even six months later, they’d demanded payment from everyone.

But not from Reagan, and at first, she hadn’t understood why.

Until later when she learned she was off-limits.

Across the room, standing in the doorway was Liam McCarthy, the youngest of the McCarthy clan, and the man that had been relentlessly trying to force her into a relationship for the first two months they had moved into the city before she had finally given in. As though he felt her gaze on him, he glanced back with what he thought was a charming smile before turning his attention back to whatever his brother, Rourke, was saying.

Reagan could still remember that first day she and the brothers had crossed paths. It had been a late night, one where she had sent everyone home for the night while she finished up running the numbers and cleaning the bar. She had been in the back office, going over the books when she heard the sharp rap at the doors. Liam, Rourke, and two of their ‘friends’ had stood on the other side, Liam giving her a friendly wave as she approached.

The neighborhood wasn’t that big, so she had seen the brothers around, but mostly Liam. He was the nicer of the two, never seen without a smile, and from what Reagan understood, he wasn’t as deep in the family business as his brother was. Word was, he only did the books, but she had learned rather soon that wasn’t true.

Liam had been charming, seemingly wanting to get to know her, but she knew just by their visit to the pub that it wasn’t about him trying to get to know her. Her first assumption was that it was now her turn to pay up for a service she didn’t want.

In a community like theirs, word had gotten around about who and how the extortion took place. Most that whispered about the brothers often said it was Rourke who came for the money, so for that reason, Reagan knew something was off when it was Liam doing the talking.

And if not for that, she could tell just from the way Rourke was looking that it hadn’t been normal protocol.

He hadn’t asked about protection, money, or favors. No, he asked about her, wanted to know everything about her. Then, in a matter of minutes, he had asked her on a date.

That night, she declined.

The next night, she declined.

And nearly every day after when he came around, making himself at home in her pub during her peak hours, he continued to try and wear her down, and the longer she went without giving him an answer, the more annoyed he became, as though a girl had never denied him.

The next time the doors to her pub opened, she had expected Liam once again, ready to give his usual spiel, but when she saw Rourke, she got a foul feeling in her gut. He hadn’t spoken a word to her all night except for when he ordered a beer that he didn’t touch.

People had quickly begun skipping out, wanting to get away from him and what his presence might mean. And later, once they were alone, he made his point clear by letting her know that if she didn’t accept his brother’s invitation, he wouldn’t be able to save her anymore.

So the next time Liam asked, though she had wanted to say no, she agreed and went to dinner with him. Since that first ‘date,’ they’d been out a few times more, and for a while, he hadn’t been pressuring her to take things any further.

“You’re a different kind of girl,” he had said one night. “I’ll do right by you.”

Liam had proved not to be so bad, keeping to his word about giving her time to get used to him in her life, but his patience was wearing thin. That much she could tell.

For that reason, she found herself in a basement where three women and two men were sitting at a lengthy table in their underwear, shoveling small amounts of cocaine into baggies. It didn’t matter what she saw, not when there was no one to tell—Liam had shown her that. The police couldn’t help, not when a number of them lined their pockets with dirty money.

Usually, Liam didn’t bring her along when he had to do something with his brother, but he’d begun demanding more time of her, and if that meant she came to his family’s place of business when he asked, so be it. And like those times before, Reagan did her best to tune them out, not particularly caring what was being discussed, but for some reason tonight, she couldn’t quite lose herself in her own head, instead listening in on the hushed conversation across the room.

“What’s he planning?” Liam asked of his brother.

“Fuck if I know,” Rourke replied, his voice louder than it had been before. “Who does know what that sonofabitch ever has planned.”

The ‘son-of-a-bitch’ they were referring to was Declan Caellach Flanagan, or Caellach to those that knew him. His family had been well known around those parts for many years, and not many had minded their presence. But years ago, Declan’s father had mysteriously disappeared, and when he’d been unable to find answers, Declan lost it.

He’d gone on a binder, letting the world share in his grief, but after a short time, he too had disappeared, leaving room for the likes of the McCarthy brothers to move in and take over the territory.

But, not for the first time, Liam was discussing Declan, and from how it sounded to Reagan, he wasn’t taking too kindly to the McCarthy presence, and that only meant one thing.

Declan was going to make a move on them, and soon.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor sounded in the room. “You need—”

Before Rourke could get another word in, Liam cut him off. “Easy, brother. How about we discuss this later when soft ears aren’t around, yeah?”

Reagan blinked, realizing belatedly that Liam was referring to her. But maybe it was all well that she didn’t react to his words straight-away lest he believe she was listening.

More importantly, maybe now that he was shutting down conversation, she could hopefully get to the pub now.

Smoothing a hand over the front of his shirt, always impeccably dressed, unlike his older brother. Rourke was a touch less flashy with his attire, wearing jeans that looked expensive, a plain t-shirt beneath a coat with wool lining the interior, plus a pair of work boots. Around his neck was a delicate gold chain that was fashioned of links all the way around.

Liam, on the other hand, wore suits predominantly. There was not a moment where Liam didn’t attempt to look his very best. It was just one of many things that he took control over.

Smiling proudly, as though they were merely waiting in his living room as opposed to a drug haven, Liam wrapped a hand around hers, drawing her into his arms even as she resisted. She barely caught Rourke’s nod in her direction before Liam was sweeping her out the door and into the night air that was muggy with the promise of rain.

When they were both in his car, he smiled in her direction. “Would you like to get dinner?”

“I can’t. Jimmy’s at the pub by himself, remember? I was supposed to be there two hours ago…” But I’m here…was added silently.

He frowned, focusing on the road as he pulled off. “I didn’t think the meeting would take as long as it had—you know how it is with Rourke. Besides, you do too much at that place anyway. Your brother can handle himself. Girl like you shouldn’t be doing so much.”

Reagan looked away and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she forgot just how misogynistic Liam could be. He had made his stance clear about what he expected from her. But she wasn’t giving up her dream, no matter what he said.

“I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. And Jimmy can do the same, but that pub belongs to me and he shouldn’t have to shoulder the responsibility when he didn’t ask for it.”

“Then tell your da to get off his drunken arse and do his bit.”

Conor O’Callahan might have been a drunk, but only family got to call him out on it, and Liam was definitely not that. “It’s not your business.”

“If it pertains to you, it is my business.”

She wasn’t bold enough to say that she wasn’t his business either, so instead, she kept quiet.

“Besides, I’ve been thinking it might be a good idea for the two of us to get away for a while—a holiday or something.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she knew within seconds that they weren’t what he wanted to hear.

He hit the brakes hard as he parked, shoving the gear shift into park as he sat back, his jaw tightening.

Before he could take further offense, she amended, “There’s just too much going on for me to get away right now.”

He rubbed his chin, then shook his head. “I’ll give you a few days to get your stuff together. With what Rourke has planned, I don’t want you around for that shit.”

“And what does he have planned?”

Liam’s frustration cleared as he draped an arm across her seat, smiling. “Nothing for you to worry about. It’ll all be over soon. Now, why don’t you go on and I’ll see you later.”

Not bothering to argue with him, she reached for the door handle. “I’ll call you when—”

“No need. Bobby’ll be here.”

Reagan froze. “What?”

“For your protection.”

“Protection from what?”

Putting a hand to the back of her neck, he tugged her forward, smashing his lips against hers, pulling away after a moment. “Nothing you need to worry yourself about. Go on,” he said with a nod of his head towards the pub. “Before I have a mind to keep you here.”

She couldn’t get out the car fast enough.

The last thing she wanted to think about was Liam, and what his words meant—she had the pub to think about after all. But, as she watched him pull away, only now noticing the car that was idling at the curb, Rourke’s man, Bobby, folding his big body out of it, she couldn’t help but feel like she was in the middle of something that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

---

Parting Glass Tavern was located in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen, a premiere spot that had gotten Reagan loads of traffic when they had first opened, but with the rise of more restaurants in the area, it was becoming harder for her to keep up with the growing competition. Especially when Conor was drinking more than he sold.

It wasn’t necessarily that her business was doing poorly, but she wasn’t doing nearly as well as she had in the past, and if she were being honest, she didn’t think all of it was because of her dad. Ever since it had become unspoken knowledge that she was Liam’s, a number of her regulars had stopped coming around, and when she happened to see them out and about, they always turned their heads and hurried away as though afraid to even be around her.

Reagan didn’t know what to do anymore.

As she entered the pub, breathing in the familiar and welcome scent of ale and Guinness, some of the tension swelling in her chest eased. She had made it a point to keep the place as close to her heritage as possible. The front was made of glass with black wood dividing the windows, and on a gold-plated sign that hung from the post out front was the name of the place lasered onto it. The interior had floors of polished wood, a bar of the same, with leather bar stools lined along the front. Fifteen tables made up the dining room, enough for people that wanted to eat, and for when the bar got crowded. Two flat screens hung from the wall, one currently playing rugby, the other American soccer. Depending on which crowd they got usually determined what was played.

Standing behind the bar was Joey and Shan. Shan had been dating Joey on-and-off for the better part of nine years now. It was surprising that he hadn’t already married the girl, but considering they had only just gotten back together after another stint—meaning a very public screaming match where Shan threatened to cut his dick off if he was cheating—Reagan figured it might have been best for them to hold out a little while longer.

Spotting Reagan coming in, Shan came around the bar, her smile already in place as she said, “We were wondering what was taking you so long. Last time you—” she paused when she caught sight of Bobby coming in behind her.

While they might not have been forced to answer to Liam, Rourke, and the others the way she did, they were all too aware of the kinds of men they were, and Reagan had never lied to Shan about Liam’s practices.

Giving her a look that promised an explanation later, Reagan headed for the back. She turned at the last minute to tell Bobby he didn’t have to trail after her—even if Liam had told him to do just that—but to her luck, his attention was snared by the rugby match and she was all but forgotten as he found a seat at the bar.

Jimmy—or sometimes Jimmy O’ when he wanted the distinction—was in the back with his feet kicked up on the desk, a small ball in his left hand that he routinely threw up to hit against the ceiling before catching it again. He, very much like her, had inherited their mother’s lean figure, but he got their father’s jaw and crooked smile.

Today was a good day for him judging by his attire—Jimmy dressed to fit his moods. He was more like the casual version of Liam than anything. He was in a pair of slim-fitting pants in a ruddy shade of brown, a chambray shirt, and a pair of oxfords. He had the same burnished red hair as she did, his cut low on the sides and in the back, left longer in the middle—as was the custom around these parts it seemed. He normally kept it styled the way he liked, but today, he left it free, strands of wavy hair falling in his face.

“What has you in such a good mood?” she asked as she eyed him, wishing she could read his body language as well as she could read his appearance.

He gave her an easy smile, shrugging a shoulder. “Is it wrong to be happy?”

“Of course not,” she said giving him a slight shove so she could take the chair he was sitting in. “But it’s you, so there’s probably more to the story.”

His lips turned down at the corners as he shrugged. “Fair enough. So where have you been?” He was good at avoiding questions by asking one of his own.

“With Liam.”

As easy going as Jimmy could be, when it came to Liam, he lost that easiness. As a brother would, he hated any boyfriend she had brought home for them to meet—them meaning her parents and brothers—even if there hadn’t been that many. And while they had all failed some test of his that only he knew, Jimmy had never warmed to Liam, not in the slightest. If anything, Jimmy outright detested him and didn’t bother hiding it.

If Liam noticed—and it would be hard for him not to—he never mentioned Jimmy except when it came to the pub. She didn’t even think he knew she had other brothers besides him.

But what he didn’t ask, she didn’t willingly offer.

“He’s a fucking twat.”

“Jimmy…”

“You know I’m right. It baffles my mind that you even put up with him.” Jimmy’s phone chimed, breaking off his tirade as he reached for it, eyes scanning the text that had come in. But as quickly as his attention had been snatched, he gave it right back. His thumbs busy flying over the screen, he didn’t look up as he said, “Little bastard is going to learn he and his brother can’t—”

“Jimmy, don’t.” Even if they were having a private conversation in the back of the pub, she still didn’t want him talking that way. Sometimes it felt like the walls had ears. “Besides, Liam isn’t all bad.” That sounded like a lie even to her ears.

“The fact that you have to describe him as ‘not so bad’, there’s my answer.” Jumping to his feet, Jimmy grabbed his jacket, shrugging it on. “I’m going to check on ma. I’ll see you around.”

She was nodding, watching him leave until his words caught up to her. “What do you mean they’re going to learn? What are they going to learn?”

He kissed her cheek, heading for the door. “You’ll see.”

“Jimmy, don’t do anything stupid. Ma’ll be upset if she lost you because of something like this.”

She wouldn’t survive it, not like last time. And Jimmy knew better than anyone how fragile their mom could be. It wasn’t like they were the only ones there that day…

Without a response, however, Jimmy left.

---

Around three in the morning, when Reagan had sent everyone home for the night—including Bobby who’d left on his own after getting a phone call—she was busy wiping down the bar making sure that it shined when she heard the bell chime as the front door was opened, letting in a gust of cold air. She used beneath her breath, remembering too late that she had forgotten to lock it after the place had cleared out. Her hand tightening around the towel she held, she didn’t look up as she said, “We’re closed.”

This wouldn’t be the first time that something like this happened…and even those times had been easy enough to manage though she was on her own.

When seconds passed and she didn’t hear the door reopen, she tossed the rag down on the bar top. A reply ready on her lips, she looked up, but as she blinked and took in the person standing on the opposite side of the bar, those words died, because despite the years that had passed, there was no way that she wouldn’t recognize Niklaus.

A small part of her had wanted to believe that despite how very real and visceral his presence had been in her life for the mere weeks total that she had been with him, he was merely a figment of her imagination. She hadn’t wanted to believe that he was real.

But now, there he stood. Merely a few feet away and she knew, even as she blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, that he was real. Very real.

And for whatever reason, he had walked back into her life.

His gaze traveled from the top of her head to the toes of her shoes, making her feel terribly exposed, and while she had thought she would be unaffected by him considering the time that’d passed them by, it was definitely not the case. She could feel his eyes on her like a physical touch, one that she was both desperately craving and wanted to get far away from. If there was one thing she knew about Niklaus, he was definitely the type of man she needed to avoid, if only so she didn’t fall back into the same feelings she once had.

When there was nothing but the bar separating them, he leaned onto it, making that space even smaller as the corner of his mouth tipped up, revealing that dimple in his left cheek. “That’s no way to treat an old friend.”

God, even his voice was enough to conjure an image of their time spent together, back when he had his hand around her throat and whispered dirty promises in her ear…thankfully, she wasn’t freaking out physically the way she was on the inside.

“What are you doing here, Niklaus?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I came looking for you?”

He sounded thoughtful as he asked, the emotion reflected in his eyes, but despite that, she didn’t believe that for a second. Not at all. Shaking her head, she asked again, “Why are you really here?”

He scanned her face for some time before a small smile bloomed, one that made her chest tighten. “It’s good to see you.”

Despite the way those words made her feel, Reagan refused to let them soften her towards him. She couldn’t. Not after what he’d done.

Shaking her head, she came around the bar, refusing to meet his gaze as she didn’t stop until she had a hand on his chest, ready to push him out the way he came if necessary. But at the moment of contact, his hand came up to cover hers, forcing her hand to remain in place even as she loved to pull away. Even through the fabric of his shirt, he burned hot, his warmth seeping into her skin, the strong beat of his heart echoing against her hand.

He was there. In that moment.

“You can’t be here,” she said on a whisper, forcing the words out though she wanted only to hold them in.

Niklaus’ other hand came up, his fingers drifting along the side of her face, along her jawline before he tucked them beneath her chin, forcing her eyes up and on him.

Up close, she got a better look at him. She almost wished the years had been unkind to him, maybe then she could have been unaffected. But if anything, they had only made him better.

His hair was a touch shorter, proudly displaying the lines tattooed on the side of his neck, along with the angry looking brand that was on his nape. He’d always been careful to keep them concealed from her, and had seemed a little reluctant to share what they had meant, but now he was proudly displaying them.

What had changed?

And it didn’t look like he had lost an ounce of muscle that she could feel the beneath the layers of clothes he wore.

No, Niklaus was just as physically attractive as he had always been, and here she was, looking just as disheveled as she had the first day they had met.

Fate was fucking cruel.

But none of that really mattered anymore. Maybe it would have months ago, before Rourke, before Liam, but now? It didn’t.

“You don’t want me?”

Maybe if the question had been asked with some feeling, she might have told him the truth—the truth couldn’t hurt after all—but the way he’d asked as though the answer didn’t matter at all. She wouldn’t bring herself to be used by him, not again.

“No.”

Only when that single word was left between them did he finally relent, releasing his hold and taking a step back, but not far enough away that she didn’t still feel overwhelmed by him.

“I’ll see you around, Reagan.”

Before she could curb the impulse, she said, “You can’t.”

A single brow shot up. “Says who?”

“Says me. You left. You can’t just walk back into my life out of nowhere and expect me to welcome you with open arms, like the last time we were together didn’t happen.” She pressed her lips together, wishing she hadn’t added that last little tidbit, but pressing on, she pretended like she hadn’t. “And nothing you say in the next five seconds is going to change my mind.”

Now, he was amused, that blank expression drifting away. “No? I’m around though, so I’ve got time.”

“But this time I don’t want you around.”

This time, he didn’t let the bar remain between them, coming around it instead so that he was now in her space, filling her senses with everything that was him. She couldn’t help but breathe in the warm, heady aroma that was Niklaus.

Why did it have to be him? There’d been other guys that were interested over the years, but none had made her ache the way Niklaus did. None of them ever made her feel like she was more than what she was the way he did.

He’d ruined her.

“I’m not going to leave again.”

Forcing her eyes up on him, she shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not like you would tell me if you were.”

He didn’t respond, just stood there for a moment until he reached for her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He didn’t kiss her knuckles as she’d anticipated, but turned her palm over and pressed his lips to her inner wrist, the heat of his mouth making her heart kick up.

God, would there ever be a time when she didn’t want him?

With a careless wink, he dropped her hand and drifted back out the door, disappearing into the night as quickly as he had come.

Only when he was gone did she feel like she could breathe again.

Niklaus was back in town.

Shit.