Reagan’s apartment was nothing to write home about.

It was smaller than what it was worth, had a steady leak whenever it rained hard, and neighbors a floor above her that had to be wearing shoes made of concrete with the way they stomped around. But there was one thing Reagan loved about it: it was hers.

That wasn’t to say she had hated living with her parents, but after a while—especially after she was old enough to want to do her own thing—it got tiring coming home to her father questioning where she had been and with who. Then, after his drinking had progressed, she almost missed those days, definitely preferred them over his raging.

After she had opened the pub, and they were finally a step above poverty, she took what little money she had left over and found this place. And despite wanting to stretch her wings, she still hadn’t gone too far.

From here, she could walk to the pub, and when she was feeling up to it, even to the two-bedroom apartment her family had lived in.

No, she still hadn’t been able to leave them behind.

Dropping her bag on the chair, she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing that as well before pulling the band from her hair, running her fingers through it. It had been a long day, and that was even before she got to the pub.

She had contemplated everything she had overheard, what little there was, and the cryptic things Liam had mentioned after he had dropped her off. Rourke had mentioned a problem, and if she was right, that problem would be presenting itself soon enough. She had no doubt.

But currently, her only problem was a 6’4 Russian who she knew nothing about, but cared for like she had known him her entire life.

God, had it only been a couple of weeks that they spent together all those years ago?

And of that time, she had spent most of those days in his bed, but in that short period, he had consumed her, taking every last bit of her that he wanted until there was nothing left. Reagan knew better, had even warned herself that she didn’t need to get attached to someone like him, but at some point, the rational side of her brain had clicked off, replaced with someone that was too intrigued to walk away.

But he had walked away from her. No note. No promises of calling her. Had she not gone by his motel room days after the last time she had seen him, she would have never known that he was gone in the first place.

That was why she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—believe that he was suddenly back in the Kitchen for her.

And yet, that still begged the question as to why he was back.

She knew for a fact that he wasn’t from around these parts, not even from the north at all. If she recalled correctly, he’d said he was from Florida. Maybe he was a traveling salesman, and came up here for business of some kind.

And he just happened to find her in a city this big?

That thought made her edgy. It wasn’t like the pair of them exchanged last names or anything, and she doubted she was the only Reagan in the state. How had he found her? He didn’t sound surprised as he called to her. In fact, his entire demeanor spoke as though he had tracked her down.

Would you believe me if I told you I came for you?

At first, no. But now? She was strongly considering it.

Before, she might have been happy by that possibility.

Now, the only thing she wanted to know was who the hell he was…

---

The next morning, after a hot shower, painstakingly straightening her hair again—she rarely left it in its natural state nowadays—and getting dressed, Reagan headed for her parents’ place. Thankfully, the rain had let up, but storm clouds still lingered in the sky as though ready to open up at any time.

Her parents’ building was not much better than hers, but the familiarity of it made it special. Along the sidewalk, when the city had been redoing the concrete there, Jimmy had snuck down when her parents weren’t around and stuck his hands on it, forever embedding his child-sized prints in the sidewalk. To this day, the sight of them still made her smile.

Opening the front gate, she headed up the breezeway, punching in the code to let herself into the building, then up to the apartment. Despite having moved out, she still had a key, her mother wanting her to keep it in case of emergencies. Thankfully, it had been a while since there was one.

Even as she stuck the key in the lock, giving it a slight jiggle and twist before disengaging and unlocked the door and pushed it open, she knocked on the heavy wood, announcing her presence.

“Ma?”

“In the kitchen!”

She closed the door behind her, locking it once more as she went in search of her mother, looking around the space as she went. Not much had changed, just the slight shift of the furniture, more pictures adorning the fireplace mantel, but there was one thing that was drastically different.

Her father wasn’t perched in the lounger with a bottle of whiskey clutched in his fist.

Reagan didn’t know whether to be thrilled or nervous about this.

When she rounded the corner, she finally caught sight of her mother, Isabelle, standing at the stove with an apron around her waist and a wooden spoon in her hand as she mixed what smelled like stew in the giant pot.

Isabelle was five-five, a few inches shorter than Reagan’s five-eight—Isabelle had always said she got Conor’s height even if he was six feet—and was just as round in her hips as she was in her middle. Her unruly muddy-brown hair was swept up into a bun, curling strands escaping it to frame her face. She had laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, ones she had since Reagan could remember.

If there was one thing to be said, she was her mother’s daughter.

“Hey Ma, how are you?” Reagan greeted warmly, wrapping her arms around her mother and giving a squeeze. Moments like these, when it was just the pair of them, Reagan missed her terribly, wondering why she didn’t come around more often.

“All’s well. How’s my favorite girl? And the pub?”

“I’m fine, and the pub is too.”

Even if the world was coming down around her, Reagan would never tell her mother anything else. She already had to deal with a drunk for a husband, she didn’t need to worry about the stress Reagan was under too.

“I’m glad. Your brother should be here soon.”

Reagan nodded. Jimmy never missed Sunday brunch, even the one time when he was hung over to the point that he threw up as soon as he cleared the entryway.

After she said the words, Isabelle’s eyes skirted past Reagan towards one of the framed pictures. Reagan didn’t have to look to know which one had her attention. It was the one she always looked to when she made reference to Jimmy.

No, Jimmy never missed brunch, and back when her other brothers were still around, they would never miss brunch either.

But that was before Conor made it clear that they weren’t welcome anymore.

Reagan had seen them maybe twice in the last seven years.

There wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t think about her brothers, and when she came home, sitting around the dining table with Jimmy, Conor, and Isabelle, she felt their absence more than ever. They all did.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Reagan asked changing the subject.

“Almost finished here, love.”

And even if she weren’t, she would still do it all herself. That was who Isabelle O’Callahan was. She was a wife and a mother, and her main priority in life was caring for her family. Reagan admired her for it, even if she couldn’t understand the sentiment completely.

She loved her mother and her brothers unconditionally. Her father…well she had learned to tolerate him. But she couldn’t imagine giving up everything for someone like her father—and she knew that was a shitty way to feel. He might have been different, back when they had still lived in Ireland, but now, she was only plagued with the bad memories.

“Why don’t you go and relax—wait for your brother to get here.” Isabelle’s voice pulled Reagan from her thoughts.

Seeing no other choice, she did as asked, pulling her phone from her pocket as she went. There were a couple of texts from Liam, but she didn’t bother to read them—a couple more hours of ignoring him couldn’t hurt. Instead, she scrolled through her contacts until she reached Shannon’s name.

As she clicked on it, opening up a new screen, she sent a text that made a chill run down her spine.

I saw Niklaus last night…

More than anyone else, she would know exactly who she was talking about. Shan had been the only person around that Reagan let know how hurt she had been when Niklaus disappeared out of her life as quickly as he had entered it.

Her phone chimed with another alert, but before she could read it, the front door opened, Jimmy stepping in. He looked annoyed—one of his usual expressions when he was asked to come for brunch—but when he glanced over at her, he did smile.

Jimmy came straight over, pulling her into a fast hug before kissing both her cheeks. “How was last night?”

He had wanted to stay behind and close with her, but after she insisted she could handle it, he had taken off. Now that Niklaus had popped up, she was glad she had sent him away.

She was more glad that Liam’s guy, Bobby, had already left for the night. She didn’t want to think about what Bobby would have done if he had seen Niklaus—especially with the reaction she’d had to him—not to mention when he told Liam.

Rourke might have been the scarier of the two, but Liam could hold his own. Reagan had witnessed that firsthand.

“Is that my boy?”

Isabelle called from the kitchen, sounding a touch more excited than when Reagan had come in, but she didn’t mind this. Reagan was the ‘good child’ as her father liked to put it during one of his rare bouts of sobriety. She came around to see her parents often and did, mostly, whatever they wanted—in his eyes, that constituted as good.

Jimmy, on the other hand, only showed up because their mother begged. Otherwise, if it was just their father at home, he refused to step foot inside.

Speaking of…

A crash sounded from the back of the apartment, and Reagan was immediately filled with unease as she waited for Conor to come stumbling out.

He did come, but at least he wasn’t stumbling, swaying more like it. Since the last time she had seen it, he’d grown out more of his wiry beard, his hair greasy and unkempt. The shirt he wore was stained, and the jeans looked faded—but at least he wore pants this time so she couldn’t complain.

She could smell the whiskey on him from well across the room. Glancing up at the clock, she shook her head. It wasn’t even noon yet.

But she didn’t voice this, merely pasted on a smile as she moved to greet him, wrapping her arms around him. Once, he had looked fit, made it a point to look his best, but after he’d lost his way, he’d gained a beer belly, and looked sallow.

“Reagan,” he said, only slightly slurring her name. “How’s my wee girl?”

Despite the years spent in America, he still retained his accent, refusing to let it go. It was his pride and joy, he’d always said.

He pulled away after a moment, giving her a smile as he headed into the kitchen, her following.

Jimmy was smiling at their mother, no trace of unease on his face at least until Conor walked in. It was like a switch had been hit, and his expression went blank.

For one tense moment, they made eye contact, holding it. Reagan knew what would come next. Her father would say something rude, Jimmy would respond in kind, they would argue until the shouting was enough to bring the neighbors around, and finally, Jimmy would be out the door with Reagan trying to mend the damage.

But for whatever reason, this morning her father merely made a noise of discontent before shuffling over to the table and taking his seat.

Reagan blew out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Maybe, just maybe, this breakfast wouldn’t be a disaster.

---

“Holy shit.”

It was five hours after Sunday brunch and Reagan was back at the pub, filling orders as men crowded the tables, some watching American football, others watching various soccer matches. She’d had a chilled glass in her hand, filling it with Bud Light when she heard Shannon’s soft exclamation.

First she looked to her, then to where her gaze was trained, immediately regretting the decision when she caught sight of Niklaus.

Even in a pub full of rowdy men, he looked out of place. There was just something that was too…calm about the way he acted. Most people displayed some kind of emotion when they went places—tired from a long day at work, fear of being in a new place, surprise at the sheer amount of people or noise—but Niklaus? It was like nothing bothered him.

Even though the temperature was in the high fifties, one wouldn’t know that by looking at him. A black shirt stretched across his chest, black jeans that fit him far too well and tucked into scuffed black boots. He briefly glanced around the space until his eyes landed on her, and just like when she’d seen him last night, there was a flare of something dark in his eyes.

She remembered that look and all that it promised.

“What’s he doing here?” Shannon went on to ask, but she had more than curiosity in her tone. “I guess I know for who, but I wonder why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

When she didn’t respond, Reagan glanced over at Shannon who looked confused for a moment before she asked, “Why don’t you look surprised that he’d be here?”

“What? Of course I’m surprised, he—”

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”

“He might have walked in here last night when I was closing up.”

“And you didn’t tell me!”

The problem with Shan was how her voice got louder when she was excited. Already, a couple of patrons were looking in their direction, but Reagan ignored their attention, setting down the pint of beer in front of the man that had ordered it, picking up the ten he’d left waiting for her.

“Shan, please don’t—”

“I’m like the first person you should tell,” she said, her voice lowering a touch.

“I sent you a text this morning. Didn’t you get it?”

“You know my phone is sketchy at best. I—oh hey, I remember you,” Shan said as Niklaus took a seat at the end of the bar, oblivious—or just not caring—of the death glare Reagan was sending in her direction. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You must not have recognized me when you came by the diner and asked whether Reagan still worked there.”

What?

Reagan looked at them both in turn. Niklaus’ expression hardly changed, though his brow did twitch, but she hadn’t a clue what that meant. Shannon on the other hand, had one hand on her hip and was staring at him with all the bravado in the world.

“But I’m not surprised you don’t remember me,” Shan went on when Niklaus didn’t respond. “You had seemed to be wrapped up in Reagan, at least until you left.”

“Shannon!” Joey called from the kitchen.

In that moment, Reagan could have kissed the man, or at least offered him a raise. Reluctantly, and with a pointed look in Reagan’s direction, Shan stalked off.

Focusing on Niklaus, she asked, “Why are you here again? I thought I made it clear last night that I didn’t want you here.”

He folded his hands on the bar top, openly studying her. “Is that what you meant?”

“Niklaus—”

“We need to talk.”

She was already shaking her head. “No, we don’t. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

“No? I think we do.”

“Niklaus we could have talked years ago, back when I actually wanted to talk to you. Now, there’s nothing.”

Before she could move away from him, he grabbed hold of her hand, his thumb at her wrist. “Give me ten minutes to explain.”

“Even if I needed one—and I don’t—it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

When he didn’t respond, but kept a firm hold of her, she finally looked at him, straight into those pale blue eyes of his, ones that she had always thought were spell-binding.

“Ten minutes. If you still don’t want to see me after, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fine. Not today though.”

“Give me a time, and I’m yours.”

She shouldn’t have been as pleased as she was by his words. He probably didn’t even mean it the way she took it, but she couldn’t help it.

“Are you ordering something, or are you leaving?”

He gifted her with the slightest of smiles. Yeah, he was staying.

Rolling her eyes—though she was trying her hardest not to be charmed—she filled a glass and set it in front of him, then walked away before he could engage her in conversation again.

Reagan could almost pretend that he wasn’t there. Almost.

But his presence was the least of her concern as the atmosphere changed when the door opened and a gust of wind blew in, men following close behind.

She didn’t have to look up to know that it was Liam—she could feel the change in the air. How the animated conversations had come to a standstill, or how chairs screeched as people got to their feet, tossing bills on the table, and headed for the door. He thought he was doing her a favor by keeping Rourke away? His presence alone was ruining her.

Casually maneuvering through the crowd of people, he didn’t stop until he was standing in front of the bar directly in front of her and right beside Niklaus. Though everyone on the barstools closest to Liam scurried out of the way, Niklaus remained where he was, utterly unaffected by him as he continued drinking his beer.

Liam peered over in his direction—probably wondering why he hadn’t moved like the others—and was about to dismiss him entirely, but then his eyes narrowed.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Niklaus placed his glass on the bar. “Doubtful.” That was it. That was all he said as though Liam wasn’t worth more of an effort.

Reagan didn’t know whether she was impressed or afraid that he seemed so unbothered by Liam’s quite obvious display of power.

Liam might have looked annoyed with the slight, but he chose to ignore it, turning back to Reagan. “We need to talk. Privately.”

Though the last thing she wanted to do was talk to him, she nodded anyway. Liam was a jealous man, and anytime he thought someone might have an interest in her, he made it a point to make sure they understood she was off limits. Sometimes it was just with words…other times, not.

She didn’t want to think about what he might do to Niklaus considering they’d had a relationship in the past—even if it was strictly sexual.

“Okay.”

“You sure about that?”

Reagan and Liam both looked to Niklaus after he asked the question, but he was focused solely on Reagan. He was trying to convey something to her, just with the look in his eyes, but she couldn’t decipher it.

“Oy, who in the hell do you think you are?” Liam demanded.

As Niklaus got to his feet, Reagan rushed around the bar. She stepped between them, her back to Niklaus, staring up at Liam. “Don’t. You promised me that my place was off limits to you and your brother.”

That was one of the few things that Liam had allotted her. Since he didn’t like her around his brother much—mainly because Rourke was a psychopath—he had told her during the beginning that he would make sure they kept all business away from her pub so she wouldn’t lose her business. Even if she had never witnessed it, teaching people a lesson in respect was one of their businesses.

“We can go in the office to talk.” It was beyond clear that he wasn’t done with Niklaus, but she refused to give him what he wanted. “Please.”

After a tense moment, he gestured for her to go ahead of him, and only when she was sure he wouldn’t do something when her back was turned did she disappear down the hallway with Liam at her heels.

They were barely inside with the door closed before Liam was in her face. “Who the fuck was that?”

She had seen him annoyed, sure. Frustrated. But never angry. And now that she was in the face of it, for the first time she felt fear of him.

Maybe it wasn’t just Rourke everyone needed to watch out for.

Swallowing, she met his eyes and said, “I don’t know.” Yes, she knew his name and knew more intimate details about him, but for what he really wanted to know, she didn’t have the answer.

“Then what’s he doing piping up at me? Trying to protect you?” He searched her face, his gaze narrowing. “Or you trying to protect him?”

Choosing to ignore his first two questions, she did answer the last. “Everyone knows who you are Liam and that makes them weary of coming here. My business is already suffering just because they think you might show up. If you actually hurt someone here, they would never come back.”

He conceded to her point, though this wasn’t vocalized, just a mere nod of his head. There was no need in arguing it further, she was just glad he was willing to let it go.

“Now, what did you want to talk about?”

“Jimmy.”

Her shoulders relaxed as she heard her brother’s name. “What about him?”

“There’s word that he’s been hanging around Declan.”

Reagan was careful, very careful to keep her expression blank. When Liam had barged his way into her life, he hadn’t thought of who she or her family was, only that she could be his shiny new play thing he wanted to possess.

What he didn’t know was that their families, her and Declan’s, had known each other for years, even before coming over to America. Their mothers had been the best of friends for a long time, at least until Conor found out what the patriarch of the Flanagan family did for a living. But once he had, Conor severed ties with them, demanding that none of them even mention the Flanagan name again.

Her mother had meekly agreed to his demands, and since Reagan had been only a girl, she’d had no choice in the matter.

But her brothers…

They and Declan had been close, too close for Conor to rip them apart.

It was ultimately their loyalty to Declan that made Conor disown them.

Jimmy was another story entirely. Since he was only three years older than her, to their brothers, he had been too young to hang around them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try and follow them around every chance he got. Their mother may have been passive when it came to many things, but she had been unwilling to give Jimmy up.

So yeah, there was a strong possibility that Jimmy was hanging around Declan—especially if the rumors of him being back were true—and with the way Jimmy had been talking yesterday, he obviously had a reason for going to him of all people.

And that reason worried her.

But Reagan loved her brother, and she wasn’t going to give him up. “I don’t see how that’s possible. He’s been at the pub every night.” Sometimes for only an hour, but that was semantics.

“And you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“No.”

She could tell he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t argue the point. “Tell that brother of yours to steer clear of the Flanagans. We wouldn’t want him to become collateral damage.”

Reagan bristled. “Are you threatening my brother?”

“Merely making a point, love.”

He curled a hand around the back of her neck and squeezed, making her wince. Maybe she had been foolish in believing that he was any better than his brother. She was seeing that now.

“Stay out of trouble.”

He pressed his lips hard against her forehead before letting her go, walking out of the office without a look back. Shortly after he’d gone and the door chimed signaling his exit, the conversations started back up.

Reagan only had a moment to herself before Shan came barging in.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” But she didn’t believe that herself, not entirely.

“What did he want?”

“It was nothing.”

“Are you—”

Reagan cut her off. “I’m sure. Is Niklaus…is he still out there?”

Frowning, Shan shook her head. “He left almost immediately after you came back here.”

She should have been glad, but she couldn’t deny the disappointment that slowly wormed through her. Even so, she said, “Good.” She pushed off her desk, grabbing her phone from her back pocket to send a quick text to her brother to call her as soon as he got the chance. As she was pocketing it, she ran over everything that had happened with Niklaus and remembered something. “What did you mean when you said he came by the diner asking about me?”

“He did. I had forgotten all about it until I saw him today—meant to tell you but I forgot.”

“What happened? When was this?”

“Maybe a year and a half ago? A little longer? And not much did happen. He came in, sat at a table with another guy. I took their order, he asked if you were working, and that was that. He didn’t stay too much longer after that. Which, let’s be honest, if he was looking for you then, that obviously means he’s popped up now for you.”

Reagan didn’t even want to contemplate that.

“But the real question is, what are you going to do about Liam? I’ve seen the way both of them look at you, and it’s only to one that you give the same look back.”

“I care nothing about Niklaus, Shan.”

Rolling her eyes, Shan swung the door open. “Of course not, but Liam won’t care that you don’t care about him, he’ll only care that he cares about you. And even if it’s not Liam that goes after him, his brother might just to prove a point.”

Yeah, that was what she was afraid of.

Shan headed back to the bar after that, leaving Reagan to her thoughts. Now, not only did she have to worry about her brother, she had to worry about Niklaus too. She almost hoped he wasn’t staying for long, just handling whatever business he came for then went back to wherever it was he came from.

Because she didn’t think he would be safe if Liam saw in her what Shan did.