Patrick

I wanted to stay with Nya, and that was the reason I left. I went to one of the other bathrooms and then showered and quickly dressed.

Tried desperately not to think about Nya.

Failed.

Last night had been uncharacteristic of me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d picked someone up in a bar. Clear-cut arrangements were more my style. I gave sex and material comfort in exchange for absolute fidelity and availability until I got bored.

Anything else was messy, entanglements that I had no desire or patience for. And random hookups were exactly the kind of thing I tried to avoid.

I didn’t have the smoothness or the desire to make small talk, have petty conversations that would invariably lead to a dark room.

Couldn’t quite say what was different about Nya.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

I’d spotted her the instant she walked into the M. Lounge, zeroed in on her as she walked in wearing fuck-me heels that caught more eyes than mine. The shoes alone were worth the first look, but the woman demanded a second.

Tall, dressed in a conservative black skirt and lavender blouse that said business while her body, curve after curve, screamed fun. She stood tall, straight, walked in a way that said she knew she was beautiful but didn’t give a fuck if you noticed or not. I’d loved the whole package.

Still, despite that powerful initial attraction, I hadn’t bothered. A woman who looked like her would expect a certain amount of flattery, wining, dining, and other pretentious bullshit I had no talent and no time for.

But Nya had subverted my expectations. Despite my unwillingness to go over to her, I listened to her order, expecting something sweet and fruity or maybe a glass of wine. So I had been utterly surprised, and incredibly pleased, to hear her ask for my favorite brand of whiskey, neat. Just the way I drank mine.

I’d decided not to approach her, but that had changed my mind, determined that if she did anything at all to annoy me, I’d leave.

Again, Nya had surprised me.

She’d been wary, something that was smart, but she’d also been open. I’d introduced myself, gauging her to see if she would respond to my name, shrink away from my directness.

She hadn’t.

What she had done was offer me her hand, and when I’d closed my fingers around her soft, small ones, I had known there was no doubt that I would have her.

And I did.

Kissing Nya the first time had given me something like a high.

I had been insatiable, had wanted to see her again, but I’d kept my mouth shut.

Nya was smart. Our brief conversations had showed me as much. It wouldn’t have taken her too long to figure out I wasn’t whatever it was she thought I was, at least not in the traditional sense. She’d probably taken me for some corporate guy and in a lot of ways I was. Keeping the Murphy family running took a certain measure of business acumen.

It also required other skills, skills that would send Nya running away screaming.

I’d decided it wasn’t worth the hassle, nor the disappointment of having to listen to her make some excuse or ice me out. We’d had our incredible night, and I’d leave it at that.

Events had disrupted that clean plan, but even now, the fundamentals hadn’t changed.

I should send her on her way.

Couldn’t make myself.

It was fucked up to think, but there’d been some upside to this shitshow of a morning. I’d resigned myself to never seeing her again, so in a twisted way, the asshole who’d tried to kill me had given me a gift.

Nya didn’t know what was happening.

I didn’t know what was happening.

But she was starting to put the pieces together, and by now she had no doubt figured out that I wasn’t just some working stiff.

And she hadn’t run away screaming.

Of course, she’d been a little distracted, running for her life and dealing with the aftermath of having done so. But she was here. For now that was enough, and maybe it presented an opportunity for us to exercise the desire that even now still hung in the background.

“You seem pretty fucking happy for a guy who just got shot at.”

Michael, the third oldest Murphy brother, walked into the small study that served as our primary meeting place.

“What? No ‘Glad to see you’re okay, Patrick’? No ‘I’ll see whoever tried to kill you regret the day he was born, Patrick’?” I asked.

Michael scowled, shook his head. “That goes without saying. You still seem pretty happy. Or as happy as you get.”

“What can I say? I had a good night, all things considered.”

“Your visitor, I take it?”

“Grown men gossiping. I didn’t know that was a part of the Murphy tradition,” I said.

“Ha-ha, Patrick. Also, fuck you. What were you doing in my fucking hotel?” he asked.

“Now we get to the heart of the matter. You could’ve saved me some of your breath, Michael. Haven’t I always told you to be more direct?” I said.

“Is that your answer?” Michael asked, looking furious, though Michael pretty much always looked furious.

“I don’t answer to you, little brother,” I said. “And it’s not your hotel. It’s our hotel.”

“Yeah, the one you insisted I run. The one I agreed to run because you promised not to interfere,” he said.

“Was I interfering?” I asked.

Michael glared at me. “What, you’re saying you were out for evening drinks and just so happened to find yourself there? You must think I’m stupid.”

“So why was I there?” I asked.

“To check up on me,” he said flatly.

“Not entirely,” I said.

“So that’s a yes. What the fuck, Patrick? You don’t think I can run your precious fucking hotel?” he said.

“It’s our hotel, and you take shit too personally. There’s a lot of money in that hotel and a lot more to be made from it. It would be stupid of me not to keep an eye on it.”

“More like keep an eye on me,” he grumbled.

“Stop being such a fucking baby, Michael. You wanted nothing to do with the hotel, so why are you getting so pissed?” I asked.

I suspected the answer, and though now was not the most opportune time, this was a conversation Michael and I needed to have. Might as well get it over with.

“I’m getting pissed because this was all your idea. It’s you who thinks I’m not good enough to work in the real business, and apparently it’s the same for this one. You’re keeping me from what I want to do and standing over my shoulder in something I don’t. So yeah, that pisses me off,” he said.

I shook my head, irritated because I had so much other shit to handle, but also sad because my brother was too stubborn and too angry to see what I was trying to do.

“That’s only half true and you know it, Michael. I’ve kept you out of the real business because you’re a fucking hothead. You need to learn some self-control, not fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. And you need some responsibility. The hotel gives you both, and if you look at this as an opportunity to learn and grow the fuck up, I might consider giving you some other duties.”

Michael sobered, frowned, and for a moment, I thought he would counter me. After a second, he shook his head. “You’re such an asshole, Patrick,” he said.

I had gotten my point across.

I felt some fleeting regret that Michael thought I didn’t trust him. I did, implicitly, but I also knew who he was, knew that he needed more seasoning and patience before I let him in on more Murphy family business.

“And besides, I heard good things. Wanted to see them myself,” I added.

The words were true and were also my way of softening the conversation, making sure that Michael knew I cared. From the slight change in his expression, the little smile that covered his face, I could see he’d gotten the message.

“And I assume you saw good things. Good enough to convince you to stay the night,” he said, the scowl that had been on his face moments ago before transitioning into that little smile now a grin.

“That was an unexpected development,” I replied.

“Worth it, I hope.”

“More than,” I said, the memory of those heated moments with Nya coming back in an instant.

His grin got deeper. “I thought Sean was the Murphy who spent all his time trying to fuck. You figured he shouldn’t have all the fun?”

“Something like that,” I said. Then, in the next moment, I met his eyes. “What have you found out?”

As interesting as Nya was, and despite how much I cared about my brother’s feelings, not that I would ever tell him so, I needed to find out who had tried to kill me.

“Nothing yet,” he replied, now as somber as I was. “Sean has the tapes from the hotel. Declan is hitting his contacts. We’ll find something soon.”

I nodded, knowing that was a certainty. I wouldn’t rest until we did, and my brothers and I hadn’t yet met a challenge we couldn’t face. This wouldn’t be any different.

“Any ideas?” Michael asked.

“No, I don’t have any ideas,” I said. “Everything is running smoothly in our business and in the legitimate deals.”

I’d bought and renovated M. Hotel and Lounge two years ago, and though there had been a fierce bidding war and some wrinkles as I’d learned how to work in the legitimate world, everything was running smoothly, and I was in the process of buying another hotel in a nearby city.

“And nothing in the streets?” he asked.

“Not a peep. Everyone is getting their money cleaned and returned on schedule.”

“So there’s no reason for anyone to move against you or the rest of us?” he said.

“Not an obvious one, but somebody is,” I said.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said.

“If I said no, would that stop you?” I replied.

He snorted. “No, but I’m just curious.”

“Go ahead,” I said.

Michael smiled, leaned back in his chair, in this moment looking happy, carefree in a way he seldom did. “Are you more annoyed that someone tried to kill you, or that they were bad at it?”

I laughed, and Michael did the same.

“Am I that obvious?” I replied.

“Yeah,” Michael said, nodding. His expression dropped just a little. “And you remember what Aengus always said about doing a job right.”

I shook my head, remembering how my father had drilled that lesson into each of us, even if he hadn’t been so good at following it himself.

“One of the few things he was right about,” I said.

It had taken me decades to admit that my father was right about anything. But in this I would give him credit. I was annoyed that someone had shot at me, especially while in the company of an innocent woman. But I was even more annoyed that they had so spectacularly failed. Yes, I was grateful for their failure, but I was insulted by the shoddy work.

Unfortunately for them, I wouldn’t repeat their mistake.