Page 49 of Brutal Collateral

Through a maze of flora-covered corridors with stone arches to an open courtyard, we reach the chapel and see people milling around outside.

Not just people. The O’Rourkes. The deadly mob family we used to work for. And a few Quinlans, Aunt Freye and Uncle Patrick are here.

Christ, not only are we late, I’m showing up with a busted lip and a swollen eye about to close. Freye will call my mother about this for sure.

I put on my suit jacket, but the minute someone passes by with a tray of drinks, I grab one and down it in one gulp.

I fish out a one-hundred-dollar bill and hand it to the server. “I need a Jameson, right now.”

Connor and Shane snag flutes of champagne, Connor gagging. “I’ll take a whiskey, too.”

“Right away, gentlemen.” The guy hustles off with my Benjamin.

“You should marry Ava here,” Connor says, looking around. “It’s nice. Seems safe. Five Quinlans and seven O’Rourke men are no match for her.”

Any other woman could be overpowered by one man. I’m marrying one who might be strong enough to take on twelve tall, brutish, and deadly Irishmen.

I wipe my forehead. “That’s if there is a wedding.”

“Do you think her brother will call it off?” Connor asks. “Seeing you tied her up and put her in your trunk.”

“That and she explicitly told me she’s not marrying anyone.”

Shane’s flute stops before his mouth. “That’s her brother’s call.”

I salivate when the glass of whiskey is brought to me. “Thanks, mate.”

I let it burn down my throat then wave to Trace and his new bride Shea O’Rourke coming toward us.

God, this is so embarrassing.

“I know we’re late. And, I’m sorry we can’t stay.” I kiss Shea on the cheek. “Congratulations, lass. And welcome to the family.”

Hopefully, there won’t be a bounty on all our heads by nightfall.

“You can’t stay at my wedding?” Trace stares at us. “Why not?”

“There’s a body in my trunk,” I blurt, not coming up with a better reason.

“What,mytrunk’s not good enough for you?” Rhys slinks over.

“What?”Shea yelps.

“Parked where?” Trace crosses his arms, sounding amused.

“That’s your question?” Shea shoves her new husband.

Get used to it, lass.

“The car is parked under a tree,” I say and finish my whiskey, wondering if I should just ask the guy to bring me the whole bottle.

“Whose body is in your trunk?” Trace asks, finally looking worried.

“Two bodies, really,” I say into my empty glass and clear my throat. “One alive, very much alive. The other...not so much.”

Trace gives a side-eye to Shea, who probably should walk away before she hears something she shouldn’t.

Trace tugs her next to him and says, “Whoexactly is in your trunk? My wife can handle it.”

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