Page 30 of Steel Rain

“Good evening, Mr. Green,” a man nodded as he walked by them.

Eoghan nodded back to them like he was the fucking Pope and was bestowing a blessing.

They were halfway up the aisle before the chatter resumed, the two of them striding like they were walking in a military formation. Like they were sizing up their troops, andeveryoneseemed to sit up taller, as if they were coiled and ready to jump at Eoghan’s command.

I get it. I really do. I get that Eoghan and Dairo are imposing now that they were adults.

They’re broad, strong-jawed, and serious. Theylookedthe part of leaders, and men aspire to be just like them. They had that trait that made people stop and listen when they spoke. But I would always see them as the brothers I never had.

Theannoyingbrothers I never had.

Eoghan’s eyes drifted through the room, and then landed on me.

It spurred me back into action, and I filled my plate, not even looking at what I was grabbing and finding the nearest available seat with Kieran close behind me.

“How often do they eat here?” I asked, nodding my head to the Irish head. “Like … every other day? What?”

My voice was more tense than I wanted it to be and I was just speaking to keep the conversation going. I was trying to breathe. I wanted to get my heartrate back down. I needed to get a hold of myself, or I’d never survive here.

My heart was pounding in my ears at the sight of these Irish faces. People who should have been my family. I did not like this. I did not like this at all.

The air was crackling with electricity, and one bit of static would set me on fire.

“Probably every other day. Maybe more or less.” Kieran shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the panic that was starting to overtake me. “I think it’s kinda cool of them.”

Of course, he would. Of course! He was in good standing with them, so their company, and scrutiny would be a good thing. But not for me. Not at all. If I could stay far, far away from them, it would still be too close.

“Slut!” An open palm slammed the side of my head, and I almost toppled off my chair.

I managed to land on one knee, as I heard the scrape of a chair as Kieran screamed, “What the fuck, Grimes!”

“Keith was too good for you,” Grimes snarled. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Fuck. This. Motherfucker!

It was one thing to hate me for leaving. It was another to pretend that the piece of filth they called Keith Bournes deservedanythingfrom me. I might be a shit person. I might be a terrible sister. Hell, I might even be a traitor to the Irish, and Green Fields Enterprises, but I was nothing compared to Keith.

I slammed my fist upward, an uppercut to Grimes’ sternum. I felt it impact inward as the air left his body in a whooshing, choking sound. Just for shits and grins, I brought my forehead down onto his nose, headbutting his enormous snout. He stumbled backwards and growled, his face turning many shades of red.

He was ready to lunge at me, and I was ready to defend. I would take that mother fucker down if I had to. I’d choke the life out of him … I could do it. Right here, right now, I wouldloveto watch him bleed.

But he didn’t lunge. He didn’t come after me. A large palm came onto his collar, twisting it until it tightened around his neck.

“Now,boyo,” that Irish voice sang, as casual as if he was talking about the weather. “You’re not starting a fight in my chow hall, are you?”

Grimes snarled, before his face relaxed and he got a hold of himself. He took a step back after Eoghan let go of his collar. The weasel ran his hands over his shirt, smoothing away the wrinkles before he gave a curt, “No, Mr. Green.”

“That’s right, now, we’re all friends here,” Eoghan stepped between us, wrapping a hand around Grimes’ shoulder, then mine and bringing us into his side.

Eoghan was massive. I had never really thought about it before, but he was a tall man, with a lean build. The man was made of marble, and I felt his biceps digging into my shoulder as he pulled us in his arms so the three of us looked like we were about to take a group photo.

“Now, why don’t you two shake hands and make up,” Eoghan said, that smile still on his lips. A smile that both screamed congeniality and the threat of extreme violence all at once.

Grimes looked at Eoghan, saw he was serious, then reached an open hand out to me.

He was legitimately scared of Eoghan. That was the only way I could explain this extreme obedience. But, unlike the weasel, I wasn’t afraid of Eoghan, so I held out, looking at the palm and ready to spit on it if I had to.

“Make peace, Flanagan,” another voice said. It was calmer, British, and imploring.

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