Page 83 of Hot Irish Halloween

“Jack!”

Jack turned to watch as Simon gladhanded his way through the crowd, looking pleased as fucking punch. He wore a sharp, dark suit. Clarissa was nowhere in sight.

“Great to see you. Welcome back to my humble abode…and to the cage.” Those bright, almost eerily blue eyes scanned the guests, all talking with drinks in their hands and plates of hors d’oeuvres. Probably something expensive and nasty as fuck. “I trust that everything looks in order? I spared no expense. I got the best in the business to make sure everything was assembled precisely to your instructions.”

“Looks good,” Jack affirmed with a nod.

That said, Simon zeroed in on Penny, who stared back at him cooly. “Hello, Penelope. You’re looking lovely tonight. I’m glad to see you recovered from that unfortunate little spill in that video.” Simon leaned in close to her as Jack glared at him. “But I do confess, I’m not sorry it’s given us a chance to see each other again.”

“I can’t say the same,” Penny said flatly. “And it’s Mrs. Valentine.”

Simon only raised his eyebrows and grinned, clearly amused by her insult rather than offended.

“Very well, Mrs. Valentine.” He bowed to her, still smirking when he straightened. “Anyway, after the fight, you might want to go upstairs and visit Clarissa. She’s having a little gathering of her own. She won’t be joining us down here. She hates the sight of blood if she’s not the one spilling it. Over there…” Simon pointed to the right side of the square formation of seats. “Front row seats for Mrs. Valentine and any guests you’ve brought. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Diarmuid.”

Simon signaled to their old server, who walked over attentively. Jack could have wrung the man’s thin neck, remembering how he’d put his hands on Penny the last time they’d seen him. Fuck “just following orders.”

“Please show Mr. Valentine and his team the dressing area.”

“This way, please.” Diarmuid held out his hand, indicating they should follow.

From the corner of his eye, Jack saw La Roque being escorted out of the Great Hall as well. He was staring at Penny with a look Jack hadn’t seen before. Not his typical arsehole grin, like he was about to deliver a taunt. His expression was serious. Jack would gladly have walked over and cracked his skull in for even looking at her, but these self-important arseholes had come to see a fight between professionals. He was going to give them theshow they wanted, ending with that bastard being carried out on a stretcher.

In the private room, the atmosphere was a little somber. The others were trading jokes softly when he came out of the ensuite bathroom dressed in his black silk trunks with white stripes down the side. Penny gave him an appreciative look; it was the first time she’d seen him dressed for battle. Charlie got his hands wrapped and helped him pull his gloves on, securing the Velcro tightly at the wrists. Jack flexed his fingers; the gloves fit perfectly.

Anticipation, excitement, and dread all bubbled in his stomach. In Vegas, he’d had no inkling it would be the last time he fought professionally. This night was different. Going in knowing it would be the final fight was bittersweet. The last “wild chapter” of his life was closing for good.

Someone was arguing outside the door. Jack nodded at Bran, who went to see who it was. To Jack’s surprise, his cousin James walked in. He cast a severe glance at the guard who was apparently securing the room but beamed a big smile at Jack. Same old James. Still with the slicked-back blonde hair, full dark blonde beard, and twinkling blue-gray eyes behind his glasses. The gray tweed suit made him look more like a stuffy professor than one of London’s most vicious mobsters. What a fucking sight for sore eyes.

“Made it, mate. Wha’ gwan?” James greeted him.

Grinning, Jack went to give him a short, hard hug. “Glad you could come. Is Summer out there?”

Summer was James’s wife of three years. His smile faltered for a quick second. “No. But I’d love to meet your bride. There she is. You must be Penny.” James turned that thousand-watt smile on her, and Jack could swear he saw those pretty brown cheeks grow a bit warmer. If it was anybody else but James…

“Hi, James. Nice to finally meet you,” she said and came over to give him a small hug.

“Likewise, love.” Pleasant, he went to shake hands with Jade, who blushed and went mute. Turning back to Jack, he grinned again. “Do you need a pep talk, mate, or should I just say go fucking kill the bastard?”

“Kill the bastard is good,” Jack said with a nod. “Talk for a minute?” He inclined his head toward a quiet corner. Penny graciously nodded. She and Jade returned to Meghan, who was giving James dirty looks from her seat like she always did. Cousin rivalry. She didn’t like the Carr’s having any claim on Jack’s familial affections.

“You didn’t tell me Penny was pregnant.” James’s eyes turned serious with his back to the others. “You know, there’d be no shame in hopping in me truck with your woman and heading to Manny for a bit till things calm down. Let these cunts get off on something other than watching you get your skull smashed in.”

“It’s not about them orforthem. It’s me.” Jack was resolute. Sighing hard, James nodded curtly. “But if anything should happen…I told Bran to get her out of here if things don’t look like they’re going well for me. But now that you’re here, I’d rather it was you. Get her to America, to her family. Will you do that for me? Look out for her and my child. Promise me.” Momentarily overcome by the emotion clogging his throat and his whole chest, Jack had to stop talking.

“I will,” James said quietly. The glint of overhead lighting on his glasses hid whatever he might be feeling. “But I won’t need to. You take care of them yourself. Kill that bastard.”

They hugged, clapping each other on the back. James stepped away as Charlie announced, “Alright, alright, enough gum-flappin’. Anybody who ain’t carrying cotton swabs or a spit bucket needs to go.”

Meghan and Bran came over to wish him luck. After they’d left the room, and Charlie turned away to stare at the wall, Penny walked over to Jack as he shifted from foot to foot to begin warming up. He had that déjà vu again, this time of seeing her on the sidewalk in front of Mollie Malone. How incredible she’d looked the following afternoon, wrapped in that damned temptation of a dress opening the door with that big, white smile, ruining his plan to take it nice and slow. He remembered her passing the black and white photo of their tiny miracle across the kitchen island and that shy grin.

Slowly, she reached out and gripped his biceps gently as if touching something precious. She had to know she was the precious one. Jack was overcome again. All he could do was lean his forehead against hers, breathing in her air, soaking up her heat and her deep, abiding goodness. He knew what he was asking her to do, to witness, was a sacrifice for her. He vowed to himself that he was going to spend the rest of their lives making it up to her.

“Penny. Did I ever tell you you’re the bravest person I know?” he murmured.

“No, but I’ll take the compliment. Did I ever tell you I am so proud of you?”

Jack grinned breathlessly. “You don’t have to. I can see it whenever you look at me.” He lifted his head to look into the dark depths of her eyes. He saw the trust in them, her faith in them. Jack was seconds away from telling her they’d walk out, get in James’s car, and drive away. Instead, he said, “Don’t forget, you owe me a private performance. I want you to sing for me.”

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