The Best Part of Me (23 page)

Turning to find his shirt where he'd left it at the bottom of the streetlamp, Ewan pushed his arms through the short sleeves before pulling it over his head.

“McKenna.”

Ewan turned at the call of his name, and among the crowd, he noticed a familiar face that he'd sooner forget.

Adam Madigan was tall, standing two inches taller than Ewan. It only took one glance at the man to let anyone know that he was incredibly powerful. Not in a physical sense but in the way that said he had whatever resources at his disposal to make you do exactly what he wanted you to do. He looked out of place in his three-piece striped suit and his blood-red tie.

It had been nearly six years since Ewan had last seen the bastard, yet the calculated menace in the man's expression still sent shivers up his spine. Ever since Ewan had met him, Adam Madigan always seemed to walk that thin line between sanity and lunatic. They were the same age, and back in the day, they hadn't had any trouble getting along. But when Adam's father, Oliver, had decided to step down due to his failing health, Adam moved into his role as the head of the family and never looked back.

Ewan knew that walking away from this man, unlike Keith Hardy, wasn't going to make him go away.

“I see you haven't changed a bit,” Adam said with a grin as he finally stopped in front of Ewan, out of earshot of the rest of the crowd, who still lingered waiting to see what would happen next.

Adam extended his hand in greeting. Knowing that not returning the gesture would be drawing a line in the sand, Ewan shook Madigan's hand with a nod.

Time hadn't aged Adam a bit. He looked fit as ever, and his dark hair hadn't receded at all. He still had the good looks and chiseled jaw that'd had all the women swooning in his younger years. Even though his handshake was firm, Ewan couldn't feel any calluses on his smooth, warm hands. Then again, in his line of work, Adam Madigan never had to get his hands dirty.

“Still quite the talker, too, from the sounds of it,” the man said with a laugh.

“I've nothing to say.”

“So I've heard. I understand that Hardy delivered a message from me that you weren't agreeable to?”

Ewan said nothing.

“I'm sure that Hardy's delivery was less than…sincere. That's why I've decided to come see you myself. We have some big plans in the works and we could use you.”

“With all due respect, I'm not interested,” Ewan replied shortly.

“Yes, yes. I've been told. But I'm afraid I wasn't really asking for your opinion on the matter.”

“Adam, I told you all those years ago that I wanted out. We shook on it, remember?”

Madigan nodded slowly. “I do remember. But you honestly didn't think that things would be that easy did you?”

Ewan's scalp prickled as he watched the head of Boston's largest crime family smile. He swallowed and leveled his gaze. “I worked hard for you and your father before you for years. We agreed that I'd done my time.”

The man chuckled as he drew closer to Ewan before letting his hand rest heavily on Ewan's shoulder. “Continuing with your insinuation that employment with my family is comparable to a prison term, let's just say that once you're in, it's more of a life sentence. Without the possibility of parole.”

“That's not what we agreed to.”

“I'm afraid I don't remember the specifics of our conversation six years ago. But I do know that you're needed now, and I expect you to fall in line.”

Ewan shook his head. “I won't toe your line anymore,” he said before turning to walk away.

“That's too bad,” Adam said loudly behind him. “It seems that a little coercion is in order.”

Ewan looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Don't tell me you want to fight me, Adam.”

The man laughed heartily. “Dear God, no. But my friend Danny here does.”

Adam motioned toward a giant of a man standing off to the side of the crowd. The man was nearly six and a half feet tall and thickly muscled like a tank.

“Danny, please explain to Mr. McKenna why it's important to be more agreeable.”

Ewan braced his stance and watched the big man carefully as he lumbered toward him. His thick, heavy boots sounded with dull thumps against the ground, his massive knotted hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

After a split second of watching the man advance, Ewan could tell he was right-handed. He led with his left foot, keeping his right shoulder back for maximum impact. Instinctually, Ewan raised his fists in front to protect his head and chest.

As expected, Danny swung hard with his right arm in a wide arc, which Ewan was able to avoid. What he was not expecting was a low kick to the side of his knee, effectively dropping him to the dirt.

The piercing pain that shot up to his thigh was excruciating, but the fact that the kick hit just below his knee probably saved his leg. In the split second that Ewan was on his back, he saw the other man raise a heavy boot above Ewan's head. He rolled quickly to the side before the boot came thundering down, the man no doubt hoping to crack his skull. Thank God his knee still worked, and the pain pulsing in his leg could be forgotten. Ewan pushed himself up quickly before Danny tried to land a kick to his ribs.

So the fucker wanted to fight dirty?

The bastard was strong, so Ewan knew the only way to beat him was to be faster and to make every hit count. If he could get him on the ground, even better.

Intentionally leaving his left side vulnerable, Ewan lowered his stance and waited for the big man to make his move. Danny took the bait and swung hard at Ewan's left ribs. Instead of dodging, Ewan deflected the hit with his forearm. It hurt like a bitch, but it kept him close and he was able to connect on a hard hit to Danny's jaw.

The big man yelled in fury, immediately swinging an elbow and cracking Ewan below his right eye. If the adrenaline weren't pumping through his bloodstream, he would have instantly felt a stab of pain. But his entire body was numb with fire, and Ewan quickly retaliated and punched Danny in his left temple.

The big man stumbled, and Ewan saw his chance. He plowed his shoulder hard into the ogre's gut, pushing him back quickly and lifting him off his feet. Ewan fell on top of him with a grunt, but it was nothing compared to the sound Danny's head made as hit the ground.

Momentarily stunned, the big man lay motionless just long enough for Ewan to steady himself. He rammed his knee into the other man's groin and left it there as he leaned forward and landed a punch to the side of Danny's head. Effectively incapacitated due to the pressure Ewan was putting on his groin, the giant lay defenseless and howling as Ewan struck him time after time until he went limp underneath him.

Working for each breath, Ewan pushed himself off Danny, swaying slightly once he gained his feet. The white-hot fury was clearing from his field of vision while he quickly scanned the crowd for Adam Madigan, and once he found him, he was pleased to see a bewildered look that Adam wasn't able to hide. Approaching the man slowly, he stopped directly in front of him before turning to the side to spit blood from his mouth.

“I've always been astounded by your skill as a fighter, Ewan. Who taught you? Was it your father? Your brother perhaps?” Adam asked.

At the mention of his brother, all the fury came crashing back into him like a heat wave, making it a struggle to spit out his words. He knew the Madigans had looked into his background when Ewan had joined them many years ago. But still, Adam didn't know jack shit about Ewan's family. Especially his brother.

“You leave me the fuck alone,” Ewan said with barely contained rage. “I want nothing to do with you. That was our agreement. Do you understand me?”

Adam remained outwardly calm, but Ewan noticed he had to force himself to swallow.

“Perfectly.” But it wasn't fear that Ewan heard in his voice, it was dissent.

It was unlikely that Ewan had heard the last from Adam Madigan. And that scared the hell out of him.

“Is something on fire?” Aunt Maura yelled from the other room.

Quinn shoved her arms through the shirt she'd been trying on as she raced from her bedroom to the kitchen. Plumes of gray smoke were seeping out of the oven. She quickly threw the oven door open to find the burnt remains of Darcy's birthday cake.

“Shit!”

Waving the smoke away, Quinn grabbed two kitchen towels and quickly removed the blackened cake rounds and placed them in the sink.

Two hours and fifteen dollars down the drain.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her she had two hours before she had to be at the party. Two hours to mix, bake, assemble, and ice Darcy's cake. Somewhere in those two hours, she was going to have to find time to shower and get ready.

If she hadn't been so concerned with what she was going to wear tonight, she wouldn't have burned the damn cake in the first place. After forty minutes of trying on different outfits, she realized that there was no such thing as a hot and sexy bonfire outfit.

She'd decided against stopping by the pub to see Ewan, even though she was dying to see him. Friday was inventory day for him, and she knew he would be busy accepting deliveries and stocking the bar in anticipation of the weekend crowds. She decided she'd just see him at the party. The party she had to be at with an edible birthday cake. Lucky for her she had enough ingredients to start over.

“Is it safe to come out here?” she heard her aunt say from the hallway.

“Yeah, it's safe.”

Aunt Maura peeked over her shoulder at the charred cake rounds.

“Let me just open a window,” she said. Quinn heard the smile in her voice.

“I'm going to make another one. I think I still have time.”

“Of course you do. I'm sure that the world won't end if Darcy's cake isn't there right at eight o'clock.”

Quinn continued to measure out the dry ingredients, while Aunt Maura sat down in her chair in the living room.

“What kind of cake is it, dear?”

“Vanilla. With chocolate icing and topped with shredded coconut. Darcy's request.”

There was a long pause before she spoke again. “And you say the party is at Erin's house?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Is it a big party?”

“I don't think so.” Quinn looked over her shoulder at her aunt, thinking it odd that she was trying to make small talk. Aunt Maura sat in her recliner, a thoughtful look on her face as she stared out the front door to the hills beyond the yard.

“It's nice of you girls to throw her a party. Is her birthday today?”

“As a matter of fact”—Quinn mixed the wet ingredients into the dry ones—“I didn't think to ask. When we planned the party a week ago, Erin said we'd have it tonight, and I just figured it would be on her birthday. I'll have to ask her when I see her.”

Her aunt was silent again. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept well of late.

“Aunt Maura, can I get you a cup of tea or anything?”

“No, dear, I'm fine.”

Quinn began to pour the batter into the two cake pans.

“Would you like to go to church with me tomorrow morning? I'll probably leave the house at about ten o'clock or so.”

Church? That was an odd question. She knew her aunt attended mass on Sundays, but wasn't aware that there was a service on Saturday as well. Since arriving in Ballagh, she hadn't been to the local church once. It wasn't something that she did regularly at home, and she felt no reason to do it here. Her aunt, who was a devout Catholic, hadn't pressured her into attending services either.

“If you'd like, I'll go. Is there a service tomorrow morning?”

“No, not a service. But the church is always open. I thought we might go light candles for your mother. I've been lighting a candle every year on her birthday since I can remember.”

The spoon fell from Quinn's hand and clanged loudly against the mixing bowl.

An overwhelming sensation of sorrow washed over Quinn, and she froze, staring blankly at the fresh batter sitting in the twin cake pans.

Her mother's birthday.

Heavier than her sorrow, the guilt that she felt was enough to steal her breath. She'd been too preoccupied with her new friends and her landscaping projects to even consider what day it was. Her thoughts were so full of Ewan that she didn't have room for anything else.

Without so much as a look to her aunt, Quinn put the cake pans in the oven and left the kitchen. After walking into her room and quietly shutting the door behind her, Quinn slid down to the floor and hugged her knees.

How could she have forgotten her mother's birthday?

“Ewan, this is the best present!” Darcy exclaimed as she hugged the bottle of Jameson that he'd just presented to her.

“Figured you'd like it.”

When it came to birthday parties, he hadn't been to many. His aunt had mentioned it was only polite to bring a gift. And when it came to Darcy, he knew she liked her whiskey. It'd been an obvious choice.

Not surprisingly, Darcy stood near the makeshift bar, where they had the kegs set up along with some snacks. Her black hair, along with her completely black attire, camouflaged her in the dark like she was some covert operative. Quinn had said Darcy wasn't looking forward to her birthday and it showed. It looked like she was dressed for a funeral. Her pale face was the only thing keeping her from blending completely into the darkness.

The bar was situated well away from the roaring bonfire in the backyard of Erin Brauer's house. It was just past twilight, but the glow from the bonfire was bright enough to light up the whole yard. Rory stood beside the fire, tossing in more wood that the fire surely didn't need. They'd be lucky if the fire department wasn't here before the night was through.

Ewan's eyes scanned the partygoers, looking for Quinn. He'd been irritated that she hadn't stopped by the pub earlier. It was as if she'd just forgotten all about him after her little sojourn to Rhode Island.