"I told you not to run," He growled, glaring down at me.
I tried to beg but when I opened my mouth no words came out, just a whimper. He knelt down on his haunches so he was face to face with me, his gaze consuming me. Pushing a blonde lock behind...
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Declan
Swirling my rocks glass around, I watched the melting ice tumble around, suspended in my drink. Taking a sip, I hummed as the liquid fire raced down my throat. I was hoping that with a drink the shitty mood I was in would dull but after four rounds, it was only getting worse.
Desmond had called a meeting, demanding everyone show up at Moriarty's by eight. It was now almost ten and we were all stuffed in the damp basement waiting on him. The poor girl who was given the task of serving us was new and seemingly knew nothing about serving. A couple of the guys were being assholes towards her, making up fake drink names so that she would have to come back down empty-handed and tell them that that drink didn't exist. She was met by harsh laughs.
Brian and Rory, the ones who were being exceptional dickheads, were now starting to get handsy. Rory wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her down so she was sitting on his lap, making her drop the serving tray on the floor. She tried to bend over to pick it up but Brian took it as an opportunity to grab the back of her head and bring her face to face with him before sloppily kissing her. I watched Rory's hand slap her ass and then move up to the cropped, low-cut shirt that was her uniform so he could fondle her chest.
That's what set me off. In one explosive movement I was at their side, pulling Brian's head back by his hair so fast that he lost balance and fell backwards off of his chair and onto the floor.
"The fuck?" Rory yelled.
I grabbed the girl from his lap, ordering her to leave then I turned on the scrawny boy. He was new, maybe 18, and was acting like some kingpin. Walking around with a fake Boston-Irish accent, making it known who his daddy was and how he had women fighting over him. He was worse than some trust fund frat boy.
He shot to his feet and tried to square off with me but I had at least four inches on him and about a hundred pounds. He brought his hand back and threw the first punch which I dodged. The alcohol made him slow and sloppy. I uppercutted his jaw in one swift move that dropped him to the ground on his hands and knees. The sound of bone snapping and teeth chipping made the room fall silent as they watched Rory holding his fractured jaw.
He choked a few times before he coughed, spitting out pieces of his teeth. They bounced across the floor before stopping right in front of Desmond's custom leather dress shoes.
"Is t'ere a problem here, Deco?" He asked, pulling the fat cigar from his lips. His other hand was latched around the waitress's bicep, keeping her in place.
"Rory and Brian were giving the waitress a hard time." I answered, looking him square in the eye.
Desmonds' face turned to a disapproving one. "Tsk, tsk... Looks like one piece of ass has you forgetting just who the fuck ya are. You're not in charge here, boyo, I am. Ya don't get to beat up my men wit'out me giving ya the go ahead." The others, who were all standing at attention by their tables started to laugh.
