“You knew, and Bronagh didn’t know? Good luck surviving that argument.”
Aideen cringed. “I’ll handle Bronagh ... who told on Georgie anyway?”
“Jax.”
She scowled. “I birthed a little rat.”
“Aideen.”
“What?”
“Which nephew?” I demanded. “Dame just said he was a Collins when he called me.”
She sighed. “It’s Indie.”
Gavin’s eldest.
I growled. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“No, ye’ aren’t.”
She was right. I wouldn’t kill him, but it felt good saying I would.
My wife groaned. “How bad is it? Be honest.”
“Bad.”
“Nico isn’t takin’ it all that well then?”
“Dominic is in a bar, Dame said he will be trashed before the hour is up.”
My wife winced. “Go make sure he doesn’t get hammered ‘cause if he does, he’ll get the idea in his head to hunt me nephew down, and kill ‘im.”
“I’m on it.”
I kissed her cheek, shouted for my sons to behave themselves while I was out, grabbed my keys and wallet, then jogged out of our apartment with only one thought on my mind. I had to help Dominic find a way to break Georgie and Indie up ... a way that would preferably result in my wife not ripping my balls from my body.
We had planning to do.
Part IV
RYDER
CHAPTER ONE
Present day ...
Branna’s scream. That was the first sound I heard as I returned home from my son’s soccer games. The sound ripped through me like a shard of broken glass. I had my three youngest boys with me—Alfie who was thirteen, Creed who was ten, and Israel who was seven. The three of them jumped when they heard the scream, and before I made a conscious decision to run, my legs were pounding furiously up the driveway of my house. I flung the front door open, and Branna’s screaming was then paired with yelling from my two eldest sons, my fourteen-year-old twins, Nixon and Jules.
They had left the soccer clubhouse before me and the others because their game ended earlier, and they didn’t want to come along in the car while I dropped Alec’s kids home. I ran into the kitchen and found both of them tangled up on the floor as they fought. Branna was throwing cups of water on them like they were dogs in hopes of breaking them up as she simultaneously screamed for them to stop. I looked from my wife to my sons, and bellowed, “That’s enough!”
They stopped fighting almost instantly and shoved one another as they got to their feet. Jules had a bloody eyebrow, and Nixon’s lips was swollen into a knot and had already bruised. They were both soaking wet, but they didn’t seem to notice as they were glaring daggers at one another until their mother got their attention.
“Ye’ violent little bastard!” she shouted as she slapped them wildly. “How dare ye’ carry on like animals!”
My sons had their hands up and easily avoid their mother’s flailing hands, but it wasn’t her they were worried about; it was me. Their grey eyes locked on me as I approached them, and they tensed the moment I reached in their direction. They grunted when I fisted their T-shirts but didn’t struggle as I pulled them over to the kitchen table where I shoved them into the seats.
“You’re both grounded,” Branna continued behind me as she got the mop to clean up the water puddles on the floor. “You’re never crossin’ the front door again, and as for your phones, ye’ can kiss them goodbye!”
The twins said nothing, only continued to glare at each other so I whacked both of them across the back of the head.
“Da!” Jules hissed at the same time that Nixon said, “That hurt!”
“Good,” Branna quipped. “I hope it hurt because seein’ both of ye’ harm one another hurt me! You’re brothers. Twins. You’re supposed to protect each other, not fight one another!”
Jules looked his mom’s way and so did Nixon. I watched as both of their shoulders sagged as what they did registered with them. All my boys hated upsetting their mother, but none more than the twins. They adored her and seeing her so upset because of them made them feel like crap. I could tell by the solemn expression on their identical faces.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” Jules said at the same time Nixon said, “Sorry, Ma.”
They spoke in unison an awful lot, but we were all used to it at this stage in their lives.
“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Branna snapped as she stomped over to the table. “D’ye ever stop to think that ye’ could have seriously hurt one another? All it takes is one punch to a certain point on the head and ye’ could have died.”
Jules and Nixon looked at one another, and their anger began to recede as their mother’s words sunk in.
“I can’t even look at ye’s right now. I’m bloody sick of the pair of ye’. Ye’ act like babies!”