Claiming Serenity(62)

Declan darted toward Mullens as Mollie stepped behind Layla. The Irishman tried pulling the older man off his brother, ignored the threats of bodily harm, of cutting Declan from the squad if he tried to stop him and all the while, Donovan stood frozen, his heart thundering and a sick, sour taste rising up the back of his throat. Finally, just as Mullens swung back again, Donovan pulled Layla from Mollie’s grip.

“You fucked O’Malley?”

She wouldn’t look at him and he needed to see those eyes. He wanted to know if he saw the same look of shame, guilt coloring her face that had been on her cousin’s expression when Donovan caught her with his father. When Layla kept her eyes downcast, away from his glare, his fingers tightened on her arms. “Tell me!”

“Donovan…”

He wasn’t calm, wasn’t able to keep his voice quiet, to ask the question without a piercing shrill elevating his tone. “You’re fucking O’Malley too?”

And just like that, the circus of a night was silenced. He barely took note of the low curse behind him, his best friend’s garbled curse or the stomping feet at his side.

Mullens came at him, quick and violent, jerking Donovan away from his daughter with a strength that surprised Donovan. “What the hell do you mean ‘too,’ Donely? Are you saying… you and Layla…” he glared at his daughter, “how many people are you sleeping with?”

“Daddy! No… I didn’t… not Quinn!” She looked between them, to her father’s fist tightened around Donovan’s collar, before the fear in her face, the tension in her body seized up, tightened. “I… I only said that because I didn’t want you to hurt Donovan!”

“Well, thanks, darlin’, for throwing the blame my way,” Quinn said, laughing past the blood dripping out of his nose.

“Shut up!” Layla screamed.

Mullens released Donovan and stood in front of Layla. Donovan could taste her fear, the anxious worry that had her stepping back as her father’s face hardened and his mouth became a hard, furious line. “The truth, right now, Layla.”

“I’d like to hear that too!” Donovan said, unable to stay quiet. He was desperate, a little overwhelmed at the potential of yet another betrayal. The very thing he swore he’d never allow himself to get near to again.

Mullens jerked his attention to Donovan, that hard lined mouth coming up in a disgusted snarl. “Keep your mouth shut, asshole.”

“Coach…” Declan, tried, walking slowly toward them, hands up as if he needed to show Mullens that he wasn’t a threat.

The man didn’t bother looking at the Irishman, but his voice was sharp, held a threat that told him not to test him. “Back off, Fraser.”

“Daddy, please…”

But Mullens wasn’t having any of her pleas, or the passive way she curled her arms around her waist. “Answers, young lady, right now. Was it O’Malley,” Mullens jerked his head back toward Quinn and then to his left at Donovan all the while keeping his body rigid, his shoulders straight, “or Donley? Whose ass do I have to kick for getting you pregnant?”

And then the air completely vanished from Donovan’s lungs. Gaze flying to his coach, then widening as they caught the way Layla covered her face, Donovan stepped back, shocked, staggered. “Woah. Wait a fucking second. What did you say?” Donovan asked his coach.

Then it wasn’t just Donovan’s shock that changed the mood in the room. He vaguely caught Mollie’s gasp, Quinn’s low, amused snort of laughter behind them and Declan, his overprotective, quick to throttle best friend came at him, angry and looking very much like he was going to clock Donovan good. “You got her up the pole? Are you fecking stupid? What did I say? What did I bloody tell you…”

“Shut the hell up man, I’m freaking out here.” He pushed Declan away, walked toward Layla when she finally moved her hands from her face.

Pregnant? She was pregnant? How the hell…

The others in the room became something Donovan only half noticed—Mollie furiously whispering into Layla’s ear, Mullens and Declan both shouting at Donovan, the other patrons keeping silent witness, muttering to themselves and Quinn’s unabashed amusement as he stretched his long arms against the bar. But Donovan’s attention was on Layla, on how small she looked just then, how she finally kept her gaze on Donovan’s face, staring over his features with her own fear moving her chin.

“Wasn’t bloody me, mate. Damn shame though, aye?” Quinn called, his voice holding an annoying hint of amusement. “Fit little bird that she is.” They all turned to him, glaring and Declan charged his brother, ignoring the humor in the asshole’s eyes as Declan pushed him onto stool, glaring out a warning at him.