I opened my mouth to ask him again why he was going through his mother’s purse when we were unceremoniously interrupted.
By Dan.
“Get the fuck away from her.”
In unison, we both turned our heads to find Dan, fuming, standing by the entrance to the kitchen. His usually warm brown eyes now almost black, and most definitely cold.
“Baby brother.”
“Fuck off.”
Seamus slid an inch closer to me and grinned. “You’re married. That’s so great. Your lady and I are becoming fast friends. Would you like to join us for a cup of tea? Share the story of how you two lovebirds met?” His voice was ridiculously cheerful.
Dan was not amused. He strolled into the space, placing himself between us.
“I said, you fuckfaced shitstain,”—his words were low, slow, measured— “get the fuck away from her, or I will fucking fuckily fuck you the fuck up.”
I stared at Dan, my lips parting in wonder. He’d just used some variation of the F-word as a noun, verb, adverb, and adjective all in one sentence. I didn’t know whether to be mortified or impressed.
Seamus’s forced cheer dissolved, his eyes narrowing and turning just as cold as his brother’s. After another two beats of my heart, Seamus backed away, his hands coming up like he surrendered, but the twist of his mouth was bitter.
“Nice to see you, too,” he muttered.
For the first time since entering the kitchen, Dan turned to me, his gaze on mine. “Are you okay?”
I blinked at him and the question, perplexed. Dan was serious. He appeared to be truly concerned that his brother might hurt me.
I nodded, struggling for words for a half second. “I’m—I’m fine. We were just talking.”
Seamus snorted from behind Dan, sounding insulted. “Come off it. What do you think? I’m going to come in here and assault your wife?”
Dan slow blinked, not looking at his brother, and I saw that he was gritting his teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I think. Given the fact that you’re not opposed to roughing up women.”
“Jem Morris isn’t women, and you know that crazy bitch gives as good as she gets. Didn’t Jem put a cigarette out on Quinn’s chest?”
Now Dan turned back to Seamus. “You sent your boys to Chicago to kidnap Quinn’s wife. They held her friends at gunpoint. I don’t think I’m overreacting.”
What the frickedy frick?
I peered around Dan’s bulky shoulder at Seamus. “That was you?”
“You’re still not over that, Danny boy?”
“Oh hey,” Dan’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. “I finally got the last knife of the set you’ve been stabbing in my back all these years. Heads up: I re-gift.”
Seamus snorted. “What did my guys get for their trouble? A fucking knitting needle to the chest, knocked out by a tequila bottle, and two years stateside, that’s what. You should be apologizing to me.”
“You know what you and our nephew’s diaper have in common, Seamus? You’re both self-absorbed and full of shit.”
Seamus rolled his eyes and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “And you’re like a plunger, you keep bringing up old shit.”
“Acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger.” Dan took a threatening step forward. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“Yeah, okay dad.” Another eye-roll. “If I was meant to be controlled I’d come with a remote.”
“Why don’t you make like a tree and die in a forest fire,” Dan mumbled gruffly and moved like he was going to grab the pack from his brother, but stopped short when Eleanor entered the room.
“Don’t smoke in here,” she said evenly but firmly. She walked directly over to Seamus—like she wasn’t at all surprised by the scene in the kitchen—and pulled him into a hug. “And stop trying to piss off your brother.”
“Jesus Christ, I haven’t done anything, Ma. I swear.”
“Watch your fucking mouth. You don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, and you don’t swear. Not in this house.” She pointed a finger at him, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully, daring him to contradict her.
He gave Eleanor a small, conciliatory nod, stuffing his cigarettes back in his pocket.
Seemingly satisfied, she turned to Dan and patted him on the shoulder, “You. Be nice to your brother. I mean it.”
Dan made a low sound in the back of his throat and crossed his arms, saying nothing. His mother placed a kiss on his cheek.
She moved to me and pulled me in for a hug, her voice adopting a sweeter tone. “I’m taking my tea and going to bed. I don’t know why, but I’m exhausted. Thanks for dinner.” As she pulled away, her hand came to my cheek and she smiled at me. “And thanks for being such an angel.”