The Hurricane
Page 10Danny, I quickly learned, was used to bookkeeping the old-fashioned way. Neat cursive told the story of his business in a shelf full of green ledgers. When he had attempted to computerise his records—that was when things had gone south. What he had done was horrific, and abandonment was the only way to go. Luckily, he’d invested in a decent software package, so I had a good base to work from. Deciding to computerise everything from the beginning of the financial year, I could then keep things up-to-date whilst working through the backlog. I worked for half an hour before a hard thump on the office door startled me. If there was ever a time when an unexpected noise didn’t put my heart in my mouth, then I was anxious to get there.
“Come in,” I called though no invitation was necessary. A few more poundings like that and the door was coming through, anyway. The guy who entered was huge and just as built as O’Connell. He was sweating profusely and smelt like he’d been in the gym for days, not hours, but he grinned, completely unaffected, as he strode in.
“So, for once the rumour mill in this shit hole is true. There’s a gorgeous woman in the gym, and Danny’s locked you in here to save you from us.”
Obviously a heavyweight, he was seriously cut in a way that was hard earned, not gym gifted. His blond, buzz cut hair and chocolate eyes contrasted completely with O’Connell’s dark spikes and wolf-like gaze. He lacked O’Connell’s intensity, but the gentle eyes and dopey grin were still charming. Grabbing the comfy chair, he swung it out and sunk into it in a well-rehearsed move. I could easily imagine him spending a lot of time there, being balled out by Danny like a naughty school kid. He leaned back with his hands behind his head, then, thinking better of his manners, held out a hand for me to shake.
“Kieran Dougherty. Nice to meet you,” he introduced himself politely.
“I’m Emily,” I practically whispered.
He didn’t make my spine tingle like O’Connell, and he didn’t have that look in his eyes that made me fear him. It didn’t matter if a man was short and thin, or tall and built; some men had a stare that gave away a poison behind it. A poison that made them want to hurt and break what most men would protect and cherish. I’d had a LOT of practice looking at that stare, and all I saw in Kieran’s eyes was laughter. If I wasn’t comfortable, it was because I’d spent so long avoiding any kind of contact, especially with men.
“Well, darlin’, you’re a breath of fresh air around here. Handing over my hard earned cash isn’t so painful when you’re doing the collecting.”
“Um, have you boxed at Danny’s for long?” I enquired, searching for his name in the ledger.
“Sure. Since me and Con were kids. Must av’ been six years old when Dan stopped us from kicking the shite out of each other on the street and put us to work. He was mean, too, but fuck knows we needed a bit of discipline.”
“Con?” I asked, wondering who he was talking about.
“Cormac O’Connell,” he replied, knowingly. “He’s the big ugly fecker with the tattoos you see me sparring with. Course… that pretty much describes all of ‘em. Con’s like my brother, I guess, though I’ll deny it if you say anything to the shithead.”
I was a little overwhelmed by the cursing and the way Kieran spoke about O’Connell, despite his telling me that they were best friends. I guessed that working here would be an education in roughneck camaraderie. He pulled out a few notes from the pocket of his shorts and chucked them down on the table as the door flew open and banged against the wall.
“Sorry,” a gruff voice called out, as the body belonging to it muscled through the door.
“Ever heard of knocking, arsehole? Didn’t your ma ever teach you any feckin’ manners?” Kieran barked with a scowl.
Desperate to diffuse any hostility, I interjected. “It’s fine, no harm done. Do you have your subs?”
“Well, hellooooo beautiful. If I knew Danny was hiding something so fine, I’d have hauled arse with my subs an hour ago. But now I’m here, you gonna make my day and let me leave with your number?”
Kieran jerked his thumb toward him. “This tool is Tommy Rierdan. I wouldn’t worry about recognising him by his face. When Con hears he’s been hitting on you, he’s gonna get it rearranged. That’s if me or Danny don’t do it first.”
Tommy, like most of the other boys, was cut like an underwear model. Of course, his eight pack abs were about the only part of his body not covered in ink. Both of his arms had sleeved tattoos that spanned down to words that I couldn’t decipher across the back of his hands. He was much shorter and leaner than the other guys, and unlike their neat marine-like buzz cuts, his shaggy brown hair was just shy of falling into his eyes. What he lacked in size, he certainly made up for in confidence, though.
“Fuck off, Keir. You’re just pissed ‘cause you know she’s feelin’ it.”
He was so ridiculously cocky; it was hard not to laugh. I honestly wasn’t sure whether he was acting this way to make me smile and break the ice or whether he really was this confident. Regardless, I could see Kieran losing his temper.
“Ten,” I blurted out.
“It’s my number.”
“Come again?” Tommy said, but a slow smile spread across Kieran’s face. I tapped the book in front of me.
“The ledger says you owe ten pounds this week. It’s lovely to meet you, Tommy, but I’m afraid that the only numbers I’m giving out this week are the ones in the ledger.” I spoke quietly and didn’t want to sound like a bitch, but I was knocking potential advances on the head, even if he wasn't serious.
“D’you hear that, Kier? I get a new set of numbers next week. Five quid says I’m getting her phone number.”
I sighed softly to myself. There really was no stopping this boy.
“Okay, fuckwad, you’ve got a deal. A fiver says Em’s too smart to let you anywhere near her. Either way, you’re out of luck next Friday. You’ll either be five quid short or your face will be so badly fucked up, she’ll have to find your lips before she can kiss them.”