The Untouchables (22 page)

“When we get back to the States, we’ll try something else,” he replied, kissing my shoulder.

“I’m still pissed at you,” I said softly, leaning into him.

“But I can’t be pissed at you because you’re carrying my child, talk about double standard,” he replied and I was just going to have to let that slide.

“Liam, I’m not ashamed of my past. Long before you came along, I had sex with…”

Breaking away from me, he rolled onto his back. “Ahh, please don’t share! I get it. I don’t like it, but please don’t share.”

Rolling over, I watched his face clench into a grimace as though he had smelled something ghastly.

“Men will never change.” I laughed, lying back down as music began to flow through the windows. It was loud, like a thousand drunken Irishmen trying to sing to the moon.

“Is that the festival?”

Tilting his head toward the window, Liam silently listened for a moment before sitting up.

“I forgot it was Féile Na Beatha.”

“The Festival of life?” I translated quickly.

Smirking, he nodded. “It originated as a festival for the Gods and Goddesses to mark the change from summer to fall. Praising them with songs while wine is shared, all in the hope that they would harvest enough for the winter. Now it’s just an excuse to sing obnoxiously loud while drunk in the streets.”

“Celtic Gods and Goddesses?” I was trying my best not laugh, however I couldn’t help it. Pulling me into his arms, we wrestled on top of the sheets for only a second before he pinned me down.

“Are you laughing at the ancient Gods of my kinsmen?” he smiled above me, only inches from my face.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded, seeing as this is probably the first conversation about them in generations. Your ancient Gods suck.” I smiled as he shook his head at me.

“Just because they don’t get movie deals doesn’t mean they suck.”

“That’s exactly what it means. We have Jupiter, Apollo, Mars. Greece has Hercules and the Olympians. Shit, most Germanic regions have Thor and the Norse deities, and then there’s the Irish. Explains why you all jumped to Christianity so quickly.”

“Hercules was a hero, not a god.” He frowned, releasing my arms as he kissed down my neck.

“Now you have me intrigued with this ‘Féile na Beatha.’” I moaned, trying my best not to give in to him, but damn, he knew where to kiss. “We should go and witness your people in all their glory.”

Grabbing my breasts, he stopped and looked me in the eye. “Later.”

I knew that look.

“Liam, you better not…”

Rip.

I glared down at my now exposed bra before meeting his gaze.

“You dick.”

Smirking, he unbuckled his belt slowly. “As you wish, love.”

“Oh no you don’t.” I laughed, pushing him onto his back before straddling him, “You’ve pissed me off today.”

“Let me make it up to you then,” he said. Flipping me over before I could even blink, his hands were already pulling my jeans off with ease.

Using his teeth, he pulled at my underwear slowly until they were around my ankles then began kissing his way up.

“Liam…” I bit back a moan when his finger found itself inside me.

“Yes, love?” he said innocently, only stopping his lips to watch me while I moaned under him.

He moved in and out of me slowly…painfully slow, snickering as I rocked against his fingers and tried to force him to move faster.

“Liam…” He kissed me hard, nibbling on my lips while fucking me with his fingers.

“You pissed me off as well. But you’re making up for it.” He stopped momentarily. “I like seeing you squirm under me.”

“Hmmmm…” I moaned again as his fingers went faster, causing me to clench around them.

“All of this because of three fingers, baby?” He laughed, knowing exactly what he was doing. “I wonder how loudly my tongue will make you scream.”

“Liam, just…” He didn’t give me the chance to speak. Pulling his fingers from me, he spread my legs wide before attacking my pussy.

“Oh my God!” I moaned, as I wrapped my legs around his head and reached down to grab hold of his hair.

His tongue…Jesus fucking Christ his tongue. Holding on to my waist, his tongue went deeper inside of me, shaking me to my core as I thrust against his mouth. I couldn’t control myself. I wanted to ride his tongue. I wanted more of him.

“Liam…Fuck…” I screamed out as I came. I held onto him for a moment, trying to breathe before collapsing next to him.

I heard him suck a breath of much needed air into his lungs before crawling up the rest of my body, leaving short, quick, kisses on my skin.

“You definitely made up for it,” I managed to whisper, playing with his soft hair.

He pulled me into his arms before lying back down.

He didn’t say anything; he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he simply stared at the ceiling, playing with my fingers. The look in his eyes bothered me. Truthfully, whatever was preoccupying his mind, taking his attention away from us, was annoying me greatly.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about Jinx,” I hissed, resting my head on his chest.

Finally looking at me, he chuckled, brushing my hair back behind my ear.

“Love…”

“Liam, I was with others before you. I can’t take it back. I don’t want to take it back, nor should I have to. But there is a distinct difference between you and all others,” I declared, taking his hands into mine.

I stared at our wedding rings. It was so odd to me. Here I was, married, pregnant,
in love
. Where had the old Mel gone? I was barely able to tell my own father that I loved him when he was alive. Oftentimes, I wasn’t even sure if it was love or just respect. And yet, with him… He made me feel soft. He made it okay for me to be soft.

“And that difference is?” he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Groaning, I leaned up just to bite his nipple.

“Fuck, Mel.”

“You know what it is, ass. I didn’t love them. I really didn’t care about them. They were just men. I love you. I care about you, and you’re my husband. None of them mattered.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, right?” He laughed. I loved the way he laughed. It was like a chilling wind that always cut right through me.

Trying my best not to smile, I headed towards my clothes.

“Where the hell are you going? We’re not done having sex yet!” he yelled behind me.

“You’re the one who took a break. Now, I want to see this Féile Na Beatha.”

He frowned, his eyes roaming over my skin. “This isn’t over.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I winked, grabbing a dress before heading to the bathroom.

“Mel,” he whispered, so softly I almost missed it.

“Yes?”

“I love you. I care about you, and you are my wife.”

I stood there a moment, just staring at him and him at me.

Who were we?

How did we get here?

When did we become this…
in love?

And why wasn’t I more bothered by it?

It was so odd being so open with someone. Trusting someone completely.

“Good,” was all I could manage to say before I locked myself in the bathroom and leaned against the door.

LIAM

Navigating through a sea of drunken Irishmen and women was a skill my wife did not possess. The moment we had made it into the rundown brick town that was nicknamed Killeshin, she was forced to bury her nose into my shirt to keep from getting sick. There was enough alcohol in the air to make an elephant drunk, and if that didn’t bother you, there was always the scent of roasted lamb mixed with the stench of human sweat.

However, you didn’t come here for the food, or even the alcohol. You came for the music; which echoed off every stone, shutter, and living thing.

“We can go back,” I uttered, pulling her into my arms as the herd swallowed us whole.

“I’m fine, I just need a second to adjust,” she mumbled, taking another deep breath in my shirt.

The way she held onto me made her look sweet and innocent, like a gentle cub. It was scary how well she could hide who she really was.

“Liam?”

“Yes.”

“What are your parents doing?” she asked, stopping to stare at my mother and father who stood only a few paces ahead of us, closer to the Celtic band.

Neither of them seemed to notice the idiots around them. They were too busy making love with their eyes. Slowly my father fell to one knee, pulling out a small red box to present to her.

“He’s asking for her hand in marriage again,” Coraline said behind us as she walked up hand in hand with Declan. She grinned so wide her face looked as though it was going to break in half.

“Uncle, the smooth criminal,” Declan winked, wrapping his arms around Coraline.

“He proposed the first time here, right?” asked Coraline.

Why, I’m not sure, for she had to know the answer already.

“Yep, I do believe mom was so pregnant she couldn’t even see her toes let alone the ring he had bought her.”

“At least he had a ring, Declan.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down…”

“Well, if it isn’t the Callahan Clan?” called out Old Man Doyle, and just like that, the music cut, the sea of drunks parted, and his men stalked around us, like vultures to their prey. Blowing smoke out of his nose, his old eyes glanced over Mel in disgust. “And this Italian cunt too.”

His men laughed, and one by one all other bystanders, at least the ones with even the slightest mental capacity, retreated into their homes.

“You should lay off the pipe, old man. You don’t have very many brain-cells left,” Mel hissed, breaking free of me completely to stand on her own.

Using his cane, he stepped forward once more. “In my day, wenches like you kept their mouths zipped and legs opened. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her hand twitched in the direction of her gun, skillfully hidden at the back of her bra. Stepping forward, I forced myself in between them, my father and Declan were beside me within seconds.

“Nice hat, Doyle.” I smirked at the old cloth top hat that sat on his gray head. “What the hell do you want?”

Placing his pipe in his mouth once more, he sucked in deeply and blew the smoke into our faces. “You met the Briars. In fact, it has come to my attention you nearly killed one. Your week is over, and it’s best if your family returns to the depths of Hell from which you came.”

“Or what?” I asked, grabbing the pipe from his mouth. “What will you do if my family and I decide to spend a few more days, maybe even months, here?”

His nostrils flared and I could almost hear his bones crack and pop as he tried to stand up straight.

“You’re playing with fire, young man.” He spat at my feet. The moment he did, a crowd of men slowly came around us. Even the stupid fucker that I had shot through the foot held his gun pointedly at our side.

“We’re from hell, remember?” Mel replied, her eyes scanning over each black rifle. “When you’re born of fire, it can’t hurt you.”

“So young, so foolish,” he said dangerously as he slowly pulled out a photo from his jacket pocket. “You think you can come to our country and walk on water? Think you’re untouchable? Folks are gunnin’ for you while you’re gunnin’ folks down. All it takes is one, before others step up against you. Go home. Get your filth out of my country because you won’t make it another night here.”

Turning towards my father, he simply laughed at me, shaking his head at the fool in front of us. My mother being my mother looked bored and annoyed, clenching her gift in her hand.

Glancing down at my wife, she just nodded. Before he could even blink, my fist collided with the side of Doyle’s wrinkled face. His top hat flew from his head, rolling onto my feet. Pulling the gun from its holster, I grasped hold of his collar and stuck the barrel in his eye.

“Cousin, is this fool trying to blackmail me?” I sneered, digging in deeper into his eye.

Declan frowned, the same expression on his face as our mother. “I believe so. I wonder if he knows he has no men to back up his threats.”

With his one free eye, he glanced around at the men he thought supported him. The man who I shot earlier limped over, grabbing Doyle’s top hat and handed it over to Mel.

“Where’s your fucking loyalty?” he yelled, struggling under me.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mel replied, dusting off his hat before placing it on her head. “With us.”

Pulling his face closer to mine, I held his throat tightly. “You’re shit out of luck.”

“One day…” he struggled to speak.

“Spare me the sanctimonious bullshit, Doyle. I’ve heard it all before. Ireland does not need you. This town does not need you, and when your blood splatters over its streets, it will be the rain and nothing else that washes it away.”

“Liam,” my mother called, stepping forward. “It’s Sunday.”

Staring at my watch in anger, I pulled my gun from his eye before smacking his cheeks softly.

“How lucky you are, Old Man Doyle.”

Rising from the ground, I fought the urge to kick the living shit out of him; old man or not, he had threatened the wrong family. Pushing himself off the ground, he dusted himself off, glancing around at us all before backing away slowly. The very few men still loyal to him helped him into his truck at the end of the street before taking off.

The only proof that there was ever a festival taking place throughout the streets were the lights that dangled in the winds, the scattered bottles on the sidewalks that were still dripping with rum, and the abandoned instruments that only moments earlier were alive with music.

“All we need is a tumbleweed blowing in the wind,” Coraline joked, from within Declan’s embrace.

Something was off about those two.

“Somebody play for us before I forget it’s Sunday!” I bellowed, forcing what looked like Dylan, Monte, and Jinx to the stage.

Taking my wife’s hand in mine, I pulled her towards the music.

“Who did you kill?” she asked as we danced.

“You said you didn’t want to know about this.”

Her lips tightened into a straight line. I wondered for how much longer she could handle being in the dark. Sighing deeply, she glanced around at the new men—the men who had conveniently jumped sides, the men without loyalty—and it was like I could read her thoughts.