Having had more than a few one-sided conversations with his uncle, the grousing coming from Damie sounded so familiar.
“How are you doing?” Sionn cuddled his lover closer. Sighing heavily, Damien slumped, letting his weight settle into Sionn’s torso. “You okay? You identified the guy who stabbed Miki as your shooter. That helps a lot, love. Gives the cops somewhere to go. Or are you thinking this is all your fault?”
“Oh no, Donal made sure I knew I wasn’t the one who put Miki in the hospital.” If Damie’s sarcasm was butter, Sionn would have been hard pressed to see the bread it’d been spread on. “The shooter did that. I’m not to blame. Just the asshole and the guy who probably hired him.”
“It’s the guy that hired him that has me worried, Damie,” Sionn admitted softly. “If we catch this guy, who’s to say someone else won’t take his place?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m half-glad Miki slipped.” Damie shifted, resting his cheek on Sionn’s shoulder. Puffing his cheeks out, he blew a kiss at Sionn’s collar. “Sinjun probably would have killed him. Not because the guy tried to off him, but because he’s pissed off the guy came after me.”
“I kind of got that about him.” He had to agree with Damie. Miki seemed more outraged about the blond man’s coming after Damien than any injury done to him. “How about if you and I make sure Miki’s staying safe while Kane’s out looking for this guy? I’ll check up on things with Leigh to make sure the pub’s okay, but then you and I are on Sinjun watch, deal?”
“Oh, you have no fucking clue what you’re signing up for.”
“I grew up with Kane and his brothers. How bad can one small Asian boy be?”
“No. Fucking. Idea,” Damien repeated slowly.
“You’re a part of us now.” Sionn placed his knuckles under his lover’s chin, tilting Damie’s face up. “The Morgans… Finnegans, and well, one Murphy, but I’m good for a whole clan by myself.”
“That’s what Donal said.” His snort tickled Sionn’s nose. “Dude, you all don’t even know me. I’m an asshole. Not someone people just up and love. Leave, yes. Love? No.”
“We’re all assholes.” He shrugged, then lightly brushed his mouth against Damien’s lips. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be loved. Or don’t deserve it. I love you, Damie boy. So does your Sinjun. The rest of them will too if they don’t already.”
A loud stream of Gaelic-laced profanities came from the living room. Close on its heels, Miki’s guttersnipe growls punched holes in Kane’s arguments, cutting the cop into small ribbons with every muttered curse. It was an uneven argument. What Kane had in common sense and heat, Miki countered with cutting wit, spiced heavily with a snarling volume from years of projecting his voice over crowds and loud music. Sionn heard the moment Kane lost the battle, more specifically, the phrase that drove Miki into overdrive. Ordering Damie’s brother-in-all-but-blood to stay where he was put was bad enough, but demanding Miki obey Kane broke the field wide open.
What Miki pulled out of his verbal sack of weapons made Sionn cringe, and he nearly let go of Damie to protect his own balls from being pulled off.
Peeking up at Sionn from under his hair, Damien whispered, “Think we can grab some food and sneak upstairs before they realize we’re gone?”
“We shall give it our best try.” Sionn reluctantly let go of Damien and grabbed the plate of food he’d made up. “Besides, Damie love, we should be out of their hair before they begin rubbing their naked asses all over that couch. ’Cause, all kind of sex happens after you fight that hard.”
“FUCKING whore!” Parker clutched his side, scrambling to find what he needed in the back room of the clinic he’d broken into.
His wound was leaking heavily. A slow trickle ebbed through his fingers, and he pressed harder, hoping to stave off the flow coming from between his ribs. Afraid to risk turning on the overhead lights, Parker flicked on a small lamp by a copying machine, hoping it would give him enough to see by. Woefully inadequate, the lamp cast him into thicker shadows than he wanted, but he’d already spotted one security patrol easing by before he broke in.
“I’m not going to get caught by some damned rent-a-cop.” He snapped open a drawer, relieved to find suturing supplies.