One woman had even told him he appeared medieval, as if he could be her knight in shining armor. That was a comparison that still eluded him, since his refusal to settle down or be in any type of serious relationship usually had women calling him much different things, none of them very pleasant.
Pulling back his attention to his brothers, Rory purposefully stayed noncommittal, though he knew Sundays at the Kavanagh house really weren’t optional. Not if their mother had anything to say about it.
“What about Monday, coming to Legends?” Quinn asked, nodding suggestively at one of the women watching them, as he referred to the MMA club and gym that the Kavanagh family owned a few blocks over.
“I can’t start training yet.” Rory pushed his hand through his hair, wanting to avoid the topic.
He was suddenly feeling a lot more sober than he liked, wanting his brothers to leave so he could slip a few more pills out of his pocket undetected. The numbing feeling they had brought earlier was already wearing off.
“It’s been over a year since the fight, man. The hell you can’t train—you’re Rory “Knockout” Kavanagh, best MMA fighter in New York!” Quinn said sarcastically and slightly louder than was necessary.
“New York? Try the entire nation, Quinn,” Kane added, a swell of pride in his voice as he beamed at Rory.
“Was, guys. Past tense.” Rory spoke through gritted teeth as his hand touched his own knee, feeling the thick scars through the fabric of his pants, gruesome evidence of the injury that had ended his mixed martial arts career. The bottle of pills was now burning a hole in his pocket as he thought about how badly he wanted some relief.
“Maybe it would be present tense if you didn’t reek of booze all the damn time,” Kane said, daring him to counter the statement. Rory took a slow, deep breath to calm himself. He loved his brothers, but he didn’t need their pity.
“Rory! It’s been a while, man!” The tall, skinny male bartender strolled over, already filling up a tall Guinness on his way.
He slid the drink in front of Rory and then crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation as to his absence.
“Sorry, Cian, just been busy.” Rory picked up the glass and began to chug, glad his brothers had wandered over to the table of women in the corner and finally left him alone.
“Shit, Rory. It’s one o’clock in the morning and you waltz in here, unable to walk a straight line, and now you’re slurring your damn words.” Cian rolled his eyes at Rory as he watched him polish off the glass. Their interaction was going very quickly from friendly to not so much.
“What the fuck do you know about where I’ve been? I’m a paying customer— give me another damn drink.” Rory’s voice was gruff and deep as he pulled out the large, folded stack of cash and threw some bills onto the counter.
His previous life as a professional fighter had set him up financially for quite some time, giving him the luxury of not having to work even though he still helped out at Legends on occasion. The bartender shook his head and pushed the money back to Rory, refusing it.
“I’m not giving you another one tonight, Rory. And that last one was on the house. I won plenty of money, thanks to you—when I bet on Santiago.” An arrogant sneer crept over Cian’s face.
Every other sound and sight in the room suddenly shut off in Rory’s mind as he instantly saw red. He clenched his jaw as fury flew through him and pulled him right up out of his seat, his breathing suddenly erratic.
He lunged across the bar and grabbed Cian’s shirt with one hand, slamming him forward into the wooden barrier between them, while his other hand balled into a fist and flew through the air. The cracking sound as his knuckles made contact with Cian’s nose echoed through the bar and Rory savored the pain coursing through his hand, secretly loving the feeling of bones crunching under his fist again.
“Rory!” Hands were on him instantly, yanking him away from the bar and over to the front of the pub.
Cian fell from his grasp and slid to the floor, screaming as he held a hand over his nose. Blood flowed down his face, dripping onto his clothes and the ground, giving the bar a slight scent of copper. A string of curses flew out of his mouth as he wailed in pain.
Rory dropped his hands in surrender, letting his brothers shove him to the exit. As he left, he caught sight of Clare standing a few feet behind Cian, her mouth open and her green eyes wide in shock.
An unfamiliar wave of guilt washed over him when he saw the fear on her face. He cursed at himself silently, wondering if he had ruined his chance with the one thing that had made him smile today. In fact, she was the only thing that had made him smile in far too many days.
He brushed it off almost instantly once he trekked outside though. He told himself it was a good thing, because he didn’t want a relationship—he just wanted to screw and move on. Exhaling slowly, he thought about it as he felt the cold air outside wrapping around him. He had enough baggage of his own to deal with and he wasn’t sure why he had ever entertained the possibility of Clare in the first place. She didn’t strike him as the kind of girl to be fine with a one-night stand, and he didn’t have more than that to give.
“Shit, Rory! What is wrong with you?” Kane shouted at him, shoving him hard, as they reached the sidewalk.
He ignored his brothers, instead turning to head home. His back was to them and they didn’t even try to follow him, knowing that he needed space at that second. He flexed his hand and examined the scrapes on his knuckles. He wiped the blood off on his pants, then grabbed a few more friends from his pocket and savored the feeling as the small pills slid down his throat.
“Rory, come on!” Quinn shouted at his back.
They finally trotted after Rory, continuing to talk to him even though he was throwing out every sign possible that he wanted to be alone. They caught up with him quickly, still trying to get his attention.
“Damn, let me call Jimmy. Make sure that asshat of a bartender doesn’t press charges.” Kane pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“I would have fucking decked him if Rory hadn’t. You heard what the idiot said about his last fight,” Quinn countered.
“Shut up, Quinn.” Rory’s mouth was pressed into a tight line.
“Obviously the cocksucker deserved it, but I think one Kavanagh in jail at a time is all Ma can handle,” Kane ribbed. He put the phone on speaker, waiting for Jimmy, their youngest brother who was also a police officer, to pick up at the other end.
“Shit, Kieran would have probably killed the fucker.” Quinn grinned, pushing his hands through his short, black hair as he spoke. Kane’s twin brother, Kieran Kavanagh, was serving time upstate for aggravated assault.
“I’m glad murder amuses you assholes.” A voice chimed through the phone and both Kane and Quinn started crowing with laughter. Rory rolled his eyes, but didn’t admit any expression as he paused to see what Jimmy would tell him.
“Get the stick out of your ass, Jimmy,” Quinn shouted into the phone even though Kane was holding it.
Kane ignored them both to explain the reason for his call. “Jimmy, you need to be the first to get down to O’Leary’s. There’s probably already a call coming through the radio about it.”
“What the hell did you do, Kane?” Jimmy lamented into the phone. Rory held back a smile as he pictured his only redheaded brother frustrated, as he normally was.
“Wasn’t us, asshole. Rory’s here.”
“This shit is getting old. I can’t keep covering for all of you. Pop’s going to be pissed.” Jimmy hung up.
“He thinks Pop is going to be pissed? Ma’s going to blow a fucking gasket,” Quinn said and chuckled.
Kane pushed his phone back in his pocket as he and Quinn turned to Rory, who had heard enough and had decided to storm off without a word, heading north on Katonah Avenue toward home.
Chapter Two
“I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to give it to me for free,” Clare’s brow furrowed as she took the membership ca
rd from the spunky redhead.
“Oh, please, girl. I used to work bussing tables at O’Leary’s Pub when I was in high school. Is Cian still in charge over there?” She smiled back as she continued putting Clare’s information into the gym’s computer system.
“Yeah, he’s my supervisor.” Clare nodded at the woman, slightly mesmerized by how piercing and blue her eyes were in contrast to the bright red wavy hair that flowed down most of her back.
“Then believe me, these self-defense classes can be written off as a work expense on next year’s taxes.” Both women snickered. Clare leaned against the counter, enjoying the interaction since she hadn’t made any friends around her age in the three weeks she had lived here. Clare felt a pang of regret slice through her as she wished that an irritating boss was the only reason she needed self-defense classes.
“I’m Casey Kavanagh, by the way.” The redhead reached out her hand to Clare, who accepted it happily.
“Clare—well, I guess you already know that.” Clare pointed toward the driver’s license that Casey was still holding. Casey just smirked and waved her hand nonchalantly.
“So—Kavanagh? You’re part of the family who owns this place?” Clare tried not to sound like she was prying, but she was curious. She’d heard that name all over town since she got here.
“Yeah, my uncle owns it. Started it up back in the late seventies. It’s been remodeled lately, but we definitely still have the old-school reputation.”
“Oh.” Clare nodded, not sure what that meant or what to say.
“Here, you can have this back. I think I have everything in here now.” Casey handed her the license. “The thirty-day trial membership begins today, and then we can talk about different types of plans after you’ve had a chance to try out our various amenities and classes.”
“Thanks. Do you think I could have a peek around? See where the locker rooms are and stuff like that?” Clare tucked her driver’s license back into her wallet along with the new membership card, then stuffed the wallet into the small brown purse that was slung over her shoulder.
“Hell, yeah! Come on, let me give you a tour. Welcome—officially, this time—to Legends!” Casey popped out from around the back of the counter, motioning for her to follow.
Clare watched the bouncy, energetic woman in amusement as she followed her, feeling slightly overdressed in her knee-length red dress and thigh-high black boots, compared to Casey’s black yoga pants and neon-green long-sleeved tee.
“Okay, so here are the locker rooms. Men over there, women right here.” Casey started to point toward various doors they passed as the hallway opened up into a large room with an open floor plan.
“The entire far side of the room is pretty much for the fighters, not really anything but testosterone and ball sweat over there.” Casey slid her arm around Clare’s elbow to pull her along.
Clare giggled at Casey’s remarks and took in the view of dozens of men on weight-lifting machines, standing in front of weight benches, and in the rings. She had to agree, there was definitely a lot of testosterone in here.
“But over here is where things are a bit less noisy.” Casey led Clare to a side hall that opened into several small classrooms. A few of the rooms were filled with people doing group exercises; Clare recognized a yoga class and a spinning class.
“All the classrooms are walled in by windows, but the glass is so thick that you can’t hear all the noise from the rings.” Casey indicated an empty classroom that was at the back wall of the gym.
The door they entered through was set in a wall of all glass, just like the back wall of the room that gave them a view of the street. Clare strode toward the back wall, loving the openness and the view of pedestrians passing by.
“Yeah, that’s my favorite part too,” Casey said. “What, people watching?” “Of course! People are weird, which is fun,” Casey quipped, joining her at the
window as they stood side by side. “See, there’s an example of weird right there.” Casey pointed at a behemoth of a
man crouching on the sidewalk with a large dog next to him. “That’s my cousin, but he’s more like a brother. He works here sometimes, used
to be a fighter but got hurt in the championships last year. Almost couldn’t walk again
since his leg pretty much split in two. A year later, not only is he walking, but there he is crouched down, feeding a damn street dog.”
Clare watched more closely, and now she noticed the second dog. In front of both the man and the larger dog beside him was a smaller, frail-looking pup. It couldn’t be more than twenty pounds, although it seemed like it should be much bigger. The dog’s ribs were poking out of its side as Casey’s cousin slowly fed him a sandwich. He was careful to hold his hand out flat and she could see his lips moving from his profile, realizing he was probably coaxing the dog to accept the food.
“I think that’s sweet. I was studying to be a vet before I moved here.” Clare’s voice was soft as she admired the man’s kindness toward the stray.
The man stood and stretched a bit, opening up the other half of a bagged sandwich and then settling himself on the curb by the thin dog, who seemed more trusting of him now. In his new position, Clare could see more of his face and she realized that it was the same burly yet handsome man she had flirted with at O’Leary’s last night.
Of course, that was before he had broken her boss’ nose.
She felt a stirring in her abdomen as she watched him, her mouth slightly parting. The brown pup cautiously took a few steps to him, then sat and placed his head in Rory’s lap. Clare felt a glow as her heart warmed at the sight.
“I’m so not an animal person, but Rory would help a goddamn rat if he found one. That bigger dog there is his shadow, Ace. Barely ever see the two of them apart.” Casey stepped away from the window.
Clare hesitated, watching Rory and Ace for a moment longer, then pulled herself away to go follow her new friend. It had been a while since she had thought about her
previous career aspirations, and a wave of sadness passed over her as she thought of the different trajectory of her life now. Maybe now that she was starting over, she could go back to school, she found herself hoping.
“So I’m the one who teaches the self-defense classes, every weekday morning at nine. Don’t be late,” Casey instructed as she led her back through the gym toward the front.
Clare just nodded, not really listening. She was thinking about Rory, and wondering how the man who had broken her boss’s nose was also the man sitting on a curb sharing a sandwich with a starving dog.
“Clare?” Casey brought her back to attention.
“Oh, sorry. What?” Clare realized she had just missed everything the woman had been telling her.
“I said, do you want to see the ladies’ locker room?” The blue eyes stared back at her expectantly. Clare glanced over at the doors, but then shook her head.
“All right, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then? Mondays we usually have the biggest crowds.” Casey slipped behind the front counter.
“Sounds good to me.” Clare paused on her way to the door, stopping in front of a large wall of shelves filled with trophies, championship belts, and pictures.
“Oh, that’s my cousin’s glory wall. Kind of obnoxious, isn’t it?”
“Seems like he has a lot to be proud of.” Clare smiled. She loved Casey’s wit and sarcasm, and her affection for her cousin was obvious despite her teasing barbs.
Clare turned her smile back to the wall, noticing a large photograph of Rory holding a prize belt over his head as he stood in a ring, surrounded by crowds of people.
His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and droplets of blood slid from a laceration on his cheek bone.
He seemed completely unfazed by the injury. Even in a bruised state, his face shone with pride and a life that had been missing from both the man she met the other evening and the one she had just seen sitting outside. The man feeding the dogs had a hollow a
ppearance compared to the energy and excitement from the man in this picture. It was hard to imagine all three men were the one and the same.
There must be a lot more to Rory Kavanagh than she had first assumed.
“You’re trying to put me in an early grave, aren’t you? What are you boys doing to me?” Dierdre Kavanagh dramatically threw her hands up in the air as she stormed across the kitchen to the liquor cabinet, her skin paler than normal under the dark red hair that fell to her shoulders.
Rory hid his smile as she stalked away from him and pried open the kitchen cabinet doors on the far wall, selecting a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf. She opened it, then grabbed a small glass out of a neighboring cabinet. Pouring about an inch of whiskey into the glass, she tossed the liquid back in a quick gulp. As she did this, a large black-and-white dog trotted across the kitchen and parked himself at her feet.
“This is not for you, Ace. Your owner is driving me to drink.” She patted the dog on the top of his head, then poured herself another inch before putting the bottle back into the cabinet, sighing deeply. Rory attempted to appear more remorseful, but was unsuccessful at hiding his grin.
“Ma, Cian had it coming,” Quinn chimed in to defend Rory, dropping a heavy hand on Rory’s muscular shoulder and taking a few gulps of his beer.
Their mother shot him a warning glare and pointed an accusatory finger at them both. Quinn ducked his head, sheepishly, as he rubbed his hand through his straight, black hair.
“Stay out of this, Quinny,” she lectured. He put up his hands in defense, quickly abandoning Rory in the kitchen with their mother.
“I took care of it, Ma. Don’t worry,” Jimmy told her. Walking in, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and she frowned apologetically at him, taking his face in her hands for a moment.
He was taller than his mother, broad and well built, even though he was nowhere near the athletic level of his brothers who frequented Legends. Being the lone redhead in the Irish family, a trait he got from their mother, made him stick out like a sore thumb with his pale skin and freckled nose. Despite their Irish lineage, only Jimmy, Casey, and Deidre shared the ginger locks.