“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, pausing to fill 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 said, his words sliding together sloppily, giving away his drunkenness. 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 2

“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 card from the spunky redhead.