Liam: Branded Brothers (8 page)

“Help? You got to be kidding me. He’s done nothing but hurt
me. I’ve got nothing but low-life traitors in my life. Loyalty is a thing of
the past, my friend. Loyalty doesn’t exist, so don’t even think twice about
trying to find it.”

Rich slid up to the steel barrier, just a foot away from
Liam’s ear. “What’s that tattoo you got on your chest?”

“I’ve got a lot of tattoos,” Liam said, looking down at his
unbuttoned Henley. His shirt must have come undone when he was taking down
Rich. He buttoned the first two shut.

“On your chest,” Rich said. “I saw something like it on a
guy I met in county.”

“Oh yeah?” Liam tried to hide the trepidation in his voice.

“Yeah, he was some tattoo artist or something. In for
disorderly conduct or something.”

“He still there?” Liam asked.

“Nah, he was gone before I got out. I don’t remember his
name or anything. Just remember his tattoos. Never seen anyone like that
before.”

“A tattoo artist, huh?” Liam voice trailed off, thinking
about the possibilities of the tattoo artist being one of his brothers. He had
the perfect person to go to if Rich’s lead had an ounce of credibility. That
was a big
if
. But he didn’t have any other leads, so Rich’s was better
than nothing.

“Yeah, you meet all sorts of guys in prison, half of them
don’t belong. Most of them wouldn’t hurt a fly. You know, they’re just doing
their thing. Making ends meet. You know, guys like me…”

Liam reached forward and turned up the beat of the Dropkick
Murphys to drown out the sound of the mumbling naked criminal in his ear.

***

“Sorry I’m late,” Jill gushed as she
slid into the chair across from Charla at Tigerwood Cafe.

“No worries,” Charla replied, glancing up from her laptop screen.
She closed her web browser before closing the laptop. “I was just looking for
jobs, which is probably going to take me longer than I anticipated.”

“Find anything good?” Jill grabbed a menu from the holder on
the edge of the table.

“Not really. I thought there was supposed to be a national
shortage of nurses…”

“I guess everyone in Blackwell is healthy as a horse.” Jill
snorted. She was a physical trainer at a large health club in the city
notorious for its well-to-do members. They were mostly wealthy businessmen and
their trophy wives. Jill had her fair share of fat, sloppy men whose wives
dragged them to her sessions. “Did you order yet?”

“Not yet, I was waiting for you,” Charla said, pressing her
hands on her laptop. She’d been waiting for Jill for the last year. She was
used to it. She stopped asking Jill what always took her so long. It was a
different excuse every time. The worst was that Jill claimed
she
hated
waiting for people, so that’s why she was always late. Jill was late to every
Anatomy class they had together, until the professor threatened to fail her. After
the threat, Charla called Jill before every class to ensure she made it on
time, and just like that, they became friends. Jill was the only friend Charla
had.

“You could have been waiting all day,” Jill said with a
smile, poking her head up from the menu.

Charla shook her head and waved a waitress over. “No
kidding. You’re going to be late for your own funeral.”

“And wedding most likely,” Jill quipped. “Unless you do your
job and get me there on time.”

“That’s what maids of honor are for, right?” she said
quietly. After Jill had found out about Charla’s broken engagement to Rex, she
refused to talk about her wedding, but Charla insisted she talk about it even
though every mention felt like tiny razor blade cuts on her skin. She
should
be getting married, just like Jill. “I won’t let you down.”

“Rex is a cheating, lying, scumbag,” Jill reminded her.
Charla looked up to see her best friend’s adamant eyes. “Remember that.
Scumbag. You’re lucky you’re not marrying him.”

“I know,” Charla replied. “It can still hurt though, can’t
it?”

“Hell yes, it can still hurt, but you’ll find someone else.
Someone who will treat you right. Someone who won’t get blowjobs from some
floozy blonde. Someone who will love you unconditionally, crappy Corolla and
all,” Jill said with a smile. She reached out her hand and gave Charla’s a
tight squeeze. “Where’s the list?”

“I don’t want to…” Charla said, shaking her head as a
red-bobbed waitress in her fifties appeared next to them.

“What can I get you ladies today?” The waitress grabbed a
pen from the back of her ear and held it above her pad of paper.

“Tell my friend she’s beautiful, and she deserves more than
a cheating scumbag for a fiancé,” Jill said.

The waitress leaned against the table, looking down at
Charla with sympathetic eyes. “Honey, you’re beautiful. You don’t deserve a cheating
scumbag for a fiancé. Trust me, I had one of those. I was married to a lying
sack of shit who stole my money and ran off with a blonde half my age.”

“Why is it always a blonde?” Charla lamented.

“Hey,” Jill said, pointing to her honey yellow hair.

“I’m just saying,” Charla defended with a shrug. “It’s
always the blondes.”

“Whatever. I’ll have a Greek salad with the dressing on the
side and a water with a slice of lemon,” Jill said, closing the menu. “And for
the record, I’m not one of the blondes who steals other men.”

“I’ll take the same,” Charla said to the waitress. “And
thank you. As sad as it is, I’m happy to hear I’m not alone.”

“You’re never alone, honey. We’re all in this together,” she
replied before she leaned in closer to Charla, “At least the brunettes are.”
She tapped the pad on the counter and chuckled before she walked away.

“What?” Charla shrugged her shoulders at Jill’s accusing
eyes and laughed.

“Get out your sheet of paper,” Jill ordered. “I’m going to
keep making you do this every time you get those sad puppy dog eyes. You look
like you didn’t get any sleep last night, you know that? You’re skin’s flat and
your eyes are glassy. You need a B12 shot?”

“I’m fine,” Charla said. Jill was a fanatic about
supplements and keeping her body in tip-top shape and it showed. She had the
body of a Greek Goddess, not too thin but not too muscular. She took her
profession and health to a level of dedication beyond Charla’s comprehension.

“And you’re okay with Jack and everything?”

“I had the nightmare again last night,” Charla said quietly,
leaning across the table. “I’ve had it every night since Jack died. Something
about watching Jack died stirred up that memory. No matter how hard I tried to
erase it from my mind, I can’t.”

Jill was the only other person that knew the truth about
that night.

“Charla,” Jill said, reaching over to grab her hand. “It was
too late anyway. There was nothing you could have done.”

Charla closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. After her
step-father’s funeral, her mother fell into a deeper state of addiction and was
admitted to a rehab facility for three months. Charla moved in with her aunt
for the remainder of high school even though her mother finally emerged sober
and stayed that way for the next two years. Charla was eighteen when her mother
went back to hitting the bottle again.

“I just wonder if things would have been different,” Charla
said. “If she wouldn’t have gone back to it. Maybe she’d be in a better place
now.”

“If that better place is six feet under,” Jill said. “That
man would have killed her, Charla. You know that. Even worse, you might not be
sitting here. And what the hell would I do without you?”

“Find a better best friend who doesn’t complain when she
whips you into shape,” Charla said, making some small circles with her arms.
“My arms are still sore from all those curls.”

“Beauty hurts, Charla,” Jill replied with a smile. “Get out
your list.”

“I’m fine, Jill. Jesus, I’ve just had a lot on my mind with
Jack and everything else.”

“Get out the list. Not only am I your personal trainer, I am
your counselor since you refuse to go see anyone.”

“Fine,” Charla said, pulling a sheet of paper from her
purse. She obliged because Jill was a damn good friend.

“Read it,” Jill said.

Charla looked down at the paper and recited the lines, “One,
I am beautiful, strong, intelligent, and the most giving person I have ever
met. Two, I deserve a man who is willing to treat me as the woman stated in
number one. Three, I will, no matter the circumstance, pick myself up and be
open to falling in love again.”

Charla looked up to see Jill nodding her head with her eyes
closed.

“Happy?” Charla asked, folding the piece of paper and shoving
it in her purse. Before Jill could reply, Charla’s cell phone rang on the
table. She glanced down to see Liam Murphy’s name appear on the screen. She
looked back up at Jill, letting the phone ring.

“Well, are you going to answer it?” Jill asked, leaning
forward to look at the screen. “Who’s Liam Murphy?”

Charla snagged the phone off the table and held it in her
lap. She didn’t want to get into everything with Jill here. In fact, she wasn’t
sure what she was supposed to say about Liam Murphy other than he’s a hot Irish
bartender and Jack’s secret son. That would take some explaining. “No one.”

Jill raised her eyebrows and shot her an accusing look. “Who
is Liam Murphy?”

Charla hit the green button and put the phone up to her ear.
“Hello?”

“Charla?” Liam’s voice was even sexier over the phone than
in person.

A surge of warmth sparked through Charla’s veins. “I didn’t
think I’d hear from you so soon.” Her voice dripped with a surprisingly flirty
tone.

Jill mouthed a big “WHAT?” She held her mouth agape as she
leaned forward. Charla waved her off as she felt her cheeks flush.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know.” Charla laughed nervously. “Just is, I
guess.”

“What the hell is going on?” Jill whispered with wide eyes.

“I need your help,” Liam said. “You open the rest of the
day?”

“Well, I just sat down for lunch with a friend…”

“Meet me at Dirty Leprechaun in an hour. I got a lead on my
brother.”

“Sure, I …uh…” Charla licked her lips and tried to cover the
stutter in her voice.

“See you then. Oh yeah, and bring my clothes.”

Click.

Charla pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at
Jill.

“Who the hell was that?” Jill asked. “Did you forget to tell
me something? I talked to you yesterday and the day before that and the day before
that. What the hell did I miss?”

“Liam Murphy,” Charla said, sliding the phone into her
purse. “And there’s nothing to tell other than he’s a gorgeous, tattooed Irish
bartender/bounty hunter who also happens to be Jack’s secret son.”

“What did you just say?” Jill asked, her eyes wide in
disbelief. “I swear you just spewed some day-time soap opera crap that I
couldn’t dream of making up.”

“You’re right about that,” Charla replied, wondering if she
would have enough time to go back to Jack’s house to shower and change before
heading to Dirty Leprechaun. “You know how I feel about drama. I don’t need any
more of that shit in my life.”

“Whatever you do, be sure to wear that little lace set I
bought for you. Just in case.” The corner of Jill’s lips began to crack.

“In case of what?” Charla widened her eyes.

“There’s nothing better than a gorgeous, tattooed Irishman
to help you forget about Rex,” Jill replied with a full smile. “Plus, I know
you were thinking the same thing about the lace set, but you wouldn’t have done
it without me saying so.” She broke out into laughter.

Jill was always right.

Chapter 5

Charla wiped the sweat from her
brow, wishing she would have taken the extra time to shower. But Liam hadn’t
given her any other choice than to be at the Dirty Leprechaun at 12:30. And
she’d be damned if she was late. Jill’s tardiness had made punctuality a
priority for Charla. She leaned across the seat and grabbed the small box of
belongings with Liam’s clothes neatly folded on top. She straightened her tank
top and took one last look in the mirror. She smoothed the frizz near her
hairline caused by the humidity, cursing the gene pool she’d inherited from a father
she’d never met. Dotti had long, sleek hair when she took care of it, which was
usually not the case.

I’m nothing like her
, she reminded herself.

She stood on the sidewalk with the box tucked under her arm
looking up at the Dirty Leprechaun sign. The name was flanked with two clovers,
but she didn’t feel any sort of luck. She exhaled and finally took a step
toward dealing with the mess Jack had left her.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” A man’s voice echoed from the side
of the building. Charla craned her head to see a shirtless Liam leaning over a
metal balcony. She inhaled sharply, admiring the thick outline of his upper
body. It flexed in the warm sunlight as he pushed himself off and threw a
t-shirt over his shoulder.

He’s gorgeous, get over it.
She tried to steady her
breathing as he landed on the concrete of the alleyway and turned toward her.
His smooth skin peeked out between a pair of large wings and a long passage
with scrolling letters on his chest. His dog tags bounced between the tattoos
and glinted in the sun. She shifted the box under her other arm as he pulled a
black t-shirt over his head and walked toward her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a smile. He walked past
her and opened the front door of the bar. “Couldn’t resist a guy like me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied as they ducked into
the dim lighting of the bar.

“So what brought you back here?” Liam asked, walking around
the counter.

Charla climbed onto a stool and slid the box to him. “Well,
for starters, the box of stuff, and your clothes.”