All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (25 page)

“That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Actually, besides Felicity, he’s the one
member of that family who doesn’t seem to hate me,” I said with a
shrug.

Under the circumstances, I don’t suppose
Austin’s presence really should have come as that big a surprise.
He was, after all, Felicity’s older brother, and he had a habit of
being very overprotective of his “kid sister.”

However, there was also the glaring fact that
he made his home almost four thousand miles away in Ireland. I
remembered Felicity having made mention that he was planning his
vacation around the Thanksgiving holiday in order to visit with
family, but I also seemed to recall he was supposed to be arriving
late in the coming week. Friday, I thought.

Of course, I suppose it was a good bet he had
received a call from Maggie or Shamus telling him of his sister’s
current plight, and that may have prompted him to re-arrange his
travel plan. Something he would have had to do in a huge rush, but
that wasn’t something I would put past him. Whatever the reason
however, obviously he was here sooner rather than later.

Rather than stand there trying to reason out
the logistics that now brought him to my doorstep, I twisted the
lock and unlatched the door then pulled it open wide. In
retrospect, I probably should have taken the time to do some of the
pondering I had so quickly dismissed.

Just as I had told Ben, Austin and I had
always gotten along famously. Other than my wife, he really was the
only member of the O’Brien family who accepted me for who I was and
didn’t pass judgment on my religious path or lifestyle. In fact, he
had even gone toe to toe with his father in my defense on more than
one occasion. Therefore, I can honestly say his fist racing toward
my jaw was absolutely the last thing I ever imagined would happen.
Of course, my imagination had been running incredibly rampant as of
late, so possibilities that would have been obvious to others
simply didn’t fit within its outlandish scope.

An almost sickeningly strong smell of whisky
flowed in on the wake of the opening door and thrown hand. The odor
served as a good indicator of how Austin had come by the mood he
was presently wearing. Truth is, he tended at times to fall into
the negative stereotype of the drunken Irishman who was happiest
when in the middle of a bar room brawl. Not that he spent all that
much time drunk, mind you, but whenever he did set about imbibing
alcohol, he wasn’t one for temperance. And, unfortunately, violence
often ensued.

My ears detected something that may or may
not have been a curse echoing through the room, but at this point
whatever he was actually saying was completely obscured by the
alcohol slur that permeated his speech. The intent in his tone,
however, was unmistakable, so I didn’t waste time trying to figure
out the actual verbiage.

A strong sense of déjà vu invaded my brain as
my brother-in-law’s fist arced through the air between us; however,
in this instance I could actually explain why I felt like this had
happened before—because it had.

Ben had done exactly the same thing only a
couple of years back, also while in a similarly inebriated state.
In his case, while the punch landed with far more force than he’d
intended, there had been no malice attached. I was reasonably
certain I couldn’t say the same for Austin.

Unfortunately, my brother-in-law’s speech
seemed to be the only thing impaired by the whisky. Both his
coordination and depth perception appeared to be perfectly sober.
Of course, I suppose it could have been that his aim was off to
begin with, and I simply chose the wrong direction to dodge. In any
event, his incoming knuckles glanced across my jaw, and my head
snapped back as an altogether new pain inflicted itself on the
lower half of my face. Literally reeling with the force of the
blow, for the second time in the past two days I staggered backward
across my living room.

Rattled though I was, I managed to catch the
fact that Austin was quickly following the punch through the door
and had already cocked his left arm in preparation to launch
another fist. Of course, with his anger focused so intently upon
me, the thing that was escaping his attention was the fact that I
was more or less flanked by a cop and an FBI agent who had already
demonstrated that they were more than just a little concerned about
my continued well-being.

I don’t know which one of them was the first
to move, Ben or Constance. I wasn’t really in a position to see,
and the chaotic tableau was made even more disconcerting by the
dogs as they growled and yelped in response to the unexpected
attack. I’m sure they were just as confused as me, given that they
were familiar with Austin as a friendly face but were now
witnessing him as an aggressor. They didn’t seem to know whether
they should go after him, or run and hide, so they chose the middle
ground of positioning themselves between the two of us and assuming
a loud and menacing posture.

Even with all that, I did manage to catch
quite a bit of blurred movement on either side of me before my
brother-in-law’s second punch even began its trajectory. As I was
falling, I felt Ben’s hand clamp onto my arm then physically yank
me up and to the side, pulling me out of harm’s way.

Had I blinked, I probably would have missed
the entire episode, but I somehow remained focused on the flash of
motion before me. Constance immediately filled the void from the
other side, snatching Austin’s wrist then twisting as she thrust
one foot out in his path. In one easy swipe, she took his legs from
beneath him, and he crashed face first onto the floor.

While I’m certain his lack of balance from
the alcohol made her task somewhat easier, there was no doubt in my
mind she would have been able to subdue him had he been cold sober,
ten years younger, and a foot taller. In the end, Austin wound up
kissing the hardwood, with his shoulder straining in its socket as
the petite FBI agent wrenched his arm upward and held him in place
with one knee in his back. She had already filled her hand with a
pair of handcuffs and was beginning to apply them when my sluggish
brain caught up to the action transpiring around me.

The dogs had stopped barking but remained
stationed between us, an occasional low growl emitting from one or
the other as they nervously danced in place.

“Aye, get the hell off me ya’
goddammed
saigh!
” my
brother-in-law bellowed, his voice reflecting upward from the hard
surface of the floor.

“You need to calm down and cooperate, sir,”
Constance instructed, slapping the stainless steel around his wrist
and ratcheting it tight. “I think I should also warn you that
calling me a bitch isn’t a very good start in that direction.”

Constance had heard Felicity use that very
same expression more than once and knew all too well what it meant.
In fact, considering the young woman’s seemingly photographic
memory, it was very likely she remembered any and all Gaelic she’d
ever heard my wife utter then explain.

At this particular moment, I was guessing
that Austin was using the foreign language simply out of habit, as
did most everyone in his family. I suppose it could have been done
in a calculated attempt to get one over on Mandalay, but I doubted
that. Whichever was the case, however, I was sure the result he was
getting definitely wasn’t the one he was after.

I absently touched my hand to my stinging
face, causing myself to flinch. When I pulled it away, there was a
healthy swath of blood on my fingers and palm. Judging from that,
and the way my mouth felt, I was guessing I had a split lip. Either
that or a missing tooth my tongue just hadn’t noticed yet.

As annoyed, and even downright angry as all
this made me, I heard myself say, “Please don’t hurt him,
Constance.”

“That’s up to him,” she returned without
looking up.

“Jay-zuss! Get off me, damn you!”

“Sir,” she instructed again, switching on her
official voice. “I’m telling you again to calm down. I am a federal
officer and I expect you to cooperate. Now, give me your other
hand.”

“Not on your life.”

“I’m not going to ask you again, sir. Let’s
not do this the hard way.”

“Fek
tú!
”

“Not on your best day, asshole,” she returned
sharply, shifting out of official speak for a moment, then she
leaned forward hard on her carefully positioned knee.

He groaned heavily as she pressed her weight
into his lower back, not that she was endowed with that much,
petite as she was; but obviously she knew how to use what she had
to make her point. With a practiced motion, she took hold of his
other wrist and brought it behind his back then quickly applied the
other cuff. Once he was secured, she backed off the pressure on his
spine and stood up then stepped over him.

“Are you okay, Rowan?” she asked.

“I’ll live,” I replied with a nod.

The space between us was no longer blocked,
as the dogs were preoccupied with sniffing at the prone man on the
floor, seeing him now as a curiosity rather than a threat.

“Let me see,” she demanded, moving forward
and gently taking my chin in her fingers.

I brushed her hand away and twisted my head,
pulling back. “I’m fine.”

“You need to put some ice on that,” she
pressed.

“I said, I’ll be fine.”

“Storm,” she said, shooting him a glance then
cocking her head toward Austin.

“Yeah, I got ‘im,” he replied with a nod.
“You get Row some ice.”

“Isn’t anybody listening to me?” I objected,
voice filled with a mix of anger and exasperation, but the words
came too late to matter. Constance was already halfway to the
kitchen, and she wasn’t slowing down.

Ben stooped over and dragged my
brother-in-law onto his knees by his upper arm, “Come on. Get
up.”

“Jay-zuss, ya’ bastard!” he yelped. “You’re
breakin’ me goddamned arm then!”

“You just don’t know when ta’ shut up, do
ya’?” Ben snapped as he finished pulling him up to his feet. “Now,
I know I heard Mandalay tell ya’ ta’ calm down. You got some kinda
hearin’ problem or somethin’?”

“Aye, it’s best you stay out of this,” my
brother-in-law spat. “It’s personal. It’s not your problem,
then.”

“Yeah, well, trust me, I know all about
personal,” Ben replied, shoving him into the dining room and
planting him in a chair. “And, maybe this is, I dunno. But, the
thing ya’ gotta be aware of is you made it my problem when ya’
attacked an innocent citizen right in front of me and then resisted
arrest.”

“Innocent my arse!”

Ben looked over in my direction but kept
himself positioned between the two of us. “Jeezus, Row. I thought
you said this is the guy that liked ya’?”

“I guess he changed his mind,” I replied with
a shake of my head.

Halfway through the motion I stopped, closed
my eyes, and groaned. The rattling in my skull still hadn’t
subsided, and now that it joined forces with the fresh ache in my
jaw, moving just made it that much worse. When I allowed my eyes to
flutter open once again, I saw that Mandalay was already heading
back through the dining room with a dishtowel in her hand.

“What’ve you done to my sister, ya’
bastard?!” Austin shouted, lifting up and leaning to the side to
look around Ben’s frame.

Before I could answer, Ben snapped, “Can it!”
Then, pushing him back down into the seat he added, “Now, I’m not
gonna tell ya’ ta’ calm down again, got me?!”

I was determined that someone was going to
listen to me, so I shot back with, “I haven’t done anything to her,
Austin!”

My own voice rose in volume as I expelled the
words, and that didn’t help my head either. However, the sudden
rush of anger was enough to at least blunt the pain.

“Liar!”

“Goddammit, Austin, I…”

“You too!” Ben returned, cutting me off while
stabbing a finger at me. “Not another word outta either of ya’.
Hear me?!”

Constance interjected her voice into the
auditory fray as she came to a halt in front of me. “Stand still,
this might sting a bit.”

With only that comment as warning, she began
dabbing at the lower half of my face and lip with a damp towel. I
immediately winced and pulled away, reaching for her wrist out of
reflex.

“A bit?” I yelped.

She slapped my hand away and continued
undaunted, quickly adding, “I said, stand still.”

“Dammit, Constance,” I muttered. “You aren’t
my mother.”

“I’m not your wife either, thank God,” she
quipped softly. “But, someone has to look after you, and until we
clear Felicity, it looks like I got the job whether I want it or
not. Now, hold still.”

“Bastard!” Austin snipped.

“I thought I told ya’ ta’ shut up!” Ben
snarled at him.

“I’ll be fine,” I reiterated to Mandalay.

“Come over this way,” she instructed, tugging
on my arm. “I need more light.”

“Constance…”

“Jeezus, Row,” Ben urged with a healthy
measure of exasperation in his voice. “She ain’t gonna take no for
an answer, so will ya’ just let ‘er look at it and get it over
with?”

I didn’t say another word, but I did let out
a heavy sigh before following her a few steps over to the floor
lamp. Then, giving in to yet another of her demands, I twisted my
head so she could have a closer look.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “It’s not too bad. I
don’t think you’ll need any stitches.”

“Thanks,
Doctor
Mandalay,” I returned, unable to keep the
sarcasm from bleeding through.

She ignored the dig and instead simply
produced a second dishtowel from her other hand then carefully
pressed it against my lip. It was damp and cold where the fistful
of ice it was wrapped around had begun to melt through.