Free CROW (Boston Underworld Book 1) by A. Zavarelli

along just fine, sweetheart.”
     

Chapter Six

    Lachlan
     
    “ Q uit being a fucking pussy and hit me.”
    Ronan turns his focus on me and rolls his shoulders. He looks like he’s going to some sort of business meeting with his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves like that. And those glasses. It’s not that he doesn’t understand you don’t wear these type of things to the gym. It’s just what he’s comfortable in. Been that way since we were young lads and he came to live with me. My mammy handed him a pair of jeans and a shirt and he just stared at them all day, like. Then he went on to announce he didn’t want to dress that way no more.
    So what did my mammy do? She sewed him a suit if you can believe it. At thirteen years old he was strutting around the neighborhood in that thing. He was already deadly, but the kids didn’t know that. They were always giving him shite because he was such a scrawny little fella back then. I guess the suit made him feel good about himself, so I never said anything to him about it. Next thing ye know, he started boxing with me. He filled out, bulked up, and nobody ever fucked with him again. Even so, he still wears the goddamn suits.
    Now here we are, all these years later, and he hesitates to punch me in the face. My best mate can off a man six different ways with his bare hands, so long as it isn’t me. His loyalty always gets in the way, but he’ll do it. It’s an order, and when I give an order, Ronan follows through. He’s good at that. Doesn’t want much of anything else. Just to be left alone and follow the orders that come down the pipe.
    “Are ye afraid to fight the mighty Lachlan Crow?” Sean mimics our accents like the tosser he is. He was born and reared here, and it’s just another thing that sets him apart from the rest of us.
    “Let me have a go. More than happy to oblige in fact.”
    “Not going to fight ye, Sean,” I tell him.
    “Why not? Thought you were the best. That’s what they say.”
    Pushing Ronan isn’t something I’m fond of. He comes to terms with things on his own time, for reasons only I’m clued in on. But in this case, I’ll be glad to make an exception if he doesn’t get his shite together. Sean is always bleeding on with this bollocks. It isn’t enough he bedded two of my women behind my back. Now he wants to have a go at my face as well.
    “The boys are always going on about it,” says Sean. “And yet you won’t fight in the underground. Why is that, Lachlan? You think you’re too good?”
    “Fack off, Sean,” Ronan grunts.
    “Well, you won’t spar with him, so let me. We’re an equal match. In fact, I’d say Lachlan probably has about fifteen pounds on me. So he has the advantage already.”
    It’s no little feat not to tell this prick to shut his gob. He’s got it in his head that he wants to fight me, but I’d destroy him. Niall wouldn’t have that. He expects better of me. So this muppet can spin this drivel all day long, it’s still not going to happen.
    Ronan finally takes it upon himself to step up to the plate. He moves into my space and I keep my guard up. His eyes flick between mine, looking for weaknesses and trying to guess my next move. A very obvious and tightly controlled right hook comes straight at me. I don’t bother trying to deflect. It hits me in the jaw with a satisfactory crack and sends my head jerking to the left.
    “Ye’re off your goddamn head, Crow.” Ronan tears off his gloves and tosses them to the floor like a child. “We’re done here.”
    With a shrug, I take to the bag instead. The repetition of the punches keeps me grounded. I’m piss drunk and right now the pain feels good. My grand-da always said there’s nothing like a good solid punch to the head to clear your mind.
    Ronan grunts, and I glance over to see what his problem is now. The man is so fucking contrary you’d think he was a goddamn woman sometimes. Donny walks in and I make the same low grunt in my