Torin (Hope City #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,4

she wanted it to stay. Figuring it was important to remember, part of her didn’t want the nightmare to disappear forever, but she needed to embrace life once again.

As she walked into the bathroom, she caught another glimpse of herself in the large mirror and could not help but notice the change from earlier. Her blue eyes were bright. Her cheeks were flushed instead of pale. And her body hummed as her heart beat and her blood pumped through her veins. Turning away from the mirror, she stepped into the shower and thought about the changes. Was it the run or Torin? Giving her head a little shake, she realized it didn’t matter. It just felt good to be alive.

2

“You know, this fuckin’ city don’t take care of the people who work here. Them big-wigs in City Hall don’t give a rat’s ass about us.”

The Celtic Cock Pub was crowded, just like every weekend. Torin Flanigan was working one end of the bar and his sister Maeve the other, although they crossed paths often as they caught the eyes of various patrons who wanted a fresh drink, those who just came in, and those running up tabs. Also trying to keep an eye on those who’d imbibed a little too much, Torin kept his practiced gaze moving about the room. But he didn’t have to look far tonight.

The three men in front of him at the end of the bar grumbling and complaining about losing their jobs were well on their way to being cut off by him.

“You gentlemen ‘bout ready to call it a night?” he asked, keeping his voice low and steady, a practiced tone used for calming.

The older man looked up, his eyes already bleary. “What the fuck do I have to go home to? Wife left years ago ‘cause I worked nothing but overtime down at the harbor. Fuckin’ Stepanov Warehouse. Twenty years. Then the fuckin’ city buys ‘em up and closes the warehouse.”

Torin glanced at the two men drinking on either side of the older one. “Looks like he needs to go home and sleep it off. Need me to call a cab?”

The one on the right looked perplexed, but the other man shook his head. “Naw, we got him.” Turning to the one in the middle, he said, “Come on, Pops. Let’s get home. Drinking the night away isn’t gonna bring back our jobs.”

The younger man tossed down some bills, easily less than what they owed, but Torin wasn’t going to argue. The pub was full and he was making enough that if he needed to let these three get away with a few free drinks, that was okay. But he memorized their faces. He wouldn’t be so generous the next time he saw them.

“Two Guinness, Bud Lite,” called out one of his servers who approached the bar.

And just like that, he was immediately pulled back into filling glasses, keeping tabs, and watching over the family business.

A pub had been established in this section of town in the late 1800s near where many of the police and fire stations had been located. With much of the force in the early days being Irish, the pub quickly became known as the place for first responders to go after their shifts. By the mid-1900s, Torin’s grandfather had bought the pub from the original owner’s son who no longer wanted to run the business. While Hope City had changed greatly over the years, the location near several police and fire stations still made it the pub of choice after their shifts.

He enjoyed the camaraderie and friendship with many of those first responders but had to admit it also gave him a sense of peace to know that his establishment was well looked after.

Catching the eye of one of his regulars, Sandy, he quickly mixed up her signature drink—a Lemon Drop Martini. He thought that Rory McBride had had his eye on Sandy, but it seemed as though that relationship may have cooled. Too bad… I thought they looked good together. He knew most people looked at him and saw a tatted, ex-military, somewhat grumpy bar owner, but the truth was, underneath it all, he liked seeing his friends happy.

On a night like tonight, though, he barely gave Sandy and Rory a second glance. His servers were coming and going from the bar as he, Maeve, and another bartender were slinging drinks as fast as they could. The servers were clearing away the empty drinking glasses from the