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вЂњGet pissed with me one last time, boys,вЂќ Sean added in a thick, fake brogue as he collapsed on the sofa.

#Scrawl bloodsucker rar full#

He was eligible for a full military funeral, but he didnвЂ™t want the fanfare. We were sort of like Huey, Dewey, and Louie to Uncle DannyвЂ™s Scrooge McDuck. This afternoon the three of us held our own private send-off. Jack frowned down at her as she pulled her hand away.

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вЂњBeth Markham.вЂќ Uncomfortable with physical contact, she gritted her teeth and allowed their palms to touch for a nanosecond before tugging free from his grasp.

вЂњAnd your name is?вЂќ JackвЂ™s hand beckoned. The guy passed out on the couch over there is his older brother, Quinn, who never could hold his liquor.вЂќ вЂњJack OвЂ™Malley.вЂќ He nodded toward the blond man pouring an inch of whisky into his glass. Under the haze of scotch, JackвЂ™s shrewd brown eyes narrowed. She could not get a break, no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears. She shook her head, staring at the whisky. Whisky vapors burned her nose, and she lowered her hand. While he surveyed her, from her cheap shoes to her home dye job, Beth held the glass to her lips.

I thought you were here to pay your respects, but youвЂ™re not, are you?вЂќ Jack passed it to Beth without moving any closer. вЂњTake it easy.вЂќ Blondie handed him a glass. вЂњOK.вЂќ Jack pulled his hand away and lifted it in front of his chest palm out. She reached for the flowers and steadied them with a shaky hand. Startled, Beth took a jerky step away, bumping the table with her hip. Her knees wobbled, and she reached for one of the tables flanking the coffin.ДЄ shadow fell across her as a hand grasped her elbow. The air left her lungs in a quick whoosh. Resting on a bed of pillowed ivory satin was the elderly man whoвЂ™d hired her. вЂњThank you, but I donвЂ™t drink.вЂќ Beth squared her shoulders and crossed to the casket. He broke the seal on a new bottle of The Macallan and reached for a clean tumbler on the second shelf. Dirty glasses and empty bottles cluttered the barвЂ™s surface. The conscious blond unfolded his long frame and staggered over to a wheeled cart in the corner. One snored, his head tipped back at an awkward angle. We have one last toast.вЂќ He turned to two disheveled blond men sprawled on an overstuffed sofa. In front of the coffin, two black-suited men maneuvered a wheeled dolly. In the room beyond an open casket sat amid a field of floral arrangements. Jack lurched through a set of French doors. Her heels clicked on the wood floor as she crossed a wide, two-story foyer heavy with the scent of flowers.