M Sellars - All acts of pleasure

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 deja 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.”