Filthy Dark: A SECOND CHANCE/SECRET BABY, MAFIA ROMANCE (THE FIVE POINTS' MOB COLLECTION Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  And it was totally worth the looks I kept getting from the staff.

  I mean, it wasn’t like I was the only person who’d walked through these doors who had blue hair.

  Surely rock stars had come and visited?

  “I was just saying how she’s brave for telling Aidan Sr. where to stuff it.”

  “Confession,” Inessa said sagely, waving at me in greeting before bending down to kiss Jacob’s forehead. As she did, I saw their guards bump knuckles at the back of the bar—Billy and Limerick. Christ, it had been a long time since I’d last seen them.

  “Yeah, confession.” Aoife grimaced. “I swear, it’s like living in a monastery, except with killer monks.”

  I laughed at that. “You’re not far off.”

  “I don’t know,” Inessa countered. “I can’t see any of the brothers being celibate for long, can you?”

  The three of us shared a glance and started snickering.

  “Definitely not,” Aoife replied with a cheeky grin.

  “Yeah, no,” I added.

  “Thank God for manwhores too! Especially when they’re reformed,” Inessa commented.

  “Can they ever be reformed?” I mused a little wistfully.

  “Depends. According to Lena, she kept Aidan tied to her by always putting out,” Aoife said dryly.

  Crap, if that wasn’t the most perfect segue ever into what I’d been talking to Declan about the other night.

  But was it wise?

  “There was never any talk of Aidan cheating,” I started weaving.

  “When Finn and I first got engaged, she told me to expect men to cheat, but when Inessa came to Sunday dinner, she said that to tie a man to us, we had to get them drunk on us.”

  “That’s a contradiction, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “I thought so too,” Inessa grumbled, as she played with a little soft toy Jacob had in his carrier.

  A server came and handed us a menu, and after we’d made our selections and had tea dropped off for the three of us, I had to admit, I was chomping at the bit to ask what I probably shouldn’t.

  Some things were family secrets for a reason, after all.

  But I never had been able to leave things well alone.

  “It’s funny how close Finn is to the family,” I started, curious if they’d get my drift. I couldn’t be the only one who’d seen the similarities between him and the rest of the brothers, could I? And after Dec’s response, I knew it was going to be swept under the rug. Which I was okay with. I just wanted to know the truth.

  My reason wasn’t very palatable either.

  I knew, for the rest of my life, that Aidan Sr., no matter what I did, no matter how many portraits I gave to Lena, was going to throw my past in my face.

  If he’d cheated, I wanted ammunition too.

  I never said I was a nice person…

  “The boys grew up together,” Aoife replied, but her tone was a little more wooden than before.

  I shrugged. “I mean, I know. I was there.” I shot her a smile. “I just never noticed the likeness before.”

  Inessa gave me a look before immediately taking a sip of tea. “I don’t know what you mean. Likeness?”

  “You know... how he looks like Aidan Sr.?”

  “It’s because they’re all Black Irish,” Inessa murmured. Then, she sighed. “Thank God for the Black Irish.” She replaced her cup onto the saucer, then gently squished Jacob’s cheek. “This one is going to be a heartbreaker, just like his daddy.”

  “And his uncles,” I interjected dryly, not willing to let this drop.

  I wasn’t sure why they’d invited me here, but I’d figured it was to pump me for information. I highly doubted they wanted to be friends with me. I’d long since learned that I wasn’t a likable person because the day Deirdre had died, and I’d headed off into the great unknown, I’d made a decision.

  I wouldn’t kiss ass ever again.

  And being friends with Deirdre had made me stink of shit because I was that far up her butt.

  As far as I’d ever been able to see, that was how friendship worked.

  Aoife squirmed on her seat at my statement, but she tilted her head to the side and noted, “You’re grumpier than I’d imagined an artist would be.”

  I had to laugh at that. “I’m not grumpy.”

  “No?” Aoife arched a brow. “Just rude then?”

  I grinned at her. “Touché.”

  Her eyes twinkled a little. “What do you want me to say, Aela?”

  “That Finn is Aidan Sr.’s by-blow?”

  “By-blow?” Inessa repeated, her brow puckering.

  “His illegitimate child,” Aoife answered. “I need to get you hooked on historical romance next.”

  Despite myself, interest hit me. “You like romance books?”

  “Yes. We do,” was Inessa’s retort, but I sensed her bristling ahead of schedule.

  I raised my hands in surrender, because even though I wanted answers, I wasn’t a total bitch. Even if romance books hadn’t been my jam, I’d never give them crap about that. Someone’s taste was their taste, and I celebrated that.

  The world would be a boring place if we all weren’t individuals and unique with it.

  “I love romance books too.” When they gaped at me, evidently disbelieving my claim, I reached for my cellphone in my purse, scrolled onto my kindle app, and shoved it at Aoife. She peered at the covers and laughed.

  “You like mafia romance?”

  I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know my eyes were twinkling. “Very fitting, no?”

  “Very.” She pursed her lips. “Why do you want to know if Finn is what you think he is?”

  Because I wasn’t going to bullshit, I murmured, “So if Aidan Sr. tries to have me killed or something, I can hurl that at him.”

  Inessa scowled. “Why would you do that? If he has you killed, then he wouldn’t be there to hurl anything at. Not even your shoe. Plus, they send” —she muttered under her breath— “Eoghan… out on those jobs. He wouldn’t hurt his brother like that.”

  I loved that logic, especially because it was clear she’d been raised in the life. I mean, I knew that already, she screamed Bratva with her stiff manner and her stern disposition, but Aoife most certainly wasn’t like us.

  While I knew she must know something about how the Five Points’ world worked, it was obvious that she hadn’t anticipated my answer.

  Ironically enough, it was clear to see that she liked it too. Taken aback, sure. Liked? That was something I hadn’t anticipated.

  She reached for her cup of tea and stared at me over the rim. “I don’t think he’d kill you. Lena’s wanted a grandchild for a long time.”

  “She has Jacob.”

  “She’d have had Seamus, too, if Declan hadn’t done whatever he did that made you hide him.”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” I defended. “Not totally. I thought he’d think I was trying to trap him, and when Deirdre, his girlfriend, died the way she did…” I shrugged. “I hate to say it when you’ve just brought a baby into the world, but what kind of life is it for a kid?”

  She grimaced. “Did you think that thought didn’t cross my mind when I got pregnant?”

  “I can imagine it did. All I could think was that I wanted to protect him. Keep him safe. And there I was, pregnant, standing over my friend’s grave. A friend who’d died because she was following her boyfriend who she thought was cheating… because he was. With me.”

  “It wasn’t your fault she was following him.” Inessa shrugged. “I never expected Eoghan to remain faithful to me. Lena is right that we can’t expect it of them.”

  I scowled at her. “You bet your ass we can expect it. If they say they love us, then we can expect it.”

  “I agree.”

  Inessa shrugged. “I don’t disagree, but I just… I was raised a different way.”

  I sighed. “I was raised the same way. I know how often the men cheat. I’m sure my dad did too, and that I�
��ve probably got younger brothers and sisters roaming around the city, but… when they tell you they love you, they shouldn’t cheat. It should be like a law or something.”

  “That is my kind of law,” she concurred with a soft smile.

  I didn’t need to hear her say it to know that Eoghan loved her, and that she loved him in turn. I’d seen them together, and a blind man would know about their feelings for one another.

  I didn’t think it was puppy love either. Eoghan wasn’t, and never had been, a puppy.

  Having met him as a kid, having seen him in school, he’d been born and raised a pitbull. A nasty one.

  Aoife studied me until her attention was broken when the server arrived with a tiered dish that had scones and petit fours and small, crustless sandwiches on it.

  Tiny knives and forks were propped on gleaming linen napkins alongside bone china plates.

  Because I was a dessert first kind of girl, I served myself a petit four and a scone, and as I smothered the scone with jam and cream, the silence grew tenser with every passing moment.

  Until, eventually, Aoife blew out a breath, and muttered, “You didn’t hear this from me…”

  Twenty-Four

  Declan

  When Seamus hit the target three times in the chest, I glowered at him. “How did you do that?”

  At his age, I’d been hitting paper dicks with how low my shots were running, and while I was a lot better now, I was no Eoghan.

  I’d exaggerated when I’d told Aela I was a crap shot, because in my world, a crap shot meant being put in a body bag ahead of schedule. But the idea was a good one. It was a way of giving my kid the power, and I was all for that.

  Life always had a way of working out how you least expected it, so I wanted to make up for time lost as well as getting to know the real him.

  The Seamus that Aela never really saw because she knew him inside out.

  I could do a Da, be a prick, and shove my way into his life and make him listen, or I could be his friend.

  I’d never been like Da. Never wanted to be. So being a friend was more than enough for me to be happy.

  He grinned at me, a little cockily, but he deserved it. Neither was he embarrassed to admit the truth, “Practice.”

  “Not skill, huh?”

  He snickered. “Maybe a little.”

  I shoved down the plastic glasses I wore and leaned my elbow against the stand on the gun range where we were firing shots.

  The paper target was flying toward us, confirming what I already knew—Aela had made sure he was comfortable with a weapon. That had to have gone down like a lead balloon in Europe. They weren’t as gun happy as we were over here in the States, but I was glad. At least I knew he was safe.

  Now I just needed him to turn twenty-one so he could get a license and carry.

  When he eyed the small holes in the paper, he murmured to himself, “Not bad.”

  I arched a brow. “Couldn’t have done much better. Three in the center of the chest? Not even the nine circle, but right in the middle?” I whistled. “You did good, kid.”

  His nose crinkled, but I knew he liked hearing that.

  My practice went down on the streets, but I’d keep this up if it meant getting some quality time with my boy. Especially since he seemed to enjoy it.

  “Thanks.”

  As he unclipped the target, I asked, “You want to grab a burger?”

  He twisted to look at me. “Can we?”

  “Sure thing.” I rubbed my hands together. “You got something in mind or can I pick?”

  “You know the city better.”

  “That I do.” I eyed him. “You like milkshakes?”

  “Duh.”

  I grinned. “Then I know the perfect place.”

  As we finished up on the range, leaving with a tip of my head to the owner, the wife of an ex-Pointer who’d died back in the eighties and was an integral member of the Old Wives’ Club—a bunch of savages who were the wives of dead brothers—we headed for my car.

  The alarm beeped as I unlocked the door, and when we climbed in, he carefully placed the folded paper target in the glove compartment.

  “You going to show your mom?”

  “Yeah, it’ll make her feel better.”

  “It will?”

  “She likes to know I can protect myself.”

  I pursed my lips at his words. “Question, did you ever, before I came into your life, I mean, need to shoot a gun?”

  “Once or twice.”

  That had my eyes widening, and I stopped, taking a moment before I started the ignition to twist toward him. “Once or twice?”

  He shrugged. “Once when we were in Mexico. Someone tried to kidnap us. It was nuts.”

  “They tried to kidnap you?” I intoned, and I knew he sensed my anger because his shoulders hunched.

  “Yeah. Like I said, insane. Mom got shot in the belly. After she healed up, the guy Mom was working for brought us into his compound even though, before then, she used to insist on having her own place. She wasn’t happy, but it was a big job and she was totally mental over it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He hummed under his breath. “You know, when she goes gaga over a piece?”

  “I’ve never seen her like that.”

  “Give her time,” was his wry retort. “This is probably the longest she’s gone without something driving her. She gets really involved in stuff. Forgets to eat, never knows what day it is or time it is, things like that. ”

  I knew how that went… once upon a time, I’d been at the center of that focus. And now that I thought about it… I’d seen her scar there. It was small, and when I’d seen it, I’d been going down on her so my focus had been elsewhere.

  Shit. She’d almost fucking died.

  Anger and distress made my voice husky as I demanded, “What was the other time?”

  “It was a mugging that went wrong. Mom isn’t very good at just handing over her purse. She almost got pistol-whipped, and would have done if I hadn’t grabbed her gun and shot the guy in the foot.”

  “Good job, kiddo.”

  He pulled a face. “I was aiming higher.”

  Despite myself, I had to laugh. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. I was meaner back then.”

  “Probably because you thought it was only for pissing out of.”

  He bit his lip, but I knew he wanted to laugh. “You swear a lot, don’t you?”

  Unoffended by the question, I told him, “Yeah. But…” I paused as I tried to figure out how to say what I wanted to say. “They’re just words. Only as powerful as you make them. For me, it’s part of the role I play. I’m so used to playing the role, I use them more than I like.”

  “Why play a role at all?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I never did.” I tipped my head to the side. “You, on the other hand, will always have choices.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you met my father. I’m not him. Plus,” I said with a shrug, “Aela raised you well. She raised you to be different, and I like what I see. If we’d been together when you were born, I don’t know if things would be the same. As much as I hate that I’m a stranger to you now, I’m almost glad if it means your path is different than mine.”

  He blinked at that, and I knew I’d surprised him with my answer. “I-I think that’s probably the nicest thing you could have told me.”

  “It’s the truth. I want what’s best for you,” I said, and I meant it.

  “Unlike your father.”

  “Unlike him,” I confirmed.

  “Why’s he like that?” he asked warily.

  “He’s a product of his environment. Just like I am. Just like you are.”

  “Do you hate him?”

  I stared at him, not totally surprised by the question. “When I was your age, sure. He wanted me to do things…” My voice waned because he didn’t need to know what things. “He wanted me to be something I wasn’t.”

  “Wh
y did you conform?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “We always have choices.”

  “Not in my world.”

  “It’s my world now,” he rasped.

  “No. I’ll make sure it isn’t.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “Because I am.”

  He bit his lip. “I asked Uncle Conor for—”

  “I know. He told me. Didn’t like what you read?”

  “I mean, I’ve seen The Sopranos.” He hesitated. “Don’t tell Mom though.”

  I had to grin. “I won’t.”

  “I know what a crime family does and things, but…”

  “But what?”

  “It’s not like The Sopranos,” he said miserably. “It’s real life.”

  “It is.”

  He licked his lips. “If I saw—”

  I tipped my head to the side when he broke off. “Saw what?”

  “Nothing.”

  My brow puckered, but I reached over and cupped his shoulder. “What is it? You can tell me.”

  “Nothing. I promise.” He cleared his throat to suddenly hide the squeak, and while I knew he was hiding something, what could I do? Get out a knife and threaten him?

  I could see that going down well with Aela.

  So, even though I knew he was lying, even though I could see from the sudden storm clouds in his eyes that he badly needed to share something with me, I just murmured, “You won’t be getting involved in my world.”

  He peered up at me with relief in his gaze, but he inquired, “Why is Aidan so mean to you?”

  “Because he wants me to be something I’m not, and even though I do as he asks, do what he wants, and have never said no, it’s not enough.”

  “Why?”

  I blew out a breath. “That’s a tough question, kid.”

  He shrugged. “Someone has to ask them.”

  “True.” My lips twisted. “If you asked me before I found out about you, I’d have said because he wanted me to be better.”

  “But now?”

  “I’d say because he sees me as his failure.”

  Seamus’s eyes widened. “That’s mean. You’re not a failure!”

  Though his defense was appreciated, I shook my head. “His failure, kid. He made me into what I am. Even though he had to work hard to shove me into that mold. So, when he looks at me, he knows I’m this because of his choices.