Carson: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms)

by Jane Henry

  Or someone else?

  I look behind me and see nothing.

  Maybe I should have brought a guard. Nolan would lecture me to high heaven if he knew I went out at night without a guard. Keenan would damn near lock me up.

  But after a moment, I hear nothing.

  Eve’s grave is one of the newest, just beyond the enormous oak tree at the entrance. I walk around it and freeze.

  I’m not alone.

  Carson stands with his head bowed; his hands shoved in his pockets. He’s saying something softly under his breath. I feel as if I’ve invaded a private moment, one I should never have seen. But if I turn to leave and he hears me, what then? Still clasping the flowers in my hand, I turn to go, but of course, it isn’t that easy. Klutz that I am, I step on a twig. His head snaps up, and his whole body tenses. Angry eyes meet mine from behind his glasses. But his gaze gentles when he sees it’s me.

  “Megan?”

  Guess he does know my name then. Interesting.

  My voice is wobbly, and the hand holding the flowers trembles. “Aye.”

  He holds my gaze. “Why are you here?”

  I don’t know if it’s my imagination that paints his words with accusation.

  I swallow, then lift my hand with the flowers, waving it like a white flag. “I… I came to put these on the grave,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I interrupted. I’ll just…” I lay the flowers on the ground and turn away, irrational tears filling my eyes, and a sizable lump rising in my throat. I’m such a klutz. It’s no wonder no one wants to be with me. I turn to leave, but his voice is hard and commanding, and I freeze at his words.

  “No. Come here.”

  I look over at him. He’s scowling at me, and Mother of God, I had no idea a scowl could affect me the way his does. I just stare at him.

  “Go on,” he says, his voice laced with anger. “Do what you came for.” He steps aside as if his standing in front of the grave is the reason I haven’t moved.

  I pick the flowers up and walk toward the grave. He watches my every move, but once I’m in front of the stone, I shake myself mentally. I’m here to pay my respects to my friend, no more, no less. I close my eyes.

  I’m sorry, I tell her. I’m so sorry. You should be here with us, still. I press my lips to my fingers, then take my fingers and touch them to the gravestone. A parting kiss.

  “Thank you,” I say to Carson. “That was all. I should get to bed. Big day tomorrow and all that.”

  He looks behind me, then shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you came alone?”

  Goddammit, I was hoping I’d get away with it.

  “I did,” I tell him. “But I’ll just be getting back now anyhow.”

  “The hell you will. Alone?”

  I frown at him. They’re all alike, just like the girls said. “I don’t see a guard with you.”

  His frown deepens. My heart does a crazy little flutter.

  Fear?

  Or something else?

  “Right,” he says. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, then. You’re trained in fighting? You’re carrying multiple weapons?” He glares, as if my stupidity infuriates him. “You’ve killed in the line of self-defense before, have you?”

  I shiver at the mental images of the men of the Clan, the men that I love as if they were my very own brothers, doing exactly what he’s saying. And I’m no fool. They do more than kill in self-defense.

  But I’m tired of them telling me what to do, pretending I can’t take care of myself. My temper flares. Figures he ignores me for months, then our first interaction he’s getting all high-handed.

  “Shut it, Carson.”

  “No,” he says, his eyes flashing at me with a kind of warning. “What I will do is walk you back home, whether you like it or not. And if you give me any more grief about this, I’ll call Nolan.”

  I open my mouth to tell him off when it strikes me that we’re literally arguing over Eve’s grave.

  Oh, God. I’m immediately remorseful.

  I shake my head. “I… I can’t believe I’m arguing with you over her grave. I’m… I’m so sorry.” The tears I felt earlier resurface. I turn to go, and my toe catches on a tree root. I go flying forward, but before I fall, his hand comes to my elbow and steadies me.

  We’re close, so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin. He smells strong, clean, and masculine, just like I’d imagined. My racing heartbeat skips.

  He blinks, then looks at the grave, before he looks back at me and releases me.

  “You alright?” he says, gentler this time.

  “Fine,” I lie. I’m a fucking mess.

  “Let’s get you home.” I look in surprise when he bends to get a black bag beside him which I didn’t notice before in the dark.

  A laptop bag? It’s odd, I think. Why did he have that here?

  We walk together back to the mansion, making small talk about the wedding, both of us pretending there’s nothing to see here, folks.

  But my mind is back in the graveyard.

  His hand on my elbow.

  And the way his eyes widened ever so slightly when we touched.

  Chapter 3

  Carson

  My mind is occupied with all things Megan as we walk back to the mansion, and I’m kicking myself for it.

  It isn’t just that she’s the cousin of my Clan brothers. Or that I’m riddled with guilt for even thinking of a woman after burying Eve. I can still feel Eve with me, still hear her voice and the sound of her laugh. What would she think?

  Why have I never really seen Megan until this night?

  I steal a casual glance as we walk back to her home.

  How have I never noticed that dimple in her cheek, just there?

  How thick those gorgeous black eyelashes are?

  The way her body’s all curves and dimples like a goddamn fucking temptress come to life, every man’s fantasy dream drawn into life with vivid, sensual perfection?

  The way she smells like dew-kissed roses?

  No wonder the men of the brotherhood protect her so. Jesus.

  What was she doing out this late? It’s odd.

  And what would she do if she knew what she was interrupting right then? What I’d been doing on my laptop right before she came? Sure, I paid my respects to my Eve, as I do every single Friday evening, my little ritual.

  But here, between the church and the mansion, I’ve set up a connection. On the off chance anyone’s ever going to find out the work I do, they’ll never be able to trace the actual location, sandwiched between two signals I’ve blocked. The mansion’s likely safe as far as tracing, but I don’t want any of them to know the work I do. None but Keenan.

  I suppose some would argue it morbid, doing my work in the graveyard. But I like it. I feel as if I’m getting closer and closer to her vindication with every day that passes. Closer to the truth.

  It’s dangerous, and I fucking know it. But bloody hell, I can’t help myself.

  I’ve been targeting the O’Gregors now for months, ever since Father Finn clued me in on why I needed to watch them.

  Another man would’ve infiltrated their ranks or gone to Stone City and observed the O’Gregors. But not me.

  My skill set lies in a different realm.

  I’m the hacker, the one who knows the ins and outs of mafia security like no one else. Officially, I’m Clan bookkeeper, but my role encompasses so many other things. When the Clan needs someone willing and able to hack into an account, transfer money, infiltrate communication or the like, I’m the man for the job.

  And now I’m using my skills in a way I never have before.

  The O’Gregors are sloppy. So fucking sloppy, they make my job easy.

  It started with entry-level hacking. Really, the kinds of things I learned to do in primary school. Infrared receiver, click of a button, hide my tracks, and I had the ins and outs of damn near everything the bastards did.

  I need an in.

  So far what I know about them are o
nly bits and pieces strung around like lights on a Christmas tree. Brilliant and promising, but they don’t shed enough light until I gather them together. And once I do, they’ll shine with the power of a spotlight.

  And every day I’m getting just a little bit closer.

  We exit the cemetery and walk up the ancient stone pathway past the rectory, then down the path that leads to her home.

  “I’m not ready to go home yet,” she says softly. Frowning, she tips her head to the side. “Who’s with Breena?”

  “Her nanny’s spending the night so she can help with the wedding in the morning.”

  She nods. I continue.

  “Want to take a walk, then?”

  “Aye,” she says. “Would you mind?”

  “Hell no,” I tell her. “Not at all.”

  “Down by the water?” she asks.

  I smile. “It’s where the McCarthys find their peace, isn’t it?” Every one of them walks it off down by the water. Last month, Cormac fulfilled a contracted hit, the first one we’ve done in years. Keenan rarely allows them, but we owed those who asked a favor. I don’t know the details. With certain jobs, he keeps the details to himself, for the sake of all. But I know that Cormac walked the shores of the Irish sea every damn morning for two weeks. None of them hesitate when it comes to protecting the Clan, our safety, our honor. But cold blood is another story.

  She smiles. “Not you, though? You don’t find your peace here?”

  “There’s nowhere I find my peace,” I say without thinking. Immediately, I wish I hadn’t said anything at all.

  We walk by the cliffs, the churning sea below us. It’s colder here, and I automatically shield her from the biting wind, standing on the edge nearest the cliffs.

  “The girls ready for the wedding?” I ask. Yeah, I’m quite the conversationalist.

  “Aye,” she says. “I mean, more or less.”

  Is anyone ready to marry a man in the mob?

  “Are you all ready?”

  I smile and shrug. It’s a cute question. Cormac has the ring and Nolan has the tux. Is there anything else we need to do?

  “More or less.”

  We chatter easily about the wedding, Nolan and Sheena, how Sheena’s brother Tiernan’s doing at our finishing school. She talks about work and how she has a shift at the hospital Sunday, she asks me about Breena and how the new nanny’s working out. I listen, I nod, I say the right things.

  But my mind is elsewhere.

  Megan was Eve’s mate. How would Eve feel if she knew I was attracted to Megan? Would she want me to find someone else, to love again?

  And does what she would’ve wanted matter?

  The very thought makes me feel like a traitor.

  I walk her back to the mansion. The guards merely nod. Trained and expected to mind their own business, their only job is to protect. And they don’t need to worry about her tonight. I’m with her.

  We’ve reached the door.

  “Well, then,” she says, her hand on the doorknob awkwardly. “See you… tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” I say. In just a few hours at this rate. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” But I leave her with a warning. “And for the love of Christ, woman, get in this house and no more late-night wandering without a guard. If you need to go somewhere, call me.”

  She nods and gives me a little salute. “Yes, sir,” she says, but there’s more than teasing in her voice. Something stirs in me at her words.

  And then she’s gone.

  Maeve’s been telling me to get a nanny for months. The Clan matriarch, mother to Nolan, Cormac, and Keenan, Maeve’s granny to all the children of the Clan.

  “It’ll be best for all,” she said gently. “Let’s be honest, Carson. You can’t be both mum and dad to wee Breena.”

  And she was right. I hated to face it, hated to admit it, but I have a job to do and it isn’t exactly the type of job where you can have a “shadow day with dad” at the office.

  Granted, as Clan bookkeeper, much of my work takes place in an office with my computer. And it’s the only reason I got away with taking Breena with me for so long.

  But there are other jobs required of a man of the Clan.

  And soon… when I knew what I had to do, who I had to become… having a nanny for the baby was a necessity.

  The nanny was asleep on the couch when I came in, but this morning when I woke up, she was nowhere to be found. I finally found a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

  Mr. Flynn, I am so sorry, but I can’t work for you today. I had to get home. Everyone is fine, but mum needs me. She’s sick. I didn’t want to wake you.

  I place down the note and stare at it blankly, still trying to process. Knowing what I do for my job, who I’m involved with, and—bloody hell, who I am—well, I wouldn’t be surprised if the nanny didn’t give me the truth in the note. I thought that keeping her apart from the McCarthy mansion that overlooks the sea, our headquarters and meeting place, would help keep my identity a secret.

  Maybe not.

  Or hell, maybe her mother is sick.

  Bloody hell. What now?

  I do what I do every fucking day and have for months. I scan the news to see if there’s anything new, a lead I should follow for the O’Gregors. Anything amiss, any little tidbit that can shed light on the undercover work I’ve been doing. I scroll through the feed I’ve set up on my phone, note every transaction I ghost. And after I’m done, I clear my phone, erase any traces of snooping, and put my phone down.

  Today’s Nolan’s day and hell if I’ll let anything come in the way of that.

  If he knew what I’ve done… what I’ll do yet, though…

  But no. I won’t let him. Those who need to know already do.

  I shove the blankets off and get to my feet, then pad out to the kitchen. I glance at the clock. Six a.m. The other men went out last night, a bachelor soirée or some such shit, for Nolan. I brooded in the cemetery and walked Megan home.

  Party animal. My eyes are blurry from lack of sleep, my head pounding.

  Breena will be up in an hour. I’ve got time to squeeze a workout in before we have to get ready for the wedding.

  I miss the days when I could throw on running shorts and hit the shore for an early morning run. But I do what I have to, and my primary responsibility is right here, happily sleeping in the other room.

  Breena wakes up groggy and bleary-eyed.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  An apt nickname. She’s the ray of light that penetrates the darkness that consumes me. I want so badly for it not to affect her, for her to grow up happy and healthy, that I put on a brave face. I give her the best of me, and she’s too young to know anything else.

  I go through the motions of getting her ready for the day. I fumble with her hair and try to figure out the dress Maeve bought her for the wedding. There are ties and things and I can’t tell if they go in the front or the back. Bloody hell.

  I’m still in my sweaty workout clothes when there’s a knock at the door.

  “Carson! It’s Maeve.”

  I breathe out a sigh of relief and go to open the door. When I open it, I blink and stare for a moment.

  Maeve isn’t alone.

  Megan stands beside her. She’s dressed in an emerald green dress that hugs her generous curves, her gorgeous chestnut hair cascading all about her shoulders like someone waved a wand and performed magic. Her eyes are brighter than usual, her round cheeks flushed pink, her mouth parted.

  I blink and realize I must look a sight.

  “You alright, Carson?” Maeve asks. “Did we wake you?” Her gray-tinged red hair’s tucked into a bun, and her soft green eyes smile at me. Today, she’s the mother-of-the groom for the third time.

  My gaze swings to Megan.

  Megan’s eyes drop from mine to the sweaty workout clothes that cling to me, a thin tank and running shorts. A hand travels to her throat, and I note how she swallows hard.

  “I think… I think Nolan wants
you wearing a tux, Carson,” she says. She looks away abruptly, as if she’s just caught me stepping out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around my waist.

  Breena grabs Maeve’s hand. “Granny!” She drags her inside, leaving me and Megan standing in the doorway.

  I’m half-clothed and glistening with sweat, my hair still plastered to my forehead. “Sorry,” I mutter, running a hand through my wet hair. “Just finished my workout. Thought I’d get Breena ready first, but… bloody hell, hair bows are the devil’s work.”

  She grins at me. I blink as if waking from a dream and stare like a love-sick puppy.

  “Did you… did you do something with your hair?” I ask, and my voice is strangely husky.

  She blinks, then raises her fingers to her hair as if just remembering she had some. “Oh, this?” She laughs. “No, I usually roll out of bed with my hair pinned up in cascades of curls. It’s my superpower.”

  I grin at her and she grins back before she clears her throat. “Let me in, Carson?” she whispers.

  Jesus, what the bloody hell happened?

  I step aside and wave her in. “Of course, yeah,” I mutter. We go inside and Maeve’s got Breena on her lap. She shoos me off to the shower and when I’m finally out and ready, Breena’s hair’s plaited and she looks like a little doll.

  “Don’t you look the picture,” I say softly to myself. She runs to me and reaches her arms out. I pick her up, toss her into the air, then catch her. She giggles.

  Maeve tidies up. “Where’s the nanny, Carson?” she asks. “She should’ve been here helping you with Breena.”

  I tell them about the note I got this morning. Maeve shakes her head and Megan tsks.

  “’Tisn’t right, standing you up on a day like today.”

  “Aye,” I mutter.

  “I’ll help you with Breena today,” Megan says. Our eyes meet, and the same heightened awareness passes between us as the night before.

  “Thank you.”

  “We need to get moving,” Maeve says, seemingly oblivious to the sparks flying between us. “They’re wanting to take some pictures before the ceremony.”