by Dee, Cara
“Our reputation won’t save us forever,” Conn agreed. “It’d probably do us good to send that message to Gio, too—we’re not hiding, business as usual.”
“But it comes with an added risk to those who stay in Philly,” Eric reasoned.
“That’s the life we’ve chosen,” Finnegan countered firmly. “Cleanup duty has always come with a risk, but the rewards are good. I’ll make sure everyone is aware of the situation, and I’ll open up a couple safe houses outside the city. The crew bosses will share the drug distribution and the cleanup equally, with a bonus for those who get the supplies into the country.” He cocked his head, then pinched my toe and slid me a smirk. “Check me out, talking about equality. I’m practically a liberal.”
I spluttered a laugh and shook my head.
“I reckon I’m a bit more liberal than you, boss,” Conn insisted. “I don’t discriminate when I get a hit job. He can be black, white, brown—makes no difference.”
“He,” Finnegan replied pointedly. “You don’t kill women, you fucking sexist.”
“Oh my God, are you done?” I exclaimed. “I’m pretty sure both Dems and Republicans would yell ‘Lock them up!’ at you two.”
Eric snickered, and Finnegan was about to respond—undoubtedly with something oh-so-funny—but the front door opened, and Liam and Colm were back with exhausted looks on their faces.
It was going to be a long night.
We hadn’t slept in…however long, and we had no beds here. Chances were we’d talk for the next few hours, then get on the road toward Barcelona, and crash somewhere on the way.
I was almost correct.
I’d gotten a couple hours of sleep using Finnegan’s lap as my pillow, but that was about it. The boys hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours.
Dead on my feet and with a cold settling in, I left the apartment outside of Paris around nine the following morning. There’d been countless phone calls and strategy talks throughout the night, and I was so tired I almost walked past our car.
In my defense, this was a new rental—an SUV this time—and I’d only seen the confirmation slip online, with the tiniest thumbnail image of the car.
Liam and Conn were ten times more upbeat than the rest of us, but that was because they’d done cocaine.
Finnegan hadn’t batted an eyelash at it.
Was that something I had to get used to as well?
I was still naïve in some ways, I guess. Finnegan had chugged his coffee and drunk two Red Bulls, offering a firm no when Liam had suggested a “pick-me-up,” and I suspected religion was my husband’s reason. He was traditional to the bone about certain things—and the opposite about others. Nevertheless, I was thankful this time.
“No rest for the wicked until youse’re five hours away from here,” he reminded the others as he unlocked our car. “See ya in Barcelona. The missus and I have an errand to run before we’re out.”
“Oh?” I glanced at him, confused.
He smiled and got in the car. “We’re going on a date.”
Despite the exhaustion, I felt myself lighting up at the prospect of sharing a moment without work stuff.
I hid a yawn behind my hand and scooted my chair closer to Finnegan’s as the waiter arrived with our beverages and desserts. We didn’t get perfect sunshine or blue skies; instead, we huddled together under a heater in the narrow outdoor seating area and watched the snow fall over the river.
It was actually beyond perfect.
Finnegan threw a thick blanket over our laps and adjusted my beanie with a soft little smirk.
The row of tables was protected from the snow by an awning above us, with the chairs side by side so you could people watch, and almost every table was occupied by a couple enjoying their breakfast. Normal, everyday couples who were taking what Paris was offering, people who had no idea what I’d done last night. And it made me feel blissfully normal for a minute. I’d never had this with Finnegan before we got married. He’d never been my boyfriend.
“Thank you for doing this for me.”
He quirked a smile and blew some steam off his coffee. “I’m not that selfless, princess. We both need this, I think.” He took a sip before getting comfortable and draping an arm along the back of my chair. “I plan on stealing moments like this one as often as I can.”
I beamed up at him. “Sign me up as your partner in crime.”
He exhaled a laugh and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “Deal.”
Conversation lulled and stretched into a comfortable silence as we tried the three different desserts and watched people walk by.
Finnegan clearly developed an addiction for the dark chocolate mousse, and I gave up on ladylike patience and grace once I tried the tart lemon pastry. Goodness.
Across the street, a mother and young daughter walked their dog. The little girl spun around and looked up at the sky with a big smile on her face.
“If we have a girl…” I hesitated and glanced up at Finnegan. “Would you like to name her Grace?”
His gunmetal eyes flashed with appreciation and a gentleness that was reserved for…well, I’d only seen that look in his eyes with Autumn and me.
“I would,” he replied slowly, pensive. “Grace is simple too. We have too many Gaelic names in our family, and they’re fucking impossible to remember. Ma had one—her middle name.”
I grinned and tilted my head, curious, as Finnegan stuck a hand into the inner pocket of his coat.
“I don’t remember that one,” I commented.
He smirked wryly and produced a pen. “She hated it.” He scribbled Fiadh on his napkin, and my brows went up. “It’s pronounced Fee-ah.”
I giggled and took a careful sip of my hot chocolate.
“Look at’chu,” he murmured with a smile. Then he leaned in and kissed me slowly, swiping the tip of his tongue across my upper lip. Ah, whipped cream. “Fuck, how I love you, baby.”
I sighed like the love-sick puppy I was and planted my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand. “I love you too.”
My favorite was when his eyes lit up the way they did sometimes. Like now. He was so unbelievably gorgeous.
“So…” He inched closer and dropped his elbows on the table too. “What if we have a boy?”
That one was easier. I had a feeling the first child was more important for Finnegan to name, if only for him to be able to follow traditions and uphold this image as an influential boss.
“Ryan?” I suggested. It was his middle name.
He pecked me chastely. “Not everything has to be about me, contrary to popular belief.”
I chuckled. “I know, but it’s not like I have any interest in naming our kids after my parents.”
He hummed and twisted a lock of my hair around his fingers. “We don’t know where your mother fits into all this. She could’ve been forced to give you up.”
I shook my head. I appreciated what he was trying to do, but it wasn’t enough. “It’s not like I was a secret. Gio has pictures of me in his study, and he made it abundantly clear that I was his niece. They must’ve known how I was doing—and they did nothing about it.”
It was absolutely a possibility that my mother had been somehow forced to leave the US, but to know about the life I led and do nothing about it…? My entire image of my mom was shattered. And last night hadn’t done Gio any favors either. I was family to him? Hardly. I wasn’t falling for that crap.
“Time will tell.” It was Finnegan’s subtle way of closing the topic for now, and he reached for something in his coat again. “Let’s get back to sappy. Before we get on the road, I wanna listen to cheesy love songs and make out with my wife.”
I laughed softly as he gave me one of his earbuds.
“We’re gonna do one of those couple selfies too,” he told me.
My cheeks hurt from all the smiling, and I felt so ridiculously happy. It was almost too good to be true.
Please don’t let anything ruin it.
There was one t
hing, though. It’d been gnawing at my conscience since last night. What Gio had said, about John being alive. I’d reacted strongly to Finnegan’s finger guns, and even more so when Liam, later on, had added his own wish of getting his dad six feet under.
I stroked Finnegan’s cheek as the first notes of the song he’d played for me at our wedding flowed through the earbud.
He closed the distance and kissed me unhurriedly, teasingly, and so perfectly that I was reduced to a puddle in seconds. I tasted chocolate and coffee on his tongue, and my senses were completely enveloped by him. His cologne, his warm, sweet breath in the winter cold, the song he’d sung about me being the reason for everything.
I took an unsteady breath and palmed his cheek. My forehead met his, and the lust and love in his gaze nearly floored me.
“Don’t kill John.”
It took him a couple seconds to register what I’d said.
A slight crease appeared in his forehead, and his gaze flickered as his mind kick-started.
“If he’s actually alive, don’t kill him.” I brushed my thumb over his cheek. “I want you to be the boss who unites the O’Sheas and Murrays instead.”
“Give me one reason,” he murmured. “You know what he’s done.”
At least he didn’t outright reject what I’d said. He was willing to listen.
“Alec,” I replied softly. “I’ve heard enough hints to know you have plans for him. You’re grooming him to be the boss who takes over after you.”
And John was Alec and Nessa’s dad. I understood why Liam wanted his dad gone; it was hardly a strange concept for me. “John may be a horrible boss and a husband, and he was distant and made enough mistakes with Liam for him to place his loyalty elsewhere, but that’s not the case for the twins.”
Finnegan sighed and averted his gaze to the street where cars were stuck in traffic.
“End the in-house war,” I urged. “If there’s one thing we’ve seen firsthand these past several months, it’s that we have bigger enemies to worry about. Who knows what will arise when all this is over?”
Finnegan could fill in the blanks himself. A weak syndicate didn’t pose much of a threat. We’d have less security. Besides, there were still some crew bosses from Chicago who were loyal to John. Finnegan would either have to get rid of them or watch his back for retaliation. But if he showed mercy, John could use his influence to make sure those loyal to him respected Finnegan. And accepted him as the new boss.
“You’re asking a lot of me.” Finnegan chuckled tiredly and scrubbed his hands over his face.
“I know.” I gathered one of his hands on my lap. “I’m trying to see the future here, Whistler. Twenty or thirty years from now, I don’t want Alec to find out you killed his father. I don’t want any more revenge after this is done. I want us all together—united and powerful.”
He drew in a deep breath and faced me.
I leaned over and kissed him. “Mercy doesn’t have to mean a free pass. He shouldn’t be in the syndicate or trusted with anything. Just let his kids grow up with him. Make him work for a second chance.”
He hummed and looked down at the table. “‘Sometimes, in order to win a war, we have to lay down our weapons.’”
“Who said that?” I wondered.
“My grandfather,” he replied, reaching for his coffee. “But look what happened to him. He gave John the benefit of the doubt.” He drank from his coffee before setting it down again. “I’ll give this some serious thought, princess. I’ll even talk things over with Pop and Liam. But if John were to pose the slightest threat—”
“I’d kill him myself,” I said frankly.
Finnegan raised his brows, and mirth seeped into his eyes. “You know, one of these days, we’re gonna have to sit down and talk about you and Luna. Word on the street is there’s gonna be something called the Daughters of Munster.”
I smiled innocently and sipped my hot chocolate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you probably shouldn’t listen to rumors.”
“Ah.” He chuckled. “Let me share another piece of wisdom from my grandfather, then. You always want an ear to the ground and an eye on the sky.”
Good advice. I suppose I should soak it all up and consider myself in training. “Thanks for the advice, boss,” I said lightly.
He grinned and shook his head. “Sassafras. I’m in way over my head, aren’t I?”
“Hmm, no,” I decided and leaned closer. “I think we’re a perfect match.”
He took the hint and kissed me. “Agreed.”
23
Two months later
Finnegan O’Shea
“I have mixed feelings about this.” Pop came over to stand next to me.
I chuckled. “You and me both.”
At least the wife was happy. An early heatwave had rolled in over the coast, blanketing the hacienda we were renting in sunshine and clear skies. Standing up here on the second-story balcony, Pop and I had a spectacular view of the grounds. Green fields had replaced the old vineyard that’d ceased production years ago, and today the vast space was being used by Sullivan, Emilia, and Luna. Sullivan was treating the ladies to the art of trap shooting, something Emilia was liking a little too much.
Her aim was improving. A good thing, I guess. But seeing my pregnant wife sporting Daisy Duke shorts, a bikini top, and the smallest of baby bumps while she was holding a rifle and yelling, “Pull!” made me feel…well, like Pop said. Mixed feelings.
She’d just started showing, and as soon as she put on a top, her bump was invisible. Except to me. To me, the little bump was everything. I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
“Anyway.” I clapped a hand to Pop’s shoulder. “How’re you doing? We haven’t had a chance to talk since you got here.”
He’d arrived with the twins yesterday, and they were planning to stay a few weeks at the least. I wasn’t taking any chances; considering the recent events, I wanted my loved ones close to me.
If I’d had my way, I would’ve had Aunt Viv and her kids here too, but against my advice, they were spending a few weeks with Thomas outside of Philly. Viv and T had barely seen each other since last fall. A couple weekends at the most, so I got it. I couldn’t imagine being away from Emilia for more than a week, much less for months. Which was why I didn’t understand why Uncle T didn’t wanna switch to the European crew.
He’d be more useful in Philly, he kept saying.
With a shake of my head, I went back inside our office with Pop, and I listened as he assured me he was feeling better these days. He had some trouble sleeping sometimes, he said. Nightmares. Ups and downs.
“Being in Ireland has done me well, though,” he went on. “I want to be close to my future grandchildren, but I can’t lie. Part of me wants to settle down in Dublin or Killarney.”
I wasn’t surprised. I took my seat behind the desk, and Pop sank down in one of the chairs across from me. “You could do both, couldn’t you?” I leaned back and tapped my fingers along the armrests. “Open up a small practice in Ireland and keep the condo in Philly.”
He tilted his head from side to side, weighing the possibilities. “We’ll see. Philly’s out, but I might buy a house out in Villanova. I just have to convince Pat to move there too.”
I smiled, hoping he would as well. It felt hella good to be close to Patrick again. He’d gained a much-needed boost by the job he’d led in Amsterdam, and he’d kinda taken Liam’s place after our cousin left for the US last week. He was needed there as a crew boss.
“Did he tell you what we scored in Amsterdam?” I asked.
Pop chuckled. “He did. It’s fucking insane.”
That was one way of putting it. It’d taken us six weeks to get it all to the US, but it was worth it. Street value for the coke and H alone was about three million, give or take. Then gold, cash, and diamonds for almost as much.
Either Gio’s boys in Holland had been too afraid to give him the bad news before New Year’s, or he wa
s a better actor than we thought ’cause, holy hell, he must’ve been furious when he found out. And the blame was placed on the Russians the Avellinos sometimes got into turf wars with in Amsterdam.
“Have you decided what to do with the girl?”
Then there was that. I shook my head. “No.”
We were keeping that secret for now. We’d made a conscious choice to avoid the Avellino trafficking business, because it was too widespread and would make us a target for more than one organization. And the last thing we needed now was more heat from European outfits, especially if they were from the eastern nations. We didn’t have the funds, the manpower, or the time. That said, we were stuck with one of the trafficked girls for the time being. She’d been kept at Gio’s club in Amsterdam as a prostitute, and she was the only one who’d gotten a look at our men’s faces. She’d been hiding in one of the offices.
My brother had made the snap decision to bring her.
“You know what you should do,” Pop said pointedly.
I inclined my head.
He frowned. “So, what’s stopping you? If you think loose lips sink ships, imagine what heroin-addicted lips will do.”
I sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “Emilia got in my head. The girl’s innocent—”
“Finnegan.” Pop leaned forward, incredulous. “These are the decisions you have to make. You have a responsibility to protect the syndicate, and I don’t want to see my sons in prison again. Definitely not because a whore went to the police.”
“Oi!” I got heated. “Trust me to handle things, all right? She’s not costing us shit right now. It’s on Pat’s dime.”
My brother was keeping the girl in a remote little villa near the border. She had no way of contacting the outside world, no neighbors around, and she was in bad shape. All she wanted was peace and quiet and heroin. Pat had put an ankle monitor on her, and she hadn’t tried to leave even once.
