by Dee, Cara
“Security still down in the harbor?” I asked Eric.
He’d just taken the seat behind the desk and opened his laptop. “I’ll know in a minute.”
With the door closed and the balcony doors open, I lit a cigarette and grabbed one of the other laptops. Even though we couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, there was nothing wrong with lighting a fire under our asses. It would hopefully keep our eyes on the target and motivate us to get home. I pulled up an app in a window and started a countdown.
“All right, boys,” I said, placing my laptop on a side table under our information board. “In exactly thirty-five hours, we’re entering the harbor. Our container ship is docking today, and we will arrive on a smaller boat.” I faced Kellan. “How are we on the clearance?”
“It’s taken care of,” he replied. “We have direct passage to the cargo port through a company we linked to Acirfa International. It’ll take us straight to the container yard.”
“Good.” I snatched up a pen from the desk and checked that task off on the board. “I’ll talk to Luna after we’ve had lunch—she’ll be one of the drivers if she’s up to it. I need three more.”
“Who can volunteer?” Liam smirked.
“Not you.” I chuckled under my breath. “I’ll need you in charge of our own security.”
“I thought we were doing six drivers,” Sullivan noted.
“That was the original plan,” I said with a nod. “The issue is that I don’t trust Gio’s behavioral pattern. We’re in motion—all of us—and it makes it harder to predict the precautions he’ll take.”
“Fewer drivers will fuck with our schedule, though,” Eric pointed out. “For the record, security’s still low.”
“With more security, we can handle the mess,” Liam countered with a shrug. “I assume that’s the route you’re taking?” He raised a brow at me, to which I nodded with a dip of my chin. “Right. So we’ll deal with any nosy gobshites, and the drivers get more time.”
“You might as well pick your security crew now,” I told him as an idea hit me. I scribbled a note to put on the board. “Those left will be the drivers. You get two guys.”
“Sully and Conn,” he said right away.
“Man. I wanted to drive,” Sullivan muttered.
I shot him a look and exhaled some smoke. “You find it thrilling to drive ten miles an hour?”
It was a short stretch of the road they’d drive, and there’d be no speeding whatsoever. Out of the garage, onto the ship.
“When you put it that way…” he amended.
Liam rolled his eyes and leaned back against the desk. “You’re our only sniper. Did ye think we’d waste that on granny driving?”
Kellan laughed.
“Yeah, laugh it up, granny,” I drawled. “You’re one of the drivers.”
Kellan stopped laughing and cursed.
Taking a drag from my smoke, I wrote a list of our tasks and shook my head. I couldn’t kick Luna off the team, even if something was wrong with her. We’d be a man short if she stayed back. Liam, Sullivan, and Conn on security. Eric and I would be covering the technical aspects. That left Pat, Luna, Colm, and Kellan to drive.
“Okay. We’ll all have tasks,” I said. “While Eric and I get us inside the garage and get all the keys, I want the drivers to assist the security.” I went to the information wall and pointed to the alleyways that led to Gio’s property on the map of the container yard. “I want tire shredders here, here, here, and here. Two strips on each, and utilize the corners. A strip here, for instance, that can take out the first police car, then another strip around the corner so they don’t see the second one at first glance. It’ll buy us more time.”
Emilia chose that moment to call for lunch, so I wrapped things up by telling Kellan I’d give him a list of supplies we’d need. He could take Colm and Conn with him.
28
Finnegan O’Shea
I was pretty quiet during lunch. We ate on the terrace; Emilia had whipped up a fantastic casserole, salad, and homemade bread, and I was comfortable listening to the others from my spot at the head of the table. Emilia was annoyed with Sarah for not responding to texts, a reaction related to her anger over Sarah not saying good-bye when we’d left Ireland. Luna was picking at her food and was mostly silent. Eric and Liam were quizzing Autumn on a test she was preparing for, and Kellan was texting with Alec.
Alec was going to post a picture of himself and me from Trinity College on his Facebook account.
“Small problem,” Kellan told me. “Alec’s account is closed for public viewing. It might look weird if he switches the settings just to post this picture.”
Emilia, seated across from Kellan, had heard him. “Check with Nessa. I reminded her in Dublin to make hers private, but maybe she hasn’t yet.”
I nodded to Kellan, and he sent another text. Then I snuck a hand under the table and gave Emilia’s knee a squeeze. I liked that she was encouraging the kids to keep shit private online.
A couple minutes later, we learned that Ness hadn’t changed her settings yet, and she was happy to post a photo. She went with a group picture with herself at the center, making a silly face, and it had Liam, Alec, Pat, and me in it.
“When should I tell her to delete the photo?” Kellan asked.
“Tomorrow night when Emilia’s posted her picture.” I dragged a piece of bread through the creamy sauce of the casserole. “She’s gonna post hers around the time we leave for the city. An hour or so later, she’ll remove it.” Whoever it was on the Avellino side keeping track of our social media accounts would assume something along the lines of Emilia having been reprimanded for posting the picture. Nessa’s photo would disappear shortly after, so it would be like the reminder had gone out to everyone: no public shit.
It wasn’t an ironclad strategy that would guarantee safe passage through the harbor, but it might help. It might make Gio believe we were still in Dublin, and we were trying to be discreet about it.
When lunch was over, I wiped my mouth with my napkin, thanked the wife for our meal, and asked Luna to stay behind with me.
I didn’t miss the glance Emilia and Luna exchanged.
She knew, didn’t she?
Check out the little missus. She was lying to me. She knew what was up with Luna.
The guys helped Emilia clear the table, leaving me alone with a woman who was currently slamming her internal defenses into place.
It was cute.
She moved up a couple seats and sat down in the chair Kellan had vacated.
“You’re not booting me from the crew, are you?” She raised her chin.
“Why would I?” I reached for my smokes.
She faltered for a split second. “Well. Because, you know…I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.”
A bit under the weather. That was a good one.
I lit the smoke and waited her out. It was the easiest approach with Luna. Emilia was better at dealing with silence. She didn’t feel the need to fill it. Luna did.
“I had the flu, that’s all.” She shrugged. “I feel better now.”
I leaned back in my seat and folded one leg over the other.
That annoyed her. “I know what you’re doing, Finn.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to get me to talk.”
I cocked my head. “So, you’re holding something back?”
“No!” She became flustered. “I just mean—shit. I’m not falling for your tactic. I was sick. No big deal. I’m not sick any longer.”
“That’s why you kept it a secret—because it wasn’t a big deal,” I stated.
I had three guesses, and I wasn’t letting her walk away before I had the answer. Either she hadn’t been sick, but she was nervous. Or, she was sick—even now. Considering she’d rushed to the bathroom in the RV to throw up this morning as soon as we got on the road. Third option, she was pregnant.
The last one would explain the weird tension between Con
n and Luna in Dublin, though, to be honest, I’d just figured it was because his wife had been there.
Women thought they were so slick sometimes. What, because I was a man, I wouldn’t notice any changes?
I’d just watched Emilia go through the first stage of her pregnancy. Trust me, I knew what to look for.
I only needed another clue or so. I’d already ruled out the flu, so I knew she was hiding the truth. She hadn’t acted like someone with the flu. There’d been no fever, no chills, no apparent weakness in her body strength.
Luna huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “I can sit here all day, Finn.”
So could I, but I could speed the process along with some good old-fashioned guilt.
“You do realize I’m your boss, right?” I flicked some ashes onto the patio. “It’s my job to make sure everything runs smoothly tomorrow, and you’re gonna put us all at risk if we don’t have all the facts.”
Her gaze flickered, and she grew uncomfortable. “I am one hundred percent sure I’m up to the task tomorrow.”
“That’s good, because we need you,” I replied. “I gotta know the truth, though. Do we take some stress away from your position tomorrow, or is a spare paper bag you can throw up in enough?”
She shot me an irritated look, one that faded quickly, because I could see the guilt rummaging around in her. “I’m not sick,” she said and looked away.
So, she was pregnant.
Fucking terrific.
Children were a blessing, no matter what, but this would somehow end up in my lap because she’d fucked a married man and Conn didn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. Idiots, both of them.
“Congratulations.” I meant it. I stubbed out my smoke and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. “How far along are you?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “You don’t seem very surprised.”
“When is a Catholic ever surprised that another Catholic got knocked up?”
She spluttered a chuckle, and she averted her suddenly teary-eyed gaze again. “I don’t know why I’m being mushy.”
“Yeah, pregnant women crying at nothing is unheard of,” I replied. “Luna, look at me.”
She sniffled and obeyed, for once.
“You will never be a part of the Sons if you’re not upfront,” I told her. “Does Conn know?”
More guilt seeped into her eyes. That was a no, and she shook her head minutely. “I’m gonna tell him after the gig.”
“Why not before?”
“Because he’ll turn into you.” She groaned and scrubbed her hands over her face. “Conn and I don’t even love each other, but he’ll still be a fretting, overbearing bodyguard the second he finds out.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it. Your lives are our responsibility. If something happened to you or Emilia during a job, it would be on me.” We were done here for now, so I stood up and folded back the sleeves of my shirt. “I’ll let you tell Conn after the gig since it’s so close, and I need him on his A game. Unfortunately, we need you too, but I’ll see what I can do to minimize the stress. Enjoy it while it lasts, ’cause you’re off the team as soon as we get back.”
“What?” She stared up at me, incredulous, and all traces of her being upset were gone. “How the fuck is that fair?”
I pocketed my smokes. “This isn’t about fair, Luna. I’m your boss, and you chose to disrespect me. You chose to go against my orders about being upfront about anything that could affect your performance. But I’ll only catch you doing it once. That’s it. You want a second shot? Earn it—it’ll take months, if not years. And God forbid you get two strikes.”
I felt her murderous glare burning a hole through my shirt on the way inside. I felt much better now. Okay, so she was pregnant. I could work with that. Emilia handled one stressful job during her first trimester; Luna could do the same. Then I’d pull the plug on her too. I would keep her close tomorrow to ensure her safety.
My deceptive little wife was in the kitchen, stowing away leftovers and filling the dishwasher.
She smiled when she spotted me. “Hey, you. I was thinking. When we’re old and gray and I can’t get off the toilet, will you haul me up without making me feel embarrassed?”
My brows went up. That was…one, not what I expected, and two, a very specific question.
“It wasn’t that long ago we celebrated my birthday here, so I think you remember I have seven years on you,” I said, frowning in confusion. “Don’t you reckon I’ll need your help long before you will need mine?”
She huffed and closed the dishwasher. “So not the point. This is just a what-if. Maybe I’ll break my hip. Will you install a lift on the stairs for me?”
Wait a minute. I narrowed my eyes. Then I scanned the kitchen. The bread maker was in its place, the bowl missing, presumably in the dishwasher because she’d used it. And her tablet was on a stand next to the machine. She sometimes watched Netflix while she baked.
Holy shit. I couldn’t believe her.
“Did you watch Grace & Frankie without me?” I accused.
Her eyes grew large, and she threw out her arms. “How the fuck did you—gah!”
“The questions related to old people—and the tablet is right there!” I hollered. “I can put two and two together.”
She became all fidgety and sheepish. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“You’re sorry,” I scoffed and shook my head. “We were watching that together.”
“I swear, it was only two episodes, and Frankie was—”
“No spoilers!” I yelled incredulously. “Woman, you’ve wounded me.” Bloody hell, I was gonna need some time to recover from this betrayal. I shook my head and decided to confront her about the stupid bullshit Luna lies she’d fed me later instead. I turned around and started walking out of the kitchen. “I can’t look at you right now.”
“Oh Christ. Wait.” She ran after me and grabbed my arm, but I made sure to look in the opposite direction. “Will it make you feel better if I make brisket for dinner?”
I fucking loved a good brisket. I cleared my throat and wrenched my arm free, then stalked stubbornly toward the stairs and told her it was a good start. “But I’m still fucking hurt,” I snapped.
“Whistler!” she called. “Chocolate cake for dessert?”
“That would be nice,” I barked out irritably.
The royal treatment continued the following morning when I woke up with my morning wood in Emilia’s mouth.
She was really, really, really sorry.
“Damn,” I mumbled drowsily.
Wading through the cobwebs of sleep, I yawned and scrubbed my hands over my face. Then I managed to force myself up to support my upper body on my elbows, ’cause even as frequently as she pleasured me with her mouth, I had to see it.
“A guy could get used to this,” I said in my morning voice.
She smiled around the head of my cock and swiped the tip of her tongue over the slit.
I grazed my teeth across my bottom lip and watched her through hooded eyes.
She was unbelievably sexy. Gloriously naked, kneeling next to me, close enough that I could slide a hand up her thigh, over her ass, and between her legs. I stroked the smooth, soft lips of her pussy in lazy movements, and she positioned herself closer. I could have her in the sixty-nine position in a single move.
“Gimme that sweet little pussy,” I murmured. “I wanna eat you out.”
She shook her head, and then she was fucking gone. She crawled down and got comfortable between my legs instead, meaning I couldn’t even touch her anymore.
“Lie back and relax, Whistler. I’ll take care of you.”
Those were some magic words. I released a breath and dropped back down, my head hitting my pillow again.
I hoped no one ever forced me to choose between sex with my wife and her amazing cooking, because I would really fucking miss her food.
“God,” I muttered.
I pulled up a leg a bit and t
hreaded my fingers into her hair. Fuck, that felt good. She took her time, sucked me inch by inch, in and out, slow movements, tightening her lips around me as if she wanted to trace every ridge. It wasn’t just a blow job. It was worship.
The pleasure built up steadily, creating little storm surges within me, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I groaned, wrapped her hair around my fist, and thrust upward into her mouth. I pushed my cock along her tongue to the back of her throat and felt her throat constrict around the head of me.
She gulped and breathed heavily once I drew out, and then she braced herself on my thighs and said in the hottest fucking voice, “Take whatever you need from me, baby.”
I cursed and felt the possessiveness blaze forward. Adjusting my grip on her hair, bringing my free hand to the back of her head too, I eased her down on my cock and told her to suck me as hard as she could. Then I began fucking her perfect mouth in long, firm strokes.
I grunted as she dug her fingernails into my thighs. At the same time, she moaned and swirled her tongue around me.
“Do that again,” I demanded, out of breath.
Her humming and moaning sent vibrations up my cock that pushed me closer to my release.
Every time the head of my cock nudged against her tight throat, she choked and whimpered and coated me in her saliva. It felt too good. So did the seductive, pleading looks she sent me. They shot straight to my chest.
“You like it when I use you like this sometimes.” I wet my lips and fucked her faster. “Like a dirty little whore, like my personal fucktoy.”
She whimpered again and managed a small nod.
“All mine,” I moaned under my breath. “All fucking mine.” I gnashed my teeth as my muscles tensed up, and the storm surges combined as the mother of hurricanes. The euphoria crashed down around me, and I surrendered to it. I pushed her down on me one last time, screwed my eyes shut, and felt the ropes of come shoot out of my cock.
Holy fuck.
A blissful calm washed over me once the high had been reached, and I collapsed against the mattress and gasped like I’d been holding my breath underwater.
