Jaded Soul: A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance

by Fox, Nicole

  “Oh, God,” she stammers. “Oh, God, I killed him…”

  “Saoirse,” I say again, cupping her face and forcing her to look at me instead. “Breathe.”

  “I had… I had to, Cillian,” she continues, staring at me with glassy eyes. “I had to kill him before he killed you.”

  “I know. I know,” I reply. “I’m okay now. You’re okay, too.”

  She nods slowly. Then her eyes flutter and she loses consciousness in my arms.

  48

  Saoirse

  I wake up feeling groggy, limbs heavy, lethargic like I’ve been asleep for years.

  “Where am I?” I say out loud, rubbing my head. The words seem to echo around the unfamiliar space.

  I blink a couple of times, forcing the sleep out of my eyes before I take another look around.

  “Jesus.”

  There is an echo. Because the room I’m in is huge. The ceilings are high enough that I have to crane my neck back to see all the way up.

  In fact, they’re so high that there are two sets of windows. One at a normal human height, and the second group set far above. Those are much smaller, but they let the light in in beautiful ways.

  The walls are made of stone. Impossibly massive, ancient blocks of stone.

  This is no house.

  This isn’t even a mansion.

  This can only be a—

  The door opens with a soft creak. Cillian walks in with a mug of something hot.

  Steam rises off the surface and curls around his beautiful face. A face that’s been wiped clean of the dirt and grime of battle.

  Oh, fuck! The battle.

  It all comes crashing back to me.

  Including the literal crash that I had knowingly and purposefully committed.

  “Hey, hey,” Cillian says, moving quickly to my side and setting the mug down next to the bed. “Don’t panic now. You’re safe.”

  “What happened?”

  He smiles. “I should be asking you that question.”

  Right.

  Theoretically, I was supposed to be at the mansion, waiting for his return.

  Except that I’d decided that I wasn’t the waiting-around type. I mean, I suppose I am, because that’s what I’d done for the last thirteen years.

  But the point is, I didn’t want to be the waiting-around type anymore.

  Which is why I’d made the decision to follow Cillian and his men.

  “I… followed you.”

  His lip curls slightly. He’s annoyed at me. But there’s something else there, too.

  Pride, perhaps?

  “How did you manage that?”

  “It was easier than you’d think,” I offer. “Kian was locked in the office coordinating things. Quinn was in there helping him. You’d taken most of the men with you. And I had a small window of time before more of your men arrived to guard the compound.”

  “So you left?”

  “I, um… borrowed a car from the garage and I told the guards at the gate that you had ordered me to go to the nearest safehouse.”

  “And they believed you?” he asks incredulously.

  It’s hard not to rein in my sense of accomplishment when I answer him. “Well, I had the name of the safehouse.”

  “How?” he asks.

  “I overheard your brother talking,” I admit. “I figured names of safehouses weren’t divulged to just anyone. If I gave them a name, they’d be forced to believe me.”

  “Damn, woman,” Cillian says, clearly impressed.

  I smile. “It worked. They let me leave, and I tailed your men to the Cave.”

  “Cavern.”

  “Whatever.”

  He chuckles softly. “And then what?”

  “I had to park away from the compound so that no one would notice me,” I explain. “Thankfully, the trees provided me with coverage and I—”

  I stutter a little at the strangled expression on Cillian’s face.

  “What?”

  “You were outside a known enemy compound by yourself... without any protection?” he seethes.

  “I hadn’t exactly planned ahead. I like to wing it. Isn’t that what you always say?”

  “Jesus, Saoirse.”

  “You say that a lot.”

  “You earn it every time.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “By walking in there unarmed and unprepared?”

  “I know it was short-sighted—”

  “Not to mention colossally stupid.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “If I remember correctly, I did end up helping out, you know.”

  He stops short and fixes me with a searching glance. Then he sighs and relents.

  “How about you tell me the rest of your story?” he suggests.

  I have a feeling he’s not done yelling at me, but I go on anyway.

  “Well… I saw your men race out of the compound and then I watched the Kinahans and the cops drive up and give chase. I ran back down the road, taking cover behind the trees. Not that I really needed it anyway. No one was looking for me.”

  He watches silently, stoically.

  “I saw your jeep crash into a tree and I wasn’t sure which way the fight was gonna go. So I ran back to the car I’d driven over here and… came to get you.”

  I gulp past my dry throat before continuing.

  “As I was driving towards you, I saw the big guy go nuts on everyone and start shooting like a maniac. I saw you standing only a few feet away. You were exposed.”

  “So…”

  I trail off as the memory is forced to the surface.

  I remember the way the car had lurched and bucked as I hit his body.

  The way he flopped like a fish out of water, as if he had no bones at all.

  The sound his neck made when it cracked.

  Cillian puts his hand on my shoulder and I cringe instinctively, still deep in the memory. “Sorry,” I stammer, “I just…”

  “I know,” Cillian replies. “The first kill is always hard.”

  “First and last,” I insist. “I didn’t even mean to kill him. I just wanted to stop him.”

  “Sometimes, one thing requires the other.”

  I shake my head. “What happened after that?”

  “My men managed to take care of the rest of the Kinahans. After you crashed into the shooter, they were on the run anyway. Once those loose ends were tied up, my men got into their vehicle and drove to another safehouse. I brought you here.”

  “Here,” I repeat, looking around in awe. “Where exactly is that?”

  He smiles at the expression on my face. “We’re in Crannagogue.”

  “Crannagogue,” I repeat. “Why does that sound familiar? And why does it look like a castle?”

  He smiles. “Well, I suppose it kinda is a castle.”

  My eyes go wide with shock. “You brought me to a literal castle?”

  “Something like that,” he says with a nonchalant shrug.

  “Don’t you think you’re taking this whole ‘knight in shining armor’ thing a little too seriously?”

  He bursts into laughter. At the sound of it, I feel the tension I didn’t know I was still carrying in my shoulders release a little.

  “Actually, you were the knight in shining armor in this case,” he points out. “You did save me back there, Saoirse. Even though you shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

  “I couldn’t just sit around and wait for you to come back,” I tell him. “I feel like I’ve spent my entire life waiting...”

  He raises his eyebrows as though waiting for me to explain that.

  But I don’t. I’m not entirely sure I should have said it in the first place.

  “You could have been killed,” he says when I trail off.

  I shrug. “Death doesn’t really scare me.”

  “Maybe not. But your death scares me,” he says. “And not very many things do.”

 
I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t say anything at all.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” I ask instead.

  He shrugs. “Because we’ll be safe here. Because we need to lie low for a while. And because it’s beautiful.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t believe I’m in a real-life castle.”

  He laughs. “It’s been in the family for a few generations.”

  “Jesus. Just how rich are you?”

  “I’m not gonna lie,” he says. “We’re pretty fucking wealthy. It’s a myth that our money came from mafia dealings, though. This castle is proof that we come from old money.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “You want a tour?”

  “Definitely,” I reply, feeling worlds better already.

  “Drink your tea first,” he says, motioning to the cup by my bedside.

  The bed I’m on is massive. And I have to really lean forward to grab the cup. But Cillian is right there to help me. He watches as I bring the cup to my lips and take the first sip.

  Heat floods my system and I close my eyes and savor the sweet cinnamon taste.

  “Mmm, that’s good.”

  “You must be hungry.”

  “I could eat,” I acknowledge. “But I’d rather get the tour first.”

  He smiles, his eyes still lingering on my lips.

  The heat flutters over my skin now, reminding me of that passionate kiss we’d shared moments before he left to rescue his parents.

  Since I can’t bring myself to bring it up, I deflect. “So the mission was a success? You got your parents back?” I ask, sipping on my cinnamon tea.

  “Yes,” Cillian replies. “I just got off the phone with Kian. My parents are in a secure location for the moment. He went to meet them there. It’s too risky to bring them back to the mansion. Especially after what happened at the Cavern.”

  I frown. “What else happened?”

  He takes a deep breath and I can tell it’s filled with disappointment.

  “My gut was right,” he says. “There was a snitch.”

  “No,” I breathe. “Who was it?”

  “The person I least expected,” Cillian tells me. “Rory.”

  I frown for a moment, and then realization hits. “Rory… as in the guy who picked us up off the side of the road?” I exclaim.

  “That’s the one.”

  “He’s the mole?”

  Cillian nods. I can tell that the discovery is a painful blow to him.

  “He’s only a few years older than me. He’s been with the clan for fourteen years. I’ve known him since I was a teenager. It just… It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Wow. How are you coping?”

  “I go back and forth between anger and disappointment,” he admits freely. “Of all the men I thought it could have been, Rory didn’t even factor into the list.”

  “You trusted him.”

  “Implicitly. I was wrong.”

  “You shouldn’t ever apologizing for trusting people,” I tell him gently. “This is on Rory for betraying your trust.”

  Cillian just shakes his head as though he can’t fathom a reality in which Rory could be working for the enemy.

  “There has to be a reason,” he says.

  “Would it make a difference?”

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “But at least I might understand.”

  “Would you, though?”

  He sighs. “Probably not.”

  “Have you told everyone?” I ask.

  “Kian knows. But Da and Ma still don’t. I figured we’d give them a few days before we pile the bad news on.”

  “Have you spoken to either one of them?”

  Cillian stiffens a little. “Not really. I thought I’d give that some time, too.”

  I put my hand on his leg. It’s accompanied by the vague realization that it’s becoming easier and easier to touch him. The contact has taken on a familiar bent now.

  Like it’s the most natural thing to do. Primal. Instinctive.

  “You rescued them, Cillian,” I point out. “You saved their lives. They’re going to be grateful.”

  Cillian gives me a dark smile. “You clearly haven’t met my parents.”

  “You’re their son,” I point out. “And you know what they say—blood is thicker than water.”

  He smirks. “Need I remind you that there’s an empty gravestone on the family property with my name on it?”

  “People have different ways of coping,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe that was your father’s.”

  “Now you’re defending him?”

  “I’m not,” I say quickly, holding up my hands. “I’m just saying, sometimes they think they’re doing the right thing.”

  “Are you referring to your father?” Cillian asks shrewdly.

  I sigh, feeling completely transparent. “Maybe. He apologized to me.”

  “Yes, he did seem to want to take responsibility for his part in your life,” he agrees.

  “He spoke to you about me?”

  “He did.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That’s between the two of us.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, but he just gives me that infuriatingly beautiful grin. The kind of grin that makes me want to grab his face and smash my mouth down on top of his.

  It’s strange how quickly and forcefully those feelings rise up.

  I spent years feeling barren of sexual desire. I didn’t crave sex in the least. In fact, I actively did everything I could do to avoid it.

  It wasn’t specific to Tristan, either. I wasn’t attracted to any other men.

  None except for the one in my head.

  And when I did fantasize about Cillian, I didn’t really imagine sex.

  I imagined life playing out. I pictured new places, new countries, a house of our own, children that looked a little like him and a little like me.

  Maybe I was so focused on an alternate life that I didn’t dig too much into the details of what that life might include.

  Or maybe it was simple self-preservation. Why torture myself with yet another thing I couldn’t have?

  But now, with Cillian only inches away from me, there’s a stinging throb still hot on my lips from a kiss that’s already a day old.

  That throb emanates through the rest of me, too. From head to toe, I’m burning up with it. Aching with it.

  The last time I had sex—real, passionate, intimate, consensual sex, not the nightmarish excuse for sex that Tristan did to me—was thirteen years ago.

  With this man.

  And suddenly, I’m more aware of that than anything else.

  Maybe he is, too? The way his eyes flicker over my body like a hungry predator seems to suggest that he’s in the same place I am.

  But assuming is always a dangerous pastime.

  And I need to keep my head on straight, castle or no castle.

  “How about that tour then?”

  Cillian smiles and offers me his hand. He pulls me out of bed and onto my feet. I look down and frown, realizing that I’m wearing soft silk pajama shorts and a matching pajama top.

  I raise my eyes accusingly. “You changed me?”

  “No, of course not,” he says. “I had Matilda and Mary do it. They’re the ones who keeps this place running smoothly.”

  I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.

  He laughs. “You don’t trust me?”

  I’m still thinking about it when he shakes his head.

  “Would it matter anyway?” he asks. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

  Again, the words send a flash of heat scathing across my body. This time, though, the heat zips through my limbs and lands right between my legs.

  “That was a long time ago,” I point out, fighting my blush. “And I was eighteen.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’m definitely not eighteen anymore,” I point out, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I’m a thirty-one-year old woman.”

  “
Yes,” he replies softly. “I can see that.”

  The dark huskiness of his tone has the velvety quality of a compliment. It washes over me and makes me feel like there’s nothing sexier than being thirty-one.

  I clear my throat pointedly, letting the topic drop before we find ourselves in dangerous territory.

  The kiss we shared hasn’t been mentioned. Maybe that’s why it seems to take up all the space between us.

  But since he doesn’t bring it up, I don’t feel like I can, either.

  “There are clothes in the wardrobe,” he tells me. “And everything you need is in the bathroom. I’ll be outside waiting for you.”

  He leaves, giving me the room. I know he’s trying to offer me privacy, but I actually wish he’d made an excuse to stay.

  Even the beauty of the room I’m in seems to fade a little in his absence.

  I pick something pretty and simple from the wardrobe and run a brush through my hair before heading out to see him.

  My heart is going a mile a minute.

  I feel like that naïve eighteen-year-old again.

  And God, it feels good.

  49

  Cillian

  She emerges from the room like something out of a dream.

  Her body is draped in an ice blue dress with billowy sleeves and a hemline that ends just above her knees. She’s kept her hair down, but I suspect she’s combed it before walking out here.

  I take that as a good sign. A sign that maybe a small part of her wants to look her best for me.

  Not that she has to make any effort, really. She could be dressed in a garbage bag and I would still think of her as the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “You look extraordinary,” I say without thinking.

  I mean it.

  She smiles self-consciously and avoids my eyes. “Thank you,” she mutters. Then she blinks and shakes her head like she’s trying to dislodge a bad thought. “So, where are we starting the tour?”

  “Right here.” I steer her into the first room on the left.

  It’s one of the larger drawing rooms and boasts a view of the north side of the lake. Mountains pierce the sky in the far distance and a thick blanket of mist winds around the thicket of trees near the lake’s edge.

  Ma spent a decade renovating this castle. She made sure it was modernized and livable. But she knew how to retain the Old World charm.