by Cassie Wild
Wrecked Heart
The Downing Family Book 7
Cassie Wild
Belmonte Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC
Contents
Reading Order
Free Prequel
1. Sean
2. Tish
3. Sean
4. Tish
5. Sean
6. Tish
7. Sean
8. Tish
9. Sean
10. Tish
11. Sean
12. Tish
13. Sean
14. Tish
15. Tish
16. Sean
17. Tish
18. Sean
19. Tish
20. Sean
21. Tish
22. Sean
23. Tish
24. Sean
25. Tish
26. Sean
27. Tish
28. Tish
Other Books by Cassie Wild:
About the Author
Reading Order
Thank you so much for reading Wrecked Heart, the seventh book in the Downing Family series, and the first of Sean’s story. Don’t miss the other books in the series.
Downing Family (An Irish Mafia Saga):
Brooks and Daria
1. The Escape
2. The Debt
3. The Punishment
Briar and Cormac
4. His Target
5. His Fight
6. His Guilt
Sean and Tish
7. Wrecked Heart
Free Prequel
Get an exclusive prequel to The Downing Family! CLICK HERE to subscribe to my newsletter and get the exclusive ebook – NOT available anywhere else.
One
Sean
“Your dad doesn’t look seventy.”
I skimmed a hand down her back as she passed through the open door into the bracing, cold Philadelphia night air. “No, he doesn’t.” Cocking my brow at her, I added, “But that doesn’t mean you have to keep flirting with him.”
“Oh, hush.” My wife, Isabel Downing, turned to grin at me, the look on her face unrepentant. “He loves it.”
“I know that.” Rolling my eyes, I hooked my arms around her waist. “That doesn’t mean you gotta do it.”
She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “You’re not jealous of your seventy-year-old daddy, are you, baby?”
I wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. If I did, I’d lose all pretense at dignity.
Instead, I gave her a quick, hard kiss.
She was breathless when I pulled away. Dark eyes sparkling, she grinned up at me.
The smile faded the moment I began my next question. “You ever going to talk to me, Iz?”
It was a repeat of the conversation we’d had probably three dozen times over the past few weeks. She was holding back on me about something. I’d caught her having strange, furtive conversations, or there would be times when I’d come home during the day and she’d be gone—not because she was at the ballet academy she attended with Daria, my sister-in-law, either.
I told myself there was no reason not to trust her.
But when she sighed and disentangled herself from my arms, it made it harder to keep believing that.
“Sean, it’s nothing,” she told me, her face somber. “Just some things I’m trying to work out in my head.”
“Maybe you should talk about them,” I said, smoothing a hand down her wool covered arm. “I mean, we’re married. You don’t have to do that stuff alone anymore.”
“If I need to talk about this stuff, I’ll let you know. I promise.” She caught my wrist and turned it toward her, scowling when she saw my watch. “Crap. I’ve got to go.”
I caught her arm when she would have turned away. “Not so fast,” I said, pulling her up against me for a quick, rough kiss.
A slightly dazed smile lit her face as she pulled away. “Hold that thought,” she told me before turning and walking away.
She glanced at me over her shoulder a few seconds later, wiggling her fingers.
“Everything okay with you two?”
I looked over at Briar. I hadn’t even heard her come out.
My big sister slid her arm through mine and studied my face as I tried to figure out the right way to answer.
“I don’t know.” I looked back toward Isabel. She smiled at me through the windshield of the car. I wanted to think everything was okay. Needed to think everything was okay. But… “I just don’t—”
The world split open, and hell engulfed my entire universe. A wall of fire slammed into us, knocking us both back. Instinctively, I turned toward my sister, trying to block her from the inferno, but she was already gone, and when I reached out, trying to find her, my hands came up empty.
I opened my mouth to scream and inhaled nothing but heat and smoke.
My throat went raw, but I kept trying.
I was screaming. I knew I was. I could feel it.
But beyond that thunderous silence in my ears, I heard nothing.
I couldn’t see anything either. The world was a red mask before my eyes. Then I realized my lids were practically glued shut. Dazed, I rubbed at them. Finally, I was able to drag them open. It felt like an eternity. In reality, I had no idea how much time had passed. Hours? Minutes? Seconds?
Dust and smoke choked the air, all colored orange by a strange, flickering light.
Fire, I realized.
The world was on fire.
I stared at the blaze, the heat of it singeing my skin.
No…
The word started in the very bottom of my soul.
I silenced it, not wanting to acknowledge the reason for it.
Blinking the grit from my eyes, I continued to stare at the raging inferno, willing my brain to make some sort of sense. Slanting my gaze slightly to the left, I saw the gaping storefront, and the still-functioning part of my brain filled in the blanks. The chocolatier Isabel loved—
Isabel!
I shoved myself onto my hands and knees, that scream in my throat breaking free once more.
“Isabel!”
But again, even though I screamed, I couldn’t hear it.
My legs didn’t want to work, and it took two tries before I finally managed to get onto my feet. Even then, I swayed for several seconds as I tried to find my balance.
I took a wobbly step forward. Adrenaline kicked in, and the next step was steadier.
The heat threatened to cook me from the outside in, but I ignored it, taking a third step, this one almost normal.
Isabel.
I had to get to Isabel—
Strong arms grabbed me and yanked me back.
An insane sort of fury came to life inside me, and I went crazy, bucking and twisting and shoving against whoever held me. He was taller than me, and judging by the way he wrenched me clear off my feet, he was also a lot stronger.
It didn’t matter.
He was in the way.
I needed to get to Isabel.
Those strong arms wrenched me around as I swung back with my head, making contact. Something hot splashed onto the back of my head and neck, but I didn’t even feel a feral sort of triumph. I’d smashed the bastard’s nose, but it didn’t matter since he was still holding me.
Just a few feet away, Briar was on her knees, staring at me, her hands clasped in front of her face. Daria kne
lt on one side of her. And on the other side, I could see my father, his face stricken with grief and rage.
I jerked against the arms holding me. “Get this fucker off!” I shouted into the silent void surrounding me.
I saw a familiar form coming at me from the side, and relief punched me in the gut.
Brooks. But he didn’t do a damn thing to get me away from whoever restrained me. Infuriated by that, I twisted and jerked forward with my upper body.
Finally, I broke the man’s hold.
Dimly, I realized it was Cormac.
He hit the ground, looking dazed, but even as I turned to go find Isabel, he grabbed my ankle. And I slammed right into Declan.
I caught the front of his jacket. “Isabel.” The word was like a knife tearing from my throat.
Would he hear me? Why couldn’t I hear me?
My brother’s normally hard, implacable face softened, and Declan curled his hands around my wrists as he spoke.
At least his mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything past the roaring of my heartbeat in my head.
I pulled a hand free and hit my palm against my ears. Something wet trickled out. Confused, I looked down and saw blood.
My blood.
Declan caught me around the shoulders and forced me to turn.
For some reason, the entire scene came into focus, and some dim sense of hearing finally kicked back in as he pointed at the inferno.
“…gone, man. I’m so…sorry. Isabel…gone…”
A cop came to talk to me.
Again.
I shot him a dark glare and shook my head. There was sympathy in his eyes, something that surprised me, but I still wasn’t about to talk to him. Right now, I even had a good enough reason to avoid him. He continued his approach, and I shook my head, covering one ear with my hand.
I still couldn’t hear worth shit.
It seemed to be getting a little better, but the overall effect was like I had cotton batting shoved in my ears, and the only sounds I could hear was a dim, muffled roar.
Still, he was a stubborn bastard.
I looked away.
A shadow fell between us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Brooks. Distantly, I had some level of appreciation, but overall, nothing could penetrate the dark, gaping void that had settled inside me.
Sitting in the open door of one of the ambulances that had arrived on scene, I stared at the mess the bomb had left behind. Nobody would have ever been able to tell there had been a car there, much less my beautiful, mouthy, flighty, adorable wife.
Tears pricked my eyes, and I stubbornly blinked them back.
I didn’t deserve to cry.
That should have been me.
Vaguely, I was aware of the ambulance shifting as somebody sat down next to me. Turning my head, I saw Briar. Her face was dirty. Mine was probably worse. There were tear tracks on her cheeks and oily smears around her eyes where she’d tried to wipe them away. Our gazes met, and she reached up, touched one of my ears.
“…you hear?” she mouthed.
At least, I think that was what she said.
Shaking my head, I went to look away, and my gaze landed on a tall figure standing maybe ten feet away.
Finally, something pierced the bubble of numbness that had settled around me.
Raging, burning fury.
I didn’t remember lunging from the ambulance or closing the distance between us. I sure as hell didn’t remember knocking a cop out of my way or taking Cormac MacTavish to the ground.
Once I had him under me, I smashed my fist into his face, once, twice. Hard hands grabbed me, tried to pull me away, but the raw, animalistic fury was in full control, and I broke free, landing another savage hit.
Cormac didn’t even try to stop me.
“You killed my wife!” I shouted. Through my ravaged eardrums, I heard some dull echo of my voice.
Finally, somebody—no, two somebodies—pulled me off. A cop got in front of me, and then Briar was standing there. I couldn’t hear her, but I could tell by her actions and the way she moved that she was trying to talk the cop out of putting the cuffs he held on me.
I didn’t fucking care if he arrested me.
What did it matter?
Cormac got to his feet, blood on his face.
My father passed him a handkerchief, and he accepted, wiping the blood away.
Fucking traitor.
I must have said it aloud because my father flinched and swung his gaze to me. He shook his head, and his mouth formed the word, “No.”
I wrenched again at the hands that held me. They loosened briefly, but I didn’t get away.
I swung my gaze to the left, then the right, realized it was my brothers holding me. Brooks moved to stand in front of me, and I bucked against Declan’s hold.
I didn’t realize what they’d planned until it was too late, and Declan had his arm around my neck. He’d been a champion wrestler in high school and also loved judo and boxing. He was a down-and-dirty fighter, and even at my best, I couldn’t take him.
The pressure around my neck increased, and darkness edged in on my vision.
I didn’t even bother to fight.
If I was unconscious, I wouldn’t have to think.
Two
Tish
I was still shuddering when the two of us left the theater, and not just from the cold. My hometown of Eufaula, Oklahoma was currently iceberg cold, but it wasn’t the weather that had me shivering.
“That’s it,” I told Wylie, giving him a look of mock outrage. “I’m picking the movie the next time we go out.” I snorted. “For the next month.”
He grinned at me. “Hey, come on. What’s not to like about seeing—”
Clapping my hand over his mouth, I shook my head. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t even go there.”
“Wuss.” He said it playfully and kissed my palm before lowering my hand and linking our fingers.
We walked together to his car, our hands swinging between us. It was cold, flurries drifting down. I wanted to get home and curl up under a blanket. Maybe with Wylie. Sliding him a look, I asked, “You wanna stay the night?”
“How about you spend the night with me instead?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No. Your roommate’s weird.”
“You live above your parents’ bookstore,” he pointed out. “Your dad saw me leaving one morning, and I thought he was going to haul out a shotgun and march us down the aisle.”
I laughed. “My dad doesn’t own a shotgun.”
“Fine. He’d pick up the biggest, heaviest book in that dusty old store and beat me over the head with it until I convinced you to marry me.” His eyes glittered as he opened my door, crowding me up into the space.
The heat of his body felt good, and I hooked my hands in the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer. “Poor Wylie,” I teased. “Scared of some dusty old books and my nice, quiet daddy.”
“You’re so mean to me.” He brushed his mouth against mine. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you love me.” I rose up onto my toes.
His mouth opened, but just as the kiss started to deepen, a couple of kids passed by, whooping at us.
Groaning, I broke away. Giving him a hopeful look, I said, “Come on. Stay with me. I’ll protect you from my dad and the dusty books of death.”
He grinned and brushed my hair back from my face. “Alright, Tish, my love. If you insist.”
The sound of sirens wailing in the air had Wylie checking the mirror, then pulling over for them to pass when we were still a few miles from home. He was about ready to pull back out, only to stop as another firetruck appeared behind us, blasting by at a speed that shook our vehicle.
We encountered another one a couple minutes later, and I glanced over at Wylie. “Somebody’s not having a very good night.”
“Doesn’t look that way.” His eyes flicked to mine as I reached over and took his hand.
Eufaula was a small town
, home to only a few thousand people. While I couldn’t say everybody knew everybody, we were a pretty tight-knit community, and if either Wylie or I didn’t know who was in need of so many emergency vehicles, then we’d definitely know somebody who did.
The peace of the night shattered by the sirens, I shifted in agitation while rubbing my thumb over the back of Wylie’s hand.
My nerves got worse as an ambulance passed us at the interchange just before my street. My chest got tighter, and I squeezed Wylie’s hand harder.
He squeezed back as he eased up to the stop sign.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
I knew this strip of road so well I didn’t need to get any closer to know what was burning. “Park the car!”
He was already doing so. I was out and running before Wylie could turn the engine off.
He caught up with me as I crossed the street. The snow had gotten heavier, and I blinked it from my eyes, searching the crowd that had gathered around for my parents. The store closed earlier during the winter. It was already past ten. They would have been at home by now, although everybody around here knew Mom and Dad. Somebody would have called them.
The thick cluster of people made it hard for me to get any closer, but I shoved my way through, calling for my parents.
Wylie stayed at my side, and when the bodies grew too thick for me to handle, he cut in front of me and cleared a path. Finally, we got to the front, and my gut curled in on itself as I caught sight of the store and my apartment over it. Flames spilled out of the windows on the second floor, thick, black smoke choking the air.
