Sully: An Irish Mafia Romance (The Brotherhood Book 3)

by Penelope Black

  “Relax, baby. We’ll be heading home soon.”

  I worry my bottom lip, adrenaline fading and making me realize how frazzled I am. “Maybe we should just go now. I bet Sully would be fine. Don’t you think?”

  I look at the man in question. He’s currently sprawled out on a quilted blanket in the center of the bed. If I ignored the dried blood on his pants and the glaringly bright white bandage taped to his shoulder, it looks like he’s just taking a nap.

  But I do know better. And I don’t know if I’ll ever get the image of him lying still on the white table, some random doctor I’ve never met bent over him, blood everywhere out of my head.

  I fiddle with the thin blanket covering him, readjusting it, so it rests right up to his shoulder but not covering his wound. I realize that the blanket likely doesn’t do much, but it helps settle this restless energy inside me. The waxy pallor of his skin haunts my waking thoughts, and I have a feeling I’ll be seeing it in my nightmares for weeks to come.

  He removes his finger and lets the blinds slide back into place as he turns to look at me. “Come here, birdie.”

  I look up at the sound of his voice. It holds that deep, commanding quality that I crave.

  The light from the outside slants across his face, leaving half in complete shadow.

  My heartbeat picks up at the sight of him. His chestnut-brown hair hangs over his forehead in a messy style that has nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with our unusual circumstances today. Still, it has the same effect on me.

  I take slow, measured steps toward him, trailing my fingertips along the blanket covering Sully as I walk. Rush waits by the window, shifting his weight, so he’s sitting on the window seat, spreading his legs further apart.

  I step into him, wrap my arm around his neck, and give him my weight. He tugs me closer with a hand around my back.

  And I exhale.

  For the first time in . . . I’m not sure how long . . . I feel like I can breathe a little.

  “Should I be alarmed by how quickly I’m becoming attached to you? To all of you?” It’s a thought that I can’t get out of my head. I mumble the words into his neck as I bury my face in one of my favorite spots.

  He slides his palm up my back until it rests on the back of my neck. I feel his words rumbling in his chest before I really pay attention to what he’s saying.

  “There are very few people in the world fortunate enough to meet their soul mates. Even fewer are those who meet while they’re this young. I think it’s a gift. You’re a gift, birdie. To me. And to my brothers. And I’ll raze the world to keep you. You know that, don’t you?”

  I pull back from his neck to stare into his eyes the color of the sea. A myriad of emotions greets me. The dark blue and charcoal flecks swirl around, but the thing that takes my breath away is the honesty and devotion shining in his eyes.

  “I love you, Declan Fitzgerald,” I murmur as I lean in and press my lips to his.

  He closes his eyes on a deep exhale, a small smile tipping the corners of his lips up.

  “I love you too, Alaina Murphy Fitzgerald,” he whispers against my lips.

  It takes a second for me to pull back, but I do with a raised brow.

  He shrugs a shoulder and slides his hand to wrap around the front of my throat gently. The move sends a shot of lust through my veins, and I press closer to him.

  “You have too many last names right now, what’s one more? And you’ll be a Fitzgerald soon enough.” He brushes his thumb back and forth over the sensitive skin on my neck.

  My skin tingles as giddiness clouds my head, a smile spreading across my face almost involuntarily. “I’m nineteen, Rush. I’m not getting married now,” I tease. I don’t even bring up the fact that Sully and I have yet to work our shit out.

  He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he tips his head forward and seals his lips against mine. Our tongues tangle in a dance that feels a lot like a promise, and I tighten my arms around his neck to bring myself even closer to him.

  I’m lost in his kiss when a loud screech splits the air, and I jump a foot in the air. I press a hand to my racing heartbeat and yell, “Oh my god!”

  “Sorry, Alaina. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Jack calls from somewhere in the house.

  I step back from Rush and will my heart to slow down. “I guess we should hear what Jack has to say now. Raincheck?” I bite my lip as I give Rush an obvious once-over.

  He lets his hand slide down my body as he stands up. “Aye, baby. You can count on it.”

  I lace our fingers together as we walk across the room. Stopping by the bed, I glance at Sully to make sure he’s not paler or sweatier than before. I lean over and place a kiss next to his mouth. “I’ll be right back, okay? You rest now.”

  We hear the screeching noise again, and we follow it to the front room where Jack is dragging three chairs by one another.

  The big, bearded man sits in the chair with a groan and looks at us. “You believe in fate?”

  I shrug a shoulder and sit down in the chair across from him. Rush stares at the last two chairs for a moment before walking toward the window again.

  “I never used to. I didn’t disbelieve it, but I didn’t put much stock into it either. When I was younger, I prospected for the Brotherhood. I was a kid who didn’t know his thumb from his asshole, and I thought I was a little badass. My cousin hooked me up with the Brotherhood, introduced me to some guys, and before long, I was running around town with them. I didn’t have much responsibility. I just hung around them, went with them on collections, that sorta thing.”

  Jack pauses, and it’s long enough that it captures my attention. When my gaze meets his, he blows out a breath.

  “One night, I was with my cousin and a couple of other guys. We were collecting from a line of places—protection money and that sorta thing. Well, one particular shop owner didn’t want the Brotherhood’s protection anymore, and he let us know by pointing a shotgun in our faces. I don’t know if I ever knew real fear until that moment.” Jack runs his hand down his beard. “It’s still a little blurry, but somehow someone moved, and the shop owner got trigger-happy. He fired several times before one of the guys could wrestle it away from him. He knocked the guy out with the butt of the gun, and it was only then that I realized my cousin had been shot. And so had I. I was fourteen.”

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Jack.”

  “It’s alright, Alaina. It’s a long time ago now.” He clears his throat. “The guy who wrestled the gun away ended up forcing me out of the Brotherhood. I was livid. I wanted revenge. It took a few years for me to realize that he was doing me a favor. If I had stayed, I’m sure I would’ve died long ago, probably in the half-hatched plan of vengeance I was working on at the time.”

  My head tilts to the side as I try to reconcile the man I’ve known for the last two years and the picture he’s painting. It sort of explains how he knows the guys, but it’s still such a strange coincidence.

  Jack looks out the window for a moment before he looks at back me, his face carefully blank. “It was Aidan.”

  I can feel my brows bunching on my forehead as a flush of heat prickles along my skin. “Who was?”

  “The guy who saved me. Who checked in with me every month for the rest of his life. It was Aidan. Your father.”

  “I’m sorry—what? What did you just say?” I turn to face Jack fully. “You knew my father?”

  “Aye,” Jack says, mouth thin and eyes pinched.

  “Wh . . . Why? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” My head feels foggy, like I’m dreaming, and my fingers start tingling like they’ve fallen asleep. I turn around in my seat to face Rush, subconsciously seeking him out for clarity. His face is closed off, but I see the muscle in his jaw twitch. He gives me a tiny shake of his head. So this is news to him too. That’s oddly comforting.

  “I didn’t realize it at first. You look so different from the last photo I saw of you. You were a wee girl, seven or so in t
he last photo he showed me. Your top front teeth were missing, and you had your hair in pigtails. And then he missed a month, which wasn’t that uncommon. Sometimes, his, uh, job took him on extended trips—”

  “Eight.” My voice comes out as a croak, and I clear my throat. “I was, uh, eight in that photo. I remember he always carried it on him. And I know now that he worked for the Brotherhood, so you can speak freely.”

  Jack rubs his beard between his thumb and index finger as he assesses me. He glances behind me to Rush, and I peek over my shoulder.

  He sits on the oversized windowsill, fingers splayed to hold open the cheap blinds. He reminds me of one of those gargoyles on old gothic buildings. Tall and menacing, his posture alone warns people of what they might face should they breach the walls. Forever watching and protecting.

  Warmth unfurls inside my chest the longer I watch him. He flicks a glance in our direction once but otherwise doesn’t move.

  “Are we still in danger?”

  “We’re always in danger, Alaina. I’ve almost lost one brother today. I’m not about to lose another one,” he replies without looking at me. His words aren’t harsh or unkind, but they send a ripple of fear through me.

  “Maybe you should go after him.”

  Rush turns his head and looks from me to Jack and back to me again. His face is as cold as always, but I notice a twitch in the corner of his right eye that I’ve never seen before. “No.”

  I open my mouth to argue when the door opens. In an instant, Jack and Rush are on their feet. Rush crosses the room in a second flat and stands in front of me, gun outstretched in his hand.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’s me. Put down the guns, yeah?” Wolf says from right inside the doorway.

  Rush holsters his gun right away and strides toward Wolf to grab the bags of food. From the smell of it, it seems Wolf went to the fried chicken place a few blocks over—one of my favorites.

  Wolf meets my gaze with a sly wink, and the vice grip of panic around my heart loosens a little.

  “Let’s take this to the kitchen. I need a drink for the rest of this conversation.” Jack leaves the room and walks down the hallway.

  “What conversation? What did I miss?” Wolf asks as he places a hand on the back of my chair and brushes his lips across my forehead.

  I tip my head back, and he places a kiss on my lips without me having to ask. A girl could get used to this kind of attentiveness.

  “Jack was part of the Brotherhood. And he knew my dad.”

  Wolf’s gaze bounces between my eyes, but his face doesn’t change too much. Either he has a great poker face, or he knew one of those two things. I’m betting it’s a combination of both, honestly. There’s no way they didn’t know Jack was at least affiliated with the Brotherhood. Otherwise, why would they have come here—or let Sully be brought here?

  “That’s an interesting twist I didn’t expect.” When I don’t say anything, Wolf asks, “How’s our boy?”

  Relief sits on my shoulders, fluffy and soft, but the fear that has been eating away at me still weighs heavy in my stomach.

  “He’s okay, I think. We should stay here for just a little longer, until we can move him more safely. I don’t want him to get hurt worse.”

  “Okay, Red. We’ll stay here and eat and hear what the old man has to say—”

  “I heard that, boyo,” Jack yells from somewhere deeper in the apartment. He doesn’t sound all that mad about it though.

  “Good. It means your hearing hasn’t gone yet,” Wolf yells with a grin on his face.

  “Let’s go eat, birdie.” Rush places a hand along my shoulders from behind.

  “But what about Sully? We can’t just leave him in there unprotected.” The thought of someone walking in here and harming him while I’m eating and tripping down memory lane shreds the light weight of relief and replaces it with anxiety. It drapes around my shoulders, hanging low and weighing me down.

  “We have some of our guys posted at all exits—inside and out—as well as the two doors between the bar and here. Plus, all the doors are locked. We’ll be alright to eat for a little bit, Red.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alaina

  Wolf laces his fingers with mine as we follow behind Rush down the narrow hallway. With my free hand, I reach out and snag the fabric of his shirt and curl my fingers around the soft material. I feel a little more grounded when I’m physically touching them like this. It makes me feel like I’m really here, that I’m not in some strange fever dream that’s going to end brutally for me.

  The floorboards groan under our weight, and I look around as we walk past the open doorway to the room Sully’s in, two closed doors, a small bathroom, and into a living room and kitchen.

  The walls are empty of decoration, not even old wallpaper—just beige paint. This whole apartment seems like it's confused. The architecture seems original, all tall ceilings and domed arches between rooms. The hardwood floor looks like the real thing—that original stuff they used back at the beginning of the twentieth century, and not the cheap laminate stuff they use nowadays. The furnishings are more modern. All clean lines and dark accents.

  The furniture is minimal, and it seems more random. It's hard to tell since the only furniture in the front room Jack uses as a backup office is a white table, some random chairs and folding chairs, a couple of dusty floor lamps, and the window treatments.

  My confusion grows as we enter the kitchen, and it looks like it belongs in the nineties. The cabinets are that golden oak color that all the homes had in that decade. It's large enough to have an island with two stools and a small built-in four-top table in the corner. The appliances look practically brand-new, though.

  "What is this place?" I ask as I follow Rush to the small table in the corner. He pulls out a chair and places it against the wall before sitting down. He reaches over and palms the seat of the second chair and drags it next to his before he taps it twice.

  I oblige his request and drag Wolf along with me. Jack leans against the island and faces us with his big arms folded across his chest. Letting go of Wolf's hand, I settle into my chair. With a huff, he drags another chair from around the table and slides it next to mine. I feel a little stuffed in between the two, but it's a feeling I'm learning to enjoy. I suspect one day I'll crave it.

  "It's my apartment."

  I raise a brow and look around pointedly. "It doesn't look like anyone lives here."

  "Aye, I don't. But it's mine all the same. I own this one and the two above it."

  With a start, I realize that I'm used to Jack being open and inviting. His current expression is hard to read, but not enough that I don't pick up on his unease.

  "What are you not telling me?"

  Jack huffs and rolls his eyes. "A man's entitled to his secrets."

  I nod before he even finishes speaking. "Sure, sure. But secrets are part of the reason we're in this mess."

  "Aye, they are." His voice is low, and he rubs his hand down his beard.

  "How long, Jack? How long have you known who I was?"

  His gaze snaps to mine and softens almost instantly. "The second or third time I saw you. It's your eyes, Alaina. You've got Aidan's eyes."

  "The Gallagher eyes, I'm told." Rush and Wolf stiffen at my musing, and I remember that there really are so many secrets. I look at each of them as I say, "Once Sully's better, we need to have a serious chat, the four of us."

  Rush slides his hand through my hair to grip the back of my neck lightly. "Aye, we do. Don't think we forgot about your little stunt today."

  "Both of them," Wolf adds as he palms my thigh with one hand and opens the greasy paper bag with the other.

  It’s easy to ignore the way my clothes still stick to my skin in places when the alluring aroma of fried chicken wafts into the air.

  “Did you know Golden Chicken was a favorite of mine?” I ask as I open the container he put in the middle of the table.

  Wolf just looks at me with that stupid
hot smirk on his face before giving his brother a weighted glance. Rush just shrugs a shoulder as he reaches for some food, unrepentant.

  “We might have to have a conversation about your stalking, Dec,” I murmur, holding back the smile threatening to cross my face.

  “Not stalking, baby, just staying informed.” His words are low, but I don’t miss the wry twist of his lips.

  I focus on the food in front of me and dig in. I can’t remember the last time I ate. Did I even eat anything at the diner? We were waiting for Maddie, so . . . My thoughts take a dangerous turn as I recall the reason we’re sitting here right now.

  I finish my food and wipe my greasy fingers before I look right at Wolf.

  "I . . . I don't regret it, so if that's what you're looking for, you won't find it. I'd do it a thousand times over to save Maddie."

  Wolf nods, easily picking up our earlier conversation. "I know. But we still need to have a conversation about it." Wolf's voice is right next to my ear, but I can feel Rush's penetrating gaze on my face.

  "And address your punishment."

  Wolf's curious fingers dancing along my thigh distract me enough that it takes a minute to hear what Rush said. When it filters through my brain, I whip my head to Rush.

  "Punishment?" A shot of lust infiltrates my confusion as I envision a different type of punishment.

  "Aye, birdie. When you're with us, sometimes following orders is the only thing that stands in between you and death. And you disobeyed them. You put yourself in danger.”

  "Twice." Wolf's voice is soft against the skin underneath my ear. "And we can't let that go unpunished. Not even for you, baby girl."

  My heart beats harder against my ribcage, and my head starts to fog up, feeling lightweight. My eyes are locked on Rush, but every inch of my body is acutely aware of both of them—the way Wolf curves his body around mine and the way his breath feels sliding along my skin.