“Yes, but we’re talking the mob here, not a strung-out, alcoholic, comatose mother. The mafia is next-level shit. I’ve had enough drama in my life to last me a lifetime. I don’t need to add organized crime to the crazy.”
Warm green eyes met hers. “I know, sweetie, but Gavin obviously cares for you. He had guards stationed at your door to watch over you.”
“That agent said they were Kavanagh’s men. And using the name Crane to hide that he’s really Gavin Kavanagh . . . ” Sienna rapidly shook her throbbing head. “Nope, not for me. I can’t—”
“The man deserves a chance to explain himself.” It was a firm chiding. “At least give him that. And you heard what Agent Bryant said. Gavin uses his mother’s maiden name to disassociate himself from the Kavanaghs. Agent Bryant doesn’t believe that that’s the case now because of the shooting. He assumed that Gavin and the mob are mixed up in it. But you and I know Gavin had nothing to do with Dale shooting you.” Bailey paused. “If you don’t want to stay with him—”
“I do.” In that startling moment of honesty, Sienna held her best friend’s gaze as the reality of her feelings sunk in deep. “I do, Bails, but I don’t want any part of this Kavanagh gun running, drug smuggling, and all the other crazy shit that Agent Bryant mentioned.”
“Gavin’s name is Crane, not Kavanagh. And he works for Lucas.” Her tone was soft, yet uncompromising. “He has made a life for himself away from all of that. I feel everyone deserves a fair shake, don’t you?” She sighed. “Sie, just talk to him.”
Sienna took in a breath and exhaled slowly, allowing her nerves to settle, processing it all. Learning that the man she’d spent the past several weeks with was related to an organized crime family was quite a lot to digest.
“Fine, I’ll hear him out.” She brought up a hand at the smile that blanketed her friend’s tawny-brown features. “If I’m not satisfied with what I hear, if I wake up with a horse’s head in my bed, it’ll be your fault.” Laughter bubbled up and spilled out between them. A wide yawn broke her amusement. “I think those muscle relaxers are starting to kick in.”
“Good.”
• • •
“Did you see the look on her face? Repulsed. Shit, I thought she’d throw up from the gory stench Agent Bryant happily described.” Gavin raked his fingers through his hair and paced in a narrow circle before the closed door. “I wanted to give us some time together before I told her about my family. Now she’ll likely want nothing to do with me. Fuck, I’d leave me if I’d found out what she’d just discovered.”
“Sienna knows you’re my GM. You’ve been legit—not part of your family’s organization,” Lucas said.
“Yes, well . . . ” Gavin paused. “Do you hear that? They’re laughing. That’s a good sign, right?”
Lucas nodded. “You’re overthinking all of this.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He stroked the knot of tension at the back of his neck. “When you told me she’d been shot, man,” a harsh breath left him as he relived that heart-stopping moment, “I thought I’d lost her. That woman has become important to me. Can’t even explain it. She’s stubborn, imperious—”
Lucas gave him a broad smile and gripped his shoulder. “So you’ve met your match?
Gavin returned a sheepish grin. “Maybe I have.”
“That’s great, my man.”
“Now I just have to show her that I’m for real, serious about us. She’s closed, cagey.”
“Wouldn’t you be if you’d lived the life she has? She practically had to raise herself for a time. Sienna shared with me a small glimpse into her life.”
As Gavin listened to the things Lucas told him about Sienna’s past, the way she’d suffered as a child, he wanted to reverse time, find those that hurt her, and strike them down. Dale Carter floated from the outer corners of his focus, back to front and center. He frowned, anger swelling. That shithead was another asshole that tried to violate her.
“Had I traveled home with Sienna, she wouldn’t have been assaulted and nearly killed. “Things would’ve ended a lot differently for Dale. He’d better pray the cops catch him before Kavanagh’s men do, believe that.”
“Dude, you need to call off the hounds. Let the police deal with him. Sienna is okay, that’s what’s most important.”
“I want that motherfucker’s head. I can’t let this shit slide, Lucas, you know that. If it had been Bailey stretched out in that hospital bed with her face all swollen, a bullet wound near her heart and suffering a major concussion, you’d want to take the head of the one who put her there.”
Lucas’s brow puckered, then leveled back into a smooth plane of reasoning. “I would, but I’d hope you, Dax, or Sean would talk me off the ledge before I did something that I’d regret.” His head tilted, looking past Gavin. “Speaking of.”
Gavin turned to see his buddies approaching. Sean Grant and Daxton Pattarozzi completed their brotherhood. They’d all met in boarding school around the age of six and had been best friends ever since. Like Gavin’s role as GM at MVC, Dax worked in a similar capacity at Sean’s company, Grant Enterprises.
“Sean, Dax, it’s good to see you.” Palms met with bro hugs. “I thought you two were working in London all week.”
“I called them. I figured your ass would want to do something stupid,” Lucas drawled.
“I canceled my meetings and had my plane in the air as soon as we heard about your lady,” Sean said. “How is she?”
“She’s as good as to be expected after what she went through. Bailey’s in there with her now. Let me check on her.” Gavin eased the door open and poked his head inside. Bailey was seated on the couch, looking at her phone, and Sienna was asleep. He mouthed silently, “How is she?”
With a smile, Bailey raised a thumb.
He nodded and closed the door, then beckoned the guys over to the secluded corner of the hall. “She’s asleep.”
“Don’t disturb her. So, you’re using Kavanagh’s men to find the guy that did this,” Sean remarked. “No doubt, it comes at a price.”
Gavin glanced upward in growing irritation. “Look, I know what you’re going to say. You three just don’t get it.”
“I won’t even attempt to say I know what you’re feeling. Your lady was assaulted—” Dax started.
“Pistol whipped and shot,” Gavin made clear with a rigid stare at them all. “That motherfucker tried to kill her. Did you all miss that part? And she’s not my lady,” he said awkwardly. “We’re . . . She’s . . . ” He sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to look after her. I won’t let anyone hurt her again, starting with that fuck-nut.”
Sean stepped in a bit closer and whispered, “I know you want the guy to pay, but you have to think rationally here. I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve retribution, but if it’s discovered that you had anything to do with that asshole’s demise, it—”
“You’re right,” Gavin interrupted, aware of where Sean was headed, and wanted to put an end to the counseling. “You’re right, all of you. Sienna is okay. That’s what matters. I’ll let it be.” His buddies’ unblinking scrutiny said they weren’t buying the bullshit. “I’m serious. I’ll leave it to the authorities to handle the guy,” he attempted to assure them. Their readable stares didn’t let up.
He thought back to when the four of them were in boarding school. Everyone knew his father was Murtagh Kavanagh, the Irish mob boss. Most parents forbade their sons and daughters from associating with him. But Lucas Marx, Daxton Pattarozzi, and Sean Grant were the only guys not afraid to befriend him. He valued their friendship.
“Thanks for always being there, for always looking out.”
“We got your back, you know that,” Sean replied. “To that end, you can’t cut ties with the Kavanaghs, then nine-one-one them for help.”
At that hard-hitting admonishment, Gavin released a sigh of mounting frustration. “Are you and Lucas swapping notes in class? I said I get it; I shouldn’t have called hi
m. I was thinking of Sienna, thought that fucker might try something.”
“I’m with Gav on this one. I’d want to cap the motherfucker, too.” Dax dropped a supportive hand down on Gavin’s shoulder. “What is it your father wants you to do to settle the debt for the use of his men and for the track you placed on Dale?”
There was an expectation. They all knew how things operated in his father’s inner workings. “I’ll be handed down assignments that involve watching Dylan’s back. Three was the agreed upon number. To refuse the man would be worse than getting my limbs gnawed off by wolves.” They stared back in clear understanding.
“What are the assignments, exactly? And while you’re watching your brother’s back, who’s got yours? Just say the word, and I’m there,” Dax said, his nearly colorless, pale gray eyes locked firmly upon him, and the hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly. “I got you, bro.”
There was a unified nod among them all.
Gavin’s chest filled full of love and deep appreciation for the guys. Though he loved his brothers, Dylan and Edwin, the men standing before him were his family. Their bond was solid. No judgment among them, which is why the last thing he would do is get them mixed up in foul Kavanagh shit.
“This is my mess. I’ll deal with it.”
“Stress that it was one favor you’d asked of him,” Lucas advised. “You needed to protect your lady from her friend’s drug-dealing boyfriend, plain and simple. Even I know how your father feels about family.”
“Yeah, but business outweighs family,” Gavin countered. “Especially if there’s something to gain. Me working for him is what he’s always wanted.”
“I can relate to that,” Sean put in. Considering that the man’s father had taken him from his mother when he was five, and then shipped him off to boarding school, both Harris Grant and Murtagh Kavanagh battled for top honors in the shitty father department.
“Complete the assignments, then find a way to cut things off for good,” Lucas said.
The nods were in unison.
“True that,” Gavin agreed.
Chapter Eleven
The car held Gavin’s scent, a mix of premium leather and expensive cologne.
Sienna watched him work the gear shift as the car slowly pulled away from the hospital.
Merging onto the Capital Beltway, she braced herself, expecting he’d open up the engine, and let the baby purr. She excitedly anticipated it, but he drove as though he was hauling his ailing grandmother. Driving in and around D.C., Maryland, and Virginia, even the slow lanes along the DMV corridors roared above sixty miles per hour. The speedometer hardly skimmed forty.
His relaxed bearing belied the tension that seemed to stretch between them. Their interaction had been tenuous from the moment the ATF agent supplied her with a storm of information about him two days ago. He hadn’t spoke about it and neither had she.
Sienna looked at him. “Gavin?”
“You have questions, I suspect,” he said, eyes staring straight ahead.
Would he talk about the elephant squeezing between them in the limited space of the car’s cabin? Heck yes, her mind was overflowing with questions that needed answers, but for now, she’d only ask one. “Why are you coaxing along like a student driver? I know this bad boy would sing at eighty.” She ran a palm over the buttery soft, camel-colored leather seat. “Beautiful, by the way.”
His head turned; his clear blue gaze roamed over her face. “I know.” He winked.
“I meant the car.”
“I won it in a poker game.”
Her eyes widened. “Someone gave you their Lamborghini?”
He looked at her, and a dimpled grin flickered for a fraction on his smooth-shaven face. “Nobody gave me anything. I won it from my buddy, Sean.” His attention went back to the road.
“So you like to gamble, is that it?”
“What fun is life if you don’t take chances?” Silence stretched, then he looked between her and the road. “Trust me, he doesn’t miss it. He ordered himself a Bugatti the very next day. He belongs to the Monticello Motor Club.”
“Am I supposed to know what that is?”
He glanced over again, and she shrugged. “They pretty much just race cars for fun.”
“Oh.” Still, she couldn’t imagine handing over a car worth upwards of two-hundred grand as payment in a card game. To a man such as Sean Grant, billionaire of the Grant Royal Resorts fortune, perhaps it was just another day in the life. “You can pick up the pace, you know. At this rate, my injuries will have mended by the time we make it to your place.”
He sped up, but not by much.
They rode along quietly. Sienna wanted him to initiate the issue about his family, open up on his own without her having to prod it out of him. He looked over, and she held her breath in preparation to hear all of the down-and-dirty details.
“Sean, and another buddy of mine, Daxton, came to the hospital, but you were asleep.”
Nope, he wasn’t going to talk about it. She sighed low. “Really? That was nice. I would’ve liked to meet them.” His head swung to her again, giving her a strange look. “What? If they’re your friends, I’d like to get to know them. I know Lucas, of course. And you and I stayed at the Grant Royal throughout my art tour, but I haven’t met Sean. And now there’s Daxton.”
“They’re my brothers . . . not blood, more than that. Each can sometimes be a pain in the ass like a brother, too.”
Sienna laughed. “I feel the same way about Bailey . . . pain in the ass and all. And even Faith, with her wackadoodle self. I love those girls.”
He scowled. “Even after what she did to you? That woman tried to rob you and nearly got you killed.”
“It wasn’t on her. It was Dale. Faith said he made her do it, and I believe her. She’s had it rough. When she was sixteen, while driving her mother home, her car hit a utility pole, and her mother was killed. It wasn’t her fault. Her mother was drunk and grabbed the wheel. But Faith believes her father still blames her for the death.” She paused, pressing a hand at her side. “Faith stopped that asshole from hurting me. When Dale was choking me, she—”
His head jerked over, eyes wide, then narrowed. “He choked you, too?”
Sienna nodded and zeroed in on the smooth angles of his face; his jaw formed into a solid wall of steel. “Yes, but Faith jumped on his back to try and stop him. I owe my life to her.”
“That bastard will pay for what he did to you, believe that,” he all but growled.
“Hope so . . . if they catch him, that is.” No response came, but the lines between his brows etched deeper, and that vein in his neck pulsed more rapidly under the severe tension of his clenched jaw.
About twenty minutes later, the car parked beneath a luxury high-rise apartment building in the heart of Georgetown.
Sienna pushed open the passenger door and twisted to exit. “Shhh,” she wheezed through her teeth at the shooting pain that stabbed her side, stalling the air in her lungs.
“Stay put.” He quickly got out and rounded the rear of the vehicle. Carefully, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I have your prescription up in the apartment.”
“Nah, I’m good.” A speculative look surfaced across his features, studying her. “Really, the discomfort isn’t anything I can’t handle. I don’t need it.” Again, his narrowed stare said, bullshit. He’d be right. It hurt to complete a full breath, not to mention the pounding going on in her head.
Sienna avoided taking pharmaceuticals of any kind. She had too many memories of seeing her mother in a comatose state after taking whatever she could get her hands on. Though her mother’s ailment was mostly emotional pain, it was pain, nonetheless, and she had a very low tolerance threshold. Sienna wasn’t interested in finding out if addiction was a family trait. In the hospital, there hadn’t been much of a choice. Now, she’d tolerate the knife-like stabs and consistent throbbing head.
“Gavin, I’m fine, really.” She forced a smile for reassurance.
“I just need to rest.”
His attention shifted, giving a scan of the garage. “He should be here by now.”
“Who should be—” Sienna paused as a black van came barreling down the aisle toward them and came to a stop behind the car. She tensed at the sight of the side door sliding open. A man in a black suit, shirt, and tie combo stepped out. He pulled a wheelchair from the van’s interior. A quiet breath of relief left her. For a moment, she’d pictured getting sprayed with bullets like in the movies. Her imagination was getting the best of her. Damn, Gavin and she really needed to have that talk.
“Sorry, I’m late. Here you go, Mr. Crane.” The man propped open the chair.
“It’s about damn time! I expected you here when I arrived. Where the hell have you—”
“Gavin?” His head turned to her with eyes hard that gradually softened. “It’s fine. Say thank you.” The low spoken dictate must have penetrated. Gentle fingers brushed along the outline of her chin, then he turned back.
“Thanks, Mac, but in the future, when I ask you to be here, be here, got it?”
“No problem, Mr. Crane. Anything you need, just say the word.” There seemed to be an eager need to please Gavin, undercut by a keenness not to anger him as well.
Mac climbed back into the van, slid the door closed, and it sped away.
Gavin brought the wheelchair forward and helped ease Sienna into the seat, then rolled her to the elevator. It was extremely kind of him to see to her care and comfort. As they made their way up, not a peep was spoken. She gave a look up over her shoulder and found his eyes dead-set on her. In that moment, the doors parted, and he rolled her just across the hall.
Entering his place, the afternoon sun streamed in through the bare windows, painting the room in brilliant light.
A rectangle, knotted-wood table was positioned between a black leather sofa and two loveseats. The furniture pieces were staged before an enormous flat screen—about seventy inches easy. It took up a significant portion of the exposed red brick wall it hung upon. Below it stretched a narrow gas fireplace that set flush within the wall. Across the room, a gray marble island and metal barstools separated the living room and kitchen. To the right, four high-back, black leather chairs surrounded a dark oak dining table. It was situated within an intimate alcove in front the same style of floor to ceiling windows. Dark hardwood floors were carried throughout the space.
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