Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  He sighed and rested his chin on the top of my head while his hands roamed gently up and down my back. “Nothing is stopping them, Margo. Except for the fact that my family still has Lorenzo. And we need to milk that as much as we can.”

  Oh, that. Still, this was all such a big damn mess, and there was no end in sight as far as I could tell. I got ready to tell him as much but as soon as I opened my mouth, a yawn escaped and he laughed.

  “Wow. I guess I’m sleepier than I thought,” I said, surprised with myself.

  “We’ll talk more in the morning. For now, we sleep.” He kissed me on top of my head in a strangely affectionate move.

  “Sounds good,” I told him and took a step back with nothing on my mind other than sleep. So with our bellies full and our skin scrubbed clean, Rourke and I climbed into the queen size bed naked and we both slept until morning.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rourke

  “Thanks for your help and your hospitality.” It was the ass crack of dawn and only Cross, Jag and another guy, Stitch, were up to see us off.

  “Anytime,” Cross said genuinely. “Let’s hope the next time you need a place to crash, it’s for happier reasons.”

  “Next time you’re in Rocket, hit us up,” I told them before turning to load three small bags into the boxy black sedan.

  “Will do,” Jag assured me and stepped up to shake my hand. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to a more efficient exit.” Without another word he turned and hopped on a brand new leather and chrome Harley.

  “Nice bike,” I called out seconds before the engine roared to life.

  Jag sent a wave of recognition that he’d heard me and waited patiently on his bike while I got in the car, adjusting my seat and the mirrors before I signaled to let him know I was ready to go. I followed the bike through a series of winding dirt paths until we’d driven a few miles. Then, Jag stopped and waved us forward.

  “Follow this road and take the left fork in a half-mile, you’ll end up right on the 15 freeway toward Rocket.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate all your kindness. You guys really helped us out.”

  “Not a problem, man. Just let us know if we can do anything else.” Jag turned his bike and was on his way before I could even move.

  His directions took us straight to the road home and I slid into the center lane, blending in with traffic for the first leg of the drive until Mayhem was firmly behind us.

  Margo was unusually quiet as the car ate up the freeway. I wondered what was bugging her, just not enough to ask. Wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I didn’t get involved with women on a personal level. Physical intimacy, sure, but when it came to feelings and emotions, I got the fuck out of there and fast.

  Last night as I listened to the sound of Margo’s even breathing, I realized my mistake. The small little gestures of affection over the past day and a half might have given her the wrong idea about the kind of guy I was.

  And about what was going on with us, which was absolutely nothing beyond sex. Just as she’d said herself.

  “You need to stop for anything?”

  “Nope.”

  Okay, well clearly there was something eating at her but if she wanted to talk about it, she would. All the women I knew never had any problems telling a man what was wrong with them. Whether he asked or not. “Okay.”

  Another hour passed in silence before I switched on the radio, which was stuck on a fucking hip-hop station. I didn’t have anything against the genre, but the crap on the radio was hard to listen to. Almost impossible. Thankfully, the gas tank was getting low and as soon as I could, I pulled into the service station. It was a welcome break from the suffocating silence in the car.

  Margo wasted no time jumping out of the car and making a beeline for the inside of the gas station.

  I only shook my head at her behavior. Sure, we were in the middle of nowhere, but that didn’t mean she needed to disregard her safety and now I would have to talk to her about it. That should be fun considering a fucking pod person had taken over her personality since we woke up that morning.

  Ten minutes later, we were both back in the car, me growing more pissed off by the second and Margo, well she unloaded her bags full of goodies. “I got you a sandwich. Italian with red wine vinegar.” She held it out, her expression bland as if she didn’t care if I took it or not.

  “You bought me a gas station sandwich?”

  “There’s a sub shop inside. But if you don’t want it,” she began to put the sandwich back in the bag, and I snatched it from her.

  “I didn’t say that. I just asked a question.” She snatched it back but before I could protest, Margo had rearranged the wrapper so I could eat and drive.

  “Thanks,” I said as kindly as I could. No time for a pissing contest.

  “No problem.” She pulled out her own sandwich and savored every fucking bite from the way she was moaning and groaning through the whole damn thing.

  “What? You don’t like your sandwich?”

  “Don’t know. It’s kind of hard to eat with a boner.”

  I glared at her and she looked at me and then down between my legs, her blue eyes wide with surprise. Then she burst out laughing. “God, you are ridiculous!”

  “And you make porn noises when you eat.”

  She shook her head, wild red hair falling around her shoulders as she mumbled about horny men with sex on the brain and repackaged her sandwich.

  “There. All done, hornball. Enjoy your sandwich.”

  Now that she wasn’t moaning the way she had when I thrust into her in that motel room, I could focus on the delicious flavors of the sandwich. “Fuck, I was hungry.”

  She opened a bag for me to drop the wrapper in and arched a brow at me. “Your eating sounds aren’t exactly G-rated either, just so you know.” With a smug smile she handed me a bottle of water that I accepted gratefully.

  “Did you soak your panties?”

  She frowned. “No, I’m not wearing any.”

  Another groan escaped, and I fought the urge to smack my head on the steering wheel. “Not helping.” The Gods must have been looking out for me because the phone rang before she could say another word.

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Rourke man, where the fuck are you?”

  “On the road home, Shae. Something wrong?” The tension in his voice was unmistakable which only served to ratchet up my own anxiety.

  He let out a breath. “Nothing different, just the same shit. Patrick is getting anxious, and we’re all waiting on you to get your ass home.”

  I laughed and smacked the steering wheel. “We’re a few hours away still, but so far, no drama and no gunshots. I’d say that’s a bonus.”

  “It’s something,” he snorted, but when Shae spoke again, his voice was deadly calm. “Lorenzo isn’t doing so hot. He’s looking pale and weak.”

  That didn’t sound strange to me. “The guy’s like a thousand years old, Shae.”

  “Yeah, but when he got here he didn’t look this bad. We’ve kept him fed and hydrated. He’s not even tied up.”

  “Which is more than they did to me,” I grumbled. Margo had her eyes on me. I said, “Lorenzo’s health is getting worse, any idea why?”

  She shot me an incredulous stare and shook her head. “Yeah, hang on, let me get my magic diagnostic machine from the trunk.”

  “Smartass,” I grumbled. “He’s old and pale and sweaty, does that help?” The look she gave me said it didn’t.

  “Give me that.” Margo snatched the phone from my hand and rolled her eyes. “What are his symptoms?” She grimaced and said, “Yeah, nice to meet you too. Symptoms?”

  Her blue eyes focused on the distance ahead as she listened intently to whatever Shae was telling her. “Sounds like he might be hypotensive, but obviously I can’t say without examining him.” Shae said something else; she nodded, muttered, “Yeah, no problem,” and handed the phone back to me.

  “We should arrive in about four ho
urs,” I said to Shae, “give or take thirty minutes if nothing goes wrong. Call me back if anything changes.”

  “Will do. Can you pull over so we can talk?” Shae’s tone was serious. I glanced at Margo who seemed as uninterested as ever.

  “Sure. Hang on.” I drove about a quarter-mile until a shoulder appeared on the road where I could pull over. “I need a minute,” I told Margo and exited the car. “All right, what’s up?”

  Shae sighed, loud and worried. “Patrick has a few mil that Byrne’s cleaning for him.”

  “Shit.” It wasn’t that surprising. Margo’s father was a train wreck where women were concerned, and he occasionally spent too much betting on horses, but he was the best money launderer in the state.

  “What are you guys thinking?” I asked.

  A heavy sigh sounded down the line. “We’re thinking you need to bring his daughter here until we can be sure that money is safe.”

  This time it was Eamon on the line, sounding more like Patrick than the cousin I grew up with.

  Fuck. Shit. Goddammit. “Seriously, Eamon?”

  “Damn straight. We can’t risk it, Rourke. Not now.”

  That would not be an easy sell. “Fine.”

  “All right, man. Be safe.”

  I got back in the car and dropped the phone in the cup holder and turned my focus back to the road ahead. There was very little traffic because most people were heading toward Vegas, which meant we had the road to ourselves. It was one small thing, but at least it was something in my favor. Margo remained quiet as a church mouse for a full fucking hour, like I had done something wrong.

  I took my eyes off the road for a second to stare at her profile and ask, “All right, what’s going on?”

  She sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Just counting down the hours until I’m back at home.”

  Now was as good a time as any to bring up the next topic of discussion. “When we get back to Rocket, I think you should stay with my family at Patrick’s place.” Patrick’s monstrosity of a mansion was big enough to fit the entire family and then some. “You’ll be safe until this shit is behind us.”

  She bristled with indignation. “No. If I need protection then I’ll stay with my own family.”

  Her tone was icy and hard, so unlike the sarcastic woman I’d spent the past few days with.

  “Don’t be stupid, Margo. Your father’s men have enough on their plates protecting all the money he cleans every month. Don’t take away from that because you’re feeling stubborn.”

  It probably wasn’t the best way to get my point across but dammit, the woman turned stubbornness into an art form.

  “The answer is no, Rourke.”

  “Goddammit! Look, your father may not be my favorite person, but right now the Byrnes and Connellys have a common enemy. That makes us allies. Temporary or otherwise.” She was either unconvinced or had fallen into a coma. “I can keep you safe.”

  She snorted her disbelief. “You can’t even keep yourself safe, Rourke. You worry about your family, and I’ll worry about mine.”

  “Margo—”

  “If you call me stupid one more time, I’ll fucking punch you. Drop it.”

  Okay. I’d drop it, but she was still staying at the Connelly’s. I couldn’t figure out why she was being so fucking stubborn, but what was worse, I didn’t know why I gave a damn.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Margo

  The more distance I put between the kidnapping and escaping Vegas, the more clarity I had about this whole situation. Sure, Rourke and I were kidnapped at about the same time, which ruled out the Connelly family snatching me, but that didn’t mean I could trust him. Or his family. Especially after that secret five-minute conversation on the side of the road. As far as red flags went, that was a pretty damn big one.

  Whatever that conversation had been about, he didn’t want me to hear it, but more importantly, the person on the other end of the phone didn’t want me to hear it. I could only conclude it was about me.

  Staying at the Connelly house was not a good idea. I felt it down to my bones, but I wouldn’t make a final decision until I talked to my dad. There could be some conflict between them that I didn’t know about since I didn’t bother myself with the business of cleaning dirty money. Now, apparently, I needed to bother with it. On top of that, why in the hell were they—or more specifically Rourke—so determined to help me?

  I needed to focus on the fact that despite his flaws, my dad could keep me safe. I could almost trust him, which was more than I could say about Rourke and his family at the moment. Being pissed at my father’s chosen profession was no reason to put myself in harm’s way.

  A long sigh escaped as I stared at the desert racing past us. I hated every fucking thing about this entire situation, and more than anything, I wanted to go home and crawl into my bed for a few days. And then resume my regular life.

  “You okay?”

  “Yep. Just peachy. Other than the whole kidnapped, beaten and trapped hundreds of miles away from home, I am fan-fucking-tastic.”

  Rourke let out a sigh this time and out of the corner of my eye I watched him struggle to say what he needed to say. “When we get back to the house, I don’t think we should keep sleeping together.”

  That surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. Rourke was no different than the guys I’d grown up with, eternal bachelors who never wanted to grow up. “Fine. And I never said I was going to your family’s house.”

  “You will.”

  “Actually, I won’t.”

  The fact that he didn’t reply gave me chills. I had a feeling that being with him might have been my biggest mistake yet. I spent the next hour thinking about what would happen when we got back to Rocket.

  “You got your seatbelt on?” The question cut through the oppressive silence inside the car, and I noticed his foot was heavy on the gas.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I think we picked up a tail along the way.” His voice sounded like he was concerned, and I tightened the belt around me before I turned to look out the back window.

  “You sure?” I didn’t know what I expected to see, but everything looked normal on the road. I saw no cars barreling towards us at one hundred miles an hour, no imposing SUV or eighteen-wheeler trying to run us off the road. Just your average sedans, minivans and sports cars.

  He checked the rearview mirror again. “Silver SUV. Two cars back. Been following us for about forty-five minutes, but since it’s a straight shot, I can’t be sure.”

  “So why are you so sure now? You said leaving at the ass crack of dawn was the safest option.”

  “I know what the hell I said.”

  “Then explain how they found us!” Because it seemed to me that this could all be some elaborate trick to get at the money my dad cleaned for all these fucking criminal organizations.

  “How the hell should I know?” he snarled and then went quiet on me.

  I didn’t bother to respond to the growl because Rourke drove like a maniac, weaving through traffic while the SUV maintained its position in the middle lane with just one car between us. Only when Rourke cut across three lanes of traffic to get to the next exit, did the SUV driver give himself away.

  “You seem to know a lot that I don’t,” I bit back and gripped the door handle tight while he barely slowed into the right hand turn onto surface roads.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He made a quick left and then another before gunning it through a yellow light that put some distance between the two cars.

  “It seems pretty self-explanatory and it doesn’t matter since I won’t get the truth from you anyway. Just lose this asshole so I can get home.”

  Two more sharp turns and we were on a small backroad, just us and the silver SUV that had two passengers.

  “Hang on,” he shouted and stomped on the gas just as he jerked at the wheel into a U-turn.

  “What the fuck, Rourke?” But he wasn’t listening, instead h
e was aiming the car we were in right at the silver SUV.

  “Stop. Now.” I looked outside at the whir of images flying by and determined that jumping out now was a certain death wish.

  “Stop!” I screamed, holding onto the door handle for my life.

  Rourke pushed the car as far as it would go until the SUV swerved to avoid a collision and lost control before slamming into a small ravine.

  “Fuckers,” he growled. Seconds later he slowed our car to keep it from heading into a tree. He had us cruising at a normal clip again as we merged back onto the freeway, calm, relaxed. Like nothing had happened.

  A trick at which he seemed to be a fucking expert.

  We were both happy to spend the rest of what ended up being another two hours on the road in total silence, but when the car rolled through the gates of Patrick Connelly’s mansion, I wanted to scream.

  “Home sweet home,” he grinned. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to throat punch him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rourke

  Never in my life had I been so happy to set eyes on Patrick’s place, my lips curling into an unstoppable smile as the large stone structure came into view. It boasted three stories with a large basement, a wine cellar and plenty of tunnels and secret passages. Patrick would never admit it, but those secret passages and the rumors they were used during prohibition had sold the old man on the house.

  The front door opened, and the first face I saw belonged to my mother, Fiona Flannigan. She was still a beautiful woman with long blonde hair that had only recently begun to show signs of graying, and those famous Connelly blue eyes that I hadn’t inherited.

  “Rourke, baby!” She rushed down the front steps in heels high enough to give me a heart attack. “Thank the feckin’ Lord you’re all right,” she cried out and wrapped me in her arms the moment I stepped from the car.