KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I watched him, watched the way he bent gently to that child, the way he smiled when he talked to her. My eyes moved slowly over the length of him, his broad shoulders and narrow hips, his heavy thighs and his lovely, rounded ass. I couldn’t stop looking at him even as we walked from the station to my apartment. I almost asked him up, but decided I wasn’t quite ready for one-on-one just yet. I avoided him the next morning by refusing to come out of my bedroom until it was time to run for the subway. I did that all the rest of the week, refusing to say more than a few words to him as all these thoughts rushed through my mind.

  I didn’t even see him Saturday, but by Sunday I knew what I had to do.

  If I was the only one who could draw him into a relationship, who could get him to commit to something more than a one-night stand, then it had to be me. I would get him to trust me, make him think I loved him, then I’d use it against him. I’d hurt him worse than he’d hurt me.

  I walked across the street with a cup of coffee and a strawberry-cheese Danish that I knew was one of his favorites. The door was open before I even reached his floor. I stepped inside, pausing just over the threshold.

  “Finally got curious?” he asked, as he tossed a handful of dirty clothes into the basket next to the bathroom door.

  I looked around the room. It was bigger than I’d expected, about the size of Mom and Brian’s master bedroom back in Boston. There was a couch facing a flat screen on the wall, a small alcove that held a mini fridge and small range. The bed took up most of the space at the back of the room, a king size that wasn’t made, its brown sheets looking warm and inviting. I couldn’t tear my eyes from it, as I imagined him lying there with Sara, the twisted expression of pleasure on her face as he—

  “Did you bring that for me?”

  I cleared my throat of the frog that wanted to live there. “Yeah. I thought you might appreciate it.”

  “I do, actually. I haven’t had a chance to go to the store in a few days.”

  I took it to the low table near the kitchen alcove and set it down, glancing at the lone chair that sat in front of the windows. I walked over and found myself looking directly into the living room of my own apartment.

  “Remind me to close my curtains when I get home.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He sat at the table and cut a generous portion of the Danish, swallowing a huge bite in one, quick movement. I grabbed the chair and dragged it over, trying not to look at the bed again. But, somehow, my eyes were drawn to it just the same.

  “Yes, that’s where we did it, but we started over by the door.”

  “TMI, big brother.”

  “You seem interested.”

  “Not really.”

  “You ignore me for days, and then you suddenly decide to be nice and bring me breakfast? I can’t believe that’s a coincidence.”

  “So you think I just had to see where you bagged my boss?”

  “Didn’t you?” He cut another piece of the Danish and offered it to me, but I waved it away. I wasn’t very hungry. “Has it caused you trouble at work?”

  “No. She put me on a big project, one that people who’ve been there longer probably deserved more than I did.”

  “Glad I could be of service.”

  “Don’t pat yourself on the back so hard.”

  He shrugged, taking another large bite of the pastry. I watched him chew, the muscles in his jaw working. Then my eyes wandered back to that bed, that image that bothered me so much running through my mind. Did it bother me? Yes, of course it did. He was my brother. I had some sort of possession over him, didn’t I?

  “Why did you stop coming home?”

  I felt his surprise more than saw it. He sort of jerked, pushing against the table just enough to make the coffee cup rattle.

  “Why do you want to know that?”

  “I used to think it was my fault. You came home every summer during college, every holiday, but then you started graduate school and you stopped visiting. Not until Mom was dying did you come back.”

  “Why would that be your fault?”

  I shrugged. “Do you remember the summer after your college graduation? I had that fight with Mom, and I got into bed with you. I thought it was okay, but you acted weird after that. And then you were gone, disappeared for two years.”

  “I was at graduate school. It was a lot of work I had to keep up with, and I had internships during the summer.”

  “But you could have come home for Christmas, but you didn’t even do that.”

  He stood up, suddenly no longer interested in the pastry. I watched him, curious about the tension in his shoulders.

  “You wouldn’t come home when Mom and I called, but the moment Brian needed you—”

  “You used to call him Pops, too.”

  “That was when I still considered him my father.”

  “He is your father as much as he is mine.”

  “No. He’s just the man married to the woman who wanted to adopt me but never could.”

  Killian looked at me sharply. “What do you mean, never could?”

  “I was never formally adopted. There was some problem with the paperwork. Mom said it didn’t matter, that I was a part of the family anyway, but it was never made official.”

  “You use our last name.”

  “Mom insisted on it. Said it would keep me from feeling like an outsider.”

  He shook his head. “I thought…”

  “Lots of people labor under misconceptions and misunderstandings.”

  “None of that really matters, does it? He’s still the one who raised you from the time you were ten. He’s your dad.”

  “She raised me. And she’s gone, just like my biological parents, just like Davis. Just like everyone I’ve ever cared about.” I glanced at that bed again, my heart sinking as I did. “Everyone.”

  “Not everyone. Ian’s still around. And Kyle and Kevin. And Sean. I know you adore Ian and Sean.”

  “Maybe it’d be better for them if I didn’t.”

  “Boy, we’re feeling really sorry for ourselves today.”

  I stood and headed for the door. “I should go. I knew coming over here was a mistake.”

  He grabbed my arm as I tried to pass him, pulling me around so that I was facing him.

  “Why did you come?”

  “I thought for once we could talk to each other like we were normal human beings. But I guess I was wrong.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  I tried to pull away, but he held me tight, tight enough that it almost hurt where his fingers bit into my flesh. He studied my face from his point of view more than half a foot above me.

  “I’m sorry if you felt abandoned. That’s not what I intended.”

  “What did you intend?”

  “I needed to be on my own for a while, Stacy. To figure things out. I know you understand that.”

  I did. I’d come to New York to escape Brian and the boys always checking in on me, always getting into my business. But it didn’t feel the same. It felt back then like he was avoiding me. And now, with what Sara had said, I was almost convinced that I’d been right.

  “Mom needed you to come home.”

  “Just Mom?”

  I shrugged. “You were my big brother, the one I trusted. And suddenly you were gone. It wasn’t a good feeling.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s a little late for apologies, isn’t it?”

  “It’s never too late.”

  He touched the side of my face and a tingle of pleasure danced on my spine. I wanted to curl into him, into his touch. I wanted him to touch me everywhere. But I didn’t want to frighten him by pushing this thing too hard, too fast. So I stepped away.

  “I should go.”

  I felt him watch me as I slipped out the door. A sense of satisfaction slid through me as I quickly left his building and returned to my own. But there was something else there that I decided I didn’t want to analyze. What was the p
oint? This wasn’t going to end well for him.

  Chapter 6

  Killian

  “Things are complicated here,” Ian was saying in my ear as I quickly crossed the street. “We’ve had a few conflicts with the Italians this week.”

  “You said the same thing last week.”

  “I know. Things seem to be escalating. Pops wants you to stay with Stacy until this thing simmers down a little.”

  “What about the war? Shouldn’t I come help?”

  “He says there’s no point in putting more of us in trouble. He wants to send Kevin back to Paris, did I tell you that?”

  “No. But I’m not surprised. He’s always been fondest of Kevin.”

  “He has. And Kevin’s never been a part of this stuff.”

  “True. Neither has Stace.”

  “That’s why you need to stay there, keep her out of it. If some of these Italians think they can use her against Pops…”

  “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Thanks, big brother.”

  I ended the call a moment later, exchanging the phone for my keys. I unlocked Stacy’s apartment door, wondering what today would bring. She’d spoken to me a little more over the last few days, ever since our conversation on Sunday. But things continued to be tense between us. I didn’t like it, but at least I knew now what had been bothering her so much.

  She thought I abandoned her. If only she knew the truth.

  Just as I pushed the door open, I heard a crash come from the bedroom.

  “Dammit!”

  I ran across the living room and burst into the bedroom. Stacy was bent over, more curses slipping from between her pretty lips. She’d dropped a water glass, and it’d shattered on the hardwood floor. A piece was embedded in the bottom of her bare foot, blood pouring around the shard and dripping on the floor. I scooped her up into my arms and carried her into the bathroom, realizing only as I set her on the edge of the toilet that she was naked from the waist up.

  “I picked up my phone, forgetting it was still hooked up to the charger, and it caught the glass.” She looked down at the blood dripping from her foot. “Damn, stupid thing to do.”

  “Let me look.”

  I carefully raised her foot and touched the shard of glass. She hissed. It was an inch long and maybe an inch wide, imbedded deep in the center of her foot. My hand shook as I studied it, trying to decide what would be the best thing to do.

  “You might need stitches.”

  “Great. Imagine trying to get heels on with stitches in the bottom of my foot.”

  “You’ll probably have to take a couple of days off of work.”

  She groaned deeper at that thought than she had at the pain.

  “I just started working there. They’ll fire me if I have to take time off.”

  “They won’t fire you.”

  “You don’t know these people.”

  I looked at her, trying to ignore her perky breasts that were barely hidden behind her crossed arms. I must have blushed because she glanced down at herself and smiled.

  “Sorry. I was still getting dressed.”

  “I can see that.”

  “My bathrobe is right behind you.”

  I turned, still supporting her foot with my left hand, reaching for her robe with the right. I handed it to her, averting my eyes as she slipped it on. I still managed to get quite a glimpse of her bare breasts, a sight that made my balls tighten and my cock to stretch. It made squatting an unhappy position to be in. I stood, turning slightly and forcing my concentration on her foot.

  “Do you have a pair of tweezers? I should pull the glass out.”

  She pointed to a drawer beside me. “Be gentle, huh?”

  “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

  I studied the piece of glass, a little nervous about pulling it out. Her blood was running down over her heel and through my fingers. I didn’t want to make the situation worse, but I knew I needed to get the glass out so the wound could clot. If it were my foot, it wouldn’t be an issue. But this was Stacy’s foot.

  I barely touched the tweezers to the glass, and she hissed again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly, as I grasped the glass and pulled it out as quickly as I could. She cried out and blood gushed, but the glass hadn’t been as deep as I’d thought. It was a long cut, about three-quarters of an inch long, but it was pretty shallow.

  “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you’ll have to stay off of it for a couple of days.”

  “Just bandage it up really well.”

  “Stacy…”

  “I can’t lose my job.”

  She stared at me with the earnest stare that once convinced me to take her to a New Kids on the Block concert even after Mom and Pops had said she couldn’t go. I shook my head, aware that I couldn’t deny her anything when she looked at me that way.

  “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  She pointed to another drawer on her vanity. I dug it out and shifted her around so that I could prop her foot over the sink. She hissed again when I poured nearly a whole bottle of hydrogen peroxide over the wound, washing away old and new blood alike. I dabbed it with a piece of gauze and then fashioned a bandage over it. Stacy made a chorus of sounds as I worked on it, her face almost anemically pale when I was done.

  “It’s Friday. If you take off the weekend, it’ll probably be better by Monday. But if you try to walk on it too much today…”

  “Okay,” she said, looking as though she might faint.

  I scooped her into my arms again, holding her tighter against my chest than I probably had to. I didn’t like seeing her in pain. It made my heart ache, almost like it had done when Mom died.

  I laid her carefully on the bed, grabbing a pillow so I could prop up her foot.

  “I’ll get you some aspirin.”

  She pointed again to the same cabinet in the bathroom where I’d found the first aid kit, but I already knew it was there. I took it to her, watching until she’d swallowed both pills. Then I cleaned up the glass, hunting down the vacuum to make sure I got all the pieces, not just the big ones.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

  “Of course I did.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and studied her face. She was still pale, but some of the color was starting to come back into her cheeks.

  “You should be more careful.”

  “I usually am. I hardly ever bring glass in here, but I was exhausted last night and I’d run out of water bottles.”

  “You should have called me. I would have gotten you more.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “When are you going to figure out that I’m here for you? There is nothing more important.”

  “Why? Why now?”

  I shrugged, finding it impossible not to touch her. I took her hand between both of mine, holding it tighter than I probably should have. My eyes caressed her face, moving over her jaw, her full lips, and her dainty little nose. I wanted to brush the hair out of her face, but she reached up and did it for me. However, I could almost feel the silkiness of it.

  How often had I imagined a moment like this? And how many times had I told myself how wrong it was?

  “You’re my family.”

  “I’m not. Not really.”

  “Stacy—”

  “We weren’t raised together. By the time Mom brought me home, you were headed out to college. And I was never adopted. It was never made official.”

  “Does that really matter?”

  She shrugged. “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  She sat up a little straighter and touched my jaw with just the tip of one finger. She slowly allowed it to slide down, resting it on the center of my chin before sliding it up over my bottom lip. I turned my head, forcing her hand to fall away.

  “Do you want me to call Sara? Let her know you won’t be in today?”

  “Wouldn’t you love that? An excuse to talk to yo
ur lover?”

  She pulled her hand away, turning slightly against the pillows so that her back was mostly toward me.

  “That’s not what I meant. I just thought I’d help you out.”

  “I think I’ve had enough of that kind of help.”

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” I grabbed her shoulder and forced her to turn back to me. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

  She stared at me through narrowed eyes for a long second. “Are you really that oblivious?”

  “Oblivious to—?”

  She moved into me and pressed her finger to my lips. Then she replaced it with her lips. It caught my breath; I was totally not expecting this. But then her hand was on my jaw, and I was lost. It wasn’t a sisterly kiss. It was the kind of kiss that had the power to steal my sense of reality, my ability to think and breathe. I sighed against her mouth, opening to the tiny flick of her tongue against my lips. She tasted cold, like toothpaste or mouthwash, but she quickly warmed up, the spicy taste of her coming through after a minute. It was exactly how I’d imagined it would be.

  I pushed her back against the pillows and deepened the kiss. She moaned softly against my lips, the moan sending a vibration through my body. Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging me against her. I slipped my hand under her bathrobe, her nipples tight and erect against my palm. I groaned again, an ache growing in my lower belly. A kiss had never been so intense, the taste so intoxicating. My head was spinning.

  It was…it was so wrong. This was Stacy. This was my sister.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her fingers away from me, climbing off the bed before she knew what I was doing. I heard her call for me as I stormed through the apartment, but I couldn’t go back. If I did…I wasn’t sure I could control myself. I’d wanted this for so long that I couldn’t stop myself. But I couldn’t do that to Stacy. She’d already been through too much these last six months. I couldn’t make things worse.

  I walked for a long time, trying to cool the heat that lived deep in my belly.