Exploding: A Mafia Romance (The O'Keefe Family Collection #1)

by Tuesday Embers

  Fallyn hadn’t been allowed to attend his funeral, though she had sent flowers. The service, wake and burial were all held in D’Amato territory, which had been off-limits to her until this very day. She stood in the kitchen she had so many childhood memories in and closed her eyes, crushed on a soul level at how far the families had fallen since Papa D had taught her how to make gnocchi. She remembered being covered head to toe in mushy potato mash by the end of it, but no one scolded her for being a mess. He’d taken a bite of one of her handmade gnocchi and praised it to the high heavens, swearing up and down in thick Italian that it was the best he’d ever had.

  She would like to have visited Papa D’s grave. It had broken her heart when he died.

  Fallyn went back out to the truck, moving far slower than her usual chipper pace. Her hips did not sway, but her body did a few times as she made her way back to the kitchen with yet another box of desserts. The scent of cream filling mixed with marinara in the kitchen air. It made for a delicious symphony that caused her eyes roll back as she set down the box.

  Four more boxes were accompanied by four more insults from Maria, who didn’t get out of her chair once. The cops were still getting statements and waiting for Seamus to calm down in the backseat of the patrol car, where he’d been cuffed until he stopped being a problem to the general order of things. Fallyn went out for the last box, grunting at its weight as she carried it with one hand. Her left arm was useless as it screamed to remind her that she’d just been shot. She ignored the pain as best she could, blinking in slow motion as she moved into the kitchen.

  “Fallyn, what are you doing?” Vince called, jogging into the kitchen after her. “Give that to me. You sit down. Maria, get up and help her already. You can see she’s injured.”

  Maria blew a loud raspberry at him. “Let her leave in a body bag for all I care. Whatever gets her out of here the fastest.”

  Vince started yelling at Maria in Italian, and she barked back, her bite ferocious. When Vince cursed her loudly in his native tongue, Maria gave him the finger and left, her too-tight spandex pants leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination as she swaggered outside and slammed the door shut.

  Vince huffed when he saw Fallyn struggling to make room for the last box on the counter using her elbow to slide a box over. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

  “Almost done,” she murmured, praying that she didn’t drop the last box. The hand that was supporting the load was shaking, and she was unsteady on her black heels. She sighed when Vince took the box from her and slid it onto its landing spot, her adrenaline ebbing now that the task was complete.

  Vince’s arm went around her back as she swayed, touching her head as her vision swam. “Easy, there. Why’d you unload the truck? We would’ve done that. We were just finishing up with the cops.”

  “Can’t leave cream out too long.” She pointed to the boxes with a shaking finger. “Fridge.”

  When she took a step toward the boxes to move them to the walk-in, Vince stopped her, his hand on hers as he led her away from the promise of work. “Bella, you just got shot. We can handle those.”

  The toe of Fallyn’s shoe snagged on the floor, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to right herself. She plunged toward the ground, fully expecting to smack her knees and then her chin on the hard tile.

  The strong arms around her swept her up before she could collapse. “Miele, you’re working too hard. Rest a while.” He carried her to his office and set her in his chair, kneeling down in front of her to get a good look at her pale face. “Let me take a look at your arm.” He peeled back the bandage and hissed at the long gash that had been stitched in a horizontal line across her bicep. “That looks painful, moroso. The blood’s still fresh on the bandage. You’re going to tear your stitches if you don’t slow down.”

  “I’m alright. It barely hit me.”

  Vince narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you want me to press on the wound to make you admit you’re in pain? Why are you being so stubborn?”

  She picked her head up to look at him, but his face doubled and then tripled in her vision. She reached out and placed her hand on his cheek so she knew which one of him she was addressing. “Angelo d-didn’t mean to hit me. If my brothers know I’m really hurt, they’ll r-retaliate. I can’t have them starting something over this.”

  He gazed into her blue eyes with unfathomable appreciation and a newfound respect that made him see her bathed in a beauty he’d tried to ignore. “You care that much about us? You’d lie to your brothers to keep the peace?” He watched in awe as Fallyn nodded, pursing her lips to muscle her way through a wave of searing anguish that echoed up her arm. “I don’t like to see you hurting, Bella. Your eyes are much prettier when they’re smiling.”

  Fallyn’s eyes began to water at the beautiful compliment, and before she could help herself, a tear spilled down her cheek like a fault line, breaking up the picture of poise she was trying so hard to preserve. “It hurts so bad!” she admitted, her chin quivering as her hand slipped to grip his neck.

  Vince looked over his shoulder to ensure they were alone, that the staff was still outside gawking at the mess. He shut the office door and then knelt before her seat again. He slowly and gingerly pulled Fallyn toward him, sliding her off the chair and cradling her as she collapsed in his lap. He slid under his desk to hide them both from the window, feeling like a child in a fort guarding a rare treasure. He swept her legs to the side, supporting her back in his arm as he brushed the hair from her face. “Let it out. No one can see you down here.”

  Vince held her as she broke in his arms, silently crying through the pain that wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how firmly she tried to ignore it. Her head rested on his shoulder as she cried into his white shirt, each soundless sob marking a weakness she had no choice but to trust only him with. His thumb caressed her cheek, softening her resolve to fight through the pain on her own.

  “It hurts, Vince! It burns still,” she whispered through her tears.

  “I know, amata. I know. I can get you something for the pain, if you’d like.”

  She shook her head and clung more firmly to his shirt, her wet eyelashes fluttering against his neck. He smelled faintly of cologne that had deep notes of something sweet laced through the musk. Before she could stop herself from feeling the calm, it invaded her, taking her anxiety down to a manageable level. She breathed his scent in through her nose and exhaled through her parted lips, not knowing that her breath was tickling a sensitive spot on his neck.

  His head lolled back, and now it was his turn for breath to come in gulps and gasps. His eyes shut as he caressed her forearm, his fingers tangling in hers so he didn’t touch her lower lip just to feel the curve of it – just to test its softness. Alarms were banging to warn them of the danger approaching, but the rare glimpse of comfort and understanding brought them closer.

  Vince tucked his finger under her chin and lifted it so he could see her face in all of its bedraggled beauty. He brought their clasped fingers to her lips and traced the plump ripeness of her youth, taking in her confusion and unmasked attraction as she blinked up at him with damp lashes.

  Everything that screamed at Vince to drop her on the floor and run out of the room faded into oblivion when he risked it all and brushed his lips against hers. Her soft squeak of surprise lit a fire inside of him that had been building since he’d flirted with her in her kitchen. He pulled on her lower lip that had teased him with its appeal, devouring her gentle hmms as they fell into deeper attraction than one kiss had a right to push them to. She tasted like vanilla and lust – not like chalky lipstick, which was all he tasted when he kissed Maria. He swore aloud into her mouth, cursing himself as he went in for more.

  And more.

  He braced her back with his left arm and reached down to cup the curve of her creamy calf with the other, running his thumb along the underside of her knee so he could swallow more of her delicate moans. Experience told his hands where to go, b
ut it was instinct that told his thumb to swirl in the tantalizing crevice, driving her to break the kiss so she could throw her head back and revel in a guttural moan. Her kiss was addictive, so he sucked her moan into his mouth, covering her lips with his. She was coming undone in his arms, urging him further toward the edge of the cliff, despite the logic that warned him of the danger. Her body reacted to his so readily, despite the fear that gripped them both at the dangerous thing they were carousing in. He watched her gasp and felt her fingers rake through his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue gently beckoned hers to come out and play.

  Vince was ablaze with a hunger he hadn’t felt in years. Resigned to his duties, he’d accepted a muted version of the life he’d envisioned for himself. He pulled his hand up from her calf and pushed his finger into her mouth, rolling his eyes back as she sucked on it. He swore again and then growled in her ear, “You’re driving me crazy.” He popped his finger out of her mouth and replaced it with his tongue, intoxicated by her feminine feel. He reached back down and swirled his wet finger into the sensitive dip in the back of her knee, grinning through the kiss as she bucked and panted.

  Fallyn writhed in his arm and let out wanton mewls that let him know he’d hit her sweet spot. “That’s it, giovane bellezza. Così bella.”

  “Fallyn?” Killian called through the kitchen.

  Vince and Fallyn froze with wide eyes, panic replacing the rush of desire in a split second. Vince took his hand from her leg and pressed a finger to his lips. They listened as Killian took a few steps inside to look around and then went back out.

  The second they were alone, Fallyn scrambled off his lap, stumbling ungracefully as she climbed out from under his desk. She plastered her back to the wall like he was a dragon she had given reign of the office to until an escape route could be found. “I… I…” she stammered, fearful of how deeply her self-control had deserted her. Her cheeks were pink and her chest moved unsteadily as her eyes darted to his uncertainly.

  Vince checked the window to ensure they were alone before he closed the distance between them and kissed her once more. This time it was a gentle caress of the lips, sealing the lid on any sort of quick excuse that might explain away their tryst. “You taste… It’s… I need more,” he whispered as he kissed her again. “No regrets. That was incredible.”

  “Vince, we can’t be doing this. It’s not… We can’t…” And then Fallyn gave in, wrapping her fingers around his collar and pulling him closer as the explosion of desire proved to be too much to resist. “Our families!” she protested as she deepened the kiss, her words conflicting with the tenacity of her tug on him. Her mind and body were at war, ceasing their battle only when the backdoor creaked open again.

  They shot away from each other with wide eyes as Carrigan called through the kitchen. “Fally? You in here?”

  “I’m here,” Fallyn called, her voice breaking. “Just settling up with Vince for the muffins and whatnot. I’ll be out in a second.”

  Carrigan moseyed into the kitchen, and the same nostalgia that hit Fallyn washed over him. “Haven’t been in here since I was a teenager. Looks the exact same.” He called over his shoulder to his sister. “How’s your arm, sweetie?”

  Fallyn looked down at the injury that had fallen to the wayside in the frenzy of the clandestine moment. “It’s alright. I think I’ll head home after this, though. Take a break for a few hours.”

  Carrigan strolled into the office, looking toward the desk where Vince was signing the purchase order. “That’s probably a good idea. I’ll take you home. Killian, Finn and Seamus have to get back to the restaurant, and Kill’s in a right state still. Might not want to deal with him if you don’t have to.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Vince reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of hundreds, handing Fallyn two. “That should do it. You sent us more than we’re sending back with you. We’ll see how these sell, and I’ll get back to you about a reorder.” He glanced up at Carrigan from his desk. “Our desserts for the shelf in Fallyn’s bakery are in the walk-in. You want to send Seamus and Finn in to load them up? They can drive them back to the bakery with Kill if you’re taking Fallyn home, Carrigan.”

  Carrigan nodded, glancing around the office as if looking for changes from when it belonged to Papa D. The picture of Papa D and Mama Antonia still hung on the wall behind the desk, as it had since Carrigan’s earliest memory of the place. “That’s fine. Come on, Fally. Let’s get you home. You’re all flushed. You need to lie down.”

  Vince brushed his fingers against hers as she passed by him, and the tingle was a reminder that though the kiss had ended, the passion was just beginning.

  15

  Daddy’s Girl

  Carrigan walked Fallyn into her apartment like she was a fragile old lady. He kept his police jacket on as he checked her house for intruders, though they both knew he did this out of habit, not necessity. He walked her to the couch and sat on the coffee table facing her, slapping his palms together as their knees touched. “Alright. Let me check your wound.”

  “It’s nothing, just a graze.”

  Carrigan narrowed his eyes at his baby sister. “I know it’s hurting you worse than you’re letting on. The EMT said it was more than just a gash. Angelo got you good.”

  Fallyn shirked away from him, holding her arm. “I’m okay.”

  Carrigan used his best calming voice to soothe her so he could check how her stitches were holding up. “Look, I’m not Killian. I won’t fly off the handle about this. If you say Angelo didn’t mean to shoot you, then I believe you. I won’t go after Angelo. I’m only concerned about you. Can I look?”

  Fallyn finally gave in. She extended her arm and peeled off the bandage, wincing at the blood that looked too fresh and too much. “Oh, man. I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”

  Carrigan took his time redressing her wound, taking notice of every time Fallyn bit her lip or whimpered through the pain. “I think this whole arrangement Killian and Vince have with the baked goods isn’t working. I’m putting the kibosh on it.”

  “It was my idea, my decision. If it works, then it’ll help cool things off between our two sides. This was the first time. There were bound to be some missteps. Maybe next time I’ll have Vince drop his stuff off at my bakery instead, though. Neutral territory and all.”

  “Good thinking.” He jerked his head toward her bedroom. “You go get changed into pajamas. I’ll make you a cup of tea. You need to get some rest.”

  Fallyn wanted to protest on principle, but the ups and downs of the morning had taken a lot out of her. She changed slowly, babying her arm behind closed doors where she could admit that the bullet actually had hurt her. Her pink tank top had soft, dainty rows of ruffles along the top half, which made her feel feminine and pretty, instead of like the gun-toting hooligan she knew she could sometimes be. Her pink cotton shorts hung low on her waist, and she climbed into her bed without a second thought of the tea or her other responsibilities that had dragged her away from her bed for weeks. She closed her eyes the moment her head was properly cushioned on the pillow.

  “Fally?” Carrigan let himself into her bedroom and set her cup of tea on the nightstand. “I’ve got to get back to work now. I’ll send Seamus to stay with you for the rest of the day, and Danny can come over to sleep here tonight.”

  “No. I’m okay. Just taking a nap. I don’t need anyone to come over. I’ll see you all at family dinner tomorrow night. I just need some sleep.” She opened her eyes to address Carrigan. “Seriously, I just want to be alone for a little bit. I’ll probably go back to work in a few hours.”

  Carrigan frowned. “You just got shot. You have a whole staff whose purpose is to run things when you’re gone. Take the day off. Seamus is already on his way to watch your house while you sleep.”

  Fallyn groaned. “He’s too worked up for that. He’ll end up shooting a dog or something if it comes too near the place. Too emotional.”

  “
I’ll tell him to stay outside then, so he doesn’t bug you.” Carrigan rubbed the back of his neck. “Dad’s upset. He’s going to stop by in a few to make sure you’re okay.”

  Fallyn knew with those words that the promise of a nap was slipping through her fingers. “Great. Now I can’t even rest, which was the thing you just told me to do. Who told Daddy?”

  Carrigan’s green eyes shone with culpability. “I did, plus Kill. Then Kill told Declan, who also called Dad. He’s on his way here now with his nurse.”

  Fallyn ripped off the covers angrily and pushed her brother out the door. She got dressed in a deep blue skirt and short-sleeved peach blouse that covered the bandage. She brushed her hair and pinned it up before making her bed. The tousled comforter made her heart ache with its missed invitation. She knew her father would be in a state, and she didn’t want another person hovering when she needed a little space to digest the most dangerous and the most beautiful kiss of her twenty-five years.

  She whipped around her home, picking up her things and shoving any mess into the bedroom. She washed the few dishes in the sink while Carrigan sat at the table drinking his tea, observing her cleaning frenzy with mild amusement. “I’ll never understand why you get so worked up when Dad or Killian comes over.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she snapped, instantly feeling guilty over being short with her brother, whom she loved. “Daddy has no problem with you all living on your own. He’s always one incident away from telling me I have to come and live back at home with him and Kill. That’s if he remembers who I am. I can’t decide which is worse, him treating me like I’m eight years old, or him treating me like he’s never met me before.” She shook her head, wiping down the counters with a rag. She hated that her father had dementia, and even though she’d moved back to her family’s territory just over six months ago, the dementia only seemed to be getting worse. His moods hit a harder swing, taking him far lower than he’d gone in his younger years. Killian had even gone so far as taking his gun away. “I’m not moving back home. I’m twenty-five. I’m allowed to live where I like.”