This Life 1

by Cara Dee

  No! No, no, no, no, no!

  Adrenaline pulsed in my veins. I pushed back with my shoulder and yanked the book back. “Get off of me!” I shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “It doesn’t belong to you!” He stopped trying to take the book from me, only for his hands to slip up to my throat. My eyes widened at the sheer rage in his gaze. I’d been intimidated by him for as long as I could remember, but I’d never actually been afraid. “You don’t deserve it!” he yelled. “You don’t deserve anything! If it weren’t for you—”

  “I get it! She’d be alive if it weren’t for me!” I gritted my teeth against the hurt and struggled to push him away from me. The album landed on the floor with a thump, and I rammed my fists into his stomach before gripping his wrists. “Ow—let me go—that fucking hurts!”

  “You’re done stealing from me,” he seethed, tightening his grip on my neck. The crushing pain pulsated throughout my chest, getting heavier and heavier. At the same time, panic closed in on me, and I choked when I couldn’t force air into my lungs.

  Our gazes locked for one excruciating second. I didn’t know him. I didn’t recognize him. He hated me with every fiber of his being.

  “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a murderer,” he rasped. “I don’t care what he says. You killed my Elena, you little whore.”

  I screwed my eyes shut, seeing spots. My nails dug into his wrists. Did he even feel it, or was he too far gone?

  Dizziness dragged me down into a cold swamp. My lungs burned and squeezed.

  This can’t be my life, this can’t be my life, this can’t be my life.

  I felt like I left my body. Desperation and instinct took over, and I slammed my forehead against his nose. A sickening crunch resounded in my head, and then my lungs were filling with air. I wheezed and choked, feeling like his hands were still wrapped around my throat.

  He wasn’t touching me. He’d fallen back against the kitchen doorway and was cupping his nose.

  I saw red. Fury lit me up, and I attacked him with fists and feet. “You almost killed me!” I kneed him in the gut, and as he bowled over and groaned, I landed my elbow across his neck. “What kind of vile monster are you? I didn’t fucking murder your precious Elena! I was born!” I stomped on his foot, punched him in his temple, and scratched up his neck in my blind fit of rage.

  It wasn’t until he landed on the floor with a hoarse cry that I stumbled back and saw the damage. Blood was gushing out of his nose. Three streaks of red grazed his neck, and the only position he seemed interested in was the fetal position.

  I forced in some air and looked down at my hands. They were shaking, and I couldn’t see properly.

  At his pained moan, I tried to get my shit together. Breathe, breathe, breathe. I picked up the album and fled from the house. The panic was right there, waiting to take me. His hands were gone. Why wasn’t it getting easier to breathe?

  I managed to slip my arms into the handles of the duffel and use it as a backpack. Then I grabbed my schoolbag and my baby book and walked unsteadily down the driveway.

  “Shit.” I had to pause when I reached the sidewalk. Time to call someone. Him. Finnegan. He was the only person I knew who could help me. I pressed call on his number and waited, focusing on breathing through the chest pain.

  He answered with, “Well, that’s new. The princess is calling me.”

  Only three words existed in my brain. “I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter 14

  Finnegan O’Shea

  “Obsessed with cake,” I scoffed. “And you know she stole my car, right? That doesn’t make me possessive of it.”

  Kellan laughed and threw himself on my couch with a bowl of chips. “Take that up with someone else. Not my jurisdiction.”

  I grabbed a beer in the kitchen and joined him. The only good thing about not working at the moment was we could catch the football games from Europe on TV. Fucking time zones.

  Patrick walked into my house with Alec and Nessa, informing us Pop would be here any minute.

  “I don’t wanna go home, boss.” Alec planted himself next to me, looking uncharacteristically sour.

  “You’ll be back in no time, cub.” I ruffled his hair.

  I’d expected their stay to be longer, truth be told. When a territory was deemed unsafe, it wasn’t unheard of for the men to send their women and children on vacations that went on for weeks, if not months. Cleanup could take time.

  According to Pop, it was mostly Uncle John’s paranoia this time. He’d sent the twins away to upgrade their security around the house, and now that was done.

  All it’d accomplished for me was doubts. Did Uncle John trust us more and that was why he’d sent Alec and Nessa here, or was he up to something and wanted to make it look like he trusted us?

  Additionally, without the twins around, my boredom was gonna kill me. We’d already repainted Ma’s “art studio” in all kinds of neon colors to see her reaction, and it would only get worse from there.

  I’d also spend too much time thinking about Emilia. Kellan’s latest update on her wasn’t as satisfying as I’d thought. Maybe because she hadn’t stopped reporting to him based on a newfound loyalty to me, but because she was overwhelmed by everything. She’d legit told him she still hoped the Feds caught us.

  “We gonna take bets or what?” Patrick grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into his mouth.

  “Why? We root for the same team,” I said.

  Kellan cleared his throat. “Actually, uh, I’m a Liverpool fan these days.”

  I pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out. This is a United house. Your treason isn’t welcome here.”

  The twins snickered while Patrick exclaimed, “That’s what I’m fuckin’ saying.”

  “Treason,” Kellan snorted.

  Un-fucking-believable. You thought you knew a guy… I hauled out my wallet. “Two hundred on United.”

  “Oh! Can we play too?” Alec looked hopeful.

  “No. I’ve heard you in church,” I told him. “When you learn how to repent, you can sin.”

  The rest of us placed our bets, and the game started.

  “That’s not how religion works, Finn,” Ness pointed out.

  “Shh. Watch the game, doll.” I took a swig of my beer.

  Pop joined us twenty minutes in. Life in Philly must’ve been hectic, ’cause we usually went to the same barber. He hadn’t been in a while, I could tell. His suit was nowhere to be seen either, and the lines around his eyes seemed more prominent.

  He asked Kellan if he had any history with mental health issues upon hearing he was a Liverpool fan.

  “That’s my dad.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Beer?”

  “Just one. I’m driving. Cheers, son.”

  One meant three, of course. I got up and filled a cooler with bottles and ice packs so I didn’t have to go twice.

  At halftime, we had a bit more time to talk.

  “What’s this I hear about Kellan pretending to be a Fed around Emilia?” Pop asked.

  I shot Patrick a glare.

  He smirked and shrugged.

  “I’m being careful,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. She called it off with him today.”

  Pop eyed Kellan. “Does she suspect anything?”

  Kellan shook his head. “Nah. I’m a decent actor.” More like we all had experience with the FBI, though I was sure he’d broken protocol once or twice.

  “Oh right, you used to do porn,” Patrick mentioned.

  I laughed.

  “The fuck I have,” Kellan spluttered. “Dick.”

  “Is that—” Nessa was cut off by Alec, who whispered in her ear. Judging by her furious blush, her brother had told her way too much.

  “All right, enough of that, lads.” Pop coughed into his fist to hide his laugh. “And, Finn, don’t tell your mother about the Feds. She already feels bad for the girls.”

  “Noted.” I nodded with a dip of my chin and sat forward a bit. Nex
t, I sent the twins a pointed look. “Youse didn’t hear any of this.”

  Nessa shook her head, and Alec pretended to zip his mouth and throw away the key. They were pros. Sometimes I wondered how many secrets they kept.

  “Furthermore, your mother and I didn’t send you to Aberdeen Grange for you to return speaking slang,” Pop told me.

  Jesus fucking Christ. “Is Ma not putting out?”

  “Aw, man.” Pat grimaced. “That’s my mom.”

  I furrowed my brow. “I came out of the same v—”

  “Oi! That’s enough.” Pop gave me a hard stare, only to deflate with a heavy sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. “How bored are you, son?”

  “There’s no word in the English language, slang or otherwise, to describe it,” I replied.

  He shook his head. “What happened to testing the small-town life?”

  “I did that. The results aren’t looking very promising.” I was honest. I knew I’d said this might be good for me. But sometimes I was wrong. “I’ll be here until Emilia says yes, and then we’re gone.”

  “Ma will be disappointed,” Patrick mused.

  I lifted a shoulder. It was our parents who fantasized about country life. Their house here would be their primary home. While I’d be happy to visit on occasion for some downtime, or when I worked with Pop, I couldn’t imagine actually living here. If I had, I wouldn’t have settled for a small house like this one. Right now, my condo in the city was calling my name.

  “When are you guys moving out here?” I asked Pop. They’d gone back and forth between dates a lot.

  “Next week,” he replied firmly. “I still have a few patients in the city. I’ll commute a couple times a week, but everything else is ready.”

  That was good. The less time he spent with his damn patients, the more time he could commit to making plans for the Maserati event in Italy this fall.

  “Game’s starting.” Kellan nodded at the flat screen.

  I returned my attention to the TV but remembered something. “Pop, did you pick up the things I asked you?”

  “Aye, they’re in the car.”

  Okay, good. I finished my beer and—my fucking phone rang. Christ, I just wanted to enjoy the game. Forget what I said. It was Emilia, and that was a first. And definitely welcome. Leaving the couch to get some privacy, I stepped out onto the patio and answered her call.

  “Well, that’s new. The princess is calling me.”

  One day, I’d have to tell her why I called her princess.

  Her breathing was strained. “I’ll marry you.”

  I grew rigid, instantly alert. She’d spoken the words I’d wanted to hear for weeks, but her irregular breathing put me on edge. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “I… My chest hurts. Can—can you pick me up?”

  I was already heading inside, and if she sounded any more panicky, I was gonna kill someone. “I’m on my way. Where are you? What happened?” I’d gotten the attention of pretty much everyone, and I nodded at the door to my brother.

  “I thought he was gonna kill me,” Emilia whimpered. “I punched him, Finnegan.”

  “Get to the cars, Pat.” I detoured quickly and ran up the stairs to get my piece. “Keep talking to me, princess. Are you safe now? Who tried to hurt you?” My gun was in the nightstand, and I tucked it into my jeans at the base of my spine.

  “My dad.” She was cracking, and my fucking heart broke for her. At the same time, I was relieved it wasn’t someone else. Someone with affiliation. “I’m safe, I think. I’m on the sidewalk.”

  “I want you to walk up the road,” I said, hurrying downstairs again. “Can you do that for me? I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I let out a whistle, and Kellan looked up. I covered the mouthpiece. “You can’t be here when I get back.”

  He understood.

  “It’s a twenty-minute d-drive, Finnegan.” Bloody hell, even freaking out and struggling to breathe, she wanted to correct me. I couldn’t wait to marry this little broad.

  “You’re right, I’ll see you in five,” I said. Without telling the others what was going on, I left the house after stealing Pop’s car keys off the hallway table. “Stay on the line with me, Emilia. I need you to breathe.”

  I threw the keys to Pop’s Jag to Pat. It would take him to town a hell of a lot quicker than dragging on in his Jeep. “Drive to Emilia’s,” I told him, getting into my own car.

  “Why does it hurt?” Emilia groaned between gasps. “I swear his hands are-are still around my n-neck.”

  “Motherfucker,” I spat. As soon as the gates opened, I floored it and connected the call to Bluetooth so I didn’t have to hold my phone. White-hot rage flooded me at the thought of her being hurt.

  It’s probably your fucking fault.

  I clenched my jaw.

  Jonathan Porter was a dead man. If there was one thing more important than money to him, it was that Emilia didn’t learn the truth about her mother. He’d pitched a fit when we visited him, saying I was going back on my word, but one fist to his eye had silenced him. As soon as I’d mentioned I knew Elena was alive and well—living with her husband in Italy—Jonathan had been more docile than a newborn kitten. He agreed; I didn’t have to give him money. He would let his daughter stay as long as she needed.

  Now he’d put his hands on her.

  I hit the highway and accelerated, reminding Emilia to count her breaths. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Slow, deep breaths.

  Patrick was in my rearview, and between the two of us, we raked in an impressive number of honks from the vehicles we passed.

  I didn’t slow down until our exit was next.

  Heads turned as we entered the town, reminding me of the call I’d gotten from Aunt Viv today. Not to mention the text from Emilia. Everyone was speculating about us, and the only ones suffering were Emilia and Sarah.

  My breath hitched uncomfortably the second I reached Emilia’s street. She was sitting on the sidewalk, surrounded by a couple bags. Face buried in her hands. Her hair was tangled and had escaped her ponytail for the most part.

  I pulled over and disconnected the call, and then I was by her side. “Emilia. Sweetheart, I’m here.” I noticed she had a photo album in her lap, and she was clutching her phone close to her face. “Emilia?” It was as if she was gone. At least she was breathing better, so I picked her up and rounded the car. “I’ve got you.” I pressed a kiss to the side of her head before lowering her into the passenger’s seat.

  “What if I killed him?” she whispered.

  I frowned, then quickly ignored the notion and combed back some of her hair.

  “He hasn’t been violent before,” she croaked. Tears fell down her cheeks, and before I could catch them, she buried her face in her—scratch that, my hoodie. The one she’d borrowed from me the other day. “This smells like you.”

  “Yeah?” I mustered half a smile and glanced around me. A couple neighbors were being too curious, standing in their windows. Patrick was collecting Emilia’s things off the ground. “I’m gonna go check on your pop,” I told her quietly. “I’ll be back, okay? Patrick’s here too.”

  “Hurry.” She started crying harder, and it physically hurt to tear myself away.

  I gnashed my teeth together and cleared my throat into my fist.

  Patrick joined me by my side.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave her side.”

  “Of course.”

  My hands were tied. With neighbors wondering what was going on, I couldn’t do anything to Jonathan right now. Even so, I had to survey the damage, and I jogged up their driveway and opened the door.

  I stopped short. There was no way Emilia had inflicted actual hurt, was there? She was way too sweet. Yet, there were bloodstains on the floor. I traced the red into the kitchen where the spots were more like smeared streaks.

  And there was Jonathan. He’d dragged himself in there and was slumped on the floor by the sink, holding a rag to his nose.

  “
Sweet Jesus,” I muttered. “I’m marrying a fighter.”

  Emilia had defended herself well. Pride swelled up in my chest. I didn’t even have to reach for the gun hidden under my Henley. She’d rendered him useless.

  Jonathan glared weakly at me. “Go’way.”

  “In a bit.” I moved closer and squatted down in front of him. “Check you out, mate. She turned you into roadkill.”

  She’d scratched up his neck, done something to cause his eye to look swollen, ripped his shirt, and turned his nose into a bloody faucet.

  “She tried to kill me,” he rasped. “Just like she killed her mothe—”

  “Dude. You forget that I know the truth.”

  He whimpered, his head lolling back against the cupboard. “My Elena’s dead.”

  I shook my head at him. “You are one sorry sack of shit, Jonathan.”

  A burst of anger ignited him. “She tried to kill me!”

  I didn’t even flinch. “She didn’t, but I tell you what. If you so much as breathe a word about this to anyone, I’ll finish the job.” There was no if about it. “Are we clear?”

  Sooner rather than later, Jonathan was gonna find himself with a bullet in his head.

  “I get it,” he gritted out.

  “Good boy.” I rose to a stand and pushed up my sleeves. “I’ll check in on you soon, Jonathan.”

  “I won’t talk!”

  “That’s good. I’ll still come by to visit.” I turned to leave. “After all, we’ll be family soon.”

  “I’ll get Pop.” Patrick ran ahead toward my house while I helped Emilia out of the car.

  Fuck, she was gone again. I carried her across the road, and as I reached my house, Pop opened the door with a worried expression. That made two of us, only I was getting increasingly close to freaking the fuck out.

  “She’s in and out of it,” I said impatiently. “Her breathing’s fine, but one second she’s telling me what happened, and the next she’s crying and panicking until she shuts down.”