by Cara Dee
All the puzzle pieces connected before my very eyes, and I gasped. “I knew I’d read something about John and Italians! Ennis’s eldest son was named Gino or something. He’s the Avellino guy!”
“There you go. Aye—Giovanni. Ennis had an affair with an Italian girl in his neighborhood right after he got married, and his vote for the next Murray boss would’ve landed on Gio. My grandfather never would’ve let it happen, but the betrayal had already taken place. John saw his pop pick his bastard son over him.”
“Holy shit.” I was in a daze, shaking my head. All this drama, all this intrigue. “Your family’s gotta have more drama than the telenovelas you watched this weekend.”
Finnegan, my absolute goof, put a hand over his heart as if he’d been shot. “Ay, dios mio, no lo creo. Se cayo!”
I giggled up a storm and nearly fell backward. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“No clue,” he chuckled. The amusement faded kinda quickly, and he squinted at me, the sun probably bothering him. “So…how are you taking all this?”
I held out my arms in front of me, the undersides facing up. “Like there’s Xanax in my veins. I don’t know. Maybe my brain’s short-circuited.” I shrugged. “I’m okay with it.”
He hummed and brought my wrists closer to kiss them. “I wanna be more transparent with you, and since we’re on the topic, I have to tell you something.”
Oh boy. I withdrew my hands and kept them in my lap, and my stomach tightened. “I swear, Finn…”
“So that’s how it’s gonna be? I’m Finn when you’re ready to bite?”
“Finn can be finished too,” I said. “Out with it. Tell me.”
He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, and he brought his hands together to crack his knuckles. “With everything I’ve told you about my uncle… And you know why Patrick and I were looking for wives…”
I nodded hesitantly, confused. They wanted to climb the ranks. Image was important to their uncle, and it just looked better if they were “traditional family men.”
“Then I fucked myself over, and you became more important,” he murmured. “You’re more than a pretty face I want next to me when I get closer to my uncle. You’re someone I’ve grown ridiculously protective of.”
“Okay…” I answered warily. Was he feeding me sweet lines before slapping me across the face, or what?
He shifted in his seat, his Adam’s apple moving with his swallow. “Up until the wedding—and most likely a while after—I can’t let you go out alone. There will be two guys with you at all times, and they have the authority to restrict your outings if they deem it unsafe.”
Authority. Over me.
Okay, as far as confessions went, I’d expected much worse. He surely acted as if it was worse. Annoying, oh hell yes, but I could survive some precautionary security measures.
Unless there was more?
“And then what?” I demanded.
He furrowed his brow. “That’s it. They’ll follow you wherever you go when I’m not around, and our plans have changed. No party at Mick’s pub next weekend. We’re staying here.”
Unbidden, Shan’s voice rummaged around in my head. Adopt your own questionable methods. I narrowed my eyes at Finnegan. Could I…? I mean, this meant I would get sucked in further. Oh, but it would be so fun.
I folded my arms over my chest. “Do you think I’m weak?”
He stared at me, bewildered. “The fuck? No.”
“But you don’t think I can defend myself,” I said. “Rather than teaching me to be as able-bodied and prepared as the goons you pay, you tell two buddies to go watch your little lady. This, Finn, is the highest form of oppression of women—”
“Are you fucking—!” He smashed his lips together, so beyond frustrated that I almost burst out in laughter. “I wanna keep you safe!”
“And you take it for granted that I can’t do it myself!” I argued. Then I forced in a breath and put a hand on my chest, pretending to be overwhelmed. “I’m so tired of this,” I whispered and looked down. “I haven’t seen you in days, and I just want to enjoy myself a little before next the next bomb drops.”
“What just happened?” he muttered to himself. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t wanna fight, baby. The last thing I think of you is weak—”
“I’ll let it go,” I interrupted. “I’ll let it go if you do me a favor.” I held out my hand.
Poor Finnegan, I wasn’t being easy on him. He hadn’t slept, who knew if he’d eaten, and he probably wanted this whole thing to be over. Maybe that was why he ignored his own evident confusion and aggravation and took my hand.
“Name it,” he said.
I shook his hand to seal the deal, then stood up. “I’ll name it when I figure it out, Irish boy. For now, you owe me. What’s the saying…oh. I’ll collect one day.”
At my triumphant grin, he widened his eyes in disbelief.
“You little shit!” Oh, he fucking exploded, and I couldn’t keep it in anymore.
I guffawed like a loon, only to yelp when he was out of his seat and ready to take me down. I ran away from him as fast as I could.
“Sucker!” I called over my shoulder.
He chased me around the pool, and I flew out between the two houses to escape—except, I was eating grass two seconds later.
“I’ll show you who’s the sucker in our bed,” he growled in my ear.
Hnngh.
Chapter 24
Finnegan O’Shea
Patrick folded his arms and made a face at the rain pouring down outside. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’d rather be at the bachelorette party right now.”
I rolled my eyes, finished my pizza roll, and left the kitchen. “I understand the concept of work is hard for you.” Our break was over, and I trailed through the ground floor of the main house to get to Pop’s study in the back.
My brother caught up with me. “You’re turning into a Michael.”
I frowned, side-eying him. “What a Fredo thing to say.”
“Fuck you, I’m Sonny,” he chuckled.
“They both end up dead, you fucking moron.”
“Oi.” With a firm grip on my shoulder, Patrick swiftly halted me and pushed me against the nearest wall. His arm locked over my chest, and his eyes showed sheer fury. “What the fuck have I done to make you think so little of me? You’ve been treating me like a Murray, for chrissakes. I’m your big brother—”
“Then act like it!” I growled, shoving him away from me. The anger rose instantly, and I jabbed a finger at his temple. “I remember when you used this more than your dick. We were supposed to go into this together, and somewhere along the way, you quit on me. You couldn’t give one fuck about what happens to John, admit it.”
Patrick glared at me and said nothing for several beats.
I deflated, disappointed, and took a step back.
My stag night wouldn’t set any records. It was all work and no play. I was cool with it; our safety mattered more, and I was glad Emilia was distracted by her bachelorette party. She needed the fun after days of being hounded by two of my guys. The security was grating on everyone, and we hadn’t made much progress in figuring out what to do, so things weren’t likely to change anytime soon.
At the very least, I wanted Patrick on my side, but maybe that was too much to ask. Pop had finally woken up, for which I was thankful. With each day that passed, he grew increasingly pissed that John’s shit had fallen into our lap.
“I’ve been trying,” Patrick said quietly. He ran a hand over his head, looking tired and older. “With Sarah, I mean. After seeing you and Emilia this week… I want that with Sarah. I want her. I’ve gotten glimpses—she’s hurting, I think. But she fucking refuses to let me in.”
“Because you act like a dryshite most of the time.” There was no heat to my voice. He just needed to realize that they wouldn’t find common ground by him throwing money at everything. “Pay attention to her.”
&n
bsp; “You’re saying you’re no dick?” He cocked a brow.
“Not at all.” I shook my head. “But I make an effort too. That’s how I know to cheer up Emilia with Netflix and pizza instead of diamonds.”
I’d fucked up plenty, and I had enough guilt hanging over my head because I’d yet to tell Emilia my estranged Italian uncle was married to her mother.
Heads would be rolling the day she found out, and it was a miracle she didn’t already know. Because I was willing to bet the Avellinos did.
“Do you love her?” Patrick’s stunned expression was comical.
“You just figured that out now?” At this point, I was sure even Emilia knew. I couldn’t hide that for shit. My work took a direct hit if I didn’t get a regular dose of her, more so if we’d argued.
I’d already confessed my love for her, though I didn’t think she knew that. I’d written it in Irish in one of the letters I’d sent her when I’d suffered through one of the worst moments of my life. And I’d spent five years in prison. I knew misery. Yet, that handful of days—fuck, I despised thinking back on them. I’d felt fucking broken.
“Dude, that wasn’t the plan,” Patrick replied.
“Neither was you getting in my way of ensuring her safety,” I told him. “That’s what you’re doing right now. I need you on your A game.”
He blew out a breath and scrubbed at his face. “You’re right. I hear you. That’s what’s so frustrating. I keep trying with Sarah, and whenever I fail, I take it out on my job.”
That was a cheap excuse. “How long have you been trying, as you call it?”
“Almost two weeks now, man.”
I scratched my nose, then let out a chuckle. Two weeks. Motherfucker. “You little bitch. I’ve been with Emilia a couple months, and I still risk losing her. Two months is nothing. It’s just long enough to fall in love and possibly get smashed like a bug.” I shook my head and left his punk-ass behind.
I’d pick him up later, figuratively speaking. We all went through rough patches, I guess. He was a good man, and I loved him. I missed him. I had faith in him. But right now, giving him the kick in the balls he needed wasn’t my priority.
I rejoined the men in Pop’s study, a place that was now off-limits to sneaky women who knew too much about planting another type of bug.
Thomas, Aunt Viv’s husband, was here. So were Pop, Ian, Kellan, and— “Where’s Eric?” I asked.
Pop closed the liquor cabinet and returned to the two couches where the others were gathered for my non-stag night. “Checking out the gadgets, of course.”
Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked. “Speaking of. Did you consider what I asked yesterday?”
I wanted to show Emilia why we called this a compound.
“I did, and you have my permission—once you two are married.” He sat down and poured them all more whiskey. “Damn girl nearly made me mushy earlier.”
“What did she do?” I frowned and took my seat in the chair at the head of the coffee table.
Pop smiled a little to himself, setting down the bottle. “She asked me to walk her down the aisle at the wedding.”
There was a flurry of concern that proved how fucking whipped I’d become for Emilia. Did she miss her dad? I sincerely hoped not, ’cause it would be difficult to mend that relationship now. Had Pop agreed to Emilia’s request? Fuck, he better have. I couldn’t imagine how vulnerable she must’ve felt to ask him.
“You said yes, right?” My forehead creased.
“Of-fucking-course I did. What’s wrong with you?” He scowled at me. I merely relaxed. Shit was good again. “She’s the daughter I never knew I wanted.”
I laughed. “She has that effect.”
“Viv says Emilia’s warming up to her now,” Thomas said. He didn’t speak often and blended in easily. He was one of the few who’d managed to hide what he did for a living from his wife. Aunt Viv had no clue he was a Son.
“I wore her down the fastest,” Kellan said and toasted to himself. “She didn’t stand a chance.”
I snorted.
“What’re they doing down there?” Ian wondered. “What do women do at hen parties?”
I’d gotten four texts from Emilia so far, and it was only three in the afternoon. They were at our house, a minute’s stroll down the hill. I had an inkling. “Given the number of typos in Emilia’s texts to me, I’m guessing they’re drinking.”
I couldn’t picture their party getting outta hand. Kellan had invited his annoying little sister to stay here where he could keep an eye on her, and she was the only one around Emilia and Sarah’s age. The rest were…well, Ma, Aunt Viv, and her eldest daughter, Brenda.
Shortly after, Patrick reentered the study, and he pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. “What’re you sitting around here for? We gonna head downstairs and work or what?”
I stared at him, and at his smirk, the relief hit me.
He’s in.
“Aye, let’s go.” I rose from my chair and clapped him on the back.
The fucker was slow to commit, but once he did…
There were a few ways to access the best-kept secret on my parents’ property. One of the entrances was in the nook next to Pop’s study. The door looked like it led to a closet, except for the fact that it was locked. Once inside, there was a set of stairs that took us into an underground maze of corridors.
This was the compound.
There were living quarters with four bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, two living rooms, and a handful of bathrooms scattered about. There was a garage, with the exit located at the northernmost point of the property, in the small forest. We passed the room where Pop and I stored our guns. Supply closet, two empty cells, storage, Pop’s vault, and then we reached the control room.
One half of it was all tech. Eric wheeled from side to side of the large desk, overseeing the dozen computer screens on the wall. The other half was where we could sit down around a big table and bitch at each other because we didn’t always get along. Lastly, wholesale quantities of chips and shit in the corner ’cause snacks were good for the soul.
Eric was on my crew, a sharp guy with ginger-blond hair who’d lost his spark when his brother and sister-in-law were murdered. If I had a right-hand man, he’d be it, though Kellan was a close second.
“How’re we doing?” I asked.
Eric threw me a glance over his shoulder, then nodded at a couple of the screens. “All set up, mate. Hit me with wedding security so I can move on to bigger things. No offense.”
I turned to Pop. “How many have RSVP’d?”
“All two-hundred and ninety of them.”
I winced. This wedding was gonna cost them a pretty penny.
“Pull up the ballroom on Four,” I told Eric. If it weren’t for Ma’s demand that we go all out on this wedding, I would’ve been fine with having the reception out here. But no, she wanted glitz and glamour at one of the finest hotels downtown Philly had to offer. “Six exits…”
“Two at each door,” Pop advised. “Four at the front. Possible targets?”
“Uncle John, of course,” I replied. “So no guards on him.”
The guys chuckled.
“Conn and Colm will be on Emilia,” I said. They were also on my crew. A crazy pair of brothers from Dublin. They already liked her, and she enjoyed dicking around with them when the mood struck. “We’re gonna want eyes on the kids too.”
“I’m with the twins,” Kellan said. “Eric, you bringing Autumn?” That would be Eric’s young niece.
“No. She’s with a friend.” Eric filled another few screens with various areas of the hotel that would need monitoring. Next, he pulled up the church on Two and Three. “I don’t see any problems here. With a few guys covering the doors, you should be set.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I excused myself and stepped out into the hallway. The number didn’t have a caller ID, though that wasn’t too rare.
“Yeah, who’s this?” I answered.
“
Finnegan, my boy, that you?”
Shite. I almost dropped my phone at the sound of that voice. “Uh, yes, sir. Were you trying to reach Pop?” Because Uncle John didn’t call me. Maybe once a year for family-related matters. Never work. I didn’t think he suspected I knew he was the biggest traitor this family had ever seen, but he was guarded around me.
He laughed quietly. “No, you’re the man I wanted to speak to. Is this a secure line?”
At a loss for what else to do in this position, I reached for whatever I could and threw it at Pop’s back. My lighter. He flinched and turned around with a frown, and I mouthed that it was Uncle John.
His brows went up.
“As secure as it can be on my end, sir,” I answered. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, first, I was wondering if you’ve got any flats in that building of yours,” he said. “In these times, I’d rather not stay at a hotel.”
“Of course.” I should have a couple condos still available. “Consider it done.”
“Good, that’s good. Anne and I are flying in a few days early with the kids, and it’ll be nice for them to be someplace safe.”
“I understand.” I didn’t understand. This was too out of the blue, and he wasn’t the type who chitchatted. If he was, he sure as shit didn’t do it with me.
He cleared his throat. “The…the other reason I called is because I reckon it’s time we have a sit-down.”
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth and stared at the floor, my mind sprinting to work out what this meant. In the last few days, he’d spoken to Pop several times, and it never ended well. They hadn’t argued, though it was clear Uncle John was holding something back, and it kept us from doing our jobs. We were flying blind, placing security where we guessed it would be needed.
Basically, there was a lot of guessing going on, whether it was security or…well, why the fuck the Italians were targeting us.
They couldn’t possibly have known it would be Emilia in my car that night, so I didn’t believe she was part of it—at least, not yet. Though, it didn’t stop me from worrying.
