by Jane Henry
When Tiernan is accepted into St. Albert’s, and we drop him off at the door, and he walks away with a grin on his face and a duffel bag in his hand. I collapse in the car when he’s gone and cry as if my heart will break.
Those are the moments that I give thanks with all my heart that I’m no longer alone. A lesser man would’ve bowed under the weight of this responsibility. Raising a family, while devoting himself to the demands of his Clan. But not Nolan. And every day that we face as one brings me closer to him.
He’s gone during the day on Clan business, and I’ve hung up my job as reporter. Instead of the investigative reporting I once did, I now write for the media, though I’ve been assigned a travel column instead.
It’s a lot less dangerous, and a lot more exciting.
Though Nolan doesn’t hide who he is from me, I chose to be ignorant of what he does. It’s a challenge at first, but I adapt. And eventually, I come to accept this. All of this. That the work of The Clan isn’t legal but necessary, the backbone of Ballyhock in more ways than one. Crime is nearly nonexistent, the church thrives, and law enforcement work with them like a well-oiled machine. I don’t even pretend to know what they do. I don’t pretend this is all okay. What I do is mind my own damn business.
We don’t have the privacy we crave, though. Between the children underfoot and the men of The Clan always about, we sneak in our private moments in stolen bits and pieces.
The first day mam comes to take Sam for an outing and Fiona is in school, I’m working in the bedroom. I have a deadline at noon to submit an editorial on inexpensive family travel destinations in South America, when I hear the door open.
“Hello?” I call out. No answer. I open the drawer next to my desk where I keep my tools for self-defense that Nolan gave me. I look outside the window briefly and note my bodyguards in place. So whoever’s entered hasn’t gotten their notice.
“Hello?” I say again, my heart beginning to pound. I hold the pepper spray in my hand, ready to use it, my cell phone programmed to call the guard if necessary.
The door to the room flings open, and I throw the pepper spray at him with a blood-curdling scream. I gasp when I see it’s Nolan.
He ducks just in time to avoid it, and the items he carries in his hands go flying.
“Bloody hell, Sheena!” he bellows. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Oh, Nolan! Oh my goodness, are you okay? Did I get you?”
I fall to my knees beside him.
“I’m fine,” he growls, reaching for me. “But I’ll teach you to attack me in the middle of the day when I’ve come for good reason!” Though he’s growling at me, his eyes are twinkling. He’s been looking for a good reason to toss me over his knee, the kinky bastard.
And the next thing I know he’s kneeling on the floor and dragging me across his lap. I haven’t been spanked in ages, and even though I wriggle and squirm in protest, I know he’s not really punishing me. He misses this as well as I do.
He slams his palm against the fullest part of my arse.
“That, woman, is for trying to burn the eyes out of my head! And for future reference, you spray the damn thing, not throw it!”
I squeal, my yelps buried in laughter while he continues the torrent of hard smacks.
“You didn’t answer me!” I protest. “Twice I said hello and you said nothing in return!”
“Had headphones on,” he says pleasantly, gripping my waist and continuing the sound spanking he set out to give me.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, panting, when his hand rests in between smacks. “You still scared me.”
He sets me upright on the carpet, and plants me sitting on my scorched backside. It’s then that I notice what tumbled from his hands. I cover my mouth with my hand in surprise, not sure how to respond.
“Nolan,” I whisper. There’s a bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in cellophane and a black velvet box.
“Oh, don’t get all excited, now,” he says with mock severity. “Not gonna propose to the girl who tried to blind me.”
“Tried to blind you?” I say, giving it right back. “One could argue, sir, that I’m the one who was blinded.” I mutter to myself. “Falling head-over-heels, helplessly, madly, irrevocably in love with mafia.”
He raises a brow questioningly. “Mafia? Is that plural? I swear you get more verbose on writing days.”
“Verbose? Did you have to look that one up?”
He shakes his head. “Careful, doll, or I’ll put you back over my knee and you’ll lose the trousers and knickers.”
A trill of excitement weaves through me. “Mmmm,” I moan.
He’s kneeling in front of me, grinning, when he reaches for the little box. His hand shakes a little. I blink in surprise. He never shakes.
“Since you didn’t succeed in blinding me, we will commence,” Nolan says, with the air of a judge and a grin that melts my heart.
“Will we?” I ask in a husky whisper, all humor now gone.
“Aye,” he says, mirroring my whisper. “Because it’s time. We work well together, you and I. We know each other, Sheena.” He holds my gaze as he continues. “And I love you. Let me claim you, lass. Let me make you a McCarthy. It will keep you safe, and it will…” He swallows hard. “It will make me a happy man.”
He opens the box. I give him a coy look. “Megan helped you pick that out, didn’t she?” I tease.
He grins. “Of course. Now answer the damn question.”
“Is there really a question, Nolan?” I ask him, and my nose tingles when I answer. “I love you. And you love me. And every day I spend with you makes me even more grateful that we’re together now. Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, if you’ll have me.”
He slides the ring on my finger, drags me to my feet, and pulls me into his chest in a hug so tightly, I can’t breathe for a few seconds. Then he whips his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. Squeezing my hand so tightly it hurts, he shouts into the phone, “She said yes!”
The door bursts open, and suddenly, our entire home is filled with people. Megan runs in first, gives me a massive hug, then opens a bottle of champagne. Maeve comes in with Sam, and Carson comes in with Tiernan. I run to him and embrace him as I haven’t seen him in weeks. Keenan’s there with Caitlin and the children, and Cormac and Aileen as well. Tully and Boner arrive, and even Father Finn comes, bearing cakes and scones from the bakery. He gives us his blessing, and we party long into the night.
Finally, after the kids have gone to bed and Tiernan back with Lachlan and Carson, Nolan and I collapse into bed ourselves.
“I want to pinch myself,” I whisper to him.
Nolan reaches to my arse and gives it a good pinch. “Happy to do it for you.”
“Of course you are.” I sigh.
His phone rings and he answers it on the first ring.
“Hello?”
His brows knit together, and he frowns. “Aye. I’ll be there shortly.”
He gets out of bed and hangs up the phone.
“Nolan? Can you tell me what it is tonight?” Some nights he has to keep his calls secret, and I honor that. “
He nods. “Aye. Carson’s Eve’s gone missing.”
“Missing?” I ask.
He sighs. “Aye. Went off with some friends back in her hometown and hasn’t come back. We need to go searching.”
“Why would she do that?” I ask, mulling it over.
“He should’ve married her,” Nolan says.
“Why?”
“You know why, Sheena. Think about it.”
I do. I feel my mouth part when I look at him, my eyes widening. “You think someone took her?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. He hasn’t wed her, could be anything. But honestly, she probably just lost track of time with friends. He can be a little overprotective.”
“Oh, right, I don’t know anyone like that. And you’re going with him to find out.”
“Of course. He’s gone with Megan already. Megan says
she thinks she knows where she might’ve gone. But Lach and I will go in as back up.”
It’s a stark reminder that no matter how much we love each other, no matter how perfect this all seems, he’s still deeply entrenched with whatever happens to the McCarthys. But I’m okay with that. I accept it now. Life is messy, and there is no escaping that. You can’t really.
But I’ve got family on my side and friends who love me.
“Y’alright, doll?” he asks, running his fingers through my hair. I sigh again, but this time it’s in contentment. I love how he does that.
“Aye,” I tell him. “I am. I’m fantastic, honestly. And so thankful, Nolan. Some days I ask myself how to thank you. How I can possibly give back what you’ve given me. How you could’ve forgiven me for what I’ve done. And I vow that I will be devoted to you.” I smile and use the words of his brothers. “You have my word.”
He smiles and pulls me to him in a warm, firm embrace before he shrugs on his shoulder holster and slides two handguns in place.
“And I love you,” he says. “There’s no need for you to ask for forgiveness or to prove your worth anymore, Sheena.” A lump forms in my throat. He holds me harder. “I’ve already claimed you. I’ve already made you mine. And you’re already everything.”
Already everything.
The words echo in my mind and heart while he kisses me.
Already everything.
Everything I have. Everything I need.
Everything we’ll become… together.
From the author: I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Nolan: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance.
I am so grateful for your support! Please read on for previews of my other books you may enjoy.
Previews
KEENAN
Chapter one
I watch from where I sit on the craggy cliffs of Ballyhock to the waves crashing on the beach. Strong. Powerful. Deadly. A combination so familiar to me it brings me comfort. It’s two hours before my alarm goes off, but when Seamus McCarthy calls a meeting, it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, the men of The Clan answer.
I suspect I know why he’s calling a meeting today, but I also know my father well enough not to presume. One of our largest shipments of illegal arms will arrive in our secured port next week, and over the next month, we’ll oversee distribution from the home that sits on the cliff behind me. Last week, we also sealed a multi-million-dollar deal that will put us in good stead until my father retires, when I assume the throne. But something isn’t right with our upcoming transactions. Then again, when dealing with the illicit trade we orchestrate, it rarely is. As a high-ranking man of The Clan, I’ve learned to pivot and react. My instincts are primed.
The sun rises in early May at precisely 5:52 a.m., and it’s rare I get to watch it. So this morning, in the small quiet interim before daybreak and our meeting, I came to the cliff’s edge. I’ve traveled the world for my family’s business, from the highest ranges of the Alps to the depths of the shores of the Dead Sea, the vast expanse of the Serengeti, and the top of the Eiffel Tower. But here, right here atop the cliffs of Ballyhock, paces from the door to my childhood home, overlooking the Irish Sea, is where I like to be. They say the souls of our ancestors pace these shores, and sometimes, early in the morning, I almost imagine I can see them, the beautiful, brutal Celts and Vikings, fearless and brave.
A brisk wind picks up, and I wrap my jacket closer to my body. I’ve put on my gym clothes to hit the workout room after our meeting if time permits. We’ll see. My father may have other ideas.
I hear footsteps approach before I see the owner.
“What’s the story, Keenan?”
Boner sits on the flat rock beside me, rests his arms on his bent knees, and takes a swig from a flask. Tall and lanky, his lean body never stills, even in sleep. Always tapping, rocking, moving from side to side, Boner has the energy of an eight-week-old golden retriever. My younger cousin, we’ve known each other since birth, both raised in The Clan. He’s like a brother to me.
“Eh, nothing,” I tell him, waving off an offer from the flask. “You out of your mind? He’ll knock you upside the head, and you know it.”
If my father catches him drinking this early in the day, when he’s got a full day of work ahead of him, heads will roll.
“Ah, that’s right,” he says, grinning at me and flashing perfect white teeth, his words exaggerated and barely intelligible. “You drink that energy shite before you go work on yer manly physique. And anyway, get off your high horse. Nolan’s more banjaxed than I am.”
I clench my jaw and grunt to myself. Fuck. Nolan, the youngest in The Clan and my baby brother, bewitched my mother with his blond hair and green eyes straight outta the womb. Shielded by my mother’s protective arms, the boy’s never felt my father’s belt nor mine, and it shows. I regret not making him toe the line more when he was younger.
“Course he is,” I mutter. “Both of you ought to know better.”
“Ah, come off it, Keenan,” Boner says good-naturedly. “You know better than I the Irish do best with a bit of drink no matter the time of day.”
I can toss them back with the best of them, but there’s a time and place to get plastered, and minutes before we find out the latest update of the status of our very livelihood, isn’t it. I get to my feet, scowling. “Let’s go.”
Though he’s my cousin, and I’m only a little older than I am, Boner nods and gets to his feet. As heir to the throne and Clan Captain, I’m above him in rank. He and the others defer to me.
He mutters something that sounds a lot like “needs to get laid” under his breath as we walk up the stone pathway to the house.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Eh, nothing,” he says, grinning at me.
“Wasn’t nothing.”
“You heard me.”
“Say it to my face, motherfucker,” I suggest good-naturedly. He’s a pain in the arse, but I love the son of a bitch.
“I said,” he says loudly. “You need to get fuckin’ laid. How long’s it been since the bitch left you?”
I feel my eyes narrow as we continue to walk to the house. “Left me? You know’s well as I do, I broke up with her.” I won’t even say her name. She’s dead to me. I can abide many things, but lying and cheating are two things I won’t.
“How long?” he presses.
It’s been three months, two weeks, and five fucking days.
“Few months,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Christ, Keenan,” he mutters. “Come with me to the club tonight, and we’ll get you right fixed.”
I snort. “All set there.”
I’ve no interest in visiting the seedy club Nolan and Boner frequent. I went once, and it was enough for me.
Boner shakes his head. “You’ve only been to the anteroom, Keenan,” he says with a knowing waggle of his eyebrows. “You’ve never been past there. Not to where the real crowd gathers.”
“All set,” I repeat, though I don’t admit my curiosity’s piqued.
The rocky pathway leading to the family estate is paved with large, roughly hewn granite, the steep incline part of our design to keep our home and headquarters private. Thirty-five stones in the pathway, which I count every time I walk to the cliffs that overlook the bay, lead to a thick, wrought-iron gate, the entrance to our house. With twelve bedrooms, five reception rooms, one massive kitchen, a finished basement with our workout rooms, library, and private interrogation rooms, the estate my father inherited from his father is worth an estimated eleven million euros. The men in The Clan outside our family tree live within a mile of our estate, all property owned by the brotherhood, but my brothers and I reside here.
When I marry—a requirement before I assume the throne as Clan Chief—I’ll inherit the entire third floor, and my mother and father will retire to the east wing, as my father’s parents did before them.
When I marry. For fuck’s sake. The requirement hangs over my head like the
sharpened edge of an executioner’s blade. No wedding, no rightful inheritance. And I can’t even think of such a thing, not when my ex-girlfriend’s betrayal’s still fresh on my mind.
I wave my I.D. at the large, heavy black gate that borders our house, and with a click and whirr, the gates open. When my great grandfather bought this house, he kept the original Tuscan structure in place. The millionaire who had it built hailed from Tuscany, Italy, and to this day, the original Tuscan-inspired garden is kept in perfect shape. Lined with willow trees and bordered with well-trimmed hedges, benches and archways made from stone lend a majestic, age-old air. In May, the flowers are in full bloom, lilacs, irises, and the exotic violet hawthorn, the combined fragrances enchanting. The low murmur of the fountain my mother had built soothes me when I’m riled up or troubled. I’ve washed blood-soaked hands in that fountain, and I laid my head on the cold stones that surround it when Riley, my father’s youngest brother and my favorite uncle, was buried.
We walk past the garden, and I listen to Boner yammer on about the club and the pretty little Welsh blonde he spanked, tied up, and banged last night, but when he reaches for his flask again, I yank it out of his hand and decidedly shove it in my pocket.
“Keenan, for fuck’s—”
“You can have it after the meeting,” I tell him. “No more fucking around, Boner. This is serious business, and you aren’t going into this half-arsed, you hear?”
Though he clenches his jaw, he doesn’t respond, and finally reluctantly nods. I’m saving him from punishment ordered by my father and saving myself from having to administer it. We trot up the large stairs to the front door, but before we can open it, the massive entryway door swings open, and Nolan stands in the doorway, grinning.
“Fancy meetin’ you two here,” he says in a high-pitched falsetto. “We won’t be needin’ any of yer wares today.”
He pretends to shut the door, but I shove past him and enter the house. He says something under his breath to Boner, and I swear Boner says something about me getting laid again. For once in my life, I fucking hope my father assigns me to issue a beating after this meeting. I’m so wound up. I could use a good fucking fight.
