Kyra: The Irishman’s Wife (For The Love Of The Irish Book 2)

by V Vee

  Kyra:

  The Irishman’s

  Wife

  For The Love Of The Irish

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  V. Vee

  Blurb

  My name is Kyra Bahmer.

  I was raised to be smart. Calculating. Observant. Beautiful.

  Deadly.

  From a young age I was raised and trained to take over as the Boss of Baltimore after my grandmother. I knew all of the secrets of my city. Of my state. Of the nation. And I had a hand in many of them.

  Even after marrying Andrew McCarthy, The Irishman, I thought I knew it all.

  And then the letters started showing up.

  Then the bodies.

  Left right on the doorstep of the home I shared with my husband and children.

  Then the threats against my husband and children started.

  And THAT was where they crossed the line.

  And that was when The Boss of Baltimore had to make her presence known, even scaring my mob boss husband.

  But I’d tried to warn him that I was scarier than he was.

  And I would get my answers.

  I would get my revenge.

  I would make the streets of Baltimore run red with blood for the insult and threat to what belonged to me.

  Because everyone was of The Irishman…

  Until they met me.

  *T/W: This is a DARK romance. There is a lot of violence, a lot of sex, and a lot of profanity. The main female character is just as dangerous, deadly, and lethal as her husband. She is a badazz. The author does not apologize for that. This book does also contain mentions of child abuse, domestic violence, sexual assault, and drug use. It is intended for readers 18+. You have been warned. *

  Copyright

  The Irishman © copyright 2019 V. Vee

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Dedication

  For Nugget and Baby Bow.

  Thank You

  Sara and Jayne: Thank you for everything.

  Michelle: I know you felt some type of way about being a character in the book, but you know I hooked you up though, right? I know I can’t wait to write Michele and Manus’ story and that’s in no short part because I can’t wait to show you how much I appreciate you. Love you chica!

  My readers: Thank you for sticking with me through all the pennames and the different genres. You all appreciate the many voices in my head, and I am grateful that all of you not only support me by buying my books, but you promote it, share it, and tell others about it. Thank you!

  BWSL: What an amazing group of women! I’m so happy and so humbled that you all have welcomed me into the group, embraced me, that you love my books, and that you shout me out whenever you get the chance. You’re all amazing. Thank you.

  Wendy: Thank you for the daily calls, even when I was too sick to talk.

  Barbie: Thank you for holding it down in the V-Squad group while I was sick. You rock!

  Amanda L.: Thank you for promoting my books when I can’t or when I forget, and for not getting annoyed with me when I’m so focused on writing a new book that I forget I have another book releasing. You are amazing!

  Amanda M.: Thank you for always keeping it real with me about my books and for telling me to go to bed when I’m overwhelmed.

  Phoenix, Twyla, Reana, Kassanna, Sage, LaVerne, Olivia, Kenya, JanJan, Anita, Keta, SK, Siren, Siera, Francesca, Sara A., Areana, and so many others: Thank you. You know why.

  TCB: Because of you I believe in something I can’t say I ever thought I would have again. You have made me the happiest person in the world.

  Catrina: Could a parent ask for a better child? You are going to do great things! I love you so much, Chipmunk. Thanks for sticking it out with me over the years. You are the greatest daughter. Love you.

  And for you. Yes, you. Person reading this. Person who bought this or got it through Kindle Unlimited or was gifted it… you….

  Thank you. So much.

  Thanks For Buying!

  I so hope you enjoy the first book in the For The Love Of The Irish series. Thank you for purchasing the beginning of Andrew and Kyra’s story, and the beginning of Clan McCarthy. This is a dark romance so there are no knights-in-shining-armor or innocent princesses. Almost everyone in this book gets their hands dirty.

  And they like it.

  This is the beginning of a series, so while the main couple: Andrew and Kyra get an HFN, the story as a whole ends on a cliffhanger.

  Anyway, if you want to sign up for my newsletter and know when I have another book coming out (and to find out what’s going on with my author friends), sign up here (I do giveaways all the time):

  http://bit.ly/VVeesNewsletter

  Playlist For The Irishman’s Wife

  The playlist for Kyra: The Irishman’s Wife is probably one of my favorites. It’s filled with a lot of “women are the shit” type music, as well as a lot of old school jams. However, I will tell you that when I got halfway through the book there were only five songs that I played on repeat over and over again, which is why there’s a “Kyra: The Boss of Baltimore” playlist on Spotify as well. So I’m going to share those five songs, as well as the links to both playlists on Spotify:

  Love and War-Tamar Braxton

  God is a Woman-Ariana Grande

  Dangerous Woman-Ariana Grande

  No Guidance-Drake f/Chris Brown

  Put Your Name On It-Kelly Rowland

  Kyra: The Boss of Baltimore Playlist

  The Irishman's Wife Playlist

  Prologue

  Kyra- K-Love

  I’ve got rhythm, I’ve got music, I’ve got my man, who can ask for anything more?

  Ethel Waters played loudly in the tarp covered, soundproofed room. I snapped my fingers as I moved around the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each time I bobbed my head not only to the beat of the music but also to the screams and curses that followed my footsteps, providing a beautiful harmony to the melody of torture and vengeance I was currently engaged in.

  It was really beautiful music.

  At one point, however, I had to pause, a surge of pain wrapping tight around my lower back and belly. I hissed and rubbed my stomach.

  “Come on now KJ, can’t you wait just a few more hours? Mommy is almost done.”

  My husband wasn’t too happy about my current... entertainment, especially in light of my advanced pregnancy, but what the fuck did he know?

  I was one hundred percent that bitch; and I could torture, get revenge, and then go have a baby all in one day.

  I turned back around to the person who I had tied up in my chair, a hand saw clutched in my hands. My face felt funny and when I reached up to find out why I felt my lips pulled up into the biggest smile I’d ever had.

  Hmm... Maybe I am a psycho bitch after all.

  I shr
ugged. I could be that too.

  I walked over to the chair, surrounded by blood, holding a dying, limp figure with wounds and gashes all along their flesh. I tilted my head to the side. Where to cut... where to cut...

  I was going to have to change anyway, might as well go for the hands, which had caused so much problem. I hummed as they screamed. As they begged and pleaded. And it was only when I was finished, and my clothes were splattered with the rotten, corrupted blood of the person now dead that I stepped back and sighed.

  Torturing and killing someone while in labor was hard work.

  But the bitch deserved it.

  The door opened and the shiver racing down my spine, the pounding of my heart, and the growing wetness in between my thighs let me know who it was without my even needing to turn around.

  “Can we go to the hospital now, please? You’re having my baby,” Andrew said, his voice filled with amusement, love, and annoyance.

  I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  I placed the hand saw and turned to walk away, but not before throwing a final goodbye to corpse in the chair. The one who’d just found out what happened when someone tried to fuck with me and mine.

  “Rot in hell, Daddy.”

  Then I walked out, head high, back straight, and labor pains surging through me. But it didn’t matter. I was the Bitch of Baltimore. The Boss.

  The Irishman’s wife.

  Chapter One

  Kyra- K-Love

  Twenty Years Ago

  I could hear fighting. It wasn’t a new sound to me. They were always fighting. Either about money. Or their clients. Or even me. I wasn’t exactly sure why my parents fought with my grandmother about me the way that they did, but I knew that whenever they told me to go upstairs and to play with my dolls, that meant they were about to start arguing.

  Again.

  “You decided to shack up wit’ this man as if you needed him! You forgot your family, you forgot everything I taught you, for what? Some little stringy dick?” My grandmother sounded furious. Angrier than usual.

  “My man’s dick is not stringy, Mother!” My mom. She was always sticking up for my dad. To my grandmother. To my aunts and uncles. And to the white man with the red hair who came by every other week.

  I liked him. He was nice to me. He always brought me toys and books when he came over. And when he was at the house, my mom smiled and sang. Not like when my dad was around. Then we were quiet. The house was quiet. Nobody moved. Nobody sang.

  I’m not sure we even breathed.

  “I have no problem showing you how impressive my dick is, Mama,” my dad’s voice sounded as if he were laughing, but when I heard the loud CRACK! I knew what happened before he even shouted it.

  Grandma didn’t like it when people were disrespectful to her.

  “Learn some manners boy, or I’m gonna have to teach them to you,” she said firmly.

  “You and what army?” My dad asked.

  The house got quiet again.

  Too quiet.

  I stopped making my dolls playing “War” and turned to look at my bedroom door.

  Something was wrong.

  Something was happening.

  “Mama, don’t.”

  “He asked me to do it, child.”

  “But I love him, Mama.”

  “Then love somebody else. Somebody worthy. But this one has signed his death warrant.”

  “Ain’t nobody afraid of you, old woman.”

  “I’ma show you old. Just you wait.”

  “If you take him, Mama, you have to take me too.”

  Silence again. I was afraid of it. More afraid of the quiet than I was of my dad’s guns and knives that he kept hidden in his office. Bad things happened in the silence. People died.

  Silence is where nightmares were created.

  “Well, just know I will raise Kyra just as well, if not better than how I raised your brothers and sisters.”

  “Not me?”

  “Oh no, honey. You were the one that slipped by my teachings. So I’m giving you back to God…”

  I heard my grandmother walk to the front door and I jumped up from my bedroom floor to go stop her. To say goodbye. To give her a hug.

  To beg her to take me with her.

  “I suggest you kiss your daughter tonight, my child. Who knows if or when you’ll ever see her again…”

  I came to a stop in front of the upstairs balcony and called out to my grandma.

  “Grandma! Wait!”

  She looked up at me, her black hair pulled up into a topknot. She put a finger to her lips and winked.

  I knew what that meant.

  You are the granddaughter of the Boss of Baltimore. Never forget that.

  But I did forget. For a long time. I buried the memory of that argument as far down as it could go until it seemed as if it were a fantasy. And it only took one little thing…

  The death of my parents.

  Or at least, the death of my mother.

  The only body that was able to be identified.

  I woke up in a cold sweat. The sheets of the bed I shared with my husband clung to my naked body.

  “Motherfucker,” I hissed.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Andrew’s voice was deeper than usual, a rough growl caused by sleep. His arm tightened around me and he pulled me closer to him, his large hand splaying across my little baby bump.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just a nightmare.”

  Andrew sat up and rubbed his face. “You been having a lot of them motherfuckers here lately,” he pointed out.

  I rolled my eyes. “Nah, Andrew, really?”

  He reached over and smacked my hip. “Don’t be a smartass. I’m just trying to say something’s going on.”

  “I can’t help but be a smartass, Andrew. My ass is smart,” I snorted. And then his words penetrated my still fuzzy brain. “Something is going on.”

  And instantly, my husband, mob boss, known to all as The Irishman, grew tense and still, instantly on alert. “What is it? Do you know something? Sense something? Have you heard something?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I know these streets. Better than you, and it’s too… quiet.” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “Something big is coming and there’s going to be a lot of blood spilled.”

  Andrew reached over and grabbed my hips, lifting me up until I was settled over his groin.

  “We will answer every call, and no blood spilled will be ours.” He tugged my head down to him. “I got you, baby.”

  “I know.” I nodded and accepted his fierce kiss.

  But I couldn’t simply wave it off. War was coming and some of the blood spilled just very well may come from their family.

  Chapter Two

  Andrew- The Irishman

  I was sitting in my office, with my twins at my feet, doing the shit that smart infants always did, you know playing with blocks and shit, when the first body was dropped at our doorstep. I know that’s some harsh shit to just fucking drop on your ass, but imagine how I fucking felt. I was kinda shocked when Manus and Carrick rushed in the room, both of them looking like they were going to be sick and told me about the “package” that had been delivered.

  I made Carrick watch my kids—mother fucker gave my sister a baby, his punk ass can watch my babies—and headed to the front entrance of the home I shared with my wife and children. There was a big, open box sitting in the middle of the floor. Tissue paper was scattered around the hardwood, and so were some type of greenery... what was that?

  Four Leaf Fucking Clovers?

  Who the hell would desecrate the clover like that?

  “Oh shit, Boss,” Manus cursed from beside me. “I think I know who that is.”

  I turned away from the sight of the mutilated body of the young black woman who looked remarkably like she could be my wife’s twin sister. It made my blood run cold to see the broken and bloodied remains of the beautiful girl, especially since it made me think of Kyra. I cleared my thr
oat because I wasn’t a bitch and I for damn sure was not going to cry in front of one of my enforcers, but damn it all to mother fucking hell, I needed my woman right then.

  “Who is it, Manus?” I asked, wanting to close the box, but also knowing my brother needed to check it out before there were more fingerprints on it. This cleanup was going to have to be handled delicately. At this point not only did I not know who this young woman was, but I also didn’t know why she had been delivered to my doorstep, or who was behind the whole thing. It was annoying as hell and all I wanted was to grab my woman and my kids and hold them tight.

  Which was not something I would have thought of or even wanted before meeting Kyra. Damn woman made me soft.

  “Her name’s Jenafer,” Manus told me. “She is like Kyra’s doppelgänger. Goes to classes for her, meetings with her family, stuff like that.”

  “You mean she plays the part of the good girl while my woman loves her life as a badass,” I reasoned.

  “Yea, Boss. Something like that.”

  I stood up and shook my head. “So is this a warning for me, or is this for my woman?” I slashed my hand through the air. “It really don’t fucking matter. Either way, somebody’s got to die.”

  “It’s a warning for me,” Kyra’s voice came from behind me, sounding angry, confused, and hurt, all at the same time.

  I spun around to look at her and there she stood, wearing a white tracksuit with gold stripes down the side, a golden yellow tank top on beneath it, a pair of white tennis shoes on her feet. She wasn’t even wearing one of her wigs that morning. Instead she’d braided her hair back in eight cornrows.