The Irishman: Book 1 (For The Love Of The Irish)

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The Irishman: Book 1 (For The Love Of The Irish) Page 7

by V Vee


  My hand tightened around the throat of the man who had the audacity to open my woman’s door.

  “Who. The. Hell. Are. You?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “M-M-Ma— “

  The sound of a disgusted snort made me look away from the sniveling coward I had pressed against the doorframe, his pencil thin legs wiggling in the air. Probably exactly like his pencil-thin di—

  “Andrew!” Kyra growled at me. Fuck was it sexy when she growled. “Put him down!”

  I shook my head. “Baby, you know I would give you the world, but I can’t do that.”

  Kyra frowned. “Did you just misquote the words of a country song at me?”

  I lowered my eyebrows and shook my head. “No... I don’t think so.”

  “I think you did.”

  “I don’t even listen to country.”

  “You could have heard it in passing.”

  “No. I would remember.”

  We continued to bicker—just like the old married couple I swore we would be one day—even as the tiny, little fuck who’d opened my woman’s door gasped and struggled for air. His olive skin turning red, then blue. He would be dead soon. I’d have to call one of the guys to come back and help me dispose of him. Maybe Ludwig. He was available.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Andrew! Are you really going to strangle a man right in front of me? In my doorway?” Kyra asked as she folded her arms across her ample bosom, her long, curly, black hair moving seductively with her actions.

  I shrugged. “Okay. I won’t strangle him in your doorway.”

  I tossed him on Kyra’s front porch and without moving my eyes from her face, I pulled out my gun—a TIG series ST9 9mm sub-compact pistol—pointed it at the idiot; and squeezed the trigger. I heard the sound of the bullet ripping through flesh and continued to fire until I was satisfied. Then I placed the gun back inside my jacket pocket and fixed my suit.

  “See? I didn’t strangle him.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “You got my boss’s blood all over my porch,” she said with an adorable faux pout. I shrugged again, stepped fully into her home, and yanked her into my arms—where she belonged.

  “I’ll get someone to clean it up.”

  “You better.”

  And then there was no more talking as I took her with a hungry, fiery passion that only the man who was the head of an Irish mob could possess.

  Fifty minutes. More than enough time to be apart from her.

  And not a second more.

  Chapter Nine

  Kyra- K-Love

  I walked down the stairs of the massive home that Michele and I were now living in, bobbing my head along to “Brown-Skinned Girl” © by Beyoncé as it played in my headphones attached to my iPhone XR™. I could distantly hear talking and laughter coming from the game room on the bottom floor, but I ignored it in favor of heading to the kitchen, where I was most likely to find Michele.

  And Manus, another of Andrew’s Enforcers, who’d assigned himself as Michele’s bodyguard.

  I snorted out a laugh. I was already calling the unofficial “couple”: M&M in my head, and to Andrew, who’d chuckled heartily when I’d told him the first time. As I stepped into the kitchen, I froze, my mouth dropping open. Manus had Michele up in his arms, pressing her petite body against the wall opposite the doorway, their mouths fused together. Though I wasn’t not moving I couldn’t say I was really shocked by what was happening. I’d known the sexual tension between the two of them was just moments away from exploding.

  I just wish it wasn’t happening in the kitchen.

  I shook my head and backed up, turning around I threw up my middle finger when I saw some of the guys standing there, laughing and pointing at me. They’d obviously walked in on “M&M” as well, and rather than warn me, had decided to watch as I discovered them. Assholes.

  I had a smile on my face as I headed to Andrew’s office. It was his “main” office. The one where he conducted his legal, aboveboard business dealings. Anything to do with “Clan McCarthy” took place in the office downstairs. I’d never been in there, was only ushered passed it when I was finally given the tour, and while I had my own office, and Andrew wasn’t aware of what “actually” went on there, I respected his wishes and never went down into the basement office.

  So I was glad to find him in the one on the main floor, and I pulled my headphones out of my ears, opening my mouth to tell him about what I’d discovered in the kitchen, only to stop when I noticed the mutinous glare on my man’s face.

  My man? Oh shit. I guess I finally accepted it, huh? Damn it all to fucking hell. Would have thought a bad bitch like me would have kept up the fight just a little while longer.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you just told me that you didn’t know who was behind the shooting at my woman’s old spot?” Andrew asked, his voice so low, so angry, so powerful, it almost shook the entire room.

  “I-I-I s-said it w-would j-just take a b-bit m-more time,” a stammering voice came from inside the room, and I could tell it was a man. A scared man. One I didn’t know but one whom obviously worked for Andrew.

  Andrew who was looking around the room with confusion and amusement darkening his green eyes.

  “Fuck. Well, I guess I can’t hear, and I can’t fucking understand English. Someone go find Kyra and let her know she’s going to be marrying a man who is going fucking senile and deaf all at the same time. Because I could have sworn I knew how to fucking speak by this point. I mean, damn, I am almost forty.”

  I blinked. Damn, my baby was old as shit. I covered my mouth to stop the laugh from tumbling from my lips. That was kinda mean. He wasn’t old. Besides, he had the fucking stamina of a man half his age, with the sexual knowledge and wisdom of a man twice his age, he put it on me on the regular, and that was what counted right? Besides, his age wasn’t what was important. It was the rest of what he’d said.

  He’s going to stop telling folks that we’re getting married when the fucking bastard hasn’t even officially asked me yet.

  “So you tell me, Giorgio. Is it that I misheard you, or are you just trying to cover your ass?” Andrew asked as he rose from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk. He leaned against it, and my eyes roved his thickly muscled frame in his tailored suit. He was wearing a blue suit with a crisp, white, button-down shirt, no tie, with the top two buttons undone. His red hair was slicked back, and his facial hair was expertly groomed.

  I licked my lips as my pussy clenched. Gahtdamn, he looks good as shit.

  Andrew folded his arms across his chest and stared at Giorgio, a man I knew I’d never met and while I didn’t know him, I did feel slightly bad for him. I wasn’t sure why Andrew thought he had information about the shooting—that seemed as if it had happened a lifetime ago, rather than a few weeks—but I knew I was hoping for this unknown man to answer Andrew’s question correctly.

  Tell him you’re covering your ass. He respects honesty. I tried to send the thought to the man telepathically but apparently I do not have that type of power, because that fool said…

  “I-I do not think you in-intended to m-mishear, Mr. McCarthy, but in t-times of stress, our s-senses are heightened or dampened w-with emo-emotion.”

  Damn.

  Andrew nodded, held out his hand, and accepted one of his guns from Ludwig—ol’ faithful Ludwig. I liked the guy, but he definitely needed to get laid—before without hesitation, he lifted it and shot Giorgio once, twice, three times. When he was done, he stood up, pulled a handkerchief from his inner pocket and tossed it to the floor.

  “Fucker made me get blood on my office floor,” he muttered.

  “I’ll get the cleaners,” Ludwig responded.

  “No, no,” Andrew waved his hand. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking around his office with a small frown on his face. “You know what? Get some fucking contractors and floor people in here. Construction. All of that. Same guys you used for Kyra’s old neighborhood. I need a new office anyw
ay. This is not suitable for a man in a committed relationship such as me.”

  “Yes, sir, Boss,” Ludwig replied, and Andrew scowled at him.

  “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

  Ludwig laughed and it was the first time I’d ever heard it, so I gasped, which caused Andrew’s eyes to fly up to where I stood out in the hallway. He smiled and held out his hand to me. I was surprised at my lack of hesitation since I stepped forward almost immediately and placed my hand in his. I allowed him to pull me into his body, and it was only when I was in the room fully that I was aware of the three other men who’d been there with he and Ludwig. Riley, Tierney, and Cavan. They were three Enforcers whom I’d only met the day before. All three of them had been in Ireland, handling some business that Andrew told me needed a more “personal” touch. I’d been a little surprised that his reach extended that far, but then again, mine extended farther.

  He just didn’t need to know that.

  Andrew kissed my forehead and I snuggled into his body, even as I catalogued everything in the room. Six men. 5 alive. 1 dead. At least 15-20 weapons in the room, not including my own. Andrew has two under his desk, one behind the painting on the wall. I doubt the dead guy had any on him. They would have stripped him of his weapons the moment he walked in. He has olive-colored skin. Thick black hair. Thin nose. Probably Italian.

  “Get me the information I want,” Andrew said, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I want names. I want to know who was behind it all. I want phone numbers, addresses, family details.” He shifted me to the side of his body and kicked at Giorgio’s deceased body on the ground. “And get rid of this fuckface. I’m sick of looking at him.”

  We both stood and watched as Giorgio’s body was rolled up in the carpet from office floor, Andrew’s desk being shifted backwards, then the wooden floor which was stained with blood was removed and replaced with birchwood. I nodded, impressed by the efficiency of Andrew’s men, before glancing up at him.

  “So who was Giorgio?” I asked.

  “A member of the Camorra. Low-ranking but still. He had access to information. Or at least. I thought he did,” Andrew answered, a look of disgust on his face. I was pretty sure that if Giorgio’s body had still been in front of him, Andrew would have kicked it.

  “So, what brings you to my office? Were you snooping?” Andrew asked, tugging me to stand in front of him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laughed softly when he nuzzled the side of my neck. I did not giggle. I was too grown for that shit. It was a real woman’s laugh.

  Okay, fuck, I giggled.

  Andrew chuckled as I squirmed against him, reaching down to slap my ass. “Answer the question, woman.”

  I took a breath, trying to remember why I’d come looking for him.

  I snapped my fingers. “Guess what I saw when I walked into the kitchen?”

  “Manu and Michele? Probably making out or having sex?”

  My jaw dropped and I stared at Andrew in surprise. “You knew?”

  “You didn’t?” Andrew looked at me incredulously. “Well, fuck woman, if you didn’t know what those two have been up to, fucking in every room of our goddamn house, then maybe you’re not the woman I thought you were. Maybe I made a mistake.”

  I glared at him, then pushed away, crossing my arms across my chest.

  “Maybe you what now?”

  Andrew smirked and crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t think I did, because as bad ass as you think you are? You’re not stupid enough to think that being with me is a mistake.” I stepped close to him and lowered my voice. “I’ve castrated boyfriends for lesser infractions.” I laughed—an evil laugh if I’m being completely honest—when Andrew dropped his hands to cover his groin. I patted his chest and turned to walk away.

  “Yeah. I’ll just let you think about that while I go out to the pool and have a swim. You know where to find me. And when you come to apologize, make sure you bring me some breakfast. I haven’t eaten all day, and your queen is starting to get a little hangry.”

  With a wink and a smile, I turned and left Andrew standing in the middle of his office, still holding onto his cock, probably regretting the day he decided to pursue me, and the moment he decided I belonged to him. Too bad so sad for him. I was here now.

  And the Badass Bitch of Baltimore wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter Ten

  Andrew- The Irishman

  I strode out of the bank, having deposited a large sum of money into each of my siblings’ accounts, some into the main account, and one into the new joint account I had with Kyra. I was extremely happy with the way my day had gone. I’d been awoken that morning by Kyra’s mouth on my cock, giving me the best and the sloppiest head I’d ever had in my whole fucking life. Fuck, I was getting hard again just thinking about it.

  I patted Ronan and Cavan on their backs. I’d decided to bring the two of them along with me on this trip and send Ludwig and Tierney on a special errand. They weren’t going to do official family business; they were going to do something special for me. Or rather, for Kyra.

  I’d found out that my baby’s 25th birthday was in a few days and the stubborn woman wasn’t even going to tell me. I’d only truly learned because of Michele.

  Michele walked past the table where I was sitting and having a cup of coffee. Manus, a man I’d thought would never be brought to heel by anyone, much less a petite woman who liked to talk shit and smoke weed, was right behind her, as always. They walked by but Michele turned back around and leaned down, placing her hands on the table. I looked up at her, quirking an eyebrow.

  “May I help you?” I asked, amused at the mutinous expression on Michele’s face and the apologetic one on Manus’s.

  “What are you getting Kyra for her birthday?” Michele asked, annoyance clear in her tone.

  “What? When’s her birthday?” I sat upright in my chair; afraid I’d missed it.

  Michele rolled her eyes. “You have four days, Mr. Irishman, or I’m gonna come back and kick yo’ ass. I don’t care who the fuck you think you are. I’ve got two bullets with your name on it if you fuck wit’ my girl. Y’heard?”

  Four days. I could get a lot done in four days. I nodded at Michele and stood up from the table.

  “Yes, Michele. I hear you, and thanks.”

  Michele scoffed. “Didn’t do it for your ass. The jury’s still out on if I actually like you or if I think you good enough for my girl.” She looked me up and down and shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid things ain’t really lookin’ that good for you, Mr. Irishman.”

  I nod my head at Manus, then smile at Michele. “Manus is going to work really hard to help you change your mind about that.” I winked at the two of them, then turned my back on the sound of Michele letting out a squeal and Manus’s deep chuckle. I shook my head as I headed towards my newly renovated office, which had dark wood floors, a large, U-shaped desk, bookshelves on one side, four chairs—two in front of the desk, and one next to the door, and the other next to my desk, as well as a big, comfortable, plush, purple couch, with a dark wood coffee table in front of it. I’d gotten that couch just for Kyra. So she could come in and be comfortable whenever she wanted to, and if I wanted to, I could fuck her until she screamed the house down, in the comfort of my own office.

  I couldn’t wait.

  But I would have to. At least for a bit. I had more important things to think about. Namely a gift for Kyra. So I placed a call to the one person I’d been ignoring for a very long time.

  “Oh, so I still exist to you?” Nia’s voice was filled with anger, hurt, and… fuck, was my goddamn sister crying?

  “Nia? What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” I asked, a rage so hot burning through my veins that my entire body shook from it.

  Nia sniffled. “Do you care?”

  “Of course I fucking care! What the hell is going on?”

  “Don’t yell at me!” Nia screamed, then burst into te
ars.

  I pressed a button on my desk and released it, before I started to pace back and forth in front of my desk. The soles of my Italian loafers echoed on the wooden floor as I walked anxiously, waiting for Nia to stop crying, hoping she’d tell me what was going on, and waiting for somebody to answer my motherfucking page!

  “Nia, baby sis. Please talk to me,” I pleaded, rage and sympathy battling within me. I’d always hated it when Nia had cried as a little girl, because I would get so mad at whomever had hurt her that I would cry. Which would only piss me off further. Which would make me cry harder. And on and on…

  Until usually I put someone in the hospital, or they wound up dead.

  I nodded at Carrick when he walked in and wrote quickly on a sheet of paper.

  Pack a bag. Go get my sister. Bring her home. Now.

  Carrick read the note, nodded, then left without a word. I was able to breathe a little better once I knew Nia would be brought home soon by one of my trusted Enforcers.

  “P-promise you won’t be m-mad?” Nia stammered through her tears.

  “I promise deirfiúr,” I said, using the Gaelic term for sister.

  Nia sniffled. “I’m pregnant.”

  I’d let Carrick know about the “trouble” my sister had found herself in. She was four months pregnant by a man she refused to name. I wanted him to find out who it was. Find out if he was worthy of my sister. If he was, he would marry her. If he wasn’t…

  He would die.

  “Gentlemen,” I said to Ronan and Cavan. “My business here is complete. Get me home to my woman.”

  No sooner had the words left my mouth than the sound of gunfire sounded through the air. Ronan, Cavan, and I immediately took cover, pulling our weapons and aiming at the shooters. This was the second time in as many weeks that someone had tried to shoot me. I was sick of it. I needed to find out who was behind these attacks and I needed to do it before my sister, or my woman got caught in the crossfire.

 

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