Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  He managed to get her up the aisle and back to the bar, hissing and squirming like the feral cat she was.

  “Let me go, Carragh.” She shrugged her coat back up over her and spit hair from her face which then softened as her eyes slanted. “I don’t mind being manhandled so long as there’s something in it for me. You up for it?”

  This woman had no boundaries. “Where is your car?”

  She smiled. “Now you’re talking.”

  Like he was going to climb into her backseat like a teenager? “Home. Now.”

  She huffed but let him lead her out of Shakedown and into the parking lot where, sure enough, a familiar sedan and driver waited.

  He opened the door for her and she pivoted on him. “I’ll let my father know what a gentleman you are for getting me to my car.”

  “You do that.” He could give a rip what Patrick Monroe thought of him.

  But she did give him the perfect excuse to stay—to ensure Luna Belle got home okay. He didn’t trust Nicole to not idle around the corner, waiting for an ambush on the woman he was now officially obsessed with. So what if Carragh didn’t wait on women? He’d wait for the next century to turn for Luna. That fact came dangerously close to resembling a hostage situation, but he’d deal with that problem another time.

  13

  Luna pushed open the exit door. The parking lot’s automatic light clicked on the second her heel hit the pavement and illuminated a man leaning against her car. If he were anyone else, she’d have scooted back inside and retrieved Max. She probably still should, given who stared at her.

  She knew it was Carragh before she saw his face. The way his hand leaned on the hood of her car, the curls of black hair against his neck over that red tattoo mark were details she hadn’t realized she’d memorized. Details she should try to forget.

  The night air was cool on her skin as she moved closer. “Why are you here?”

  “Checking on you.” He pushed off.

  “Because your fiancée caught you taking in a show?”

  “She’s not my fiancée. And how did you know who she was? Googling me?”

  He wishes. “Lucky guess. I recognize a jealous woman when I see one. I see them a lot.”

  “She won’t bother you again. I promise.” He frowned.

  “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to play white knight.”

  He stepped toward her. “Care for a drink then?”

  Only when he moved had she realized she’d frozen. She shook herself free and reached into her purse for her keys. “What happened to Papa’s orders?”

  He took her keys from her hand, the jangle loud in the still night air. The brush of his fingertips blanked her mind, and a wave of pure aliveness swelled inside her.

  “Grown men don't ask their fathers anything.” He inserted the key in the lock and opened the door for her.

  She threw her bag in the back seat. “I don't drink.” She had to at least put up a fight.

  “I wouldn't force anything on you.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” She asked it too quickly. She’d filled the space between his question and her answer so fast a breath couldn’t have fit in between.

  His face registered he understood something, a truth she hadn’t even wanted to admit to herself. She’d thought about him forcing her—Carragh grasping her wrists, pushing them behind her so he could press himself against her. His icy eyes capturing hers. He’d gauge her reaction, and then he’d take. And if he did, this was a man who didn’t conquer. He branded.

  He casually advanced on her—one small step that removed all polite space between them. Her body began to hum. Her heart galloped in her chest. With him this close, she felt she’d been plugged into an electrical box and was growing new nerve endings.

  He’d changed her forever. He’d woken a primitive need and a raging lust inside her that, once he left, would simmer under her skin for hours. It would always be like with him, wouldn’t it?

  But worse? After he left she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him and who he was. Her mind would wander with unanswered questions.

  How did he turn out the way he did? Why would he go against his family? Why would he strive to protect any of them? That last question perplexed her, but his support made him noble beyond compare.

  Yet, everyone from her family—Starr, Nathan, Phoenix, Declan, Cherry—seemed to hate him despite his recent interventions. And he didn’t seem bothered by their response to him.

  The exit door clanged open once more and Cherry stepped out with Sally Mae. They’d been chattering away, which died the second they saw her with Carragh.

  “See you girls tomorrow,” Luna called.

  If she didn’t take matters into her own hands, Cherry would force Luna into her car, drive her home, and tuck her into bed to ensure she didn’t land in someone else’s bed. Cherry needn’t worry. Luna wasn’t about to give in to whatever her feelings were around Carragh.

  Sally Mae curled her lips between her teeth to try to hide a smile. Cherry sent them both a scolding look but thankfully didn’t say anything. Rather, she gave Sally Mae a quick air kiss. “Sayonara, babe.”

  With hands on her hips, Cherry then turned her sights on Luna. “Luna, love, come over here.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Cherry waved her phone. “I got 9-1-1 just ready to call.”

  Carragh chuckled. “Good woman.”

  Cherry’s face glared at him, but Luna knew her well enough. Cherry appreciated his respect.

  “Really. Go home. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Cherry threw her phone into her bag and dramatically turned to go to her car.

  Luna climbed into the driver’s seat of hers and swiveled up to look straight into his eyes. “I can’t have a drink with you, and you know why.”

  “Come with me and tell me why.”

  His words pulled a laugh from her throat. “That would defeat my protest.”

  Per his usual, he ignored it anyway. “You asked if I was like my father. I have an answer for you. And to show you how much I am not like him, I won’t force you into my car. You can follow me. If you don’t, then fine. Your choice.” He shut her door and strode away.

  The man was teasing her, luring her with information. The trouble was, she wanted it—badly.

  Cherry’s car started up. The queen would likely follow her all the way home. But when she didn’t, Luna found herself heading north instead of west, Carragh’s license plate in her view for miles as she trailed behind him.

  She had questions. He had answers. Maybe it was time for her not to be “the reliable one.”

  14

  On Potee Street, Luna could have gotten on I-895. At East Osten Street, she could have taken a left and gotten on to I-395. Once they were on Charles Street, she could have taken any number of streets to get to a highway. All roads would have eventually gotten her back to her apartment.

  Instead, the glow of Carragh’s taillights burned her eyes she stared at them so hard. He seemed to drive carefully, slowly, as if he didn’t want to lose her.

  He turned again and soon they moved deeper downtown, much more deserted this time of night, the tall buildings creating canyons of dark and gray shadows. His car turned onto to a quaint street lined with streetlights that glowed halos in a growing fog.

  With a small splash, his tires thunked through a large pothole and then he veered left into an alley. Following him into a dead-end spit of asphalt would be stupid. She should head straight home.

  He stopped, got out, and gestured for her just as a door cracked open in the brick wall. A couple stepped out into a circle of blue light. A woman sparkling in a dark blue sequin dress took her companion’s arm, a man in a suit.

  Okay, at least she wasn’t about to enter a drug house.

  She pulled her car up behind Carragh’s. Cut the engine and cracked open the door. So long as the couple
were in the alley, she could scream for their help.

  Carragh waved to the man who nodded in his direction. Then the couple scooted around the corner. Luna’s heartbeat ratcheted up when he strode forward, seemingly impatient at her hesitation.

  It had to be, what? Almost midnight? What place would be open now?

  His black hair shown almost blue in the dark. He leaned down and placed his forearms on her window ledge. She hadn’t even remembered lowering it. That’s what this man did to her—blanked her mind and turned her into… someone else.

  “This is a little speakeasy that not many people know about,” he said. “A friend of mine runs it. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “And our cars?” She glanced around. “Doesn’t look legal to just leave them here. Or safe.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “Carragh…”

  He sighed and straightened. “It’s legal.” He opened her door.

  She took his outstretched elbow and let him help her up.

  “I’m a little underdressed.” She still had on an old pair of Capezio ballroom shoes but just a simple, gold-sparkled top and black pants. The outfit was quite tame for her usual club wear—if indeed that’s what this place was.

  “You’re perfect.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you lure to alleys at midnight.”

  “Only the redheads.” He cocked a smile.

  Blue light bulbs lined a staircase down into a basement. It swerved right, and she took the last step down—and entered the 1920s.

  Red pendulum lights hung over a long bar. Two men stood behind it, one vigorously shaking a martini shaker, another pouring wine. Hushed voices and soft music—not jazz but something more akin to a dance club—floated to her ears. It was nice. Soothing, in a way.

  “So, you are a gangster.” She couldn’t help herself. She bumped his arm with her shoulder.

  He laughed. “No, I just like to fly under the radar of prying eyes.”

  “You like to hide. Or you are hiding me.”

  “Both. Besides, I rather thought you’d enjoy the privacy.”

  She did. Her interest in his thoughts grew by the second, but no one needed to know her curiosity got her to follow Carragh into a hidden bar in downtown Baltimore at one a.m. If her sisters knew she’d entered a strange alley and walked down an old staircase to a basement with Carragh MacKenna? Well, every cliché known to the famous redhead temper would be known for six blocks.

  Tingles ran up her legs, though, at the thought this hidden place existed in Baltimore. Declan usually knew every place—and often shared his most special spots with Phee. Now, she was the one with a secret.

  They took a corner spot and he signaled for her to settle on a long, cheap, black vinyl couch.

  “What will you have? Sparkling water with lemon and lime?”

  She nodded, a little charmed he’d noticed her drink of choice.

  “Coming right up.”

  After he left her, the details in the room crystallized.

  A tray table with a faded gold and rose pattern sat before them. The alcove next to them had two overstuffed, faded chairs in a dusty red velvet with shiny gold and glass tables. Red Cheshire loveseats peppered the room, all placed for intimate gatherings and hushed conversations.

  Black checked tiles framed the bar, and framed black and white pictures were affixed to the concrete walls. The light was too dim to make out the signatures scrawled across most of them.

  Nothing in the place matched, which only made the space more alluring as if it were cobbled together in secret.

  He returned with two tall, frosted glasses of sparkling water. “You didn’t get yourself something.” The man usually held an alcoholic drink in his hand when she saw him.

  “I did. The same as you. I want to talk to you with a clear head.”

  “About how you’re different from your father.”

  “And more. I’m going to reveal my greatest secret.”

  Oh. “Why would you do that?”

  “To get you to trust me, of course.”

  The thing was, however, she already trusted him. She didn’t trust herself with him.

  He sat and proved her point. Her thighs warmed from his close proximity. She took a sip of her water. As if it would help her to keep saying “no” to him?

  Despite what his family had done to hers, a part of her couldn’t help but keep wondering. If they’d met under different circumstances, would she still keep him at arm’s length?

  Not by a long shot.

  15

  Luna’s eyes held disbelief at his words, but it didn’t matter. Carragh had to tell her the truth if they had any hope of moving forward.

  She put her pink lips on her glass again. “Your greatest secret? I don’t believe in secrets.”

  That was going to be a problem. He drowned in secrets, though now he wanted away from them. “I’m going to overthrow my father’s hold on our family.”

  It didn’t matter if Petra, Sean, or Declan knew about this. None of them thought he could do it. He needed Luna to know—and trust he could.

  “What?” She blinked. “How?”

  “Being a greater success. Legitimately. The man can’t live forever. He’s… damaged.”

  “Like Ruark.”

  She nailed it—and both men were getting worse. He sucked in a long breath. “So what else can I tell you? You can ask me anything.”

  She tipped the lime on her glass so it plopped into the water. “Who says I want to know anything?”

  “Your eyes. Every time I look into them.”

  She smiled a little. “And what do you see?”

  “Questions. Desires. Ambition.”

  “Is that all?” She laughed.

  He’d inched closer to her so his thigh pressed against hers. She didn’t flinch. “I see stars, too. Like in the night sky.”

  Her lashes fluttered. Ah, he’d taken her off guard.

  He was no poet, but the way her eyes sparkled reminded him of the sky over his grandfather’s farm—a place he hadn’t visited in years since his father sold the getaway as soon as the man was laid in the ground. “The past should be buried, like him,” his father had declared.

  Carragh sat so close, he could see her throat move in a delicate swallow.

  “When you said you killed someone… Was it justified? In defense?”

  She got straight to the point. “It was in defense, yes. But justified? Is it ever?”

  “So, you do have a conscience.”

  He chuffed a little, more to dislodge the pain that’d surfaced. It was a small thing, a tiny ache that annoyed more than anything. Damn this woman who made him feel things. “More than you give me credit for.”

  She thought so little of him, but what had he expected? She’d consider him ready for sainthood?

  “You are the architect of your life.” She shrugged and leaned over to grab her water once more.

  When she pitched forward, a strand of her hair, streaked with gold in the low light, slipped over her shoulder to swipe across her breast. It should have been nothing. Instead, he ached to reach out to finger that red lock, be curiously tender with her, the dead opposite of what he had to share with her. His life was dead opposite of her—all rough edges and abrasive threats.

  She lifted her blue eyes to him. “You’ve made choices that most people wouldn’t.”

  “Ah, but you see, I didn’t ask to be born into this life.”

  How many times had he wished it’d been different?

  The problem with being a MacKenna had little to do with their illegal past. It had to do with never learning how to trust anyone. Who might want to take him down? Who was working against him? Who might step in and take what they’d worked for? These were all questions drilled into him by his father at every turn.

  He was so sick of waiting for a knife in the back, of being a target.

  Luna, however, didn’t want anyth
ing from him. And he desperately wanted her to want something from him—not for leverage but for his own future. It was as if only she saw he could be different, he truly could be.

  She apprised him. “I didn’t ask for my life either—but my sisters and I decided it was going to be different. And we made it happen.”

  He had her there. It was remarkable, really. In a way, he’d been born with everything and was now trying to pitch it. She was born with so little and seemed to have so much.

  Carragh leaned back. “I saw early on how we wouldn’t succeed in the long-term on the wrong side of the law. We are better off using the system from the inside.”

  “You’re still gaming the system.” She mirrored his movements, sitting back.

  The intelligence from this woman was surprising. It was a rude assumption, but there it was. “No games. Just business.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “I’m going to sell off everything that isn’t legitimate. Hell, I’ll give it away. But I won’t see anything that tests the law in our portfolio. I have other lines of business, real businesses with a future, that we’re going to pursue. I’m tired of the…” He almost said crimes.

  She blinked at him as if she was waiting for more. That was all he could give her right now.

  “I’ve told you my plans. What are yours?” He really shouldn’t be staring at her nipples pressing against that blouse dusted with some glitter or sparkly crap. This woman didn’t like to hide—that was for sure.

  Her words came out in a flood. “You ask what I want? I’ll tell you. I want what I had before your family showed up.”

  Shot across the bow. Gutsy. He liked it.

  She sighed. “I want to dance, grow old with my sisters and their families by my side. I want a house and roots. And I don’t want to be in danger.”

  “And what do you want in a man?”

  An eyebrow arched up. “Offering?”

  “Yes.”

  Her thighs tensed a bit as if she needed to squeeze them together tighter. Someone else may not have noticed. He, however, had been studying her body movements for months without even realizing it.