He’d made her feel and want things she didn’t know existed. Forget what she said about wanting it all. She didn’t know what “all” really was—just ideas and concepts that sounded like heaven but had not in any crystallized form in her mind.
But Carragh wanting her as she wanted him? To have her heart, mind, and body filled with him? It was real.
He moved to his side and pulled her to him so her back was against him. Caged, his face in her hair, her chest ached with the reality of their situation.
“Never again. No one else with you ever again,” he growled.
Oh, God, why did he have to want her so? “One night—”
“Would never be enough. You and I know this can’t end.”
She couldn’t answer him. Instead, she placed a small kiss on his forearm, his hair tickling her lips. One night was all she’d promised him—and herself. She’d meant it, too. At least when she’d voiced it.
But now she felt his heartbeat against her back, and she wasn’t sure she could ever spend a night without it.
“Please.” His voice was barely a whisper, and the one word nearly broke her heart in two.
For long minutes they lay there, neither of them speaking due to their strange limbo state—like they floated through space yet were so weighted down at the same time.
How did two people from such different worlds, who no one in those worlds wanted together, end up like this? Clinging to one another in the dark, hoping for things that could never really come to pass.
She must have fallen asleep because sometime in the night, her eyelids drifted open. Moonlight cut into the room. Enough that she could see his blue eyes cast down on her. He’d been watching her sleep.
His hand squeezed hers. Her skin was hot and clammy. He must have been holding it all night as if he didn’t want to be separated from some part of her.
She rolled back to face the ceiling, unable to stare into his eyes any longer.
Forget Tomas and his threats, she wouldn’t survive this pain that now built in her limbs as if she’d been physically ripped from him.
So, this was what a broken heart felt like.
22
Morning came. She’d woke, cocooned in his arms. She’d slipped free and sneaked out just as the sky was turning purplish gray. She’d jogged down the street and called an Uber.
Once inside, her phone rang. She shouldn’t have answered because when she did, his words—”You and I both know this can’t end. Please.”—every fiber of her being wanted to turn around and go back to him.
It was the “please” at the end of it. The word had pinged around her brain every second since she woke.
Carragh MacKenna was Lucifer incarnate according to her Shakedown family.
He wasn’t.
The man she knew was kind, and strong, and very lonely. That last realization hit her heart with such force, she almost directed her Uber driver to turn around.
Instead, she put wheels in motion she knew she’d never get to unspin again. He called. She answered. And when he asked her to come back, she decided. “I’ll come to you after the show tonight, okay?” She couldn’t leave this man if Tomas put a gun to her head.
“I’ll come get you.”
“No, please. Let me come to you.”
A long silence at the end of the phone. Finally, he spoke. “I’ll be here.”
It was staggering how happy his words made her. That happiness died as soon as she stepped into her apartment.
Starr stood by the window looking out. Nathan was stirring a spoon in a cup at the kitchen island. Seeing Luna step inside, Nathan put the cup down. “I’ll be down in the car.”
Starr nodded once. “Thanks. This won’t take long.”
After Nathan was through the door, her sister scowled at her. “You were with him, weren’t you? All night?”
“I’m fine.” Better than… She threw her purse on the kitchen counter.
“That’s not what I asked. You can’t be serious. Carragh MacKenna?”
“You don’t know him.” Not even the half of it.
“Oh, yes, I do. He’s a MacKenna. A family who kills people.” Starr then raised her hand. “Sorry, but I’m filled with pregnancy hormones that will not be silenced.”
Any good feelings she had… vanished. “I’m surprised Phee isn’t here for the ambush, too.” That’s what this was, right?
She huffed. “That’s rich. Phee is done with drama…” Her eyes sliced to the side as if caught by a memory. “Which is amazing given how she probably feels right now.”
“Oh, and how’s that?” Her sister needed to trust her more.
Starr leveled her gaze on her. “Betrayed.” She stepped forward. “L. Promise me you won’t see him again.”
She wanted to tell her everything. How Carragh wasn’t who everyone thought. How he’d never let anything happen to her and his plans would make it all better. His secrets, however, were safe with her.
“Tell. Me. You’ll. Stop.”
“There isn’t anything to stop. I just… needed someone and he was there.” It wasn’t a lie, and there was no time to go into it anyway. Plus, she at least could give Starr some peace, even if such a state might be short-lived. “You both have someone. I have…”
Starr’s face softened. “Us. You have us.”
“I know.” She rubbed her forehead.
“Is that what this is about? You think any of this changes things?” Starr placed her hand on her belly on “this.” “You never were the type to just go for someone to have someone.”
“I’m not doing that now.”
“You know, the last time you got involved with a man not good for you, we lost jobs. But this? We might lose our lives,” she said baldly.
“Low blow.” Bringing up Rick Kinston, manager at that god-awful coffee shop, from seven years ago? She was young, and stupid, and she’d let herself get manipulated by a boss. Never again. Starr really was all over the place this morning.
“No. It’s not. You really have some authority complex, L. Getting involved with a coffee shop manager? That got us all fired. Then finding Dad. Now a MacKenna?”
“Who saved your life, Starr. And Phee’s. Remember that.”
Starr chewed on her bottom lip. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing. Because Nathan and I? We’re out. I’ll always be your sister. But I’m not putting us through this again. And Phee shouldn’t have to, either. I mean, Dad’s death—”
“Didn’t seem so hard for you. Or Phee.” It wasn’t until that second she realized how her sister’s refusal to acknowledge a huge part of their lives—most of it bad—was just gone. “Even if he hadn’t been good to us, he was our father. Aren’t you sad at all?” Her damned eyes welled. She turned away from Starr.
Her sister’s hand fell to her shoulder. “It was hard. Everyone deals with things differently. Phee said her piece. I did, too. And maybe…”
She whirled on Starr and hugged her hard. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault for any of this.” Her hand cradled the back of Luna’s head. Already being a mother. It was uncanny how quickly it happened.
Luna’s insides welled up with waves of sadness. Her emotional well had been tapped again and again in the last few weeks—now it was bubbling up all over the place.
“It might have been.” Luna sniffed and pulled back so she could see Starr’s face.
“Carragh is just manipulating you.”
“No. That’s not what I meant.” She broke her sister’s hold and walked to the window. She couldn’t face her when she finally bared this next part to her. “The way Dad was with me.”
“Horrific?”
She faced her sister again. “No. He wasn’t that bad to me. Maybe you don’t remember. But you. And Phee…” She couldn’t talk anymore. Last night. This morning. It was all just too much.
Starr came forward again, grabbed her by the biceps. “Look at me. If you think Dad’s issues
had anything to do with you, they didn’t.”
“Maybe I should have stepped in more.” That was it, right? Maybe she’d cowered, gave up, and he knew he’d won. Look at Carragh standing up to his father…
Her sister scoffed. “Jesus, L. If this is what being with Carragh does to you… Stop. Just stop. Dad was terrible to all of us. He abandoned us. It was horrible again for a while. We got back together. We made a life. You found him. Phee got to scream at him. I got to as well. Phee is happy. I’m happy. He died. Now, it’s your turn to be happy. That’s it.”
Wow. Starr really had moved on. “I’m not unhappy.”
She crossed her arms. “Because of him?”
Luna didn’t answer.
Starr cocked her head. “L.” Her warning tone, also so mom-like, might work on her future child—but not her.
“Sisters forever. Friends always. I promise.” She meant it, too.
Starr just nodded and picked up her purse. “I love you, and we’ll get through this. I promise you that. But just… stay away from him, okay?” She didn’t press anymore, simply hugged her goodbye.
23
Carragh clicked the lights off except for the Onyx lamp Luna once admired on the front table. He set the book he’d been trying—and failing—to read on marine law back on the shelf. The clock in the hallway clicked its metronome beat, and the quiet drone of cicadas rose behind the glass of his front window. Thirty more minutes and he’d have his fourth night with Luna. It was four more nights than Carragh ever believed possible.
She’d come to him, just as she’d promised, every night after her work at Shakedown.
To make things easier on her, he hadn’t gotten within ten miles of the club in the last week—the hardest part of this whole charade. The thought of her on that stage, vulnerable to men’s thoughts, her body on display for anyone, raised his most base urges—primarily to stand in front of her, curl her into him and away from anyone else’s attention.
He tried not to think about it. It took a supreme effort to do so.
The easiest part of their growing charade was meeting his father every night for dinner, then making sure the car tailing him home got to see him pull into his own driveway. It was an inane game, but it kept suspicions down—or so he thought.
Tonight, Nicole had joined them at the large dining table.
Seated to his right, she’d placed her hand on his father’s, blinking her large eyes as if she was Saint Christopher incarnate. “How are you feeling? I’ve been meaning to drive by more often.”
By the way his right eye twitched, her suggestion of Tomas MacKenna having any weakness affronted his ego a bit. “Strong as a horse.” He emptied his wine glass and gestured for Mary to refill it.
Carragh barely touched his wine. “You’re certainly enjoying your Cabernet.” His father normally didn’t drink this much.
The man’s eyebrow twitched again. “Obviously more than you.”
“I thought Carragh enjoyed all things red.” Nicole’s sly smile made his gut twist in revulsion.
His father lifted his knife, inspected it. “My boy’s sworn off red, haven’t you?”
“Ask your spies.” Carragh threw down his napkin and rose. “Nicole, Father. Papers to sign on your desk, by the way.”
They were a benign transfer of assets—something Carragh didn’t care how it ended up. It was just one more action to keep his father focused on what he was not doing rather than what he was.
“Leaving so soon?” Nicole sang.
“I have work to do.”
“I thought all work and no play made for a dull boy,” she pouted.
He hadn’t stuck around for any more of her goading. He found once home, however, his mind wouldn’t settle on work. Something was afoot between Nicole and his father—and it went beyond a marital union. Too bad Leo had found nothing on her.
The shine of headlights pulling into the driveway crossed the room and interrupted his sour mood. Luna, in her god-awful beat-up car, had turned into his driveway and into his garage. She was early. He’d recognize her dim headlights any day, but they may as well have been a tropical sun by the way they instantly relaxed his chest.
He opened the back door of his kitchen and his arms were soon full of soft skin and her floral perfume. “Anyone follow you?” It was the same question he asked every evening after she’d arrived.
She shook her head. Her forehead was tight, her shoulders ever tighter.
“What happened?” He held her face in his hands.
“It’s nothing.” She shook her face free. “Starr danced tonight and she kept eyeing me like… I don’t know.” She dropped her bag on the kitchen table.
“Did she ask anything?”
“No. I just hate how much I’m not telling them.”
“So, tell them everything.” He didn’t give a rip if her sisters knew about their relationship—affair? He didn’t know what to call it.
Her eyes blinked and her mouth went slack. “I can’t. Not yet.”
They went through this every night. The stress of sneaking behind their families’ backs hung heavy in the air.
A loud banging sounded on his front door, and Luna shook as if jolted by electricity. Her eyes widened.
Out of habit, he moved to the kitchen drawer just to the right of the refrigerator, reached into the far back, and drew out a Sig he’d stashed here just for these unexpected occasions.
She gasped at the sight.
After tucking it in the back of his pants, he ran his hand down her arm. “Stay here. I’ll go see who it is.”
“It’s midnight.”
“I know.” Interruptions at this house never meant anything good, but at least they’d knocked. If there were any real danger, no warning would be given.
Sean, arms crossed, stood under his porch light.
He yanked open the door. “A little late for a visit.” Sean didn’t bother to be asked to be let in, just advanced as if Carragh would move. He didn’t. “Well?”
“Your father called. Wanted me to check in on you. Said you were in a pissy mood.”
“Don’t need a babysitter. Besides, I just came from him. See you tomorrow.” He tried to shut the door, but Sean’s hand shot out to stop the closure.
“Jesus, man,” he said. “Can I least get a drink for my trouble of being the errand boy?” He pushed his way inside.
Carragh let him but only because throwing him out would make the guy wonder what he was hiding inside.
Sean glanced around. “Your father’s keeping me busy. He’s shorthanded.”
There was a dig in there towards Carragh.
“Got something to say to me?” Enough waiting around for the other shoe to drop.
“Not unless you got something to tell me.”
Carragh’s eyes dropped to the man’s hand. It twitched by his side, his stance widened—all the usual tells he was holding something in.
Sean peered down the hallway toward the kitchen, then back to Carragh. He cocked an eyebrow. “So, what do I tell your old man?”
“Tell him if he wants to talk to me, he’s got my number.”
He ran a finger under his nose. “You burning candles or something?”
Carragh arched an eyebrow.
“Just smells different in here.” His lips tightened to a straight line. “Girly.”
“It’s late, Sean. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” Sean just shook his head at him. “But yeah. Tomorrow.” The man then finally strode out the door into the night.
His cousin was up to something. Fucking great. He’d have another person to worry about. As if Nicole dropping in tonight wasn’t enough. That wasn’t coincidence, either.
A creak down the hall—Luna was moving. He strolled down to her before she could emerge. Sean was probably still on the porch. One look at Luna and this little problem of keeping her secret would turn into a crisis.
He slipped inside the kitchen before sh
e could exit. He clicked off the light just in case Sean got any bright ideas to snoop around out back. He walked her backward until she was positioned away from the windows.
“I recognized his voice.” Her voice was quiet in the dark.
“You don’t have to worry about him.”
She ran her thumb across his forehead. “But you are.”
Even in the dark, Luna saw so much in him. Maybe too much. “We’re going to need to be more careful moving forward.”
She nodded, and her arms went around his waist. “Yes.” But then her hold released and her hands clasped to her chest. She’d touched the gun, perhaps.
He removed the Sig from its place and set it on the counter. “Don’t be afraid.”
Even in the dark, her eyes reflecting the lone back porch light shone confidence at him. “I’m not. Not when I’m with you.”
His mouth found hers, and she yielded to his kiss so completely, an unexpected relief wafted through his body. Her world didn’t include ammunition and watching for cars following her—at least not normally—so he’d expected her to retreat. It would be the wisest course of action.
Then again, he’d abandoned what was good for either of them long ago, hadn’t he? But now, for the first time in his life, someone else’s life was more important than his own, and he had his lips on her.
24
“Now can you tell me where we’re going?” Over an hour ago they’d headed south out of Baltimore and then ended up going east at some point toward the water.
“You’ll see.” Carragh squeezed her fingers.
He’d said to pack a weekend bag, casual clothes. So, she’d made up a story about needing to go recharge at a spa for the weekend. Amazingly, Starr and Phee had bought it. Of course, she’d let them believe she wasn’t seeing him anymore—an Academy Award performance if she did say so herself.
The last three weeks had been glorious, and her sisters would never understand. She didn’t even try to make them have to understand. She simply never brought up Carragh, was always where she said she’d be—so she said very little—and the most important thing? She and Carragh were never, ever seen together in public.
Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3) Page 12
