My shoulders relax. “I figured something like that may have happened. I’ll have Ronan take care of him.”
He shakes his head. “How can you be so callous with a life?”
“I’m not. I’m protecting my family, and that man put mine in jeopardy. Tonight, the cartel wanted our weapons, but who’s to say tomorrow they won’t want an Irish daughter to marry or decide they’d like to use those very weapons against us. You don’t cross the Irish. That’s one thing my dad held firm to. Loyalty, family, protection.”
Grayson holds on to every word I say, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. Finally, he blows out a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “Ready?”
“Always.”
Inside, it’s empty. A couple people sip coffee at the diner’s counter, including a man in a tattered wool coat stirring every sugar packet near him into his mug. He fixates on the wall clock in front of him. A pair of Harvard students, who look like they may have opted for a night out instead of studying, devour a plate of fries in the corner booth.
Grayson places his hand on the small of my back, the warmth sending a tingle up my spine. He leads us toward a lone booth by the front windows, overlooking the park where every tree twinkles with strands of white lights. Candy-cane stakes line the pathways, oversized reindeer pull a gaudy sleigh, and animatronic snowmen sway overhead in slow, jerky dances.
“You’d think they’d cut them off at night,” Grayson says, sliding into one side of the booth while I climb into the other.
“Why? Then we wouldn’t be able to see it.” I smile as memories trickle in.
“What?” he asks.
I shrug. “My mom, Summer, used to make my dad take us to look at lights every year. If we weren’t in Boston for Christmas, if we were in New York, we’d go. She loved the overdone setups, the loud displays. My dad and I appreciated the minimalist and cohesive ones.”
Grayson picks a piece of rogue tinsel off one of the menus left on the table. “It’s crazy to me, listening to you talk about your family. You seem so normal.”
I open my menu and sigh. “Might even be more normal than you. Why is it crazy?”
He lifts a shoulder. “You’re the mob. Don’t you live for money, power, and, oh yeah, more money?”
“Says the guy who came out to the terminal,” I whisper. The holiday specials insert pops out of the menu, and I study it. I don’t expect him to understand. Hell,Ididn’t always understand it, and I grew up in it.
After I decide on the Christmas tree pancakes and hot chocolate, I look up to find him staring at me. I flop the menu closed, then lean back in the booth and cross my arms over my chest, meeting his scrutiny. “We value family, our heritage, tradition, honor, respect—yes, we like to make money, but for our children and their children. Power … true power is the kindthat outlives you. It’s cemented in legacy and shaped by future bloodlines. That only happens if you have family willing to serve and die for you.”
Grayson dips his chin toward his menu. “Sounds like your father’s company line.”
“I could say the same about you.” I grind my jaw. “You join law enforcement for the power, maybe more like the power trip. Do you like people being afraid of you or that they listen to what you say just because you have a badge?”
“No.”
My lips curl into a smug smirk. “But youdidjoin law enforcement for the power—a different kind. You wanted the power to do something about the crime in Boston, the power to help people, to protect and serve …
“Or … isthatjust the company line?”
His expression softens—not a smile, not quite a frown—a flash of something raw.
“What can I get you?” A waitress, who looks like she’s been awake for a whole week, steps up to the booth. Her pen falls off the side of her pad as I tell her my order, and Grayson does the same.
Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas”crackles from the jukebox, and the air smells like buttered pancakes and stale peppermint. It’s different than O’Brien’s. Actually, the whole idea I’m here alone with a detective is different than O’Brien’s. I’m surrounded by men loyal to the death who’d protect me, but besides Cormac and Lizzy, and of course, my dad and Summer, who actually wants to hang with me? Most of the guys would rather be home with the women they can actually screw, and me … well, I’m off-limits.
Kieran O’Donnell would never tell me Ihadto marry, but the idea’s implied. I mean, I gave Grayson a speech about how true power is carried on in your family’s name and lineage. I’m theonly one from the O’Donnell line who has the power to. Summer isn’t going to have kids, and while I respect her decision … Is it because of me? She’s always believed I could lead. Always had faith I have what it takes, yet every day I wake up thinking she may be wrong.
The waitress returns with our hot chocolate—well, mine—and Grayson’s coffee.Cheater. I take a sip, the cozy liquid reminding me of all the times around the fire pit my dad and I would share. Him with his tea and me with my hot chocolate. I smile, and that baffles Grayson.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Nothing. Haven’t had hot chocolate in years.”
His eyes flick over me, but the mention of my family again creates a crack, and he lets out a slow breath.
I clear my throat and reach for a weak attempt to steer the conversation. “I can’t believe you ordered a burger at one a.m.,” I say.
