Once they’ve torn through Eileen’s carefully prepared feast like dock workers with a beer keg, I lead them through Zhang’s activity.
“We’ve tracked his movements all over Europe, including a trip to Washington DC for a rather fruitless meeting.” I can’t stop the grin that stretches my lips. The headshots of the weeping Senator Beagly are already splashed all over every news site in America.
“He’s back in London. The only clue we have regarding the Chen Triad’s whereabouts are repeated visits Zhang and his top lieutenants have made to an industrial area in Rye. I suspect his uncle has a safe house there and they’re building their army. Zhang has a strike team that is second to none. Lethal. Vicious. Unpredictable. I am certain they will be in the next wave of attacks, two teams, perhaps, if Chen is assembling one as well.”
“We need to attack them first,” Cormac says, “the element of surprise is on our side. Zhang doesn’t know that we’re aware of his uncle’s malignant, god-cursed, lingering presence on this earth.”
“I believe that to divide and conquer is our best option,” I say. “I can hit Zhang with my team while you finish off Chen and his crew. And do it properly this time.”
Cameron glowers at me and I can’t help but feel this is an evening well-spent.
The brothers reluctantly leave around midnight, repeatedly hugging Sorcha and promising to be close by if “she needed them.” I choose to ignore the insult and promise to give my wife a phone when Dougal tries to give her his.
Pointedly, I lead them to the service lift in the kitchen, since the main exit from my penthouse is destroyed. Not one of them looks the slightest bit regretful of their actions.
Arseholes.
Some things never change, and I am getting a knife into Cameron soon. Nothing that will kill him. Just cause him considerable pain.
Sorcha turns to me, hugging me tightly. It’s the only time she has touched me first. “Thank you,” she whispers, “thank you so much.”
The top two buttons on my dress shirt are undone, and she buries her nose in the hollow of my throat. I’m unsettled by how much I like it. When she gives me a shy kiss on my throat, she grins. “You taste as good as you smell.”
Grabbing her waist, I throw her over my shoulder and her laughter follows us as I lope up the stairs to our bedroom.
Chapter Thirty-Three
In which we learn more about Alastair’s mysterious past.
Sorcha…
“What do you mean, you’re not letting me go with you!!”
How could everything fall apart so fast? After my brothers left last night, Alastair gave me the most incredible evening in bed, filled with orgasms and endless play. When he finally pushed inside me, it felt like what I hoped making love would be.
He was slow, and tender and I fell asleep thinking that it was possible that one day, he might love me too.
Then, today.
“I cannot allow you to go with me,” he says, strapping on a gun holster. If he wasn’t infuriating me, I’d find him wildly hot in that black tactical suit, darker and more dangerous than the well-dressed businessman he usually portrays.Thisis Alastair Taylor, Mafia King.
“Why?” I followed him into his gun room because of course, he has one. “I can shoot, I’m good with a knife and I’ve been taking martial arts classes since I was twelve.”
He turns to me, still holding the Glock he’d been checking. “Have you ever been in a firefight, Sorcha?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I force myself to meet his gaze. “No, but-”
“Have you ever killed a man?” he continues ruthlessly.
“No.”
“What if this gun battle triggers you?” Alastair takes a step closer, ignoring how I flinch.
“I have the same right to avenge myself,” I say, “I haven’t been triggered by anything for a while now.”
“Darling, you were in a dissociative state less than a month ago,” he interrupts, ignoring how his words cut me.
“You said I wasn’t broken,” I manage, swallowing hard. I’m not going to cry. Not in front of him.
