I still didn’t turn around, taking a large sip of my juice. This was going to be a long day and I needed all the energy I could get.
“Hey, it’s the boys.” Fallon laughed and the sound of chairs moving in and out told me the rest of the crew had arrived.
“I’m Mrs. Sweeney, Legend’s mother. I’ll be sitting in and acting as secretary,” Mum said.
Steeling myself for the briefing, I turned and froze. There, standing at the end of the table with wide eyes, was Finn. Dressed in a suit, he looked like any other Killough man, completely different from the bloke he was last night in that sweet silk outfit.
I smirked. I’d caught him, and now he was mine.
He just didn’t know it yet.
4
FINN
Oh fuck,fuck, fuckeroo.Was Legend Sweeney, Australia’s Irish mob boss, going to fucking kill me? That would just begreat. My mom would have a fit. Uncle Naoise would say it was my fault. Mr. Killough would be furious that I’d done something to piss the man off the second I got here. And no, it didn’t matter that I would already be dead, I was sure my family would find a way to contact me and transmit their displeasure, wherever I ended up in the afterlife, and they would give me the news of Mr. Killough’s disappointment while they were at it.
My breath caught and I struggled to at least appear calm. Did he hate me for dressing in the clothes I liked? Nervously I plucked at the lapel of my royal blue suit, then made myself stop. I’d picked the color because it made my hair pop and I liked to look good when I could, but maybe I should’ve gone with something less conspicuous—like a bag over my head.
Swallowing hard, I tried to make my brain do more than imagine being shot and tossed in the ocean. Things were so live and let live in Miami because it was a big city with lots of tourists. I wasn’t much of anyone important, and no one cared what I did in my free time. I hadn’t worried too much about being seen.
But what about here? I mean, it wasn’t as conservative as Texas, but maybe things weren’t the same after all?
Mr. Sweeney had danced with me last night, which meant he wasn’t disgusted with me. Right? Ihoped. My heart pounded while he stared at me, looking amazing in shorts and a yellow T-shirt that pulled nicely across his chest and shoulders. The man was so good-looking, with his brilliant blue eyes and toned body, that it didn’t matter what sort of clothes he wore because he was all man.
But I was jealous, too.
Even inside with the air conditioner blasting, I was uncomfortable, and I wished I could’ve worn something closer to what he had on. Cillian turned to give me a tiny frown. I flashed around a nervous smile. Did Mr. Sweeney even recognize me today?
Why is he still staring at me if he doesn’t? Fuck, he does. I’m dead.
His eyebrows hitched.
I held my breath.
Mr. Sweeney strolled across the room, and too late I realized he was headed right in my direction. He didn’t say a word, but he pulled out the chair in front of me at the end of the table and stared. It took me a second to realize he expected me to sit, and by the time that thought registered, he clasped my elbow and tugged so that I would move.
“Well, I didn’t get that kind of service. Ouch,” Fallon said with a laugh, but I was too busy staring at Mr. Sweeney and fighting off hyperventilation to do anything but awkwardly plop down. He shoved my chair in, and I stared at the table while my face burned. There was no way I was going to look up to see all fifteen of our guys staring at me as if I’d just crash-landed on the middle of the table in a UFO.
“It’s time to shut up and listen,” Cillian hissed, and I finally glanced at Fallon, who was doing his best to look serious, but a smile kept slipping onto his face.
Mack Mullen kicked me under the table from his seat on my left, and I glanced at him. He was probably about as old as Mr. Sweeney, with brown hair that was going steely at the temples and a handsome face made of hard lines and angles. But he was frowning—as usual. “What did you do?” he mumbled.
Like hell I was going to explain anything about last night. Mr. Sweeney remembered or he wouldn’t have—I held in a gasp when he patted both of my shoulders, and I glanced back to see him staring out along the men seated at the table. Mrs. Sweeney took a seat at the other end. She tapped a pen on a yellow legal pad in front of her and a small, confused smile tilted her lips.
“Go on, Legend,” she said with a hand wave. “I’ll just take some notes for you boys.”
“Thank ye, Mrs. Sweeney,” Cillian said. Jamie Shannon had put him in charge of us here, and no one minded him laying on the charm in his Irish accent. She smiled at him but flicked her fingers toward Mr. Sweeney....Legend.
I flushed when he glanced down and caught me staring at him, but thankfully he walked around the table with his hands stuck in his pockets. He had a lot of energy, and he wasn’t anything at all like Mr. Killough, who was always so calm he was cold. I’d met him twice. No, Legend was ready to go out and grab life by the balls. Maybe literally. I shifted uncomfortably, remembering everything we’d done last night.
“As you know, I’ve got an Italian problem,” Legend said, still making a circuit of the table. He stopped near my left elbow, and it only hit me then that I had probably taken his seat because I was at the head of the table.Oh my fucking God.
Cillian glanced at me and he seemed extra stern.
Mack kicked me again and widened his eyes. He gestured at Legend, who was busy staring at everyone. Fuck, was I screwing up again right now?
“Sir, would you like me to move? I—”
