I’ve never hit anyone in my life. Not even the people who deserved it. And I choose this man? A man who oozes danger. A man who had already threatened to dig my grave if his father doesn’t make it. My whole body begins to quake. I brace myself for him to hit me back.
Then a puff of laughter passes his lips. His long tongue flicks out, a flash of a silver ball piercing in the pink flesh, the tip probing the blood on his split bottom lip as he smirks. He reaches up and rubs his square jaw, cocking his head. “Don’t like to be touched. Noted, Doc.”
The teasing tone catches me off guard. In fact, I’m so off kilter, I fall back into the chair to keep from passing out. “I’m sorry,” I mumble to the ground, picking at the drying blood on my dress.
Sully lowers his big bulk slowly in the chair beside me, like he’s trying not to spook me, and hands me a plastic cup of water. He’s speaking low, soft words but out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s glaring up at his brother. “You’re all right, lass. Drink this and then we’ll step outside for some air, yeah.”
As I drink the lukewarm water, my attention is pulled to two uniformed officers strolling purposefully through the doors. They spot us immediately. A new rush of fear stiffens my spine.
No. No. No.
“Feckin’ hell,” Killian whispers. He shoots me an irritated glance. Like it’s my fault I didn’t want his father dying.
Sully rises and motions for me to follow him. Again, I obey like a fucking robot, putting his large frame between me and the policemen as we walk. Maybe I’ll find my spine outside.
The tall, older officer says “hold up,” as we pass, but Sully just growls a “feck off, mate,” and keeps walking. I’ve never beenso grateful to be with a gangster in my life. If I had to give the police my name, I’d have about thirty minutes to pack up my life and run again.
Chapter 2
Killian
Icross my arms and eye the two arseholes strutting toward me. Probing my bottom lip with my tongue, I press harder, enjoying the stinging sensation. Pain means I’m alive to feel it. And getting this little gift from a beautiful, sassy, terrified lass warms my cold heart.
The corner of my mouth twitches when I think about the look on Doc’s face after she smacked me good. Shocked was a fuckin’ understatement. I’d watched her go into a full-blown panic, dissociate, and knew she was going to bolt. Curious. Who’d have thought being in a hospital would trigger a doctor.
Despite taking my anger out on her in the car, I’d only wanted to keep her close to us. I knew the boys in blue would be here soon and didn’t want her caught outside alone where they could grill her. I wonder what else I can do to make her lose that tightly gripped control she thinks she has on life.
“Something funny?” the blond, baby-faced cop asks as he stops an arm’s length from me, eye-fuckin’ me like he thinks it’d be a fair fight. I’ve got about six inches of height on him.What is he, twelve?
As I stare down at him with a lazy grin, I also let the darkness seep into my eyes.
His expression falters and his gaze falls to the blood, drying to a rusty brown on my white dress shirt.
His partner, whose grey hair and paunch at least give him an air of life experience, pulls out a notebook. “Want to tell us what happened at Bella Castello tonight, Mr….?”
I don’t offer my name. Mentioning the place Da was shot is his way of letting me know he already has information. “Aye, it was a beautiful weddin’.”
He just stares at me, expression blank but grey eyes calculating. “And the events that brought you here?”
“Yeah, can’t help ya with that, mate.” If they knew where the shooting happened, they could go talk to Sandro. This is his territory, and he knows which LEOs are in his pocket. I haven’t got a bleedin’ clue.
The cops share a look, then the older one pulls a card from his notebook. “We will be talking to the gentleman who was shot as soon as he’s conscious. You’re only making finding the perp more difficult.” He holds out the card. “I’m sure that’s not your intention.”
“Are ya now?” I take it, so I can let Sandro know which boys in blue were at the hospital. We aren’t counting on them finding out, we have our own men on it. And justice looks different from our side of the law. In my opinion, it looks more like justice, not like miles of red tape and time moving like molasses while men who don’t deserve to be breathing still are.
I shove the card in my pocket and lean back on my heels. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”
The grey-haired cop’s eyes narrow. “Chicago Irish?” He doesn’t wait for my reply. “You’re a long way from home…mate.” He smirks before he turns and strides out.
I caught the threat. I’m not protected here. But he doesn’t know that Tampa’s crime family landscape is expanding. As of tonight, the Italian mafia and Irish mob are married. And I have an empire to build in my new brother-in-law’s city.
Chapter 3
Samantha
4 weeks later
“All right, Mac. You know what time it is.” I raise his bed so he’s in a sitting position, readjust his pillows and hand him the incentive spirometer.
