Her head shakes, then nods, and I’m more confused than ever.
“It’s been a long day. I think I freaked myself out over nothing.” She laughs, but it’s forced.
I nod and move behind her, placing my palm on her lower back. “Whenever there’s a question, it’s better to be cautious. How about I walk you to your car and wait while you get settled in?”
“Thanks, Cormac.” Her head gives a wobbly nod of agreement, and I guide her toward where I assume her vehicle must be parked. It’s where she was originally headed before I made my presence known.
Normally, I have no reason to be jealous of my brothers.
Patrick is saddled with running our family, since Malachy is declining as he slips over the line from feral to full-blown rabid.
Poor Malachy is the eldest, and he’s supposed to be the head of our family, but with how fast the decay is spreading, he handed everything off to Patrick last year.
If the other Boston crime families realized how bad off Malachy was, they’d circle like sharks. The three of us sat down and came to the decision that it would be safer for Patrick to run things, at least until Malachy can bond an omega.
The omega that he’s promised to is a whole different clusterfuck that I try not to think about if at all possible.
It’s a fecking mess, as my dads would have said.
All of that combined is why I rarely wish I could trade places with my siblings, but both are more physically imposing than I am.
Malachy is a beast at six-seven while Patrick is two or three inches shorter.
I’m a respectable six-one, but that is on the shorter side for an alpha. Add in the wholeI’m a skinny fuckthing, and I can’t help but wonder if she even believes I’m capable of keeping her safe.
I am, but perhaps my insecurity is talking.
She doesn’t shy away from my touch, but she does continue to peek over her shoulder, as if she’s checking to be sure we aren’t being followed.
Most of the criminals of the city would see my face, know I’m one of the O’Connor brothers, and walk the other way.
If they chose stupidity…
Well, I’m always armed and unafraid of teaching anyone a lesson about why my family is feared even to this day.
We make it to Charlotte’s SUV, and I split my attention between being aware of our surroundings and watching her get the boy into his car seat. He’s over half her height, which my brain seems to have trouble processing.
How she’s even able to lift him and tote him around is hard to comprehend.
Are all toddlers that massive?
Or is it because Lucky is a future alpha?
I’m sure his father must have been, right?
Is he even a toddler, or does he qualify as a preschooler at his age?
Fuck.
I’m obsessing again.
This is a bad sign, and it’s the number one reason why I haven’t let myself look into Charlotte and her history.
Okay, I know where she lives and where Lucky’s day care is. I also maybe stalked her to the parking lot where she works, but there are five or six businesses that all use that collective lot.
I drew the line at popping into each one to see if I could casually run into her.
See, you do have boundaries.
