“Liam, lad, I’m so sorry,” Doc Ryan choked.
A warning buzzed in my veins. The room grew narrow, my breath shallow.
“Your father is dead.”
My heart thumped hard against my ribs.Whamp-Whamp. Whamp-Whamp.
When I answered, the voice was not my own. “From complications to the treatment?”
The good doctor was crying. “Shot. Through the window.”
Chapter 32 – Gabriella
It was all my fault.
When I came up with the plan, it was perfectly simple. I was going to dispose of the tracker at my in-law’s house. Flush it down the toilet. When the abrupt departure happened, I didn’t have a chance to run to the bathroom. So, I did the next best thing and put it in an old pair of shoes. First, the mob boss probably didn’t wear them. They were dusty and shoved in the back of the shelf. Second, his house was well guarded. An assassin shouldn’t have been able to sneak inside.
And then, Liam had to come in, almost caught me red-handed, and dropped to his knees. It wasn’t sexual. It was tender. Devoted. Something I freaking craved at this point.
I had every opportunity to tell him on the drive home.
But every time I thought about telling him, I chickened out.
No, the tracker was safe and buried and couldn’t be used against my husband. If my father accused me of disposing of it, I would have told him Liam left his shoes with his parents. A natural thing for children to do, right? And with the death ofthe assassin in the produce aisle, I was fairly certain a new one hadn’t been hired this quickly.
Wrong….
I’d been so freaking wrong.
Now my father-in-law was dead. And I could never tell my husband about the tracker, because it was me who led the gunman to the quaint little mansion on the Back Bay.
The only thing left to do was get through the next few days, pray that Liam never found out, and hope that in the end I could run fast enough. Cover my tracks well enough. And never look back.
I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest and wandered through the side halls of the church. St. Patrick’s was packed, and the funeral wouldn’t start for another hour.
Liam had spent the night here, keeping vigil over his father’s remains. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was about to pull my hair out. I had to see him. While this fresh death was a sin chalked to my account, while it would never be okay, I hated the distance.
Lifting a hand to silently order my entourage of guards to stay put, I stepped lightly to the back room. I didn’t knock. What was the point of asking for permission at this stage? Thankfully, the door wasn’t locked.
One look from those grey-blue eyes, and I felt the ground shift under my feet. Dio sopra, if he knew what I’d done—
Don’t show fear!
I gulped and stepped inside. I had to act like a caring, distraught wife who was attentive. I could do that. It felt natural enough walking up to Liam, where he stood beside the coffin, and resting my hand on his. I wasn’t brave enough to look at the casket. That man died because of me. Padraig McDonagh was someone I didn’t know well but wished I had.
Liam let out a shuddering breath. He didn’t say anything, a small mercy. But he did pull my body into his. I angled myhead for his mouth. He moved past me, kissing my throat. Those permanently bloodstained hands kneaded the flesh around my waist.
It dawned on me that it wasn’t a kiss he was after. I tensed. Liam wanted comfort…he wanted me.
The moment he reached for my skirt, I jolted back. “Liam, no!”
He cursed in that tragically beautiful language and dropped his face against my shoulder.
“It’s—It’s a sin!” I insisted, rubbing my hands over his body. “We can’t do thathere.”
“So, get on your knees and work out your penance,” he rasped, tightening his hold on me. “Or let me work out mine.”
I swallowed hard. He was deadly serious. One way or another, unless I bolted from the room, he was going to make one of us a sinner—the other a saint. Well, I wasn’t running. Not yet. Not when he needed me.
