A cold sensation creeps over my spine despite the summer sun. ‘Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.’
He nods, reaching for my hand, threading his thick fingers through mine. We spend the rest of the day on the beach, making out like horny teenagers.
By the time we get back to the house, it’s almost six o’clock. Dominic dumps the bags in the hallway. ‘Upstairs,’he growls, sweeping me into his arms like he did the first day, carrying me like a rag doll.
My stomach clenches. ‘Are you going to fuck me now?’
His laughter rumbles into my ear. ‘No. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. Killed men. Tortured them. Dumped their bodies like trash—because that’s what they were. But this? You? I’m determined to do right.’
I should be horrified. My fiancé is a murderer, yet I’m increasingly certain he’s a good man. ‘What does that even mean?’ I wrap my arms around his neck, inhaling his masculine scent.
He kicks open the bedroom door with a thwack.
I jump as a second one follows from downstairs.
His entire body stills, pricking to attention.
Fear floods my blood. Somebody must have spotted us at the beach.
But who?
‘Dominic Kincaid!’ A female voice yells. ‘Get your fucking arse out from wherever you’re hiding. You’ve got some explaining to do.’
He tips his forehead against mine. ‘Mama K.’ He tuts. ‘It was only a matter of time.’
Fuck.
24
DOMINIC
Mama K waits at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on her hip, her foot tapping impatiently on my pale stone flooring. In a pair of cream linen trousers and a baby pink chiffon blouse, with her blonde bobbed hair styled with a sophisticated blow out, she looks like a sweet, respectable pensioner.
Amazing how deceiving looks can be.
This sweet old pensioner once cut someone’s balls off for calling one of her kids a gang banging cretin. Then stuffed them down his throat for good measure.
The someone, Benny Bolton, was also the same bastard who stole my big sister, got her hooked on heroin and sold her to the highest bidder. There’s a reason we do what we do. It isn’t out of the goodness of our hearts. It’s because they’re all fucking broken and while there’s fuck all we can do about it, we can try to stop it happening to others.
‘What’s this about you having a woman?’ Her silver eyes narrow. ‘Who is she? Where is she? And most importantly—why do I have to hear it second hand from your brother?’
‘Good evening to you too, Mam.’ I bend and press a kissto her weathered cheek. The familiar scent of her perfume fans around me, stirring a thousand childhood memories.
From the day our mother was taken from us, Mama K stepped in. She moved into the house and raised Ciaran, Owen, Kai, Cathal, Tristan and me as if we were her own. Money was scarce, but the kitchen was never empty. And no matter how hard things got, she always found a way to make us laugh.
She didn’t approve of us taking over The Syndicate—not at first.
Not because she didn’t understand why.
Because she understand all too well what would happen if we failed.
They’d already murdered my mother. Stole our sister. Destroyed our father.
Which was precisely why we couldn’t afford to lose.
We didn’t rise through violence alone.
We rose through patience.
