Page 6 of Sins of Innocence

WRAITH

Kenneth Shaughnessy's house in Queens isn't anything like Brogan Shaughnessy's Long Island mansion, but it's in a neighborhood reserved for rich people.

Red brick with a well maintained, if small front yard, there's parking for two cars in the driveway. One spot is taken with a Mercedes.

I take the other, backing in because I don't leave things like ease of exit to chance.

A quick assessment of the property doesn't reveal any security personnel. So, not that rich. Or maybe just too arrogant to think he needs on-site security for his home.

Yeah, I'm going with that one. Kenneth Shaughnessy is an arrogant son of a bitch with a fully developed sense of entitlement.

Climbing the stone steps to the porch, I ring the doorbell. And wait. I'm about to ring it again when it swings open, revealing a breathless woman dressed in a conservative maid's uniform that hides most of her skin, but not her curves.

"Can I…" She pauses, sucks in a steadying breath and pretty bow lips twist in a grimace before she continues. "May I help you?"

Someone is a stickler for proper grammar and I doubt it's the pretty little thing in front of me.

My ma used to correct me about asking may I instead of can I. When I asked her why it mattered if she knew what I meant, she said it was the way rich people did it and if I ever wanted to be one of them, I had to learn how to talk like they did.

I didn't want to be rich if it meant being mean like her employers and said so.

She shook her head at me and said, "The people with the money have the power. If you want to be free, you have to be rich."

She was wrong about the freedom thing. I got that when I left my stepfather's house and entered the Army. She was also wrong about the rich people thing. Her husband was a very rich man when he died and he'd never once spoken like a rich person. Lleshi was one-hundred percent Albanian gangster with a dose of post-prison swagger and cruelty.

I was wrong about the rich people thing too though. My boss is a fucking billionaire and he can be a mean son of a bitch, but he doesn't play petty power games to prove his superiority.

That grimace shows this woman is used to being corrected by someone who does.

Her golden brown hair is pulled back in some kind of braid that starts flat at the top of her head, which I can see because she's so damn short. I'm above average height at 6'3", but she's at least ten inches – if not a foot – shorter than me.

Blue eyes with a thin circle of brown around the pupils show polite inquiry until she takes me in and then they flare with something else. Sexual appreciation.

I've only known one other person with heterochromatic blue eyes and the only thing they ever reflected was the stone-cold apathy of a killer.

Hers are way more expressive as sexual appreciation turns to confusion and then to fear.

The confusion makes sense. She doesn't know who I am, or why I'm here. I'm used to the flash of fear, but I liked the sexual appreciation more.

And damned if it isn't mutual.

I may not be able to see any cleavage, but her tits are big enough, even her boxy shirt can't disguise them. Her waist dips in before flaring out to ample hips my fingers want to dig into while I'm deep inside her pussy.

Fuck! What the hell am I thinking?

She's got kids. That means she's married. Only she's not wearing a ring. She's not wearing any other jewelry either, which could mean her employer requires her to leave her ring off while working.

Rich people can have some weird-assed ideas. I should know. I am one. Now.

"Are you Mrs. Gallagher?" I ask.

The fear intensifies before she can mask it. "Yes."

"I am Kieran Lleshi. I work for Mick Fitzgerald. You need to come with me." It's more words than I usually say, but she's not a soldier, so she needs an explanation.

That fear? Blossoms into outright terror, her pupils dilating, nearly swallowing up the thin brown circle in the center of the blue. "What? Why?"

I'm used to people being nervous around me. I'm a big man, shoulders broad enough that sometimes I have to shift sideways to get through a narrow door. And I don't smile because I prefer intimidation over charm to gain cooperation.