Page 12 of Honorable Sins

"He can never disappoint me." I smile at my husband, letting him see the depth of love I feel for him in my eyes. "Neither can you."

Because I know Mick will be talking with Kenneth Sr. I only hope my father doesn't lose one of his lieutenants from the confrontation. Mick is not a patient man…no, that's wrong. He can be infinitely patient. He's not tolerant.

He has no qualms about killing a soldier for a disloyalty and is apt to do it more quickly than another man might, which makes him seem impatient. But really? He's just decisive.

In a very deadly way.

The call from the school comes while Mick is at the Bunker, our secret underground stronghold, where the men train, our weapons development happens and other mob business that needs absolute discretion.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald, this is Alice Bryant from St. Patrick's Prepatory Academy."

"What can I do for you Miz Bryant?"

"There has been…" Her voice trails off. There's the sound of her sighing. "An altercation." She pauses again. "A serious altercation. Two of the boys involved have been taken to urgent care for treatment."

My heart skips a beat. "Fitz?"

"Is waiting for your arrival in the principal's office."

I let out the breath I've been holding. "I'll be right there."

Jumping up from my desk, I put my computer into secure standby and rush toward the door.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald…" Again the woman's voice trails off and then she clears her throat. "The authorities have been called."

Not bothering to answer, I end the call and fling open the door. "Get the car and a full security detail."

I call the lawyer and then Fiona, to cancel our lunch plans and ask her to let Hope know what's going on.

Hope watches the twins a couple of days a week for me while I work on things that require my full concentration. That's going to change when she moves to New Mexico though.

It might be time to hire a nanny.

Not to raise my children, but to be on hand for times like this. I can depend on the security detail in a pinch, but their job is to watch out for my children, not watch over them.

"Fitz got into a fight?" Fiona asks, stress pitching in her voice.

"Yes."

"And they called the cops?" Anxiety wars with disbelief in my sister's voice.

"They did." I'm worried about more than the cops getting called though.

My son knows how to control both his temper and the power of his strikes. If he hurt two boys enough to send them to urgent care, there's more going on here than his distant cousin baiting our son about his parents' contract marriage.

"Have you called Mick?" Fiona asks.

"Not yet. I'll text him from the car." And maybe, just maybe, I'll manage to reach the school at the same time, or before he does.

Putting off texting Mick until the convoy leaves the estate doesn't work. My husband's car and driver are stationed outside the school when we arrive.

Darn it.

I unclip my seatbelt and wait on the edge of my seat as I wait for my bodyguard to give the all clear. If I leapt from the SUV like I want to, my bodyguard would pay in bruises from my husband's fists for my impatience.

Obsessive, possessive love comes with a heavy side of over-the-top protectiveness from my sociopath.

But once I get it, I'm out of the SUV like a shot and rushing inside the school.