Page 53 of Honorable Sins

"We aren't just allies, we're family, Zoey." His voice is calm, absolute. "That means something to both Miceli and me. As long as he and I are still living, the Genovese and the Shaughnessy clan will never go to war."

Something inside my chest loosens. Not because of what he says. Because of what he doesn't. He's already spoken to Miceli.

Of course he has.

And they made vows between two powerful men leading their own syndicates that they are more than allies. They are family.

He'd made certain the ground beneath Fiona's feet was solid before she'd ever stood on it. It's what he does. He quietly removes dangers before the rest of us even know they exist.

Fi wipes the moisture away from under her eyes and slides and arm around Zoey, holding her beloved close. "I told you he'd say that."

"You did." Zoey slips her own arm around Fiona's waist.

I grin. "So..." I deliberately look at Fiona's left hand and then Zoey's. "No rings?"

They both laugh. "We wanted to pick them out together," Fiona says.

"I'm happy for you," I tell them both. "So happy."

"We are too," Zoey says, emotion making her voice crack for the first time that I've ever heard.

"We should go tell da and Hope," Fiona says.

"And your gran," Zoey adds. "I know all about the box she'll give you before our wedding and I promise you'll never need it."

My heart constricts with joy.

But it's nothing compared to the bliss suffusing my sister's face. "I have no doubts."

Totally wrapped up on each other, they head toward the door.

Mick opens it for them. "Congratulations," he says again.

"Thanks, Mick."

The apartment falls quiet after the door closes.

I slowly turn toward my husband. "I cannot believe you didn't tell me about this."

"I thought Fiona should know she was getting proposed to before you."

"Maybe," I have to admit. "I still expect you to make it up to me."

"Do ye now?" His Irish brogue is thick again.

And I soak my panties, knowing what that means for me.

Chapter fourteen

Conversations Between Killers

MICK

My phone rings while I'm reviewing projected production numbers for the expanded Vanta line.

It's Wraith.

"Talk." I'm not big on greetings and my men know it.