Page 32 of Guilty as Sin

I’m ready to forcibly push past him when Brioni breaks our standoff, tiptoeing behind the bar to place her empty glass in the sink.

“I’m headed out. Thanks so much, Cora.” She surprises me with another hug, then bids each brother goodbye with a wave. There are too many patrons now for another full round of hugs, but the crowd moves apart readily to let the gorgeous blonde through.

I’m still trying to make sense of how her kindness fits into this world when Brady clears his throat. I look up into his gray-green eyes before I can stop myself.

If you enjoy it, it’s not really discipline, is it?

“You seem distracted,” he says.

“There’s a lot going on. A lot of work to be done,” I add pointedly. When Brady still doesn’t move, I sidestep him, but the space is so small that I’m forced to slide my body against his. He’s warm. I can feel the heat of him through both of our clothes, and my skin flushes hot in response.

As I squeeze past him, I try to get ahold of myself. My body is practically vibrating with desire, but this is Brady O’Fucking Sullivan we’re talking about. I can think of so many reasons against being attracted to him, and yet somehow, my mind finds a way to shoot down each one.

He’s possessive and jealous. So am I. He loves the violence of this mafia world. So do I. He’s undoubtedly killed someone. So have I.

I keep that thought at the forefront of my mind as I slip from behind the bar. I can be dangerous. I can handle myself against violent men.

Chapter 15

Brady

I watch Cora as she weaves between tables, collecting empty glasses in her bus tub. The way she keeps it propped on her hip makes me envy the black plastic.

I hate the way other men’s eyes follow her. With a woman as sexy as she is, it’s an inevitability, but it still fucking pisses me off. One man ogles her so openly I’m tempted to leap across the bar and kick his ass. Customer reviews be damned.

The man, glassy-eyed, turns to track Cora’s progress. Like an eejit, he slams into the back of another guy. It’s a bigger guy, and the drunk spills his beer down the larger man’s shirt.

The bigger guy turns. His face is contorted, but his fury is silent. A few feet away, Cora’s head snaps toward the interaction. Neither man has made a sound, yet she’s keyed into the building violence.

Now I’m leaping across the bar, an easy vault over the wood. I’ll still be too late. As I push customers aside, Cora shoves her bus tub onto a table. The couple sitting at it start to protest, but she’s already turning away.

She’s leaping for the bigger guy. He’s winding up to swing. The drunken fool watches it all without moving.

Cora catches the larger man’s arm with both hands. He pauses, surprised. I see him register the fact that there’s a beautiful woman hanging off of him, but I’m still a few yards away. I don’t think to yell out. My brain is in fight mode. Action, not words.

The large man lowers his arm, turning toward my wife. His face splits into a shit-eating grin, and that’s when I finally reach him. I pull his arm from Cora’s grip, twisting it behind his beer-soaked back. He shouts in pain, but I’m already frog-marching him toward the front door. He should be fucking glad that’s all I’m doing.

“Door,” I shout, and the nearest customer holds it open for me. I throw the big man out onto the sidewalk. From the ground, he yells about fucking suing, and I tell him good fucking luck with that. I want to spit on him for good measure. But there are too many bystanders, and my face is well-recognized here, even in the dwindling daylight.

When I turn back toward the pub, Cora’s got the drunken eejit by the collar. Liam’s behind her, trying to take the man from her, but her grip is tight as she forces him through the doorway. My feet make the decision for me, and I step out of her way. She tosses the drunk out on his ass.

The bigger guy, now on his feet, turns his anger on the drunkard. But it’s only to yell obscenities before storming off, nothing to concern us anymore.

Cora brushes off her hands like she’s done with the entire situation, myself and Liam included. She returns inside, leaving us men out in the late summer evening.

“You’ve got yourself a live one,” Liam says. My older brother sounds impressed.

Beside us, the drunk man groans and sits up, rubbing the shoulder he landed on. It’s what he deserves for ogling my wife like that. As the fucker continues moaning to himself, Finn comes outside to join me and Liam. He hates being left out.

“Is it time to go yet?” he asks, and Liam looks toward the western sky. The sun’s disappeared behind the low brick buildings of the South Side, leaving everything a little bit redder. A little bit bloodier.

“We have some prep to do first,” Liam says. “James is meeting us in the basement, then we’ll head out. Less than an hour.”

“We can’t leave before close.” I blurt it without thinking. As a rule, I don’t contradict my older brother. But I’m not about to leave Cora alone in the pub with a bunch of leering men. Liam catches me glancing through the window to see her behind the bar pulling a pint.

“I think she’s proved she can handle herself,” he says. “Call Erin if you’re that concerned about it.”

Erin, our pub’s manager, has our absolute trust. She had the day off today, but she’s probably in her apartment upstairs, and she’s dependable in a tight spot. But I still don’t like the idea of only her and Cora working the pub late at night. Even if Erin’s strapped.