25
1012 Words
Hello, understatement of the century. The only thing my father hates more than overcooked pasta is the Irish mob. They’ve been at war as long as I can remember, and from way before I was even born.
“But you’re not going to use me to your advantage? Get money, concessions, terms?”
“You say that like it’s an impossibility.”
I scoff. “If my father had your daughter, you better believe he’d get something out of it. Something big.”
The minute it leaves my mouth, I regret it. It sounded like a dare. But Killian simply gazes at me with that strange, dark intensity, his gaze never leaving mine.
He murmurs, “I am getting something out of it, lass.”
My mouth goes dry. Oh, s**t. Here it comes. Soon I’ll be missing my big toe. I whisper, “What?”
“This.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and now I’m confused. “This… what?”
His big arms give me a gentle squeeze. “This moment. This memory. This time I’ve had with you.”
I stare at him in disbelief with my mouth hanging open.
He’s serious. He’s actually serious.
I blurt, “What kind of gangster are you?”
He turns his head, breaking our gazes and leaving me feeling like I’ve been sprung from jail.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he says with a sigh. “Can’t have word getting around that I’m a romantic. As soon as the sharks get a whiff of blood in the water, it all goes to hell.”
The elevator doors slide open to reveal the building’s parking garage. Six men in dark suits await in front of an idling SUV. Killian strides out of the elevator toward the car. One of his suited goons opens the back door for us.
But Killian doesn’t get in with me.
He sets me gently on my feet next to the open door, straightens, then looks at me.
His tone and expression somber, he says, “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Moretti.”
I stare at him, feeling like I’m in an alternate universe and everything is backward. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”
“What’s happening is that Declan is going to take you home.”
I look around in confusion. “But…”
“Here’s my number. If you need anything, call me. No matter the time.”
He holds out a small white card. I take it, blinking like an owl. The only thing on the card is a telephone number. No name, no address, no explanation as to why I’m feeling so deflated.
Seeing my expression, Killian’s gaze turns smoldering. He moves closer and leans down to murmur into my ear.
“Whenever you’re ready for that kiss, little thief, I’ll be waiting.”
He turns and strides away without a backward glance. The elevator doors slide shut behind him, and he’s gone.
1 1
J U L E S
W
hen Declan drops me off in front of my apartment, I wait for the SUV to drive out of sight before heading back down the street to
flag a taxi. The sun is rising by the time I make it to the hotel. I check in, head to the room, and leave a voicemail for Fin and Max on a number designated for emergencies only.
Then, dead tired, I drop facedown onto the king-sized bed and go to sleep. I don’t dream. I don’t move. I fall off a cliff into grateful oblivion.
When I wake, the sun is setting in a spectacular golden light show over the Charles River. I take a shower, order a steak and a bottle of red wine from room service, and get dressed again in the same clothes I’ve been wearing from before I broke into the Irish mob king’s diaper warehouse and my whole world was turned upside down.
When the hotel phone on the desk rings, I answer with the name I checked in under. “Katniss Everdeen speaking.”
“It’s me.”
Sighing in relief, I sink into the desk chair and take a big swig of the wine. “Max. Thank god. Are you guys okay?”
“We’re fine. How was the date?”
“Ha ha.”
“I’m only asking because you sounded so hot and bothered in your message. We figured you and the crazy beautiful evil gangster got down to more than canoodling.”
“Why don’t you sound the least bit concerned that I could be dead right now?”
“You picked up the phone, dummy. Clearly, you’re not dead.”
“You know what I’m saying. He could’ve killed me!”
“Listen. When a man looks at a woman the way Liam Black looked at you, the only thing she’s in danger of is a punctured lung from his raging boner.”
Dear god. The inhumanity. I say drily, “Thanks for your prayers, Mother Teresa.” “Tell the truth. He likes you.” I chug the wine angrily.
Meanwhile, Max is laughing. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he wants to play footsie with you under the table with his giant feet. Which reminds me, did you get a look at the size of those puppies? I noticed them in the bar. The things are enormous. If all his body parts are that large, he probably could kill you with his boner.”
“This isn’t funny, Max. He could have done very bad things to me.”
“But he didn’t. You’re safe. Not only did he keep his word he wouldn’t harm you, he let you go…again.” She pauses.
“What do you think that means?”
“That he likes playing games.”
“Maybe. Or maybe that he’s got a soul under all that smoking hot badassery.”
I snort. “A soul? Let’s not get carried away. He is who he is, after all.”
- Writer
