Chapter 5
Five
LUCY
I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was awake, Clover clutched in my arms, sitting close to the dividing wall and listening for any sign of violence next door. If Shane hurts that poor woman, I’ll have to do something. Maybe even risk my life. Way past opening, I stay in my bedroom until I hear movement.
When I walk into the living room, Shane and the woman are sitting on the couch, the woman with a withdrawn look, her arms wrapped around herself. Shane has his gun resting on his knee, giving me a challenging look.
“Miss, are you okay?” I ask, somehow overcoming the fear that tries to close my throat.
“She’s fine,” Shane grunts.
“I didn’t ask you.”
“Somebody’s feeling brave,” he murmurs, passing his gun from one hand to the other.
“I’m… okay,” the woman says, her accent difficult to place.
“What the heck is this?” I snap at Shane. “Who is she? And why do you have to stay here?”
“None of this is your business,” Shane hisses.
“Have you hurt her?”
“Not yet, but if you don’t shut your clam, I might.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing… go on with your life as usual. When it’s time for us to leave, we’ll leave. You’ll forget we were ever here.”
But I know that’s going to be impossible. I’m not going to forget the look on this woman’s face, the way she hugs her arms around herself like all she wants is to disappear. I won’t be able to live with myself for not doing anything.
All he has to do is pull the trigger and I’m done…
“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” I ask the woman.
She glances at Shane. Shane shrugs, then nods.
“Yes, please,” she murmurs.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
Shane tsks. “Don’t push it. And I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
I carry Clover into the kitchen, then set her down and make some eggs. A surreal feeling grips me, like I’m watching events unfold instead of participating in them. Everything feels disconnected. I should look forward to my day, and not try to figure out how to handle this mob guy and his prisoner.
Serving the eggs, I sit down. “I don’t know if I can work today,” I say.
Shane glares at me. “You’ll work. You still need to make payments. And I don’t want anybody getting suspicious. Just calm down. Is she bruised? Is she bleeding?”
“She looks terrified of you,” I say.
“But she knows better than to push me,” Shane snaps. “If you can remember that too, nothing bad needs to happen here. Just open up as usual, get on with your work. It’s easy. Don’t be so dramatic. Or…” He casually raises his gun. “We can go the other route. Oh, one more thing. The dog stays up here.”
“If you hurt Clover…”
“Don’t threaten me,” he growls.
I trail off, fear seizing me, hating the power this asshole has over me. But just like every time he shows up for collection, what choice do I have? I don’t take a shower this morning, which is gross, but I hate the idea of being naked in the same house as him.
“I’m already opening late,” I murmur, before walking into the bedroom. “If I say I’m sick now, nobody will question it.”
“Will you earn more opening at midday or staying closed?” he snaps. “Don’t forget, this is my business, too.”
No, it’s not, I say silently in my head.
But again – no choice. I get changed and head downstairs, opening up just in time for Toby to show up for his shift. To avoid thinking about Shane and the woman upstairs, I keep busy, but anxiety is overwhelming me. I feel like screaming every time I’m forced to speak or interact with anybody.
It’s late afternoon when I see Killian approaching the bakery. My heart leaps as I gesture to Toby. “I’ll take this one. Could you check on the pastries, please?”
“Sure thing.”
Killian approaches the counter, the only person in the line, though there are three people at the window bar. “I couldn’t keep away,” he says with a smirk… Am I imagining it, or does it seem forced? It’s difficult to be sure with so much anxiety coursing through me.
“The… usual?” I say.
He tilts his head, looking closely. “Yeah, please. Are you okay, Lucy?”
“I’m fine,” I blurt.
“Get yourself something too,” he says as I turn away. “If you’ve got the time, we’ll drink them together.”
Now he makes this request. Now when I’m about a million miles away from being able to enjoy it, from being able to savor the excitement that would’ve captivated me if there wasn’t a mob goon with a freaking hostage upstairs.
Toby raises his eyebrows at me. Since Toby usually starts after lunchtime, he’s missed the whole Killian saga, but he can tell something’s happening here. My hands tremble as I prepare the coffees, my legs shaking as I carry them over to the table in the corner. Killian watches me with his blue eyes, more intently than yesterday.
When we sit, our legs brush. Despite the circumstances, a tingle dances up my leg, shivering over my body. I clasp both hands around my coffee mug.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. He leans forward when I don’t answer. “If this is about yesterday…”
“It’s not,” I tell him. “Well—not in the way you might think.”
“What way is that?”
“About the, you know, the dress and stuff.”
The ‘and stuff’ in that statement holds a lot. It contains all the closeness, our hands touching, how he leaned in and his breath shimmered over me before he pulled away and ended what might have been.
“Temptation overcame me,” he says, his voice fierce and husky even as he lowers it. “I think you know…”
“Go on,” I murmur.
“I shouldn’t.”
“But you’ve already started now.”
He takes a breath, then speaks in Gaelic.
“I caught the word ‘desire’, I think,” I murmur. “Or the equivalent, anyway.”
He smirks. “It’s not fair of me to speak when you don’t understand, but even if I use English, I’m afraid you won’t understand.”
“Are you saying I’m stupid?” I challenge.
“No, hell no,” he says. “I’m saying things are complicated. Yesterday, that dress highlighted how beautiful you looked. But you look gorgeous every single day, Lucy. Every time I walk in here, it’s a battle not to…”
“Go on,” I say again, my voice breathier this time.
“I shouldn’t,” he growls.
“Why? Have you got a girlfriend? Yesterday, you asked if I have a boyfriend. I don’t. But you never told me if you’re spoken for.”
“I don’t. I’m not.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Perfect as usual.”
I smile shakily.
“If I upset you yesterday, just know, if I had a choice, I would’ve done things differently,” he says earnestly.
“You’re not making any sense. You’re not spoken for… but you don’t have a choice? Is it because we knew each other before?”
“Come again?”
“Lost as a child in Ireland, you carried me to that cave, made me laugh, and helped me forget my asshole dad was chasing my mom across the country. When you made living seem worthwhile and gave me the ring and, the rain stopped, called me your lucky charm. Maybe you think it’s weird.”
“No, it’s not that,” he says. “I’m just not in a position to start a relationship. And I don’t think I could keep things casual with you.” He chuckles.
“What’s funny?”
“I need to relax. I didn’t come in here thinking I’d say any of this. I just needed to see you.”
“You’re not making any sense. You need to see me—you think I’m beautiful… but we can’t even go on a date. I can’t even believe we’re talking like this. I didn’t think you even liked me?—”
When Clover barks from upstairs, a bolt of pure terror strikes through me. I look at the ceiling, imagining all kinds of horrors. Quickly, I take out my phone and check the dog camera. The woman, the prisoner, is sitting cross-legged on the floor with one of Clover’s toys, a somehow hopeless smile on her face, like she can’t dare to let herself feel happiness even for a moment.
On the couch, Shane sits with the pistol casually aimed at them.
“Something’s wrong,” Killian says when I slip my phone in my pocket.
“I’m fine,” I say, standing.
He bolts to his feet, gripping my wrist before I can turn away. “What’s going on?” he demands. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. Or that it’s nothing. Is your dog sick?”
“What’s gotten into you?” He seems like he’s on the verge of an explosion.
“I learned some bad news recently. Maybe helping you would help me. Talk to me, Lucy.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, annoyed with myself when his image distorts, my eyes shimmering with tears.
“Woah… Lucy…”
He takes my other wrist and pulls me toward him. There are other people in The Celtic Crust—it’s not a huge bakery—but it’s like they all cease to exist.
“If I tell you,” I whisper, “I’ll be putting you in danger. You’re a good person, but you can’t do anything against…”
“Tell. Me.” He takes my hands, squeezing them encouragingly.
“The mob,” I whisper.
His expression drops, the light draining from his eyes. He lets my hands go and stares at me like he’s pissed I said anything, like he wishes he could turn back time a few seconds and make it so I never spoke.
“The mob?” he growls. “What are you talking about?”
I shake my head. “Killian, maybe you should stop coming by here.”
“What?”
“You want to help, but you can’t. You’re just going to get yourself involved in my mess. In my mom’s mess. I’m sorry.”
I pull away from him, walking behind the counter and into the kitchen, wrapping my arms around me just like that poor woman upstairs, struggling not to cry.
Fate loves playing games with me and Killian. First, it throws us together after so many years. Then, when he’s finally ready to acknowledge the building heat—even if he says we can’t do anything about it—it comes at a time when events have turned my world upside down. Go to hell, fate.