My Irish Mafia King

Chapter 10

Ten

KILLIAN

“ T he groundskeeper has done an excellent job maintaining the property,” Mom says on video chat, sitting in the backyard with a view of the Irish mountains behind her, the stars still visible as the sun rises. “The flight went great. Ellie slept like a rock. I got a few winks, too.”

“That’s good, Mom,” I say. “One less thing to worry about. And you’ve checked in with the security. They’ve given you the trackers. They’re patrolling the grounds.”

“Yes, dear,” Mom says. “Everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry about us.”

“Make sure you don’t go on any unannounced trips.”

I don’t think Uncle Frank would send goons after his sister-in-law and niece in another country, but after finding that bloody ring and learning about the trafficking, I can’t take any chances. My head spins with the events of the past day.

It might be nuts, but the event that has the most impact is the kiss. Holding Lucy, feeling her body, tasting her lips, wrapping my arms around her… it was better than I ever dreamed.

But I didn’t miss the fact she removed her necklace. Or the fact she called me a violent psycho.

The kiss didn’t lie. I felt how badly she wanted me just as badly as I need her.

“Killian?”

“Sorry, Mom?”

“Is there something you want to talk to me about?”

“It’s…” Nothing, I was going to say, but that’d be a damn lie. “It’s Lucy. She knows who I am. We kissed.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news! Finally.”

Despite everything, Mom’s upbeat take on it gets a smile out of me. “Maybe it would be. In different circumstances, I’d be able to celebrate it. I’d be able to savor us taking this step. God knows there’s been enough… tension. But I can’t let it go any further. It’s not as if I can ask her on a date. I’m in the mob world now, the thing I’ve always wanted to avoid. If I follow my heart, I’ll put her in danger.”

“Is it just your choice to make?” she asks. “I’m sure Lucy would like a say in the matter.”

“She had her say,” I grunt. “She basically told me she wants nothing to do with me.”

“Did she say that with her lips or her eyes?”

“Come again?”

“She might’ve said one thing… but meant another. As confusing as the male species finds it, that’s not uncommon for us. Your father became quite skilled at learning how to decipher me.”

I chuckle. “Dad was a man of many talents.”

“So…”

I think back to the kitchen after the kiss. Her cheeks were red, her eyes wide and gorgeous, her hands folded across her front. “She looked at me like she wanted me to stay. She looked at me like she’d been waiting a long time for us to stop tiptoeing around each other.”

“Then you owe it to her, and yourself, to try again.”

“No,” I growl. “The right thing to do would be to take her rejection at face value. I can’t risk caring about anybody, especially not now. I can’t risk the wrong people finding out I care, either. The Family is on a knife edge. I need to focus.”

“Perhaps she will help you. She’ll give you the motivation?—”

“You just want me to find someone, Mom. To settle down.”

“Is it so wrong I want my son to be happy?” she demands.

“No,” I concede. “But maybe you need to accept what you and Dad had is rare.”

“Are you saying you will not try to find somebody?” She demands. “You’re going to spend your entire life alone. Grow old alone, die alone… Is that what you’re saying?”

“Mom, jeez, relax?—”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she snaps. “It’s a mother’s right to know what fate her son has in store for himself. I deserve to be warned if that’s your intent. Don’t you think that’s a waste?”

“A waste of what?” I ask, shocked by her sudden emotion.

“Of you ,” she states. “You’ve got so much to offer a woman, a wife… maybe even the future mother of your children.” Is this about her wanting grandkids, then? “I know you’re not happy with the life you were born into, but you’ve become a man anyone could be proud of.”

“You’re moving too fast,” I say, my tone gentle. “Even if the circumstances were on our side, I wouldn’t be thinking about any of that yet.”

“Every morning in the cafe,” Mom replies. “Every. Single. Morning. And you’re going to sit there and tell me you haven’t thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship with her… and where that relationship might lead?”

I hold my hands up. “Okay, guilty as charged. But it changes nothing. I can think and fantasize all I want. But it’s never?—”

“Don’t think about the future,” Mom cuts in. “You like her. She likes you. Do you want to know the secret, how me and your father were so happy for so long?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“We took it, not one day at a time, but one hour at a time. We never took tomorrow for granted. Each moment was precious. Considering his line of work, we never knew how many we would have left.”

“It’s a little different, Mom. You were born into this life. So was Dad. Lucy is a civilian.”

“Those concerns are for tomorrow, not for the now .”

“So, you want me to become a monk?”

That gets a smile out of her. “I want you to be happy.”

“I’ll think about what you said,” I reply. “In the meantime, I need to call Colm. It’s about work. Love you, Mom. Send my love to Ellie, too.”

“I love you, son. And sorry if I came on strong.”

“I know you want the best for me… and I know you want grandkids, too.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you seriously think my concern could be that selfish?”

I wink, then end the call. Picking up my cell, I call Colm. “Did you have any luck?”

“I’ve been asking around,” Colm replies. “Maybe people are reluctant to talk to me because they know we’re friends. Nobody will say a word about the trafficking.”

“Hmm. Uncle Frank didn’t deny it, and Owen has heard whispers. Get me a list of Callahan properties. I’ll go door to door if I have to. If he’s keeping more innocent people in this city, I want to know about it.”

“Sure thing… boss.”

I laugh darkly. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yet,” Cold says.

“Ever.”

“Newsflash, Killian. If things are going the way they seem to be, you’re the only one who can save this Family, who can save this city.”

No pressure, then. “Just get me the list.”

The day proves fruitless. The warehouses contain cut-price electronics, fake designer clothes, and a bunch of other illegal—but not evil —crap. After calling Mom and Ellie, I swing by The Celtic Crust, telling myself it’s to make sure that Lucy is safe. The thing is, I know she’s safe; I’ve been texting Ronan all day.

I want to see her again, but I know it’d be better to stick to the plan. The taste of her lips is unforgettable. I can’t stop thinking about her curvy body as I clutched onto the perfect thickness of her lips. Her sweet, ample ass in my hands as I carried her.

Dammit. I’m getting hard just thinking about her, and there’s something else… a twitch in my heart, the tightness in my chest. Mom was right. The morning visits to the bakery have filled my mind with too many impossible dreams.

I sit outside for about an hour until the front door opens, and Lucy emerges. She’s wearing hip-hugging jeans and a flowy shirt that takes my breath away. I stand to greet her.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she murmurs, offering me a small paper bag. “It’s just a little something.”

“Anything you’ve baked has not disappointed me,” I tell her.

“Is that woman okay?”

I nod. “I made sure of it myself. She’s with her family, and the local cops are watching her, with backup from a security team I hired at my expense. It was the Russians who grabbed her initially. She responded to an ad for ‘modeling’… but they’ll never get their hands on her again.”

“Good,” Lucy says, then she smiles shakily. “Earlier got a bit… much, didn’t it?”

I take the pastry from the bag, a smile spreading across my face. This is exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. These feelings are precisely the sort I should let shrivel and die before they consume me. She’s baked a raisin pastry in the shape of a four-leaf clover.

“For luck,” she murmurs.

I take a bite, making a loud hmm noise which earns me the most gorgeous, magnetic laugh.

“Why would I need luck when I’ve got my charm right here?”

Her cheeks redden. She wraps strands of her red hair around her finger, then drops her hand when she realizes what she’s doing. “Is your plan to sit out here all night?”

“I wanted to see you,” I admit. “But…”

“Do you have any idea how annoying it is when people start sentences and then leave them all mysteriously unfinished? Do you have any clue how overactive it makes my imagination? You could say literally anything. Put me out of my suspense. Please .”

“I meant what I said,” I tell her. “It would be better if we didn’t do this. I never wanted you to see this side of me.”

“At least I know the truth now,” she murmurs, reaching for her neck… for the small ring I first slipped on her finger years ago.

“You’re wearing the necklace again,” I say, moving closer.

“I feel strange without it. I didn’t start wearing it until after Mom passed. The world seemed less bleak because of it. It made things seem more manageable. It reminded me that even if I was lost and a storm was raging, there was a way out.”

“I can’t be the person I was back then,” I tell her. “That was never who I really was. That was a good deed to make me feel better about being a mob guy.”

“It’s one of my most special memories. Don’t downplay it. Anyway, enjoy your clover…” She turns, then pauses. “Unless you want to come inside?”

I swallow. “If I do, Lucy, we can’t expect anything. No matter what happens?—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she whispers. “I just don’t see the point of you hiding away out here.”

“Are you sure nothing’s going to happen?” I growl. “Because I’m not. I spent so many months lying to myself, telling myself you were just the friendly bakery owner, nothing more. But now, Lucy, I’ve tasted you, touched you…”

“I’ll make sure you try nothing. Sound like a plan?”

I know it’s wrong. I know this can’t have a happy ending. But I step forward and loop my arms around her, anyway.

She shivers against me. My manhood surges as I feel the luscious plumpness of her ass. “What are you doing?” she moans.

“I was going to offer you a bite,” I say, bringing the pastry to her lips.

She laughs, then takes a big bite. “See—I’m gross. Talking with my mouth full. You can’t be interested.”

That’s where she’s wrong. Her playfulness, her naturalness makes her so different from the stuffy society women who are always trying to impress me.

“Tomorrow isn’t promised, Lucy. Just tonight.”

“Believe me, after Mom, I know nothing is guaranteed. And you’re the one making this…”

I playfully nudge her. “Do you have an idea how annoying it is when people leave sentences unfinished?”

“Steamy,” she murmurs, then quickly walks ahead of me like she’s embarrassed by what she’s just said.

I follow her, certain of two conflicting ideas at the same time. This is the best and worst decision I have ever made.