23. Kieran
Chapter 23
Kieran
I mpossible. Of all the scenarios I pictured happening out here when I heard the screams and banging, seeing Summer practically strangled by Marco was not one of them.
I stare at Summer, hands fisted at my side. Marco has damned near lost his mind. Isabella Buscetta has been missing for seven years. I’d remember. I was there when Luna, her older sister, traded herself to EV—I was part of the team to rescue her, per Luka’s request.
Summer’s trembling. Her hair has practically fallen out of her clip and Marco’s hand rests where her neck meets her shoulder. I snarl under my breath, wanting to cut off each of his fingers touching her and shove them one by one up his arse.
I’d never met Isabella, but I know Luna, and—I study Summer. Shite. The tan olive skin, deep brown eyes, rich hair, her pert nose. Damnit. They’ve got to be related … and if they’re related …
She doesn’t move. Eyes wide as she stares at me, and I wait for the denial. For the you’ve got the wrong person! to tumble out of her mouth. I wait for some explanation, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she stands there, face drained of any color and frozen.
The windows behind where Marco and his men stand blur.
She’s Isabella.
She’s a Buscetta.
She’s Cosa Nostra.
Indignation roars in my blood. While I don’t flinch or move, I clench my jaw. I let this woman into my life, into my world, and near my daughter.
Damnit!
I let her near my daughter.
Stiff and blindsided, I can’t seem to catch my breath. Cormac rubs his face with both hands as if he’s now just realizing what Marco said may, in fact, be true.
Why does it feel like the room is closing in on me?
“Oh, Kieran. Were you blinded by a pretty face? I knew she looked familiar that first night I walked into your pub, and she was sitting at the bar. Hadn’t talked to my brother Matteo in years, but I gave him a call and asked him to send me a photo of the missing Isabella Buscetta.
“Sure, her hair is a bit shorter, but I knew.” He licks his lips. “You’ve grown into quite the sexy?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence!” I bark, then I turn my attention to Summer. “Is it true?”
Her face melts, chin falling to her chest. “Kieran, please?—”
“Is. It. True?”
She pinches her lips together, her expression straining with a tiny whimper before several tears fall. Then she nods her head.
I huff, snapping my gaze away from this woman I don’t know. I can’t stand to look at her. I definitely shouldn’t be worried about her. She’s Cosa Nostra after all. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed, she’s a Buscetta, and I can’t interfere. Can I? I was so quick to help her on my yacht. I wanted her to need me, and now …
“What are ye going to do with her?”
“Take her back to Salvatore. He’s had plans for her before. Though she’s a bit older, I’m sure they still stand today.”
I bristle. “Ye’re not necessarily a fan of the Bratva and Cosa Nostra alliance, why the sudden change of heart?”
He snorts. “Let’s just say our faction here in Boston doesn’t stand a chance against Riku and the plans he has for the city. And the Irish aren’t exactly poised to keep control. If there’s anyone I hate more than the Bratva it’s Riku.”
Chancing a glance, I peer at Lizzy, who winces.
Summer clears her raspy throat. “I’m not going anywhere with you … you piece of shit.”
The room is suffocating, and I can’t seem to grasp at a lifeline. What if this was Aoife? If she wanted away from this life, I’d absolutely give it to her. If Salvatore wants his daughter, he’s going to have to come here himself. Not benefit from a bunch of ex-Cosa Nostra looking to make good with the current boss.
“She’s under the protection of the Irish for now. Ye want Salvatore to have his daughter he can come get her himself.”
“No!” Summer yells. “Kieran, please.”
Marco glares at me. But I continue, “Ye’re in me city. Ye’ll do what I say.”
He nods toward the man holding Summer’s hands behind her back while taking out his phone. “I’ll have him here before nightfall. Let’s go.” He gestures to the door, and both of his men follow him.
When the door shuts, silence drowns the room. In between the tiny shallow breaths Summer huffs and the tick of a Celtic knot clock that hangs on the wall behind the bar, Lizzy speaks up.
“What the hell was that all about?” she says.
“I—”
“Stay out of it, Lizzy,” I bark, cutting off anything Summer can say. I stride over to her, grabbing her elbow and dragging her back toward my office.
“Kieran …”
“Shut up. Ye lied to me,” I say, passing Cormac and Callum. They both look at each other, tucking their weapons back in their waistbands.
She growls and tries to pull away, so I move my hands to her wrist, and she hisses with the friction.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she says. “You lied to me, too. Are you serious right now?”
I type in the key code to my office and throw open the door. Roughly, I force her into one of the chairs, avoiding her eyes as she continues to prattle on about how I’m just as much a liar as her.
I stomp around to the other side of my desk, standing there and glaring down at her. Her big beady eyes are glassy from her tears, and while her hands gesture passionately with her words, they still shake.
As calmly as I can, I say, “I never lied to ye. Ye know me name, me daughter’s name. I own this pub. I own nine other restaurants. I happened to omit I’m the leader of the Irish Mob.”
She gulps. “The leader? Jeez. I can’t seem to escape this world.”
“Aye. The leader. But you … Isabella Buscetta …” I drag out the name that tastes bitter on my tongue. I don’t see her as Isabella. She’s Summer to me. Vibrant and lively, and utterly intense.
“My name is Summer. Stop calling me Isabella.” Her fists tighten their grip on the chair.
“That’s yer name isn’t it?”
“That’s who I was. My name is Summer. I’ve chosen to go by that now. I legally changed it. Salvatore doesn’t own me.”
I shake my head. “Ye’re Cosa Nostra; his daughter. I think ye’re delusional if ye think he won’t stop at nothing to get you back.”
“Then help me. You told me you would, on the boat. Help me, Kieran.” Her eyes plead with mine, and the weight established on my chest grows heavier. I told her I’d help her. But Salvatore.
A snicker sneaks past my lips, and she glares at me, crossing her arms in a way that reminds me of Aoife when she’s unhappy with me. “Help ye? Ye’re Salvatore’s bleeding daughter!” I roar. In a single motion, the contents on my desk are swept to the ground. The purchase orders I was working on this morning, the photo of Aoife with her cannoli I recently placed in the old frame, and my half empty whiskey glass—all of it crashes to the floor.
Summer flinches.
“I was there! I was called in when EV took yer sister, after she gave up herself for ya!”
Tears stream down Summer’s face, and she bats them away.
“I was in the bloody room with him, Summer. I watched Salvatore choose the Cosa Nostra over his own daughter. Left her to rot on that container ship. To be raped, tortured, used to get to the Bratva and the Cosa Nostra. Nik lost his mind. I’d never seen him like that before. I was there! And it’s not a boat. It’s a bloodydamn yacht!”
A blur of red streaks by my head and I duck, turning to see a package of Skittles smack into the wall behind me.
“I get it Kieran. You were there, and I wasn’t.” Summer’s standing now, her fists balled at her sides underneath her sweater. “Do you know what I feel? How much guilt crushes me every day for what I did? I did that to her, and I can never take it back. The partying, the drugs. I buried myself in it, doing whatever I could to drown out the life I lived.
“My father and mother were more lenient with me, and I took full advantage. I was awful to my sister, and yet she still came for me. Why do you think I ran?
“And after my sister’s forced marriage into the Bratva, do you really blame me for running when I had the chance? I knew what was around the corner for me. I heard the whispers at my family estate—it was me next. I hate myself for what I did to Luna. I hate myself more than you could ever imagine.”
She swipes her inner elbow across her face, and I stare at her. My breaths coming in rapid and uncontrolled. I want to tear down this room. I despised Salvatore for his decision back then, and now, as a father, I could never imagine choosing anything, or anyone, over my daughter.
“I let ye into Aoife’s life.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I’m sorry, Kieran. How was I supposed to know who you were? And I’m not the girl from seven years ago. I’m a different person.”
“Not anymore, ye’re not,” I say, looking over at the plant now dead and wilted to the floor.
Summer gasps. “What? You can’t just hand me over to him. What about doing the right thing by Aoife? Would you send her back to a father like mine?”
I stare at the chip in the drywall where my glass poked a hole.
“Kieran? Answer me!” She pushes at the heavy solid wooden desk, but it doesn’t budge. “You can’t send me back. You can’t.”
Studying her, I recognize how familiar she is, and why I thought I’d seen her before when we first met. Luna’s sister. I’m a damn fool. The truth is, while I don’t know Summer as Isabella, she doesn’t know me in this light— as the Mob’s leader. But she’s about to learn just how ruthless I can be.
I walk around the desk and lift my chin to address her. “I’ll have Lizzy bring ye some food.”
Her mouth drops open, and she contorts her face in confusion as I stride to the door.
“Kieran, wait. Please!” She trips over the leather chair in her way, and before she can make it to the door, I slam it in her face.
“Kieran!” she yells, beating on the office door. She tries the handle, forcefully jiggling it before she pounds on the door again. “Kieran! You can’t leave me in here. Kieran!”
I count the number of times she screams my name as if they were a sequence of punches—though it’s not exactly how I pictured her screaming it these past couple of weeks.
“Aye,” I whisper into the door. “I can.”