11. Cian
Chapter 11
Cian
The last thing I want to do while dealing with a raging hard-on is talk to Finn. Complete boner killer. Especially when the first thing he says when I pick up is, “Status update. Did you find her?”
My teeth clench. If I tell Finn I found his ex-fiancée, the next question will be, What time is your flight tomorrow? And I don’t need to be reminded how unprofessional and fucking insane I’m acting right now. I’ll be in so much trouble if Harper ever reveals to anyone what I did to her as soon as I got her alone…
Fuck, I’m all mixed up inside. What’s right feels wrong, and what’s wrong feels…too incredible to ever deny myself again.
I swallow hard, raking my fingers through my hair as I prepare to lie to one of my best friends. “Not yet. Triangulated her whereabouts, though. Should be on schedule to make contact by the end of the week.”
“It’ll take that long?”
“What did you expect?” I wrap my hand around the back of my neck. “She’s Thomas Brennan’s daughter. Obviously she hid herself well.”
Finn grouses on the other end of the line. In the background, I can hear talking. He’s probably in the situation room at the estate. Darren and Rory might be with him. Maybe Shane and Thomas too. Fuck, I hope he doesn’t pass the phone around.
Of course Finn fucking calls me when I’m just about to live out my greatest fantasy. Harper’s juices all over my fingers, the vibrations of her climax in my literal palm… A man could get addicted to shit like this.
And that’s exactly what I feel like. A junkie.
I don’t pine over women. But I’ve pined over her. A large part of me hoped that my attraction to this twenty-four-year-old problem child was all in my head. Fantasy in the purest sense of the word, but now, I know it’s not.
The way she touches me tells the whole story.
And that’s terrible, because after I take Harper back to New York, she’ll be untouchable to me again.
No, she won’t be marrying Finn as originally planned. But her dad will arrange a marriage to someone else. And once that happens, she’ll be gone.
The fingers of my free hand ball into a fist at the thought.
I don’t want to go back to the half-life where I yearn to be a part of hers and waste too much time fantasizing about how she’d feel wrapped around my cock, but that’s my duty. This mafia gave me everything I have, saved my life, kept me off the streets and out of jail.
I can’t betray the family over a woman. And even if I could do something that stupid, why would I? For what? Even if I took Harper far away from here and ensured no one we know would ever find us again, it’s not as if she’d want to be with me .
I’m not saying I want to be with her either. She thinks she’s a damn princess. The man she marries will probably wind up painting her toenails. I’m not the type.
No, I just want to fuck her out of my system once and for all and move on.
“Any sign of the De Lucas?” When Finn asks that question, fire heats my blood. Enzo De Luca’s face materializes in my mind. I’m going to kill him extra for bluffing. What did that motherfucker say?
I haven’t even gotten the chance to sample the goods yet.
“No.” I white-knuckle the words out. “But if I find Enzo on this island, I’m killing him.”
Finn’s tone darkens. “No, Cian.”
I hate it when Finn does that.
When he uses that tone with me, I can tell he’s practicing for the day he becomes the don. He’s reminding me that even if we’re currently equal in rank, that won’t always be the case, and I’d best get a head start on following his instructions.
After all, that will be the dynamic for the rest of our lives, right?
Usually, I don’t mind. I’m a pretty easygoing guy, and Finn has my complete confidence in his ability to lead once his father steps down. But where it concerns Harper, I’m just as stubborn as he is about Riley.
“Your job is to grab Harper and get out of there,” Finn reminds me. “ We’ll handle Enzo.”
“You’ve got a lock on his location?”
“Rory tracked him as far as Albany.”
“Albany?”
I spent weeks after Harper disappeared sussing out the real estate holdings of the De Luca family. They may not have the best luck in the world—they’re definitely piss-poor when it comes to fine leadership—but they own a lot of property in New York state and elsewhere around the country.
“Yeah. Why?”
“They have three properties there, if I remember correctly.”
“I know. Rory went over your notes in their file.”
Talking about work and the ongoing fight we’re waging against our enemies has strangled all the lust out of my system. Nothing could be more un-sexy than this subject.
“One last thing.” Shuffling comes from Finn’s end of the line. It sounds like he’s changing rooms. When the noise stops, I can’t hear voices anymore, and I’m pretty sure Finn’s alone. And damn, I pray he is once I hear the next words out of his mouth. “When you find Harper, control yourself.”
A strange wave of intensity sweeps over me. The expression on my face as I peer into the mirror hanging in this miniature library reflects a mixture of discomfort and horror.
When I reply, I intend to hedge and say whatever I need to say to get off this phone ASAP.
Unfortunately, my mouth has other ideas. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t make me say it.”
“Say what ?”
If Finn were here, why do I suspect I’d be a few seconds from punching him out?
“Don’t let your jones for Harper get in the way of completing your assignment.”
His statement slams into my chest with bullet-like force. I would know, since I’ve been shot on multiple occasions. The impact almost collapses me into the nearest chair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie. “And when have I ever let some random chick get in the way of my job?”
“Never. But we both know Harper isn’t some random chick to you. She hasn’t been since that night at the club.”
Another bullet hole pierces my fucking body. “Has my loyalty to this family ever wavered over a woman?”
“No.”
“So why the fuck are you warning me?”
“Because you’re into her. You want her. Hell, you may have even fallen for her.”
This time, I do fall into the nearest chair. A carnival of chaos unfolds inside my chest.
Just why the hell did Finn have to go and say that ?
“I haven’t fallen for her. I don’t love anyone, not like that.” The words are acid on my tongue.
“Everyone loves like that.”
I picture my mom and dad and shudder. “Not me.”
“Okay, then let me rephrase. You’re obsessed with her.”
My jaw snaps shut because he’s absolutely right. And he’s not venturing a guess. In this moment, I realize Finn’s been watching me. Not the way a stalker surveils someone, but the way a friend notices another friend consistently acting strange under similar and related circumstances.
I can’t deny that she consumes me. More than any person on planet Earth ever has.
I’m just disappointed in myself for being so fucking obvious.
Finn is a far cry from Mr. Touchy-Feely. Before he hooked up with Harper’s twin, I would have said the man had the emotional intelligence of a potato. If he can see that she drives me nuts, everyone else must too.
“I kept waiting for you to protest my engagement to her, but you never did. If you had, I would have done everything in my power to convince my father to let me step aside,” Finn continues.
A barrage of emotions slams into me. Too many to deal with right now, except for the choked up feeling in my throat. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”
He keeps pressing. “But you never said anything.”
“Nope, sure didn’t. What’s your point?”
After a long pause, Finn sighs. “My point is do your job and do it quick. If you aren’t home by the weekend, we’re sending backup.”
We’re sending backup.
I’ve never hated three words more than those.
Tension coils my muscles tight. My jaw is wired tight as a damn drum. When I manage to unhinge my mouth, I act the part of the perfect enforcer and say exactly what I’m supposed to.
“That won’t be necessary.” Trying not to sound too assertive or defiant, I tack on the end, “I’ll have her back by then.”
“Keep us posted.”
“Will do.”
I expect the call to drop, because that’s just how Finn is. No hello or goodbye. He just bullets out what he needs and disappears.
So he shocks the shit out of me and proves once again how Riley has softened the sharpest of his edges when he says, “You know you deserve happiness, too, yeah? I want that for you. We all do.”
The line goes dead.
Fuck. Me.
For thirty seconds, I grip my phone hard enough to warp the screen. Then, I shove up from the armchair in frustration.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck .” I’m so agitated I can barely see straight.
I only have four days with Harper before we’re both expected back in New York. Or I’ll likely have Finn, Darren, Rory, or all three to worry about. And if Harper tells them I found her today and tried to fuck her all week, I’m done.
The punishment for touching a mafia princess without the family’s approval is severe. In some cases, even death.
I’m not afraid of dying. And after what happened downstairs, I do think touching Harper is worth the potential penalty. But I don’t want to put my friends in the position of having to kill me themselves or hand me over to the powers that be.
No, I’ll just enjoy what little time I have with Harper and take her home, as I was assigned to. She’ll be in so much trouble when she gets back that I doubt she’ll be jumping to confess to anyone we fucked.
I won’t be either.
In fact, I can safely say I wouldn’t reveal the splendors of touching Harper Brennan to anyone. That’s the scariest part of this whole thing. The satisfaction of touching her has only strengthened my obsession.
She’s in my blood now. Like a virus. Or cancer.
I haven’t been this out of control since I started fantasizing about murdering my father. Why does Harper create chaos everywhere she steps? Until I met her, I was fine.
A parade of women throwing themselves at me? I can handle that, no problem. They scratch an itch, but that’s all it ever is. Meaningless sex. Forgotten almost the second they walk out the door.
That probably makes me sound like an asshole, but I never string any of them along. I offer no promises and am always upfront about what a hookup with me is…and isn’t.
But Harper is different. One taste of her, and I already know.
Keeping Harper to myself for four days? That might just kill me.
I hang my head, pinching the bridge of my nose hard enough to summon a headache. And that’s when the full weight of my exhaustion sandbags me at once. I’m so tired I could sleep here, standing up, for two weeks straight.
Instead, I head back into the bedroom. Harper sits up on the mattress when she sees me. Her disheveled black dress still somehow looks amazing.
Regret weighs down my tongue. I didn’t intend to sleep with her at the outset of this mission, but I knew my resolve might fail me. Downstairs, I lost my composure, and after the way she told me that she wants me to fuck her? There’s no way I’ll sacrifice the opportunity of doing just that, even though I’m not in the right frame of mind at this exact moment.
Damn. I wanted to tear that dress off with my teeth, but I barely have the energy to undress myself. I pull the Hawaiian shirt over my head, too exhausted to fight with the buttons, and kick off my board shorts. The only thing I’m wearing now are the boxer briefs I wore beneath my street clothes.
When I glance up at Harper, her face is as pink as fucking pixie dust.
My slow-moving brain takes far too long to register that she’s checking me out. And I can tell she likes what she sees, despite herself.
Not to be cocky, but they all do.
There’s something extra gratifying about Harper doing it though.
I tell myself that this proves that at her core, she’s no different from all the other women who pant after me. Any hung, built dude would possess the ability to tempt her.
Even as the thought forms, I know it’s bullshit. Finn’s built. And while I don’t make a habit of checking out my friends’ dicks, probably well-endowed. Only son of Shane Gallagher, leader of the Irish Kings, rich as all fuck.
Yet she had his ring on her finger and still ran away.
If she was attracted to him at all, she would have stayed.
“What are you doing?”
She blurts out the words, concern and confusion warping her beautiful features while I fling back the covers, climb into bed, and pat the empty space beside me.
“Come on.”
“Huh?”
“Bedtime.”
“You mean?—”
“I mean put your head on this pillow, close your eyes, and fall asleep.”
She blinks at me like I’m not making any sense. The lost look on her face forces me to crack a smile, even in my sleep-deprived stupor.
“What?” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell me you object to getting some shut-eye.”
She bats my hand away. “You expect me to sleep here? In the same bed with you all night?”
“Uh, yeah. What, did you think I’d let you sleep in a different room after you tried to run from me? Not happening, princess.”
She opens her mouth to argue but nothing comes out.
Defiance returns to her expression, just the way I like, and then she flops onto her side, facing away from me.
She’s cute, even when she’s fussy. Like a feisty blond Chihuahua or a Pomeranian.
Only a million times hotter.
Once I’m comfortable, I wrap an arm over her waist and yank her into my chest.
When I thought about how today would go, I can’t say spooning with Harper Brennan topped my list of predictions. But there’s something nice about it.
Even the silence that stretches between us is somehow comfortable.
When Harper thinks I’ve nodded off, she tries to scoot away from me, but I pull her back every time.
“Would you stop it ?” she finally snaps.
I shush her. “Trying to sleep here.”
“I’m sleeping downstairs.”
Fat chance of that happening. Harper seems determined at first, trying to squirm out of the vice grip of my left arm, but she only succeeds in wiggling against my dick.
“Unless you want my cock in your ass, I suggest you relax.”
At those words, she freezes.
I was just trying to get her to stop squirming, so how did I manage to bum myself out?
One night. That’s what she said downstairs.
Should I shake off my bone-deep weariness and fuck the consciousness right out of us? It wouldn’t take that long to give us both a release.
“Is this how all your kidnap operations go?” Harper interrupts my intrusive thoughts.
I smirk into her hair. “I wish.”
After another few minutes of quiet, Harper pipes up again. I’m almost asleep, but I still catch her question. “Who were you talking to on the phone before?”
“Finn,” I mumble.
“Is he…” She stutters but finds the courage to continue. “Was he…very angry when he found out what I did?”
“No more questions…” is the last thing I remember saying before slipping into a coma.
As always, the same dream swallows me soon after.
I’m in the squalid, near-condemned apartment of my childhood, standing in the kitchen with a knife in one fist. The whole place looks like a crime scene.
My father’s glazed, drunken, dead eyes peer up at the ceiling, his body perforated with stab wounds. After the seventeenth, I stopped counting. One for each year of my life, and then a stab for every time he ever hurt my mom.
The place is eerie and silent. My mother is unconscious in the bathroom, and in a few seconds, the door to the place will open, and I’ll see Shane’s horrified face when he discovers what I’ve done. Just before he decides to take me in.
But when the door to the apartment peels back, white light momentarily blinds me, and then, at the entrance to that horrible place, is Harper. I walk toward her until I’m through the doorway, and instead of being in the New York projects, I find we’re somewhere else entirely. A beach.
Harper runs to the sea, a glittering sapphire expanse, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. I chase after her, but I never catch her. She dives between the waves, and I do, too, but as soon as I’m in the water, my limbs start to spasm and cramp.
She smiles and laughs, treading water, splashing around like happy beach-goers the world over. Then, her smile becomes a mask of horror as she raises a shaky finger and points.
I glance down to find I’m covered in blood.
Harper swims away.
“No, wait!” I call, but I’m sinking. Even my throat is locked up tight. I can’t tell her I’m drowning. I can’t tell her anything, I just sink beneath the waves, disappearing into the dark and unknown depths of the sea.