Chapter 25 – Gabriella
My phone rang. I plucked it from the dash, saw a local number, and answered. “Hello?”
“Are you talking while driving?” the devil’s voice crackled through the void.
I switched it to Bluetooth. “Hands-free.”
Liam huffed. I turned right, exiting the highway onto the six-lane main strip. Cars zigged and zagged out of the lines. I needed to cross to make a left-hand turn.
“You should be in the SUV with my guys,” Liam grumbled. “I don’t like this traffic.”
I frowned at the phone, but merging took my entire concentration. Once I was finally stopped for the red light, I wet my lips and considered how I wanted to handle this. We hadn’t spoken since he lit my bed on fire.
Since he caught me in the bathroom.
My cheeks warmed at the memory I’d been trying—and failing—to bury. “Can I do something for you?”
There was a beat of a pause. “Just, um….” He sounded like he was struggling to open a jar.
“Liam? Is everything alright?”
We hadn’t seen one another in the daylight either.
Every night, I waited for him to slide into bed beside me.
It was like my body had been trained in the space a few short nights.
It wouldn’t consider sleep until he was there.
The moment the bed dipped from his weight and the covers rustled, it was lights out.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” A string of thick, Gaeilge words tumbled from his lips. I might not understand them, but the meaning was universal. Liam was cussing someone—or something—out.
“Okay, well, thanks for calling.” I turned left, merged into the right lane, and followed the lead SUV into the parking lot for the superstore. I hadn’t been in one of these in years.
That’s not true.
I gulped, struggling under the sudden rush of memories. The image of pushing a red cart. Of looking over the tender, innocent section. Fingers touching things they had no business touching while my heart broke at the thought of what was to come.
My grip tightened on the wheel. Tears from the worst days of my life clouded my vision. I nearly rammed the front of the sports car into the SUV.
“Watch out!” Liam hollered.
I jumped. My foot slammed on the brake—and not the clutch. The car jolted. The engine died.
And there was no way in hell I was going to live this down.
I restarted the engine, pulled up to the four-way stop which my guard had paused behind to allow the shoppers the right of way, and then crept into the parking row. The guard led the way, looping back to the far end in the parking spaces by the four-way stop.
The commentary suddenly made sense. The masked devil was here. He’d been watching.
Liam stood, phone pressed to his ear, glaring at me as he leaned against his Jaguar. He wore a sharp black suit and matching black tie. It fit that large body, accenting his muscles in a way that made my mouth suddenly water.
Damn…did he have to look so good?
“What are you doing here—” I stopped. I looked again. Too busy eye-fucking my husband, I missed an obvious detail.
“Park the car, Gabriella.”
But all I could do was stare at the wriggling, wiry lump with spindly legs sticking up in all directions. That was a dog. Why was Liam holding a dog! I blinked hard, trying to process what I was seeing.
A car honked behind us.
Liam shot a death glare past the tail SUV. The creature in his arms thrashed violently. Its snout knocked the mobster’s elbow, and the phone clattered to the ground.
The rustle crackled through the speakers. I shook myself, pulled into a parking spot, and the second SUV of guards glided in beside me. Grabbing my ancient crossbody bag, the one I’d had since I was fourteen, I launched from the car.
“What is this?” I walked up to the Irish crime lord, who seemed grumpier than usual.
Liam adjusted his hold on the animal, angling his arms toward me. “What does it bleeding look like?”
“It looks like you’re holding a puppy.” I didn’t know if I should reach out so that the small, spastic thing could smell my fingers or cross my arms to keep them safe from the gnashing teeth.
The strangest thing happened. Liam stuttered. “I, um, I got you something.” He thrust the lanky mass at me. “Here.”
I let out an incredulous breath. Words failed me this time. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
“He’s just energetic,” Liam grumbled. “He won’t hurt you, cailín.”
The mobster jerked his arms insistently.
The pup seemed to realize there was another person.
Rich, brown eyes rimmed with black turned on me.
The puppy yapped excitedly. It wriggled harder.
I reached out and offered my fingers for a sniff.
I’d never seen a dog quite like this. It had a beard, wiry hair that stuck out in all directions from its face.
The fur on his back, however, was deliciously soft.
“I haven’t had a dog before,” I said under my breath.
Liam gave me a funny look. “You haven’t?”
I roused myself and shook my head. “Nope.”
“Oh, well, I thought….” His voice strangled. “Here. A present.”
He thrust the creature into my arms.
The puppy nipped at my hair.
I balked, tried not to drop the squirming bundle, and let instinct guide me to hold it differently. A hand around the rump, the other cradling the front. The pup stopped trying to escape.
There. Just like a baby.
It only wanted security. My heart gushed with warmth.
Liam tugged at the back of his neck, clearly uneasy about the whole thing.
“So, I can keep him?” I lifted my gaze.
“Well, yeah?” Confusion knit his dark brows. “That’s what a pet is for.”
The urge to laugh seemed highly inappropriate. But the whole situation was insane! The mobster didn’t know the first thing about me. What if I was a cat person? I was fairly certain I wasn’t. My father detested animals, and we’d never had a pet. I had to bite my tongue to keep from smiling.
Liam studied me, gauging my reaction. Whatever he saw made him frown.
“Come on, let’s go.” He began to walk at a clipped pace toward the front of the store. I was going to get whiplash from his changing moods.
Trailed by nine guards, following a devil with metaphorical bloodstained hands, was not the typical shopping run most girls had.
Moms in yoga pants pushed red carts of cranky toddlers to their cars.
Women dressed up in trendy outfits wandered in groups to the doors.
I was the weirdo with an army of testosterone walking through the double pair of sliding doors for a Target run.
It was better than being stuck at home.
As I went to grab a shopping cart, Liam cut me off. He snatched one, teeth clenched tight.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you have work?” I ran a soothing touch over the puppy’s head.
“Yeah.” The mobster began to push the cart, but one of the front wheels squeaked. His upper lip pulled up.
“You can grab a different one,” I offered.
Liam grimaced. “It’s fine. Where are we going?”
We—like a real couple.
“So, you blew off work to babysit me?” I hedged, glancing at the dollar section full of enticing, seasonal trinkets.
“Jaysus, woman!” Liam thrust the cart hard.
The wheel screamed.
“Can’t a man take his girl shopping without the third degree?” A thunderous storm raged through those blue eyes.
I chewed my bottom lip. That turbulent gaze dropped. He stared at my mouth. Heat flooded my veins.
But in that moment, I saw this for what it was.
Liam was a busy man, and yet he’d made the time to be with me.
It was such a foreign concept. A man who wanted to spend time with his girl, doing the mundane business of shopping.
I wouldn’t have been able to name a single Made Man from the Morellis who would bother.
Sure, they took their women on grand, expensive dates. But it was all to brag.
This…this was nice. Better than a fancy date. And I was screwing it up.
“Let’s grab something to drink then,” I offered, careful not to smile. I didn’t want him to think that I was mocking his discomfort.
Liam was as new to dating as I was.
For that matter, could this even be called dating? We were married.
He didn’t have to come. He wasn’t obligated to spend time with me. And yet he was here.
“How do you like your coffee?” I asked cheerfully, leading the way to the nook where the green café bustled with activity.
“Black.”
I turned so he didn’t see my eyes roll. As I slid into line, conscious of the nine bodies looming in the background and the mass of dangerous energy hovering behind me, I tried not to fidget.
“OMG! That is the cutest puppy! What’s its name?” the barista gushed.
I stepped to the counter but shot a look over my shoulder.
Liam shrugged.
But it was the flash of those grey-blue eyes that made the name pop into my head. “Storm. His name is Storm.”
“Hi, Storm, oh, you’re just a cutie pie. Look at you. Yes, yes, you are,” the barista said, her voice dropping into baby talk.
The others crowded behind her, temporarily stopping their work to dote on the animal.
“Is that a wolfhound?” one of them exclaimed.
“Uh…?” I looked at the puppy.
“It is! I saw them on Instagram!” another said excitedly, before I could fumble for an answer I didn’t have. “I keep asking my boyfriend for an Irish one. Such good dogs!”
A third piped up. “Does he want a pup cup?”
I frowned. “A pup cup?”
“He’s never had a pup cup!” another gasped. “Oh, please, can he have one? He’ll love it!”
“Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, the bleeding pup doesn’t need a coffee,” Liam muttered. “What is wrong with this world?”
Ignoring him, I grinned at the barista. “Let’s try it!”
She sprayed whipped cream in a cup and handed it over. Storm began to lap eagerly at the fluffy white cream.
“He likes it.” My smile felt like it was going to split my face in half. It was quite possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen. That red tongue spraying drops of cream over his bearded face.
“Well, of course he does,” the one at the register cooed. “Alright, alright—too cute! What can I get started for you?”