1. Chapter 1 Finn
Chapter 1: Finn
C hrist, she was trying to kill me. Death by blue balls. My day sucks.
Not ten minutes before, I stood in front of Declan Maguire's massive mahogany desk, wondering what fresh hell the boss had in store for me now. I'd spent the last five years working my way up the ranks of the Irish mob, proving my loyalty and ruthlessness at every turn. There wasn't much that could rattle me these days.
"I need you to protect Cara."
Except that. Fucking hell.
I schooled my features into a mask of indifference, trying not to let on that the mere mention of Declan's daughter made my gut clench with a mix of dread and anticipation. "She in trouble again?"
Declan sighed heavily, looking every one of his fifty-odd years. "When is she not? Girl's got a talent for finding danger. It's the Russians this time. Circling like vultures, trying to get their hooks in her."
A low growl built in my throat at the thought of those Bratva bastards sniffing around Cara. She might be a pain in the arse, but she was my pain only. "Want me to send a message?"
"No. I want you with her at all times. Full-time bodyguard duty until this blows over." Declan pierced me with his icy green stare, so like his daughter's. "I need someone I can trust not to let his dick do the thinking for him. Someone who won't be tempted by her... charms."
I barely suppressed a snort. Charms. Right. More like unholy powers of temptation designed to torment me. I first met Cara five years ago, and since then, Cara had only grown more beautiful - and more maddening. Gone was the coltish girl-child, replaced by a woman with curves built to be touched. Her long, wild strawberry blonde curls and lily-fair skin were the stuff of fantasies, and her mouth. Holy Fuck.
Perfect, until she opened it.
It didn't help that she seemed to take perverse pleasure in taunting me. The little minx knew exactly what she was doing, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to take her up on her blatant invitations. But I couldn't. Cara was the forbidden fruit, the untouchable princess of the Irish mob. One wrong move and I'd be fish food floating around New York City. I kept my distance, watched her from afar, and tried not to imagine what those pouty lips would feel like wrapped around my -
Fuck. I need to get her out of my head.