Chapter 5
Chapter five
Islammed my fist into the dashboard hard enough to rattle the glove compartment, making it pop open.
“Fuck!” I yelled, smashing it back shut.
Lach didn’t look at me. His eyes scanned everything in our vicinity, making sure no one followed us, that no squad cars noticed our black SUV slow-motion fleeing a shooting.
He kept driving as if nothing had happened, his shoulders loose the way they always were when his brain was doing the work mine was too pissed off to do.
The further we got from East 90th, the quieter the city was. Snow kept coming down, soft and harmless-looking, covering up the tracks of a night that had just turned ugly.
I clenched my jaw, tasting blood, and tried not to think about her teeth sinking in, those full lips made for trouble as though she wanted to mark me.
Lachlan broke the silence first.
“Well, that was grand. Real quiet and clean, brother,” he said with a sarcastic clip. “You look like you lost a fight with a fuckin’ banshee.”
I shot him a look just as he glanced over.
“What the hell happened in there?” he asked. “How’d a wee nun bust your lip and tear up your clothes?”
A laugh wanted to claw its way out of me, but it died in my throat. Nothing about this was funny.
“She’s no nun,” I said flatly.
His brows lifted. “No? Could’ve fooled me, what with the whole veil and church and prayin’.”
“She was playing a part.” I huffed. “The second I touched her, she came alive as if she’d been trained to fight.”
Lach turned, scrutinizing me for a moment, his interest sharpening. “Go on.”
I stared out the windshield, replaying it whether I wanted to or not. The golden light on her face. The calm voice. The way she’d baited me—mugger, thief, sinner—as if she didn’t have a lick of fear in her bones.
“She stripped the habit off piece by piece,” I said, and my mouth curled with bitter disbelief. “Right there in front of the altar. All of it gone within seconds.”
My hands flexed on my thighs, remembering the shock of her curves beneath all that holy camouflage.
“And you wouldn’t believe what she had on under all of those layers…painted-on black athletic gear,” I grunted. “Leggings and a tight top. A body made for sin, not convents.”
Lach made a low humph, half laugh, half disbelief. “You’re tellin’ me the mayor’s little saint is running around in fucking yoga pants under her habit?”
“That’s right.” I swallowed hard, her ample breasts, small waist, and full ass replaying in my mind. “And when I tore the veil off her—”
He didn’t flinch because he knew me well enough to know I never touched a woman roughly unless she deserved it or asked for it.
“Flaming red hair spilled down her back like a declaration of war,” I finally said. “Curls everywhere. Pale green eyes—bright, wicked, excited. The kind of face that makes good sense evaporate and bad decisions feel inevitable.”
I shook my head. “And get this—the smile she’d given me in the middle of violence—it was as if she was having the time of her life. As though she enjoyed it. Curious about what I’d do next.”
He barked out a laugh. “Jesus. You got bested and turned on by a lass in yoga pants and a veil.”
“I did not get—”
“The fuck you didn’t,” he cut in, grinning like the little shite he was. “She left you bleedin’, empty-handed, and with your restraint hangin’ by a thread. That’s the definition of bested.”
“Keep talkin’,” I warned. My anger was looking for any excuse to let loose.
He shook his head, still amused. “Mam would’ve boxed our ears and asked if we’d lost our minds. Two farm boys raised to mind sheep and keep our noses clean—and here we are tryin’ to kidnap a nun on Christmas night and gettin’ our asses handed to us.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed again, harder this time. He knew I wasn’t in the mood. He could hear the edge in my words. But this was Lach, and he was never one to back down from a brotherly skirmish.
I stared ahead, watching the city blur past in snow-flecked lights.
“That lass is no saint,” I said, my tone coming out as a verdict. “There’s something else going on with her. I could feel it when her legs were wrapped around my hips.”
That got his attention. “Oh?”
“She fought dirty as hell,” I said. “Used her ass on me like a weapon. When she straddled me, her pupils blew wide—she knew exactly what she was doing.”
“Fuck me,” he said. “And I waited in the car.”
Lach drove another block before he asked carefully, “So what now?”
I dragged a hand over my face. The cold was sinking into my bones now that the adrenaline was bleeding off, leaving behind the raw irritation of failure.
“What now?” I growled, taking the words on as a challenge.
I’d pitched this job as if it were simple.
In and out. Control Hayes, control Delgado.
My pride twisted.
“I’m goin’ home,” I huffed. “I’m firing up the system Nik installed and putting eyes on her—properly.”
His eyes flicked to me again. “And what are you going to tell Nik?”
“I’m not telling him shite. This was my responsibility. I’ll handle it.”
His lip curled, ready to argue, ready to remind me that my responsibility meant our necks in this world.
I didn’t give him the chance.
“I’ll be prepared for her next time,” I went on. “She can hiss and spit all she wants, but I’m taking possession of her future one way or another. Feral just means special handling.”
Lach exhaled through his nose, not so amused. “Christ.”
“She should’ve been easy,” I said, my hands fisting in my lap. “A grab-and-go. A quiet nun on her knees. But who knew a girl with the face of an angel could be such a demon?”
He kept driving, eyes on the road, the corners of his mouth flat.
“What are you actually lookin’ for?” he asked after a couple more blocks. “Besides an excuse to brood yourself into an early grave. She’s been locked away since she was barely grown.”
I leaned back in the seat, staring through the windshield as if I could still see her shadow sprinting through the snow.
“Everything,” I said. “Who she is, what she’s been doing, where she’s been. Because she sure as hell hasn’t been prayin’ in silence in some convent—not with the way she moves. Not with the way she fights.”
I forced my hands to relax.
“I want eyes on every feed around Gracie Mansion,” I continued. “Perimeter cameras. Gates. Street coverage. Traffic cams. Anything that tracks movement in and out. I want to know when she leaves, who’s with her, who stands guard, and who shows up when they shouldn’t.”
I still couldn’t get my head around it—I’d had her in my hands, and now I was staring down days of bullshit surveillance instead.
Watching. Waiting. Guessing. Who knew how long it would take to find the right opening, especially knowing the mayor would ship her back to Spain the second he was finished parading her out for his senatorial campaign.
And after the circus with her useless guard, they’d have her locked down even tighter.
So tight she probably wouldn’t see daylight again until her feet hit the convent’s doorstep.
“I’ll figure out how to get inside Gracie Mansion too,” I added. “See what that fucker Andrew Hayes is up to.”
Lachlan snorted. “And you think Hayes has cameras in his daughter’s bedroom?”
“No,” I said, almost insulted by the idea. “Private interior spaces? Not a chance. Not if he’s half as paranoid as he should be.”
“Then what good is it?”
“The outside and public-facing areas are enough,” I said, scrubbing my fingers over the scruff of my chin. “Entrances. Reception rooms. Anywhere outsiders are allowed should have mic’d-up security cameras. I don’t need to see her sleep. I need to pick up on her father’s plans.”
“You know, with Delgado involved, tapping into those feeds isn’t goin’ to be easy. And what if the lass never steps out?”
“She will. Nobody stays caged forever. Not a girl like that.”
Lach didn’t argue. He’d known me long enough to recognize the sound of a decision settling in—and once it did, it didn’t let go.
We crossed town in tense quiet, the traffic thinning as we moved west and more snow collected on the road.
The Prism on Eleventh and 19th came into view as we cut across toward the river.
Our building overlooked the Hudson, a new perk of the lifestyle we’d recently been enjoying.
Luca’s money had bought us penthouses after the ritual, after we stopped being boys with muscle and became men with standing.
I enjoyed the views. Not bad for lads who’d grown up counting sheep.
He pulled into the underground entrance and rolled to a stop. The garage lights came on automatically. Cameras tracked the vehicle, granting automatic access.
We went straight inside.
The building was quiet and immaculate—security embedded everywhere. The kind of place designed to keep outsiders impressed and insiders invisible. We crossed the garage without breaking stride, hit the private elevator, and cleared the scans.
The doors closed.
Lachlan leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with that infuriating calm he saved for when things went sideways.
“So,” he said lightly. “Sister Fucking Trouble. You sure this is the best way to get to Delgado?”
I glared at him.
He smiled. “Just sayin’, brother, there might be better ways for us to fight this war.”
“Go to bed,” I said.
He chuckled and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “That lip’s starting to swell.”
The elevator opened onto the penthouse level; our units were the only ones on this floor. We stepped out together and paused.
Lachlan tipped his chin toward my door. “You’re not lettin’ this go.”
“No,” I said. “Next time, she won’t get away.”
He studied me for a second, gauging whether I was already halfway to doing something stupid. Then he nodded once.
“Try not to burn the city down before morning.”
I reached for my door. “No promises.”
I pressed my palm to the scanner and let the system read me. With a quiet beep, the lock clicked, and I stepped inside, letting the darkness surround me