TWENTY
DID HE LIKE IT? Didn’t he?
She’d been in the publishing industry all her adult life, some of her teen years too. Sure, back at the start, she’d been green. Almost every writer suffered imposter syndrome once in a while. For her, it hit more prominently around her time of the month. But sitting there, watching him read, the true fear was disappointing him. He’d never disappointed her; he went above and beyond for her. In this one thing, her trade, she could be useful to him. If she did it right.
He went to the side unit to set the computer down. With a few clicks and swipes, he…? What was he doing? Adding his own flair?
“You got notes?”
“I sent it,” he said and closed the lid.
“You sen—to Steeple?”
“Signed by the family, it’ll make the presses.”
With his name at the end, yeah, she didn’t doubt that.
“Did you change—”
“Didn’t change a word, baby. You got it right first time.”
However many drafts later, but he didn’t need to know how the sausage was made. The outcome counted; the process was her responsibility. She’d been happy with it, as much as anyone could be happy with writing an obituary for someone still breathing.
“Thank you for saving Strat, for caring for him, for the doc fixing him up. Don’t let him get up and out too early, he has to recover. If we let him, he’ll overwork himself. He has to take this slowly.”
She’d bet Conn wasn’t the best patient either. In their sanctuary, they didn’t need to talk about his pain, his fury, his panic.
He came to join her in bed. “I didn’t have luck with that tack and you.”
“Well, you know, he’s more afraid of you than I am.”
Lunging over, he scooped her under him into sheer, consuming bliss. “You’re not afraid of me, Miss McLeod?”
“I’m a little bit afraid when you use that voice.” Except her smile stayed strong. “‘Cause my panties evaporate.”
“You kept the panties on,” he said like it was an affront. “Worried for your modesty?”
This time, when she laughed, her head dug deeper into the pillow. “My modesty never held up in your presence. Did you forget?”
He brushed his lips across hers, taking his time about easing into the contact only to inhale and withdraw, just a fraction, a whisper, less than a feather’s depth. The intoxicating, faraway sense he bestowed both closed her eyes and opened her lips.
“Mo Grá.”
“Things around here will get tough for a while.” Still close, tone quiet, their intimacy encompassed trust. “Situations might change fast, we’ll have to adapt quickly.”
“Score’s on his way here?”
“Strat told you?” As his fingertips smoothed the hair from her temple, she nodded. “Word is out on the street. That’s good.”
“It would be easier for me to help you, and the family, if I knew what was going on.”
“I’m working from the club tomorrow night.”
“Okay.” That was an important clue. “For a reason or just to get back on the horse? You’re working with Play, right? He’s not taking over.”
“He’s playing a role I need him to play, finetuning as I go.”
“I’m not the superintendent’s daughter anymore.”
That drew him back enough to meet her eye. “You’re not?”
“If my father resigns his position—”
“Your father’s keeping his job.”
She frowned. “He is? But Lach—”
“And I have developed a strategy.”
Really? Her blue-all-the-way-through brother and cutthroat-crime-boss boyfriend were developing strategies in cahoots now? Shit. Up wasn’t up yet.
“I guess… I always wanted you to get along.” So why should she question their alliance? She shouldn’t, so moved on. “What happened with Evander? What happened the night my dad—”
“A lot of questions.”
“And not a lot of answers. You’re stronger now, the McDades, I don’t see you surrendering at all, much less surrendering when you’re at the top of your game.”
He frowned. “Who said anything about surrendering?”
“We’re here, in hiding, and—”
“Not hiding, fortifying.”
“We want the world to wonder?”
“Aye.”
“And with your…” Their eyes stayed matched as her fingertips skimmed over his wound. “You needed time to heal? How bad was it? I was so terrified that you—”
“It’s in the past, Macushla. What’s done is done.”
It couldn’t be as simple as that. She wouldn’t let it be forgotten like it was nothing.
“My father doesn’t get a pass, shouldn’t get a pass. What he’s done is unacceptable. He showed no loyalty to his own father, then disrespected the McDades so horribly—”
“He doesn’t get a pass. Don’t upset yourself, we have this under control.”
Her gusto hid an underlying fear. “How long were you there? In my grandfather’s office? Alone?”
“Not long.”
“How did you get out? Did Niall find you?”
“I picked the lock and got to the car,” he said. “Niall was waiting here with the doc.” So he’d been there the whole time she’d been away? “He’d already sent Daly and the others on the hunt—”
“We went to Strat’s.”
“I know. Guys showed up there less than an hour after you left. Doc put me out.”
To treat his injury or to calm his temper? Maybe both. She couldn’t see her guy choosing to be unconscious, but if he needed any kind of surgery, sedatives would’ve been the only option.
“It was Niall,” she murmured. “He kept you alive.”
Because if it was up to her guy, he’d have been in the car, bleeding, chasing after her. Logic didn’t always feature when fear and anger stoked adrenaline.
“Not the first time he’s done that.”
Much as she and Niall weren’t exactly bosom buddies, his allegiance to Conn and the McDades was undeniable. They should spend more time getting to know each other. Not that the guy ever seemed to have an iota of free time.
“My father drove us to a motel. We stayed holed up there drafting and redrafting a ridiculous story neither of us could agree on.”
“I know.”
Her head shifted. “You couldn’t have got that from Strat… How much time have you spent talking with my brother?”
“Enough to know your father’s debt will never be paid.”
“And by extension mine. Baby, I—”
“Hush. You take your lead from me.”
“Always.”
“And know I could choose to take your father out any time.”
Out? As in his life? Though surprised Conn was leaving Ronald in his current role, she shouldn’t have been. Position gave them influence.
And the other thing? That her father may lose his life any minute? How did she feel about that? The daughter part of her recognized she should protest and defend, but it would be theater. She and her father never got along. Did she want him dead? Maybe. No, not with any vehemence, though given he’d killed his own father… Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she wanted the decision to be someone else’s. Ronald killed her grandfather, shot her lover, then abducted and imprisoned her. If anyone should desire revenge, it would be her.
Objecting felt more like conforming to the expected response. It wasn’t respectful for anyone to want someone else dead, but in those dark recesses, the truth didn’t hide.
“He took my grandfather down without warning,” she said. “If Ronald didn’t give someone else that courtesy, why should he be owed it from us?”
He kissed her slow. “Beautiful.” With a single word, he lightened her burden. “He’s useful for now.”
“Because in his job, he can help us. What about Silvio? Won’t he come after Ronald? He could want him to work for the Manzanis again.”
“Silvio Manzani has enough going on. And we have his son. He’ll have to bargain for him back.”
“So long as we have Evander, alive, we control Silvio. Do you think he’ll call Atlas back?” The middle Manzani brother. “Do you know where he is?”
“No, because I don’t want to. I know people who do, that’s enough. He’s useless to me as he is. If that changes, I’ll call in a favor.”
“Who knows where he is? A Manzani who owes you? If Silvio knows where Atlas is, why doesn’t he drag him back?”
Even kicking and screaming would be Silvio’s style. The man didn’t have any direct heir, no one who could take over quickly. Helios, the eldest, was in prison, and had been all his adult life. How much had Silvio taught his son? Was he ready to take power if the need arose? Did he want it?
“Silvio doesn’t know.”
“But your sources—”
“Silvio couldn’t pay enough to have any of them crack. Manzani relations with the Huntsmen are murky.”
“The Huntsmen?” Oh, curiosity roused with excitement. “Strat mentioned them once, said I should turn and run if they came up in conversation, that they’re insane.”
“Fuck, aye. You hear any whisper of them, you get to me as fast as you can. Never declare yourself to them. Never approach them. Never.”
Her guy didn’t seem scared, but there was definitely an edge of wary warning in that instruction.
“Never declare myself as in my name or my affiliation with you?”
“They know who you are, I guarantee it. Always assume they know your secrets.”
“Who are they?”
“Nobody knows, few do anyway.”
Which suggested maybe… “You do,” she said. “You know who they are.” He didn’t confirm or deny, didn’t blink either. “They’re loyal to you.”
“They’re loyal to no one. Do not forget that.” He snatched her chin to hold her head firm. “They act only in their best interest. They are loyal to no one. Say it to me.”
“They are loyal to no one.”
“Good.” He released her. “Remember that.”
“They must be loyal to each other.”
Her guy rarely smiled, and though his lips didn’t move, his eyes betrayed the sentiment.
“To each other?” he asked. “No. They can work in tandem, if it suits their purpose, but they’re loyal to no one.” What an odd, isolating life. Conn’s warning should deter her, but her curious mind… “No research. You forget you ever heard of them, hear me?”
Oh, well.
She nodded. “You spoil all my fun.”
“Then it’s time to use you for mine.”
The gentle rasp of his teeth on her lower lip heralded what was to come. The night, their lives, danger or not, hung on the thread of their relationship, and it was stronger than silk.