9. Brady
Brady
God, that moan of hers will be the death of me. And her pouty lips around that croissant. Never thought I’d want to be a piece of bread.
Cora’s hair is still wet from her shower, and it’s all I can do not to picture her beneath the spray of water.
Not to imagine her naked body. Just an untied sash away from my touch.
I train my attention on my steak. Though we eat in relative silence, I feel her eyes constantly flicking over to me.
My torso especially. It was the right call to leave my shirt off this morning.
When she finishes her croissant, she tries to brush the crumbs from her fingers. One piece clings stubbornly to her thumb. Seemingly without thinking, she licks it off. Her wet, pink tongue swipes expertly up the pad of her thumb. And fuck.
My fork clatters onto my plate, startling us both. I didn’t realize I’d dropped it. I pick it up quickly and clear my throat.
“I’ll have some delivered to the penthouse every morning. Our penthouse,” I correct, unable to hide my grin.
“Have what delivered?”
“Chocolate croissants.”
“No,” she snaps. Then, less harshly she adds, “I’m not good at resisting chocolate.”
So my wife has at least one weakness. Trivial as it seems, it does indicate the occasional lapse in her stubborn willpower.
A flaw I would not have guessed, and one that boosts my confidence.
She’ll come around. I inhale with the promise of it.
Cora’s damp hair smells like the shampoo I picked out. Like I’ve marked her with my scent.
An intoxicating thought.
“What all should I know about your mom?” she asks out of nowhere.
It takes me a second to remember that she’s scheduled to have lunch with Mam today.
According to that same schedule, we’re both supposed to work at the pub tomorrow, and there’ll be a family dinner later in the week.
I’m surprised Cora’s agreed to any of it.
“You are planning on meeting her, then?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You didn’t meet Da to walk down the aisle like you were supposed to.” I’m still astounded by the fact she did that. Astounded, and a little furious.
“That was different.”
“How?” I challenge.
“Your dad’s a mafia man. It’s good to stand up to male arrogance once in a while.”
I snort at this, and she scowls.
“What?”
“That’s a bit sexist, don’t you think?” I say with a smirk. “Women can be just as arrogant as men. Take yourself, for instance.”
“Excuse me?” Her voice is low with contained fury.
“You think I’m just going to tell you insider tips about me mam? Why should I?”
“Because—” She pops a grape in her mouth, stalling for time. I watch her delicate throat as she swallows, and realize I’ve swallowed in response.
“Because…?” I prompt, impatient with her and myself.
“It’s to your advantage if me and your mom get along.”
“Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. You’re both…” I begin. Cora leans the slightest bit forward, and I chuckle instead of finishing my thought. If I gave too much away, it’d lessen the fun. “You’ll see.”
My wife glares but doesn’t try me further. She nods several times, as if to bolster herself, then finishes her grapes in silence. God, the sight of her slipping fruit between her plump lips.
I imagine her with a strawberry. Not just sucking on it and turning her lips red. But dragging it along her skin first. Leaving a trail of juice along the curve of her breasts.
She catches me staring at the neckline of her robe.
“I’m going to get changed,” she says. Her look tells me what I did wrong.
I stand up with her as she excuses herself from the table. It may be ridiculous given that I’m in only sweatpants and she’s in only a robe. But manners are manners, and Mam raised us right. Therefore I know it’s rude for me to stare at Cora’s ass as she walks away.
I do it anyway. She is my wife, after all.
Something dings. It’s Cora’s phone, abandoned on a table by the couch. I glance through to the honeymoon suite. She’s already disappeared, but she’s going to realize she left it behind.
And sooner rather than later.
I cross the room to snatch up my wife’s phone. The text on her screen makes my blood boil. My vision goes red, but I need to assume she’s coming back any second. I am laser-focused, my fingers steady as I hit Reply.
Cora’s phone prompts me to draw her unlock pattern. Fuck. I turn off the screen. I tilt it sideways, scrutinizing her fingerprint smears. I get it right on the first try. Feeling a rush of victory, I do what I need to. Then I go back to the home screen.
Cora’s still in the other room. Given that she only has the one suitcase, I can’t imagine getting dressed will take long. I debate what else to do with her unlocked phone in my limited time. If my wife is a puzzle box, then I’ve been handed a cheat sheet. I grin to myself.
Just then my own phone dings. I curse and pull it out of my pocket.
It’s a text from Liam. Only one word.
Liam: Call
I clench my jaw. He knows I’m with my wife the morning after our wedding. Whatever he needs to talk about, it’s urgent. I lock Cora’s phone and put it back in the position I found it. Then I call my older brother.
Liam answers on the first ring and asks me if I’m still at the hotel. When I say that I am, he tells me to meet him in the gym. He hangs up without explanation.
I consider leaving a note for my wife to tell her where I’ve gone. That’s what husbands do, isn’t it?
But I’m no ordinary husband.
And frankly, I’m pretty fucking pissed about what I just found on her phone.
I slip my own phone back into my pocket. My wallet and room key are in the bedroom with Cora, but I don’t need them. I’m the fucking manager. I can get into any hotel room I want. I don’t bother with a shirt or shoes, I just head out the door.
As I approach my hotel’s gym, a ponytailed blonde steps out into the hall. She’s sweaty from her workout. The glistening kind. When she catches sight of me shirtless and barefoot, she pauses.
“Hey,” she says to me. She toys with the towel around her neck. It has the intended effect of getting me to look at her sports bra.
“Too skinny,” I tell her.
You’re not Cora would’ve been more accurate.
I hear the blonde huff as the gym door closes behind me.
I see Liam on a treadmill, then verify there’s no one else in the room.
It’s a state-of-the-art facility, all top-tier equipment with a fine view of the city.
But some people just can’t be bothered. I lock the door before heading over to my brother.
His pace is ludicrous, way faster than I’ve ever cared to run. But Liam’s always gone for more lean muscle than bulk. I prefer weights. The satisfying strain of knowing how powerful I am.
When I circle around to the front of Liam’s treadmill, we don’t bother with hellos.
“Seven interfered with one of our shipments last night,” he says. He’s barely winded.
I curse loudly as he gives me a grim nod.
“How much?” I ask.
“Half a million dollars’ worth of product.”
I curse again. “Stolen?”
“Destroyed. Set on fire and driven into the cut.”
Jesus. It seems excessive. But this is Seven we’re talking about. He sends his messages loud and clear. And leaving one of our vehicles in the river means the cops will probably find it. If they haven’t already.
“None of our vehicles are traceable,” I remind my brother.
He grunts in acknowledgment. But the way he keeps running with his eyes straight ahead, he doesn’t seem reassured.
I should be offended. I’m the one in charge of the fleet.
I’m the one who ensures all our plates are clean.
All our VINs are scrubbed. All our parts are unmarked.
I’m good at my job, and Liam trusts me. I know that without question.
The fact that he’s still seeking reassurance means he’s legitimately worried.
“Our men?” I ask.
“Three beaten. Bad but they’re recovering at home. One burned. He was taken to Sinai.”
“Shit.” Sinai’s not one of the hospitals under our control. “Under guard?” I ask.
Liam gives me a look. Of course our man’s under guard.
“Does Da know?” I ask.
My brother clenches his jaw and returns to staring straight ahead.
“The one they set on fire was Fergal,” he says.
I blow out a breath. Fergal’s one of Da’s best, going all the way back to the old country.
“Da’s at Sinai with him, isn’t he?”
Liam gives a sharp nod. There’s no question Da’s guarding Fergal himself.
“Mam?” I ask. Mam was close with Fergal’s wife, but she died from cancer a few years back. At least the woman didn’t have to see her husband burned to shit.
“Mam’s the one who told Da,” Liam says.
“How the hell did she know first?”
“How does Mam know anything?”
“Good point.”
Briefly, I wonder how it’ll go between Mam and Cora at lunch. Entertainingly bad, I’m guessing. It’ll depend on how obedient Cora decides to be, which doesn’t bode well for her. But she’ll figure it out. Or she won’t.
Right now I have other concerns.
“What’s our retaliation?” I ask.
Because there will be a retaliation.
But my brother doesn’t tell me what. He only tells me when.
“Tomorrow night.”
The delay means we’re planning something big. It also means I won’t have to cancel my plans for tonight.
“Me and you?” I ask. “Will we need Blackbird?” Depending on the job, it could be useful to have our sniper covering us.
“No Blackbird,” Liam says. A mobile job, then. “Just you, me, Finn, and James.”
“Finn,” I say bluntly. I won’t question Liam outright. But we both know our younger brother can be a wild card.
“And James,” Liam says again, naming one of our most loyal soldiers. That does inspire a bit more confidence. “I’ll tell them both. For now, you just get back to that pretty new wife of yours.”
“Sure.” I leave him to his workout.
But I don’t go back to my gorgeous new wife. I have other arrangements to make for the both of us.
Tonight will be fun.