CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Raina
O utside the store, Blade and Jett watch the street, their backs against the glass display window. Connor hands all the bags from my shopping spree to Jett.
“Bring these back to my apartment,” he says to the dark-haired man. “Blade, you stay here.”
Jett nods to Connor and leaves. That reduces us to one guard since Nero is with Ruby. But I feel utterly safe.
“Where are we going now?” I ask, letting the sun warm my face after that icebox of a store.
“You’ll see.” Connor’s fingers thread with mine.
I slip on my own set of shades and let him lead me a few blocks south. I’m not familiar with this exact neighborhood, so the smell of sugar hits me unaware. I look up and see Connor’s Candy Emporium.
I laugh. “Do you own this place?”
He smiles. “No. But don’t tell my nieces that. I bring them here and they think I own it.”
“How many nieces do you have, Uncle Connor Candy Man?” It’s easy to be playful with him. The way you’re appreciative of a friendly tiger who you know can kill you, but prefers to cuddle.
“Three lasses.” Connor gives me a once-over. “For now. We’ll have to see what Lennox is having.”
“Lennox?”
“Shane’s wife.” He stops to study me. “My brother, who killed Berisha.”
“Right.” It makes me dizzy to realize I’m going to meet them this weekend. More killers.
I shake that away. “Shane did the DNA testing that proved Levin wasn’t my father?”
“Aye,” Connor says, arms tight against his chest.
Swallowing roughly, I say, “But I’m related to someone in his brotherhood. That still makes me the enemy.”
“By blood only.” He pushes a few loose strands of hair from my face. “No one sees you that way. I promise.”
“I have a whole criminal organization looking for me and a kyre who thinks I’m going to marry him.”
“That’s not happening.”
“I admit I need you to help me get out of this,” I say, my heart pounding again. “But am I putting your family at risk?”
“My family can handle it.” He scoops my hand in his again.
I swallow, feeling nervous. “And I’ll meet them all on Sunday?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Ewan and Darcy are in Ireland with her parents attending a funeral. Someone on her mother’s side passed away. My mother has their daughters.”
“Ah.” I look up again at the candy shop. “So why are we here?”
“I’m here to pick up my nieces’ favorite sweets for Sunday.” He steers me to the entrance.
Talk about sweet. This guy can’t be for real. It’s one thing to attack the candy aisle at the supermarket, but to shop in a carnival of candy shows a level of family devotion I really would not have expected from a mob boss. Especially an unhinged one.
Inside, we’re greeted by a woman with purple hair and blue stars painted on her face. “Welcome to Connor’s Candy Emporium. Everything is sold by the pound, except for the chocolate bars. You can grab a bag here, or a bucket.” She holds up each.
It’s more like an explosion .
I think Connor will go for the bucket, but he takes a bag and asks, “Can I have two more? Got three little lasses who like different candy.”
“Here you go.” She hands Connor two extra bags, and then, smiling at me, she asks, “And you, miss?”
“She’s with me. We’ll take a bucket.” Connor swipes one from the counter and hands it to me.
We. We’ll take a bucket.
I’m thinking we’ll be here forever because there are aisles and aisles and silos and silos of candy. But Uncle Connor goes straight for his nieces’ favorites. If I thought these little girls would just like plain gummy worms and Sour Patch Kids, I have a lot to learn about them.
According to Uncle Connor, Sadie, who’s ten, goes insane over raspberry gummy sharks. Maggie, who’s almost six, loves fruity mini rainbow belts. I hope I never have to say that three times fast. Or after a few cocktails.
Connor hesitates to fill the next bag.
“Do you need me to help you find something?” I ask him.
He turns to me. “It’s the baby. She’s not even a year old.”
“Let me ask someone for a recommendation.” I step on my tippy toes to find the purple-haired lady.
Connor gives me a pensive look. “You’d do that?”
I scoff. “You just bought me fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of clothes. You’re standing up to your brothers for me. Figuring out candy for a toddler is the least I can do.”
Connor leans in and kisses me sweetly. But there’s heat and hunger for something juicier than the lips on my face. He opens his mouth to speak, but his cell phone rings.
The way he removes it from his trouser pocket is so damn sexy. With two bags of candy in one hand, he speaks into his phone with the other .
“Alo.” He listens and closes his eyes. “Give me a minute.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, taking the candy bags.
“I have to take this call.” He gazes happily at me holding the candy, then reaches into his wallet. “Take my card. I trust you to get the baby’s candy. Meet me outside.”
Nodding, I take it. “Does the baby have any allergies?”
“No.” He kisses me and walks out, his mind completely focused and redirected on that call.
Without knowing how many teeth the one-year-old has, I settle on a bag of mini Whirly Pops. If Connor doesn’t approve, we can get something else, and I’ll eat these bad boys.
I fill up the bucket with my favorite: chocolate-covered pretzel balls with sprinkles. Holding Connor’s black card, I wait in line. Through the large plate glass window, I watch him facing the street. Blade is astutely looking side to side, guarding his boss.
“Did you find everything you needed?” a woman at the register with green hair asks me.
“Yes. Thank you.” I want to ask how she doesn’t weigh six hundred pounds from being around all this candy, or have a headache from the strong scent of sugar in the air.
But I stay quiet.
She tells me how much I owe, and it’s a bit of a shock for candy. But I hand over Connor’s credit card. I spot his location again in case she realizes I’m not Connor Quinlan. But no, she swipes it and gives it back to me while the register spits out a receipt.
She hands me all the candy wrapped up in shopping bags. “Here you go, Mrs. Quinlan.”
Mrs. Quinlan.
I go rigid. Swallowing roughly, I just nod, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that I’m not Mrs. Quinlan. Despite all of Connor’s declarations that we’re perfect for each other and only he can keep me safe, I’m not sure he means forever.
Three weeks ago, I was a DEA agent, and now I’m a mob boss’s moll. Sneaking a look at that beefy guard watching Connor on the phone, I wouldn’t mind working on the enforcer team.
I doubt Connor would let me. Or maybe he would.
Walking outside, I catch a whiff of something that is not sweet, and it stops me in my tracks. Connor turns around and puts his phone away with one hand.
In the other hand is a lit cigarette.