Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
P ains and Fears
Ronan
“Where are we going?” Dean asks as we ride in the car to our date.
“Ach, it will be a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises, Ronan,” she says with a smile in her voice.
I can’t help but smile myself. I wanted to make up for the date I had to cancel and have a chance to observe her to see if I can spy out any of the things I’ve learned.
Never in a million years did I think I would find the answers I came across in New York. When I finished the business Dayton had called on me for, I went back to one of my apartments and ordered a copy of every book of Dean’s for the second time.
The first copies I purchased were back home in Ireland. I needed answers before I got back. I paid to get the books same day and devoured them.
Dayton had been right. I, too, had thought Demarco was Freddie in real life. However, I later realized the more reserved, levelheaded character in the book, Zavier, was Freddie. Demarco, the ruthless, unhinged killer’s mentor.
Once I finished the books, there were a number of things that stood out and made me think of Dean. Yet I still don’t think I’m ready to believe she’s Demarco. However, when I think about the things her uncle used to say about his son, it all makes sense if she’s the son he never had.
“Is everything okay? You seem so distant,” Dean says as I get lost in my thoughts.
I glance over at her and smile. She looks amazing. I’m having a hard time seeing her as the ruthless individual her uncle and her books painted her as.
I lick my lips as I drop my gaze to her full breasts and the sweater she has on. It falls from one shoulder and is cropped a few inches under her chest.
The jeans she has on are snug and ride low on her waist. When I picked her up for the date, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her ass and hips. I know the lass is taunting me.
I’ve been tempted to let her know I know who she is. I want her to show me her crazy. I want to meet the real Danny face to face.
I’ve questioned a million times if she truly used a nail gun on a worker who tried to steal from her and her family. I shake the thought off as I start to grow hard.
If anything I’ve learned is remotely true, she’s become ten times sexier to me. I want to fuck the shit out of her and make her scream my name. Knowing what I know now, I don’t think anyone else will do.
“I just have a lot on my mind,” I reply as I turn back to the road and push down all thoughts of taking her body until she can’t take anymore.
I have no doubt sex between us will be hot and heavy. The sex scenes in her books have kept me up at night wanting to have her in my bed. I’m glad I took a week before returning. I don’t think I would have had the restraint to keep from telling her what I know.
“Would you be thinking about how you’re never going to figure out who I am? Thus, in turn, you will never know what it’s like to fuck me.”
I snort. She sounds so confident. Little does she know, I already know the whole shebang.
I could have her tonight if I wanted. I’m not sure what’s truly stopping me. I have the information I need, but there’s something holding me back.
A part of it might be the fact that I could run her into the arms of another if I fuck this up. I haven’t gotten over my anger over Marlow wanting to force his sons on her. That’s not happening.
“Aw, you’re grinding your teeth. Relax, big fella. I might tell you my name and put you out of your misery if this date is any good.”
“Ya will do no such thing. Ya don’t have to pity me or tell me a thing, love. I’m going to earn what’s mine.”
Even as I say the words, I become possessive. I don’t want a relationship, but I’m starting to want her. Dean isn’t going to be a fling for me. I know this deep inside.
She places her hand on my thigh and gives a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to hear it. My man would never be a quitter. That would never do,” she purrs.
I nearly growl hearing her say my man . I’m not sure when it happened, but I am hers. For the first time in twenty-three years, that doesn’t make my stomach roll or cause me to want to run.
Then a small voice in the back of my head begins to whisper. Sasha could handle herself too, but she and the baby are gone . I swallow against the bile trying to rise in my throat.
And there we have it, the real reason I haven’t told her what I know. I want her, but my demons are waiting to consume me once I claim her.
“What made ya begin to write books?” I ask to get my mind off my wayward thoughts.
“ Okay ,” she drags out and goes to remove her hand. I reach to cover it and hold it in place as I lace our fingers together.
She releases a heavy sigh then begins to answer me. “Someone close to me used to teach life lessons through the stories he told, almost like parables. I often believed those stories were real for him,” she says as if thinking back to the times she listened.
“Aye, I know what ya mean. I knew someone similar,” I say, thinking of her uncle.
“I wanted to be just like that. There’s something about putting the visions in my head into words. You know, seeing something in my mind and then putting it on paper.”
“Have you ever drawn from real life?”
She snorts. “Don’t we all. I believe all creatives are influenced by the things around them and what they experience. I write urban romance, but I do believe a few of my characters are going to make a trip here to Ireland in the future.
“There are endless possibilities when writing and using my imagination. It’s a form of escape for me. When the real world gets to be too much.
“My characters can live out so much for me. I live through them, and they live through me. You get what I mean?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Besides, there are things that can’t be shared in real life, but on a page I can do what I like. I can show a side of me that the world will never know. The names and locations have been changed, but the stories might or might not be real.”
“How often is that so?”
She laughs. “A lot more than I’ll ever admit, babe. Now don’t go reading my shit. I might have to make sure your ass comes up missing. Besides, I doubt you would like what you find.”
I scoff. “What makes ya say that?”
She shrugs. “I told you. I’m a lot. There isn’t much that I don’t hide in my books. They are a true imitation of life. Once you see in my head through my books, you’ll know all of my crazy.”
I laugh with her, but I don’t ignore the truth that rings in her words. Aye, I’m talking to Demarco in the flesh. This lass does my head in.
She was made for me.
She seems to be relaxed and more open to sharing. This is the most she’s opened up to me since we’ve met. I take it as an opportunity to learn more about her.
We have time to kill before we get to our destination. I shift my hand to place my palm to hers and lace our fingers together. Warmth spreads through my hand and up my arm.
There is no doubt this woman is working her way under my skin. However, I still have so much to learn about her. There’s so much I want her to trust me enough to share with me on her own.
“What do ya like to do when ya’re not writing?”
“What do I like to do when I’m not writing? Um … let me think. That’s a loaded question.”
“Not really, love. Just tell me what ya like.”
“I have a few ventures outside of writing that are time consuming. To be honest, I need a new assistant when I get back. Someone to keep track of my personal trainer, my massages, and my deadlines,” she muses.
“So ya don’t have random things ya do just to decompress?”
“Not like I used to.”
“Why is that?”
“I … I lost my uncle. When he was alive, I spent most of my free time with him. He taught me everything I know. Because of him, I’m nearly fearless.
“Ach, nearly?”
“I might have one or two fears I haven’t overcome just yet.”
“What are they? Maybe I can help.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Rule number one: Never speak your fears out loud. You never know who’s listening.”
I grin as I remember Freddie once saying the same thing in front of me. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the old man. I kept busy after hearing of his death.
“Anyway, it’s just … he was everything to me. He took me all over the world with him. I miss him and our deep conversations. Life made so much sense when he was around.”
“I’m sorry for yer loss.”
“It’s okay. I’m dealing with my grief my own way. It’s all good.”
“Aye, grief is a bitch of its own kind,” I say and rub at my chest.
I’ve been wearing mine for twenty-some years whether I’ve acknowledged it or not. I guess the family business has been where I’ve chosen to deal with it. Dean and I are a lot more alike than I thought.
“How long ago did you lose him?” I ask as I clear my throat.
I know when her uncle died, but she’s talking, and I want to keep it that way. I can hear the fondness in her voice for Freddie. He was the type of man you held in high regard.
Ruthless, but honest and wise. In the short time I got to know him, I had some of the deepest conversations of my life. He often kept me from making bad decisions.
I learned to mind my temper from him—something we McGowans aren’t known for. I can’t help wondering if that’s something Dean was able to glean from him. I come out of my thoughts as she begins to speak again.
“It’s been, what? About four or five years now. It seems more like yesterday.
“It was so sudden and unexpected. The man would run with me every morning. He was as fit as any man half his age.
“It just never made sense to me. I couldn’t remain in New York after his passing. I moved to PA to keep from losing my shit. I just?—”
She cuts off and turns to look out the window. I can feel her shutting down. That was a lot more than I thought I would get, so I let it go.
I fall deep into my own thoughts. I like Dean. She’s bright, gorgeous, and I like her sense of humor. However, I don’t believe I’m what she needs. I’m just as fucked up as she is.
* * *
Dean
Something has changed with Ronan, but I can’t put my finger on it. I know I shouldn’t care or be so invested in his thoughts or feelings, but I can’t help myself. Something about this man keeps drawing me in.
I was excited when he texted to tell me he had returned. All week, I have questioned what kind of work keeps him traveling so much, but I would never ask. That’s his business.
I don’t want him asking me the same. Nothing about me is as it seems. Another reason I don’t date.
How do you explain the late-night calls to handle some asshole who has lost his mind and became disrespectful? I can’t explain away a lot about my life. Nor do I care to.
Uncle Dayton and Uncle Percy would have a coronary if they knew I left my men back home during this trip. I came to babysit a four-year-old; there was no need for muscle to come with me. Besides, I’ve made my point about fucking with me.
I’ve earned respect as my uncle’s replacement. I know he still has some business partners whom I haven’t met yet, but in time, I will make myself known to them. I’ve been trying to play soft for just a bit longer while I wait for the right time to arrive.
I don’t need a publisher. I’d be fine writing as an indie author. However, the deadlines force me to focus on writing and take my mind away. Gabby and Lauren ruined that for me.
This trip hasn’t done enough to save them. Who am I kidding? I haven’t taken anyone off my hit list yet. Not even my sister.
“We’re here. Stay right where ya are, I have a gift for ya,” Ronan says, bringing me out of my thoughts as he places the car in park.
He hops out and heads to the trunk. My instincts kick in and I reach for my bag. I refuse to get caught slipping over some dick.
When Ronan comes to open my door, he has a luxury shopping bag in his hand. To my surprise, he squats outside the car and coaxes me to swing my legs out.
Once I do, he removes my wedge heels from my feet and places a pair of socks on for me. Then he pulls out a shoe box and begins to place the sneakers inside on my feet. I watch silently as he ties the shoes for me.
Ronan looks up at me and smiles. Suddenly, I’m thrown back in time. I’m thrown back to that day when I was about four. My daddy bought me a pair of Wonder Woman skates and took me to the park to try them out.
“All right, Danny. Let’s get these bad boys on your feet so we can show them my girl can do anything. I told your mama I hate these jellies. Your feet are all sweaty,” Daddy grumbled as he pulled a pair of socks from his back pocket.
He then wiped the bottom of my foot on his T-shirt and slipped one of my little socks on. I was so excited. Once he strapped my skates on, he helped me out of the car and held my hand as he got me to the park, where he spent the next couple of hours teaching me to skate before taking me for ice cream.
I come out of the memory and groan. That was one of the happiest days I can remember with my dad before he was gone. He had a smile on his face the entire day.
“My ass done went and developed damn daddy issues. Fuck out of here,” I mutter to myself.
“What’s that, love?”
“Nothing. What’s all this about?”
“I had a gut feeling ya weren’t going to have the right footwear. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, so Connie and Dae-Dae helped me get your size. Now come on, I want to show ya a wee bit of Ireland.”
Ugh, how can he still pull me in when I know I feel him pulling away? This man is dangerous to my being. No matter how much I want him, I know I can’t have him and keep him.
I’ll only be taunting myself. When I go home, I’ll have to forget I ever met him. No matter what he says, that’s going to be for the best.
The men I truly love never stay—my dad, Geno, Uncle Freddie. It’s better I ignore these feelings I have growing. Death and destruction are all I have to offer.
“Oh, hell no. Where the hell have you brought me?” I squawk as I pull to a stop.
“Carrick-a-Rede,” he croons as he turns to look down at my face.
“The rope bridge?” I breathe and lick my lips.
What the hell are the chances he would bring me on a date that would tap into my biggest fear? I have looked down the barrel of a gun. I’ve taken on men twice my size. Hell, I’ve been in the middle of a shootout once or twice in my lifetime, but this … death-drop heights. I hate them with a passion and this man wants me to walk across this bridge that has like a hundred-foot drop into the Atlantic or something.
“Nope,” I say and shake my head.
“Come on, love. Ya have to walk the bridge at least once in yer life. Yer here, why not?”
“Because I can’t,” I whisper.
He moves to crowd my space and cups the back of my neck. I tilt my head back to look up into his eyes. He searches my gaze with his.
I bite my lip as his blue-hazel eyes bounce over my face. He begins to lean in, his breath brushing my lips. I close my eyes, but the kiss never comes.
“Ronan McGowan? Aye, I thought that was ya? What are ya doing here? This here is for the tourists. I didn’t start coming here until I started doing the tours for Da.”
I open my eyes and see a tall strawberry-blonde woman standing beside Ronan, looking at him expectantly. I take that as my cue to take a step back. Turning quickly, I head back for the car.
It’s beautiful out here, but I’m not walking that bridge. There isn’t enough fine in this world to make that happen. My heart begins to ache because I know I’d be disappointing my uncle.
He never caught on to my fear of heights. At least, I don’t believe he ever did. I’m sure he would have helped me to crush that fear if he had.
“Hold on, love. Wait,” Ronan calls after me as he grabs my wrist to halt me.
He turns me to face him and looks at me appraisingly. I feel like he sees right through me. I’m not sure how to feel about that.
“Aye, I see. I’ve found yer one fear.” He nods to himself.
“One and two,” I mumble under my breath.
I’m going to stop lying to myself. This man embodies my other worst nightmare. I could fall for him so easily and then I’d lose him.