Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
PRIEST
“ A ll clear,” I said to the empty corridor, and before long, Basilio, Emory, and Dante appeared. After learning of the marriage contract, I worked faster than I ever had, hacking into the Callahan network—the idiots only had a single firewall up—and digging until I found the contract. I found it suspicious that he had only one copy, but I wasted no time. I changed the names and sent myself the file, then moved on to the second part of my plan.
Stealing my bride-to-be.
After all, it wasn’t too long ago that my papà wanted me to consider an alliance to keep the Corsican mafia at bay. I was just going along with his recommendation. The Murphy alliance could prove useful after the Irish pricks get over the initial anger when they learn I kidnapped their sister.
“Well, that went smoothly,” Basilio declared, his hands in his pockets and his gaze landing briefly on Ivy before returning to me. “She give you any trouble?”
“No.”
“I bet she will when she wakes up,” Emory muttered. “Better figure out some way to pacify her.”
“And what would you recommend, cousin?” I deadpanned. “Cakes and chocolates?”
Emory narrowed her eyes. “Maybe five centuries ago. You’ll have to come up with something good enough to make her forget you just tranq’d her in a grimy club.” This club was brand new, but I wasn’t sure this was the time to correct her.
“Maybe let her rob you?” Dante suggested.
I shot him a glare. “Maybe let your wife burn down your house?”
“That happened one time,” he muttered.
The sound of footsteps approached, distracting us from our childish bickering. “Baby, let’s just go home and?—”
The footsteps came to a stop and Liam Brennan, my uncle, stood there with a storm brewing in his eyes. His gaze traveled over us, lowering only when he arrived at the unconscious body in my arms.
“What the fuck is going on?” he hissed. “Please tell me that’s not Ivy Murphy. What kind of sick game are you all playing at?”
The silence that hovered was thick.
“Honey—” Davina started.
“Is this the reason we had to come to this club?” Liam cut her off.
Her shoulders slumped and her hands came up to cradle her protruding stomach. “She can’t marry Aiden Callahan. He’s too old for her.”
My uncle shot her a dry look. “He’s younger than me, céile.”
Davina flashed him a sweet smile. “Yeah, but I love you, so it’s different.”
Liam locked eyes with his wife, his expression softening. He was silent for a moment, then he turned his attention to us.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this, but you better call Ivy’s brothers and assure them nothing—and I mean nothing —will happen to their sister.” When I didn’t acknowledge him, Liam’s tone turned dark. “Priest, tell me nothing will happen to Ivy.”
“Of course,” I lied, looking my uncle straight in the eyes and hoping he wouldn’t detect it. Nothing bad would happen to her, so I didn’t feel any guilt about lying.
He grumbled. “And you’re calling her brothers.”
My brother and Basilio rolled their eyes. “There’s no reasoning with those Irish pricks. You know how they get with their tempers.”
Emory mimed a bomb exploding.
“Just fucking call them,” he barked, then turned on his heel and disappeared with his wife, who threw a look over her shoulder and winked.
The moment they were out of sight, I let out a grunted, “Fuck.”
“You don’t have to call them,” Basilio reasoned. “Just take her and disappear for a while.”
I shook my head.
“No.” My morals might be skewed, but my uncle was right. Ivy’s brothers deserved to know she’d be safe with me. “If this were Emory, you know we’d raze the continent trying to find her.”
I bent my head to find Ivy knocked out in my arms, her lips slightly parted and looking so peaceful my chest tightened.
“Here, I’ll dial them,” my brother offered.
Despite the late—or I should say early morning—hour in Ireland, the call was answered on the second ring.
“Dante DiLustro. Do you have any idea what time it is?” Clearly Aemon Murphy wasn’t thrilled to be woken up.
“This is Priest,” I answered instead, getting straight to business. “I’m taking your sister with me for a while.”
The sound of a loud crash came through the line, so loud Dante had to reduce the volume on his phone.
“What?” he snarled. “What is my sister doing with you?”
“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”
“Then why isn’t she speaking to me?” His voice was venomous.
“She’s asleep.” It was the truth at least.
“First Aiden fucking Callahan, and now you , a goddamned Italian,” he hissed. “If you touch a single hair on her head?—”
“Now that would be impossible,” I said flatly. “And technically, I have some Russian and Irish blood in me.”
“I’ll destroy you and every fucking member of your family, you son of a bitch. And there’ll be nothing technical about it!”
I smirked. “Good luck with that. Our family’s complicated—you might need a flow chart.”
“Motherfucker!” There was shuffling on the other line, then the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded. “You are a dead man!” he yelled, followed by a deafening bang.
“I guess he’s done talking.” I shrugged, holding out my brother’s phone and confirming he hung up.
“Told you,” Emory murmured. “All those Irishmen are fucking crazy.”
“Did the lunatic really think that bullet was going to make it across the pond?” Dante muttered. “Jesus Christ, Priest. Better hope Ivy doesn’t have that temper or you’ll need more doses of whatever you just injected her with.”
Gripping the sleeping woman in my arms, I stared blankly at him. Had he forgotten the things she and her band of friends had done?
“Where is Ivy’s bodyguard?” Emory interjected.
“I don’t know, but keep him and Aiden Callahan off my trail.”
Then I walked away with the only thing that mattered tucked securely in my arms.