13. Riley
Chapter 13
Riley
I…am kissing…Finn Gallagher.
And he’s kissing me back.
But this is nothing like Saturday. He’s not kissing a woman dressed up as his wife. Finn Gallagher is kissing me. Plain old me. And I have no idea why.
He has no reason to. No motivation or incentive whatsoever.
Finn could have and should have pulled me off him the minute I brought our lips together with no intention of backing down. I should be wallowing in my own mortification for being insane enough to come onto him like this. Instead…he’s kissing me like he never intends for this moment to end.
Like he wants me .
If this is the standard for kissing—heart flying, body koala’ed around someone like they’re a tree—I’ve never had a single kiss in my whole life. Until this…arrangement with Finn, I’ve never experienced anything like this. Sexual frustration, sure. But real desire? Definitely not. The few other intimate encounters I’ve had were fueled by opportunistic curiosity.
This is…madness.
Finn grips a handful of my hair and tugs, deepening the kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and desire. And I want more than just a taste of him.
I want everything.
As Finn’s rough hand crawls up the back of my shirt and flicks my bra clasp open, I moan against his dangerous mouth. A chill runs through me when he palms my breasts, circling his thumbs on my nipples until they pebble.
Shivering, my hips rock against him.
Another animal sound revs up his throat, and shock pries my eyes open.
Finn’s arousal is evident.
His cock juts up, creating an impressive tent in his pants.
His hands skate down my sides and land on my ass. He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and squeezes my rear, grinding me against the rock-hard situation happening beneath his zipper.
“Mmm.” If this continues, I’m going to come…clothes and all.
“Fuck.” The word is a low, throaty growl. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
He pulls my hair again, forcing my head back and leaving my neck exposed as he trails kisses down my throat. Just under my ear. On the corner of my mouth.
Holy shit. I’m going to explode.
His mouth finds mine again. But this time, it’s an unhurried exploration. His kisses are slow and soft and still every bit as sensual as before. I want nothing more than to take him to my bedroom, rip off our clothes, and?—
Finn breaks the kiss and pulls back a few inches, resting his forehead against mine. I open my eyes. For a strange, quiet moment, we just stare at each other, our heavy breaths and racing hearts slowing. I’m still wrapped around him, suspended in the air by his muscled arms supporting all my weight.
What the hell am I doing? He’s engaged to my sister.
He could have fucked me up against the wall in my disaster of an apartment, and I would have let him.
Disintegrating every other thought in my mind, Finn’s deep, gruff voice goes soft as silk. “Angel…”
I melt at that one little word. “Hmm?”
Finn’s eyes drift down to my mouth, making my still-jogging heart seize in my chest. When his gaze floats back up to mine, his eyes are molten with need.
Still holding me against the wall, he leans close, until his lips brush my ear. “I’m going to make you come…over and over again. On my fingers. On my cock. On my tongue. I want to hear all those sexy little noises…when I’m inside you.”
Movement catches my attention.
Troy rumbles like a sleeping bear, noisy enough to startle us apart. Ankles unlocking from around Finn’s waist, my feet hit the floor. We release each other at once.
Fast as lightning, Finn draws his weapon and aims for Troy’s head.
One bullet would finish this forever.
“Don’t.” I grab Finn’s arm. “It’s not worth it. If you kill him, they’ll hunt you down.”
Murdering the heir of the Red Hill Mafia, even if totally provoked and deserved, would come with consequences. Finn shouldn’t have to be responsible for those just because of me.
“Letting him live would be careless.” Finn gently removes my fingers from his shooting arm. “He’ll just keep coming back.”
I consider his words. I’ve often feared Troy would reappear in my life, the way he did tonight, furious about one thing or another. But today is the first time my nightmare has ever come true.
I never want to go through this again, but if something happens to Finn because he protected me, I’ll never forgive myself.
Finn nudges Troy with his foot. “This is one of the fuckers who mugged me.”
My eyes fly wide. “What are you talking about?”
“If I don’t settle things with him here and now, he might come after me…or you…again. I won’t give him that chance?—”
“Finn. He’s…this is my ex.”
Eyebrows high, Finn turns to me, openmouthed. “What?”
“Yeah.”
Half an hour later, we’ve washed off Troy’s blood from our hands and I’ve changed into jeans and a clean blouse. We’ve created a makeshift interrogation room out of my mostly destroyed apartment. A semiconscious Troy is tied to a kitchen chair with extension cords Finn found in a drawer somewhere.
While we wait for Troy to wake up, I settle on my sofa and Finn paces.
“He was in here when you got home?”
I nod. “Yeah. But I don’t know how he got in.”
“So your ex breaks into your apartment three days after he and his buddies attack me in an alleyway in your neighborhood.”
“You’re sure it was him?”
Finn regards me with exasperation. “Don’t insult me. I never forget a face. Especially not the face of someone who crossed me.”
I keep my mouth closed this time.
Finn stops pacing, his eyes boring into mine. “What I want to know is why.”
I squeeze my birthstone necklace between my fingers for comfort. “I get Troy coming after me. Ever since we broke up, I half-expected he would. Maybe he has some motivation for attacking you, but how did he track you down? How’d he find out what you look like?”
Finn’s eyebrows knit together, a confused scowl on his face. “What do you mean?”
Embarrassment heats my face. I’ve come this close to revealing my years-long crush on Finn.
Backpedal. Backpedal!
“He’s a psychopath.” I focus on my jeans, the only clean pair I could find after changing out of my ruined work clothes. “Who knows why he targeted you? He hurts lots of people…”
“So why were you with him?”
My gaze snaps to Finn’s pointed, accusatory expression.
Understanding dawns. “Finn…you don’t know who this is, do you?”
I just assumed he knew. Not that Troy’s resemblance to his family is obvious right now, given the mess Finn’s made of his face…
Finn tilts his head. “Should I?”
“This is Troy Sullivan .” I exhale. “Heir to the Red Hill Mob.”
His eyebrows rise again, and his eyes widen. It’s another few moments until comprehension melts over him and his face returns to normal.
“ This is Darragh’s brat?”
I nod.
“You…” His expression clears and then pulls together into a scowl. “You were engaged to marry this prick.”
My throat dries. “Without my knowledge or consent. Yes.”
Finn’s eyes flash to mine, like I’ve just said something shocking. “What the hell are you talking about?”
My heart throbs, and my vision becomes a little fuzzy. A panic attack hovers on the outskirts of my mind.
Breathe, Riley. This asshole isn’t going to hurt you again…not while Finn’s here.
“Three years ago,” I exhale another shaky breath, “my father sold me to Red Hill in exchange for the Philadelphia expansion deal.”
“It wasn’t an arranged marriage?”
I shake my head. “Troy and I were seeing each other at the time, but I had no idea what was going on behind the scenes.”
“Fuck.” He releases a low whistle. “You didn’t know about the Philly plans?”
“No. No one told me. I thought it was a happy coincidence that Troy’s family wanted to do business with us.” Looking back, I realize my naivety.
Finn sets his jaw. “How did you find out?”
My throat tightens, as though forbidding me from telling Finn any more of my sordid history with the unconscious asshole restrained across from me.
“Troy told me himself. We got into a huge fight, and he…hurt me.”
A short silence follows. “He’s dead meat.”
My ears ring, and my vision starts to blur. I need to wrap up this explanation and get the hell out of here before I lose my shit. “I went to my dad about it. He told me it was true. You can imagine the rest.” I hop to my feet. “Excuse me.”
I wobble a little, and Finn grabs my forearm to steady me. “You all right?”
Murder battles concern in his eyes. His proximity cuts through my panic-induced fog, but not enough to save me from what’s coming.
“I-I’m fine. Just need the bathroom.”
With what little strength I have left, I flee to the only room in my house untouched by tonight’s chaos. I climb into my empty bathtub, the way I’ve done during so many other anxiety-filled nights and pull my knees to my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the cold porcelain numb my body as memories pass me by like cars in traffic.
The whole despicable truth unfolds behind my eyes. The deep, calming breaths aren’t working.
I’m hyperventilating.
I still remember the first time I set eyes on Troy Sullivan. Three years ago, in August.
During the day, New York City broiled in the summer heat, and at night, the city partied with the leftover sizzle. That year, the Gallaghers had a busy summer season lined up. Major client event after major client event…including a bash for the Sullivan Brothers.
Darragh and Patrick Sullivan, the boss and underboss of the Red Hill Mafia, are infamous in mob circles. They specialize in heists and ransom rackets, stealing important people and objects within the criminal underworld and profiting by their safe return. Darragh and Patrick have made an art of their family’s operations, and they’re known for their stealth, efficacy, and outlandish practices.
Other mob families hire the Sullivan Brothers to oversee high-profile heists and kidnappings. They sit atop a handsome criminal empire, and back then, they were longtime patrons of the Gallagher clubs. Like all our biggest clients, they were best kept happy.
The Sullivan Brothers preferred Shea, my least favorite of the Gallagher clubs. Shea didn’t have service hallways I could use to sneak in and out of the place, which meant, like braving a rough sea, I had to fight through waves of club patrons just to report to my father while on assignments.
A horrible task for a terminal people-phobe like myself…which included swimming through dizzy, designer-clad celebrities and their entourages, or handsy company executives who couldn’t tell the entertainers from the servers, or raucous, raunchy Gallagher foot soldiers drooling over Harper, who was usually somewhere nearby.
But one night, through the throng of people, someone noticed me. Troy Sullivan, son of Darragh, nephew of Patrick, heir to the Red Hill Mafia.
He carried himself like a prince, and he was the first person to ever take an interest in me while Harper was in the room. Troy was different from any guy I’d ever known. He didn’t salivate over me like I was a juicy steak. He held my hand when we crossed the street. He made me feel seen…at first.
I was twenty. My sheltered, antisocial upbringing hadn’t taught me much about men, other than most preferred my sister to me.
I got lost in the feeling of belonging. Of being liked…for me.
So lost, I thought the planned expansion deal between Troy’s family and mine had nothing to do with us. Serendipity.
The Kings wanted to do business with Red Hill, and the Red Hill’s heir had fallen in love with me. I hate to admit, but I truly believed those few months where I’d found my place within the Gallaghers and someone to love were the happiest of my life.
Troy was everything to me.
Until he started pressuring me to sleep with him.
He knew I’d never seriously dated anyone before him, and somehow, he parlayed his desire and my hesitance into the refrain, If you really love me, you’ll sleep with me.
At first, I thought his enthusiasm was romantic.
Before Troy, I’d only had a few minor hookups. Kissing and a little groping. I just never found the risk worth it.
So I was nervous with Troy.
I was afraid he’d find me boring, that my sexual inexperience would disappoint him, and despite his eagerness, he wouldn’t enjoy being with me. Sex suddenly became a test I wasn’t prepared for. No one had ever liked me as much as he did, and I didn’t know how to handle the intensity of his attention or the danger of his expectations.
Before long, his argument turned into, We’ll fuck all the time when we’re married. Might as well practice now.
His words were matter-of-fact, even though we’d never discussed marriage before, and he’d certainly never proposed. That was the first time he brought marriage up to me, but after that, he started to bring it up more often.
And one afternoon, I snapped.
Who said anything about marriage? I’ve never said I’d marry you.
I’ll never forget Troy’s cold laugh. His response. Of course you’re marrying me. Everything’s already been decided.
I demanded to know what he meant and soon discovered my beautiful relationship with Troy was actually a backdoor business deal.
The truth was the Sullivan Brothers suggested the expansion deal on the condition I marry Troy, and my father agreed without so much as mentioning it to me.
Enraged beyond all words, I stormed out, and Troy followed. The argument we had in the alleyway behind my apartment still haunts me. We screamed at each other until he went postal and attacked me.
I went to my father for help. For answers. How could he have sold me to the Red Hill Mafia without so much as a word? But Thomas Brennan was proud of the deal he made. He neither offered me an apology, nor showed the slightest bit of concern about my bruised body. And when I told him about Troy’s abuse, he advised me to try harder to keep my future husband happy.
For weeks, I struggled, searching my soul. I’d never hated my father or the others before, but I loathed them now. Until he attacked me, I believed Troy actually loved me. I thought I loved him. But the pain and betrayal I received from all sides sobered me.
What was there to fight about? Everyone I trusted deceived me, manipulated me with their greed and silence. I found their evil actions unpardonable. There was only one thing to do.
Cut ties.
I would leave Troy and my mob family behind and never glance back.
Though I never imagined both breakups would take place on the same day.
After Troy attacked me the first time, I severed all contact with him. I stopped all communication and avoided all our favorite spots. Then, after his attempts to lure me back with cheap gifts and empty apologies failed, his impatience morphed into baseless accusation.
There’s someone else, isn’t there?
He showed up drunk one evening, forced his way into my apartment, and tore the place apart looking for evidence to support his inebriated hypothesis. His rampage continued until he found what he was looking for, something I’d forgotten I even had.
A friendship bracelet I made years ago on a dumb school field trip. At the time, I was learning to incorporate letters in my designs. To practice, I crafted bracelets with my name, Harper’s, and the names of my few friends at school. And privately, to honor myself and the crush I couldn’t shake, I designed one with Finn’s name.
I kept the stupid thing in a box in one of my desk drawers for all those years, never to be seen again, until Troy ripped the drawers out of my desk and dumped them out on the floor. When he found the bracelet with Finn’s name, he turned on me, insistent I reveal how long I’d been seeing him behind Troy’s back, and whether I’d slept with him.
Troy didn’t believe any of my explanations and might’ve killed me if not for the gun I had stashed beneath my bed.
I threatened him.
Digging my fingernails into my palms to keep the tears at bay, I recall the words I said to him that day. I’ll kill you if you don’t leave right now. I’ll kill you if you ever come back.
I cover my mouth to mask my sobs.
After getting rid of Troy, I went straight to the Gallagher estate to tell my father I was out. The marriage was off, and all ties to my family were severed.
The last thing I did before leaving the fold was kiss Finn. His cold reaction only reinforced my decision to leave. After pushing me away, he addressed me in a flat voice and made no attempt to hide his disdain.
“I don’t want you.”
Then he turned on his heel and stalked off.
Without a doubt, it was the worst winter of my life. A winter that left me so cold inside, my heart’s been in a cryogenic deep freeze ever since.
I don’t bother to wipe away the tears streaming down my face. “I’m in deep shit.”
A distinct thwack from the den makes me flinch.
Lifting my head in confusion, I climb out of my tub. What the hell was that?
When I open the bathroom door, I find Finn breaking my furniture. He’s just removed two legs from my rectangular coffee table, both on the same side, creating what a reckless teenager might describe as a perfect bike ramp. Two legs stand on one end, and the tabletop itself slants down into the carpet on the other.
“What are you doing?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
Finn’s face is demonic, to put it nicely. He looks chipper and wicked, a combination I’ve never seen on him before, as he finishes whatever it is that he’s doing.
“Good, you’re out.” He gestures toward my felled ficus named George. “Fill that up for me, would you?”
Scratch that. He’s gesturing at my gallon watering can—overturned like everything else in here—next to George.
“Sure thing.” Unsure what’s happening and not eager to find out, I grab the watering can and return to my bathroom.
“Need a towel too.” Finn’s voice carries from the den. “Thin, if possible.”
A thin towel? Maybe he’s planning to gag Troy. That would make a lot of sense, if we weren’t trying to get information out of him…
In the sink, I position the can beneath the faucet and turn the water on. I stare, unblinking, at my red-eyed, puffy-faced reflection in the mirror until the water overflows onto my hands.
Grunts come from the den, as if Finn is lifting something heavy. Exactly what is he doing in there?
I rummage in my bathroom closet for a thin beach towel.
“Wake up.” Finn’s tone shoots a bolt of fear through me.
Dread twists my stomach like a pretzel.
I don’t want to think about it, but Finn was trained to be an enforcer by Shane Gallagher and my father. That can only mean one thing. He’s capable of inflicting unimaginable pain on his enemies. And unless I stay right here in the safety of my bathroom, I’m going to get a ringside seat.
After my time in the tub, my panic has receded considerably, so I decide to brave it. But when I return to the den with the towel and the full can, nausea crashes over me.
Finn has moved Troy onto my modified coffee table and retied him. His legs bend over the standing side, and his head is reclined at the bottom of the slanted tabletop. Shock liquefies my insides.
I have a strong stomach. That’s a job requirement for people who work in shelters. But being able to stand stories as they’re told to me is very different from watching torture take place right before my eyes.
He’s about to waterboard my ex in the middle of my living room.
There’s a sentence I wasn’t expecting to mull over today.
All hints of the man who called me “angel” a little while ago have disappeared. I somehow forgot that the man who leaves me lost and breathless with his kisses also tears people to pieces with his bare hands.
Finn’s back to his brooding, calm self when he removes a small liquor bottle from his pocket. He looms over Troy’s unrecognizable face.
“I said, wake up .” From above, Finn empties the miniature vodka bottle on Troy’s face, causing all his lacerations to fizz. The violent sting yanks Troy out of his stupor. My already-twisted stomach knots tighter as Troy writhes against his restraints.
I clamp my mouth shut and stare at my feet to keep the nausea down. This is…horrifying. Troy deserves it, but it’s still a lot.
I make my way back to the den, each step taking me closer to Troy’s mangled form and Finn’s stony gaze.
When Troy sees me coming, he spits blood on my carpet.
His eyes, framed by the split skin and bloody gouges on his face, are even more terrifying. Finn takes the towel and watering can from me.
“Fuck you,” Troy rasps from below us. “Both of you are going to pay.” He rolls his head to one side, glaring at Finn. “For laying a hand on me…consider yourself dead. And you .” His eyes narrow on me. “After disrespecting me and my family, you didn’t really think I’d let you move on with someone else?—”
I lunge over the coffee table and punch Troy in the face, surprised by my own speed. But there’s a reason bullies sit on top of their already-horizontal victims before punching them. Naturally, according to the laws of physics, when I throw my fist down at Troy’s face, the rest of me follows, my balance disappearing. I nearly topple onto him.
Finn hooks me around the waist and pulls me against him to keep me from falling. His hard chest against me sends my pulse flying like a frisbee.
“Riley.”
Finn’s low, coarse voice launches a heatwave between my thighs.
I lick my lips. “Yeah?”
“The plan was to interrogate him.”
With great difficulty, I pry my eyes away from Finn long enough to glance at Troy.
Out cold. How hard did I hit him?
As if in answer, pain blossoms through my knuckles, now sticky with vodka and Troy’s blood. I wince, extending and contracting my fingers.
I’m gonna need some ice.
Finn gives me a hard look, his dark eyes broiling my face.
“Troy knows our secret.” My right hand is really starting to throb.
Finn releases me gently. “You actually got something from that shit dispenser he calls a mouth?”
“Huh?” I’m already across the room, reaching for the first aid kit with my good hand.
“What makes you think he knows about it?”
“Troy thinks I married you. Me. Not Harper.” I roll my lips together, recoiling from the burn of the disinfectant wipe biting into my injured hand. “I’m sure of it. He’s been talking crazy about me getting married since I got home.”
“Okay…so what are you thinking?”
“Red Hill must’ve been following you…” My eyebrows scrunch as I put all the pieces together. “Saturday…”
“What about Saturday?”
“They knew you were getting married. They saw you get into a limo with your bride, and if they followed us home, they would’ve seen me get out. Troy can tell me apart from Harper, and he knows where I live. He attacked you the next day.”
“Our secret wasn’t our secret until four days ago.” Finn pulls out his phone and dials. “If they’ve been trailing me since before the wedding, we need to find out why.”
Finn strolls toward my kitchen as his call connects. I have no idea who’s on the other end. All I know is when Finn is serious, his voice gets lower.
“We have a problem.”
Minutes later, after I’ve cleaned and bandaged my hand as well as I can, Finn returns. “Your dad’s sending a crew to pick up lover boy. I told him we’d wait until they get here.”
“And then what?”
“We’re moving you into the mansion.”
My stomach dips. “Come again?”
Finn makes a sweeping gesture, indicating my trashed den. “Look around.”
Between Troy breaking in and Finn fucking him up, my apartment has seen better days. And even after all the evidence is cleared away, will I really feel safe sleeping here?
Finn moves to the window, scanning the street below.
“Right now, you and I are targets of the Red Hill Mafia. Don’t know how or why, but I do know you need protection.” Finn faces me. “Until your sister gets back, you’re moving in with me. Full-time.”