CHAPTER 30
Quinn
“No,” I say. Seems like the only word I ever say to my little wife.
“Come on, don’t you have some…energy you need to release?” She asks, smirking. Pushing me to the edge with her perfect pouty mouth and that body wrapped in more black and gray, skin-tight, fighting clothes. Her eyes sparkle as she says, “Pretend I’m Vinny.”
I suppress a deep, growly sound from bubbling up out of my throat.
Vinny.
Mac, who is apparently holding what remains of my sanity in his hands, is the only reason that asswipe isn’t laid up in a hospital bed right now.
I had two old timer thugs on their way to teach him a lesson about texting my wife.
Mac intercepted the order and reminded me to kindly get a fucking grip.
Vincenzo Baltoni is not even high ranking in the Italian mafia, didn’t even know she’d gotten married.
“Careful, Mancini,” I warn.
“You know he touched my boobs once. Probably told all his friends he’s felt up Skulls’ wife!”
“Luna!” I warn again, about to snap like a tired, sexually frustrated, mentally unstable rubber band.
“Just some self defense? Let me try to fight you off.”
“No. One hit from me and you’ll end up with Seamus stitching you back together. Go to the gym.”
“Ugh, fine,” she grumbles, her flirty tone gone. I watch her stomp out of the dining room. Her tight ass sways at me, just like her long, straight ponytail. Everything about her taunts me. Interests me. Tempts me.
That’s why I’ve tried to avoid her.
It’s been three days since I held her perfect body to my chest in the back of the car.
One minute I’m shocked at her insightful suggestion about a weak spot in my defenses, then I’m laughing at her impression, next she’s in my arms and I’m thinking of Mac’s grandma, Tiny’s weird bout of toe fungus, anything unappealing to keep my dick from tenting out my pants while she sat next to me in the backseat.
Then I got home to the menace and did she leave a list of books for Sheila? No.
She wrote on lipstick in my bathroom mirror, Hubby, I need a new copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu. She asks for a damn strategy book, then put her sweet, pouty lips on the mirror next to it, a perfect kiss mark. Which made my dick twitch.
Lipstick on a mirror.
God help me.
Physically leaving has been easy, since we have a lot going on. Two different teams are trying to track down who shot Collin. It was an organized, professional hit made to look like a bunch of street thugs. So who was the real puppet master behind the scenes?
The Russians? Mac and I are personally trying to drill down whispers about an upcoming attack from them at one of our safe houses.
I called Mancini senior and asked for his best men.
I’m sure my wife will be thrilled to see Zeno soon, since they seem close.
He better be as good a soldier for me as he is a friend to her.
Fucking Russians.
It’s one damn warehouse I need, and it’s on the Sound, not technically in their New York territory. You’d think I was trying to move into their HQ.
Annoying.
But as much as we have to sort through each day when we leave, my mind stays behind on the property. Every morning, before I leave, Luna catches me and asks to spar. I want to say yes, she’s so eager. Luna as her true self, wanting to learn, to fight. I respect that.
Each time it gets harder to say no. She asked me again last night when we arrived back just in time for dinner. She’s so damn relentless.
I wish she was truly on my team, then I could let her loose on my enemies.
I sigh so loudly as we walk out the door, Mac perks up next to me and asks, “Honeymoon phase is over, eh, boss?”
I chuckle, “Hm, let’s go.”
As if we ever had a honeymoon phase.
As if we’ve ever had anything real together.
As if I have time to sit here wallowing, pining after what could be with my own damn wife.
I shake my head and get ready to lead my men back out into the wild.
·····
“Just once, just fucking once I’d like a witness to have actually seen something!” Mac grouses again as we walk into the house hours later.
I grunt in agreement. We thought we had a lead on the crew who shot his brother, but the guy admitted he actually didn’t see shit. He was just trying to impress us and maybe get recruited.
It’s almost nine but Sheila greets us in the foyer, “Heard you all didn’t eat. Saved some chicken.”
“You’re an angel, cousin,” Mac says as he redirects his steps from the stairs back to the kitchen. I follow, as do the three guys who went with us for this raid that turned out to be a bust.
I sit at the table and start digging into the big plates of leftovers Sheila left out on the table for us.
Hearing us arrive, men come in to ask questions, commiserate.
The dining hall is half full in just a few minutes.
As is her motherly custom, Shae decides if the hall is full she needs to put out more food so she and Sheila appear with cartons of ice cream, bowls and spoons.
“Hey, look who it is, up and around!” someone yells.
Collin walks into the doorway gingerly and everyone cheers loud enough to shake the extremely old walls around us. Anyone who was asleep is probably up now. I sneak a glance at the staircase.
“She’s not up there,” my aunt says knowingly from behind me. She sets more spoons and bowls down with a sigh, “Still out walking, crazy lass. Every day she gets a little farther out and a little slower coming in.”
What the fuck?
Mac studies my reaction to this. I just sigh outwardly. Inside, I rage.
She’s still out in the dark? Alone? I explicitly told her not to stay out in the pitch black so of course, she does just that.
Someone has eyes on her at all times, but she doesn’t know that.
She really can fall and hurt herself, even if one of my men would be there in a second to help, the damage would be done.
It’s cold too, what’s she trying to do, get sick?
Not to mention, if Tink gets tired and forgets her orders to herd Luna in circles to the east trails, I could very well be fucked.
I start to ask one of the many questions barreling through me but the vixen herself appears in the doorway. She slowly reaches to grab a bowl and spoon from the stack. Her nose is pink from the cold and…wait.
She has a scratch on her head. Did she fall?
I stand up to cross the room for a closer look. She could’ve walked into a bramble, we do have some thorn bushes. Or she—
No.
It’s none of that shit.
She has a telling bruise to match the scratch, across her face, and a bandage wrapped on her wrist. The same bandage I’ve had a million times. That my men have had.
“Who did this?” I ask. My voice is like thunder caught in my throat.
She tries to pull down her sleeve to cover the fucking wrapped wrist, as if I didn’t already see it.
“You said to go to the gym so—”
“Who. The Fuck. Did this?” I demand, louder.
“Please, he just—”
“WHO?” I yell.
“I don’t know!” She yells back. “I didn’t get his name.”
I growl. I actually growl like some kind of beast, “You didn’t get his name on purpose.”
I look to the room, “Who?”
“No!” Luna abandons her bowl on the table and grabs me, her tiny hands trying to grip my biceps. “Please, I begged him to fight me and lied and said you commanded that they had to fight with me if I asked.”
“I will find out who it was and—”
“And you’ll do nothing to him. Absolutely nothing!” She drops her hands and slams them on her hips. “You know I can’t learn from a punching bag. I want to learn to fight like a Quinn. Let me.”
She stands there, unbelievably brave, stubborn. Stupid. I’m not level-headed right now. Yet here she is, shoulders back, head high, eyes holding my own.
“No one is to spar with my wife but me,” I call out to the room while still looking at her. “Understood?” Everyone immediately says Yes, Boss, in unison. At that, something flashes across Luna’s face. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in annoyance.
But she winces.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I ask her. She doesn’t respond. “Fuck my life,” I mutter before picking her up.
“What…what are you doing?”
“Taking you to Seamus.”
“Seriously? For a bruise?”
“You say it’s a bruise, it’s probably a damn internal organ busted and bleeding out.”
Her mouth falls open, “You are unwell, you know that?”
“And you? What did you think would happen to the man that busted your wrist?”
Her mouth shuts, “Nothing. I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Do you ever get tired of lying? Or is it just second nature now?” I say, knowing she doesn’t believe that for a second.
She has to know I notice everything about her.
That I’m painfully more and more aware of her every second.
What she’s wearing, how she has her hair, where she is at any given moment, what she’s currently trying to uncover or plot out as she walks a certain wing of the house or a certain part of the grounds.
I carry her out the side hall, through the mudroom, to one of our four wheelers. Declan appears out of nowhere to drive it. “Seamus,” I tell him.
A minute later we pull up to the doctor’s quarters, a small cottage tucked into a grove not far from the main house. I carry Luna in despite her protests and soon he confirms what she claimed. Only minor bruises. No sprains. He cleans and dresses the small cut on her head but that’s it.
“See?” Luna says as she climbs into the golf cart unassisted. “So dramatic.”
“Hmph,” I huff before telling my new recruit, “I’ll drive. Walk the fence line back to the house, Dec. Report back.”
We drive over in silence. I go slowly, worried about my wife. She must be aching but the doc gave her some ibuprofen, so at least she’ll be able to fall asleep after a while.
I park on the front drive and follow Luna up the steps.
“Please tell me you’re headed straight to bed now?
” I ask as I open the door for her. She slips past me, smelling amazing.
There’s sweat and the smell of outside, even the hint of the ointment Seamus gave her, but under that is something sexy and feminine.
Something I shouldn’t think too hard about right before she heads up to my bedroom.
“Okay,” she says. She takes two steps into the foyer and then turns back. “So, will you train with me tomorrow?”
I groan, gripping my head in my hand. “No, woman, I will not train with you tomorrow. You’re hurt.”
“The next day, then.”
“Maybe.”
She moves a few inches closer and looks up at me, those big brown eyes reeling me in like the sucker I apparently am.
“Please? Promise me? The day after tomorrow?”
“Fine,” I sigh.
“I’m going to need you to shake on it.”
“Fine! Luna! The day after tomorrow!” I yell, eyes closed in exasperation as she pumps my hand once.
“Okay, I’ll spar with you, geez, calm down,” she says.
I open my eyes and dip my chin, glowering at her with the scariest stance I can muster.
And, not scared in the least, beyond pleased with herself, she laughs.
And I can’t help myself, I grab her. I hold her to me, fucking rattled.
Rattled that she was out in the dark alone.
Rattled that she was touched by one of my men and hurt, even if it was on the mats.
Rattled that again and again she surprises me, pushes me, affects me.
I hold her head to my chest. She doesn’t respond, since her arms are smashed between us. She also doesn’t try to push me away. I relax my hold, realizing I might be hurting her wrist and she looks up at me.
Her beautiful chocolate eyes search my face.
“I’m fine,” she whispers. “It barely hurts.”
Her mouth parts, those perfect lips right there.
Right fucking there.
“Good,” I say, releasing her quickly.
I turn and in two steps, I’m back out the front door, letting it slam behind me.
I call for Tink and head out in the direction of the woods. I better get my head on straight or I’m going to fall for the Italian mafia princess and she is going to stab me in the back.
Maybe literally.