15. Connor
CONNOR
M y phone buzzes where it’s face-down on the counter. I'm not expecting anything. The job’s done, the men are accounted for. I should be winding down, making notes, locking up any loose ends.
But her name on the screen cuts through that rhythm.
I grab it fast.
Connor 11:43 PM: I am.
Connor 11:43 PM: What do you mean? Are you okay?
She doesn’t answer right away. I pace to the far side of the room, jaw tight.
My house is too quiet for the sudden tension I feel in my chest. Any distraction would help, so I look toward the window while I wait for her to respond.
City lights filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything in golden streetlight. I check my phone again.
Nora 11:47 PM: No.
That one word guts me. I lean hard against the windowsill, staring at my phone screen. Did she go down there anyway? Did she ignore the warning or pass it along to her father? I replay the message in my head, searching for subtext, anything to hint at what's going on.
When we set out for the docks, I couldn't get her out of my head.
I'm losing it, or Ronan would say that. I'm paranoid now that when we make a move, she'll be in the wrong place at the wrong time and be caught in the crosshairs.
It's why I warned her to stay away, because she's the enemy, and how will I know if she is in danger when my family moves to strike hers?
Whatever it is, she reached for me, and I have to be there for her. I'm caught between the families too, but not like her. She's too pure to be trapped like me. It's up to me to protect her.
Connor 11:48 PM: Come to my place. I’ll send a car.
She doesn't protest. That alone tells me just how far she’s gone. Being seen getting into my car and coming to my place would end her. It would end us both, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take to make sure she’s okay.
Connor 11:49 PM: Walk three blocks north. Corner of Haddington and Pierce. Ten minutes.
I open my contacts and tap Kirk’s name, typing up a message for him.
Connor 11:50 PM: I need you to run an errand. Take the black sedan—no tags—and pick up Nora Fitzpatrick. She’ll be waiting at the corner of Haddington and Pierce in ten. Text me when you have her.
While I wait for confirmation, I move through the flat, turning down the lights and unlocking the door.
I strip off the jacket I’ve been wearing since we left the docks and toss it on the arm of the couch.
Then I sweep the loose brass from the entry table into the drawer below to make sure nothing feels like war the second she walks in.
After thirty minutes the door swings open and I see Kirk before I see Nora.
She's pale, eyes red-rimmed from crying.
She walks past Kirk, who narrows his eyes at me in suspicion, and waits.
I know he'll report back to Ronan, and I'd have his head if he weren't so loyal to me, but this is too important. I can see it in her eyes.
"Nora," I say softly as she hurries to me, buries her head in my chest. My eyes meet Kirk's and he looks away. "Be ready to take her home. If anyone shows up, turn them away—and don't say anything."
"Connor, you know Ronan?—"
"I said," I blurt out, cutting him off, "don't say anything." My eyes hold a warning, and he nods carefully before slinking out.
“Connor…” Nora sniffles. Her hands cling to the front of my shirt, and I’m suddenly feeling so overly protective I’d like to tear the head off whoever did this to her, whoever made her cry.
"Nora, what's wrong?" I pull her close, smoothing a hand over her hair as she cries into my chest. Her words are muffled and broken, but I catch glimpses of a heated argument with her father and something her mother said. Then it becomes so unintelligible, I can’t make sense of it.
Fury boils inside me. I want to hunt her father down and make him pay for hurting her like this, but I know it's not the right move.
Instead, I guide her to the couch and sit her down, leaving only long enough to grab a box of tissues and a glass of water. "Here," I say gently, handing them to her. She dabs at her eyes, sniffling quietly as she sips the water I pour for her.
"Thank you," she whispers, glancing up at me with tear-stained eyes. She’s so fragile, not like the men I’m used to working with. I’m not sure how to handle this, so I cup her cheek and press my lips to hers. She responds eagerly, scooting closer until she’s on my lap.
Heat rises between us as we continue to kiss, our bodies pressed together, her legs wrapping around my waist. My hand moves up her thigh, tearing the hem of her shirt in my haste to touch her bare skin. The life-threatening mission earlier tonight fades away as I focus solely on Nora.
“Hey, shh,” I whisper. Then I push the hair out of her face and kiss her again.
Her expression is desperate, needy. I know she didn’t come here for sex, but I feel like that’s what she wants from me.
“I’m here,” I tell her, and she kisses me again like it’s the thing that’s grounding her, so I let her take control.
Her lips press harder against mine, and I can't help but respond in kind.
My kisses grow hungrier, my hands more insistent as they roam her body.
She tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer as she grinds against me, her softness against my hardness.
It's a moment of desperate need, an oasis of escape from the storm raging around us.
Nora's hands claw at my shirt as she tugs at the buttons, her breathing ragged.
I know this isn't right, but I can't help myself.
I want her too much. We're both on the edge, and I need to feel something other than the ice in my veins that her family has frozen in me.
Her lips find their way to my neck, and I groan.
Her nails rake against my skin, and my self-control starts to unravel as she arches her hips against mine, her heat pressing against my arousal.
I tug at the buttons on her jeans, push the waistband lower, and she lifts her hips up to let me push the pants down.
It’s a tangle of fabric and limbs for a moment as we both wrestle out of our clothing, but our unquenchable desire trumps our need for finesse.
My hands slip underneath her shirt, sliding up her back to unclasp her bra.
Her breath catches in my ear as I cup her breasts, teasingly running my thumbs over her hardened nipples.
Nora moans, arching into my touch as we continue our frantic dance on the couch.
I pull away for a moment to admire her naked body beneath me, taking in every curve and freckle that make her so irresistible.
"You're so beautiful,” I mumble before kissing her again.
She blushes, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red that contrasts beautifully against her porcelain skin.
Gently, my fingers trace along her hips, mapping every curve and indentation of her body, memorizing each and every inch as if it were my last chance to imprint her into my very being.
Nora shivers under my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as she arches her back, inviting me, so I accept.
Her hips rise to meet mine as I enter her, our bodies moving together in a desperate rhythm, trying to outrun the pain and heartache that clouds our minds.
Sparks fly behind my eyelids, and for a brief moment, all I can feel is Nora—her heat, her touch, her taste on my lips.
The world melts away, leaving only the two of us locked together in this frenzied embrace.
Nora's nails dig into my back as she clings to me, her breathing ragged in my ear.
"Harder," she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire. And so I oblige, thrusting deeper and harder as we both teeter on the edge of release. My hips pump into her, and I feel her wrap her legs around my torso as she whimpers in pleasure. Her tightness around me heightens my own arousal, and I know she’s close.
She arches her back, the head of my cock hitting a spot deep within her that has her moaning my name. "Oh, Connor… please," she begs, her nails digging into my back as she clutches at me tighter. I'm right there with her, on the verge of breaking apart as well.
I kiss my way down her neck, sucking gently on her pulse point as I thrust into her with even more urgency. Nora's breathing comes in short pants now, her body trembling beneath mine. I can feel waves of pleasure building inside her, crashing against each other before finally spilling over.
"I'm… I'm going to—" She gasps, and I feel her hot walls clamp down on me.
As Nora's orgasm washes over her, she cries out, her body tensing around mine in a vise-like grip.
I can feel her contracting around me, milking my own release from the depths of my being.
I give in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through me, burying my face in the crook of her neck as I spend myself inside her.
Our breathing is ragged, erratic as we both ride out the waves of pleasure.
After the last tremors of our orgasms subside, we remain entangled on my couch, panting for air, our bodies still joined together. Nora rests her head on my shoulder, her breathing slowly returning to normal. I turn, curling her against my chest, and she sniffles as she clings to me.
We sit like that for a long time—long enough that the heat between us cools and the quiet sets in. She doesn’t speak, but her breath stutters against my chest. Eventually, she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“I did something,” she says.
I wait because she's finally opening up and I need to know what got her so rattled.
“I shot someone.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes are anything but. “One of ours.”
The words hang there, waiting to collapse the room. She has so much pain in her eyes.
“I went to the docks, Connor. He had a clean shot at you,” she goes on. “He was one second away from pulling the trigger, and I didn’t even think. I didn’t warn him. I didn’t call out. I just… pulled the trigger first.”
My hands stay on her back firmly, pinning her to my body. Her mouth trembles, but she’s past crying. I remember the first time I killed someone and I can only imagine what she's feeling.
“I wasn’t protecting my family,” she says. “I wasn’t thinking about loyalty or survival. I just saw you and… I pulled the trigger.”
I breathe through it. It should shock me but it doesn’t. It's my fault. I all but announced where I'd be, and what did I expect from her? This is getting too messy, too risky.
“He’s dead,” she adds. “And I don’t feel sorry.
That’s the worst part. I feel sick, but not because I killed him.
Because I didn’t hesitate.” The guilt coils around her like a second skin.
She sinks into the cushions, eyes vacant, voice small.
“And now my father wants me to use you. He told me to press you on the peace talks. He thinks I can sweeten you up and draw out whatever you’re hiding. ”
My hand shifts to the back of her neck, and I force her to look back at me again. The idea of Seamus controlling her enrages me. It makes my chest hammer and my pulse race.
“I think he believes I’ll do it.” Her lip quivers as she speaks, and I search her eyes for the truth.
“Do you think you will?” I ask her, but I know what an impossible situation she's in.
She doesn’t answer right away. When she does, it’s barely a whisper.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid he's not going to give me a choice.” Her eyes well up. "I don't want him to kill you."
That’s the thing I’ve known all along. If anyone were going to unravel me, it would be her. Now she’s starting to wonder the same thing. Seamus will get what he wants one way or another, or I'll be the one to put a stop to it. And I don't know if I can do that if it will hurt Nora.