Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
seamus
I’m not that into you.
Jesus.
Wrong fucking thought.
I pace the living room.
The Freedom Army itself isn’t a problem. They’re active in Northern Ireland. On the surface, the new branch tends to be political over anarchistic and brutal fighters.
But older members who escaped prison or got out of the Army have found themselves in places like New York, Chicago, Boston, and Toronto. I’m sure there are other places, but those are the most common ones where they fled.
And the dead guy who just tried and failed to play chicken with me was once a member. They love violence, the good fight, and I can see some of them drifting into a group that might be interested in the smuggling routes of Ava’s bratva.
My gaze flickers to her as Torin works on his laptop and Cal smokes.
Dec’s on a different mission, talking to the cat and dog about avenging their furry friends.
“Thanks to Ava, guys, we know where the murderers are, and blood will be fucking spilled. Animals avenged and freed. Lucie’s gonna take them in.”
“What?” Cal asks sharply.
Dec rolls his eyes. “At the café. Chill.”
There’s dirt on him. Smudged on all my brothers, and I know they, along with Harry and Lucie, buried the poor little animals that died.
“We should get something nice, a pretty flowering bush or tree,” Ava says softly as Lucie lowers herself down on the sofa before placing a platter of sandwiches on the coffee table. Harry sits down on the other side of Lucie with a glass of whiskey that she presses into my wife’s hand.
“I’ll help you find the perfect tree,” Harry says to Declan, flicking her ponytail as she shakes her head at the horrible things people do.
We do horrible things.
Not Harry, not Lucie.
But… the rest of us, and I suspect, my sweet thing, too. She’s led something of a life.
The hate is easy to cling to, but while it’s hard to trust her, it’s also getting harder to dislike her.
Ava’s got grit. And I have to admire someone with her degree of self-preservation. She’s been essentially on her own since a teen.
And why the fuck am I even thinking this?
“Most Irish won’t go against us,” Cal suddenly says. “And anyone Shiv had in her clan has no reason to go up against us. Fuck, no one that I know of has a reason. If someone wants to make a move, they don’t send some psycho in a car after us.”
“It’s me,” Ava says after the longest pause while she sips her whiskey. “For some reason, Romanov’s right. He always warned me to just leave the bratva to others.”
Cal laughs. “Or let him run it.” But my brother stubs out his cigarette and grabs the back of an empty armchair in the living room.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is someone—Romanov, the cartel, or someone else—wants to cause trouble, and a little so-called nothing bratva that deals in some small but strategic smuggling routes is perfect for that. ”
He’s right. Whoever controls it could control a lot of potential money, a lot of potential power.
It’s been kept small—that we know of—but with a protected client list, it becomes a thing to be coveted, like the invite to a special club.
And no one’s ever had trouble when they use Volkov routes. I know that much.
“The Semtex bomb? The Lev group?” I ask.
From the other sofa, Torin says, “Could be something, could be nothing. There’s a lot of Semtex being moved right now.
It’s a commodity for those who like that kind of thing.
We don’t deal in it because we don’t play with the arms arena, not serious arms, anyway.
But the Lev group… they might be in that game. ”
“We won’t have real answers until we get into the bratva office,” I say.
“Is there a reason you have to wait for an invite?” Cal asks.
Ava looks up. “I don’t think so.”
I smile. “We’ll make it a family event.”
“Perfect.” Cal straightens up and holds out his hand to Lucie. “Tomorrow morning we’ll all get started. Get some sleep, everyone. I won’t let anyone in this family be a target. And that includes you, Ava.”
After everyone heads out, it’s just me and Ava.
Arnold peeks his head in and clicks over to her, putting his head in her lap. Which immediately makes Clawzilla leap up on the sofa and dive onto her lap so he can put his paws on the dog’s nose.
Her reaction is like a whole pile of bees landed on her and she can’t move in case they sting.
It does something to me, shifts things. “Have you never had pets, sweet thing?”
“No.”
“What kind of fucking life have you led?”
“A normal one,” she says, but I just shake my head and kneel down, petting Arnold’s soft fur.
“No,” I say, “you haven’t. Someone just tried to kill us and you’re cool about it. You almost lose your shit about tiny animals, which is fair, but you remember the license plate number. You scale the sides of buildings and build bombs. Who the fuck are you? Me?”
She shudders, but there’s a smile on her face, soft and there and mine. I’ll take it.
We’re not friends. We’ll never be that. There’s too much volatile chemistry. And this is as far from love as anything I can think of. But I don’t think I hate her. I might even like her a little.
Or at the very least, I’m beginning to respect her.
“The animals are nice and comforting. And I’m guessing we’re getting two more. You rescued them. And we’re going to name them and take care of them together.”
She closes her eyes. “Nope. I’m not someone to be trusted with things like that.” Ava breathes out. “What are we going to do?”
“You’re going to act like the fucking Pakhan, and I’m going to act like your partner, and we’ll go in there.” Her eyes snap open wide. “Fuck, we’ll go and be a power couple on an evening out. Drop by with the family. The Murphys as a core unit are unstoppable.”
She doesn’t answer.
I lean in and kiss her, running my finger along the top of her dress.
She tastes like bad ideas and insanely good times. She’s sweet with that bite of danger and whiskey.
Clawzilla growls. I break the kiss and look down.
The cat’s not to be placated and stalks off, using Arnold as his own personal stepping stone.
The dog makes a disappointed sound and follows his cat friend. They’re so fucking weird, those two. I stand, pulling Ava up.
“I’m sick of talking about this,” I say.
Her eyes flash with a heat that strokes over my cock. “I still don’t like you.”
“Dislike’s better than hate. But I’m not asking you to like me.” I lean in. “I don’t need you to like me to fuck you senseless.”
“And who said you could do that?”
I pull her close and run a hand up between her thighs to rub her cunt. “Your wet pussy.”
“Seamus.”
It’s a warning, a challenge, a plea.
My lips curl into a slow, feral smile. My blood beats hard, filling my cock. “Tell you what. If you get to the bedroom without me catching you, I’ll leave you alone. If not…”
“You disgust me.” But the heat’s almost fever bright in her eyes.
“I’ll even give you a head start. Run, sweet thing.”
She looks at me for a moment, then she turns and takes off.
I pick up the glasses and set them on the mantel. I think the house cleaners come tomorrow. If not, one of us will put them in the dishwasher. I know I should, but I can’t think straight. I’m giving her time to run, and if she does, then I might not get to fuck her senseless tonight.
When I’m finished with my idea of tidying, I walk out of the living room and cross the foyer to the stairs.
My heart thumps hard as my cock twitches in my pants.
Ava’s standing there, midway up the stairs, feet bare, hand on the railing.
We stare at each other.
Then she moves.
But she doesn’t run. No. Instead, she pulls off her dress and lets it float down.
I stride up the stairs. The pulse in her throat beats. Only then does she turn and run.
Sweeping up the dress, I take off after her. It shouldn’t be thrilling, but it is. Ava’s fast, and I know I’m faster, but I stalk her like she’s my dinner, and her ragged breathing comes from excitement, not her run up the stairs.
I catch her on the landing outside the bedroom door, toppling us both to the ground.
And she moans. “You only won because I let you.”
“I won because I wanted to, and you’re a fucking liar.”
“Screw you.”
I push her thighs apart and dive in, biting the gusset of her panties, sucking her juices through the material, and I know I’ll never get sick of her taste.
I look up as I pull her panties to the side and push my fingers into her, thrusting hard.
Little ripples cascade over my fingers and I come up, biting down on one of her nipples, making her release a thready little scream.
“That’s the idea, sweet thing. I’m going to screw you senseless.”
I keep thrusting into her, curling my fingers, suckling on one nipple and then the other before I start to bite and lick my way down.
She’s so fucking wet, on the verge of coming hard, and I pull her panties off her clit, exposing it, and with those other fingers in her, I start to lick and suck her clit until she explodes.
Ava contracts and shudders and she shoves at me, pushing me off.
But then she rolls me so I’m on my back and she starts to attack my pants, to get to my cock. Oh fuck, I don’t know if there’s a better sight than her pulling me free, swallowing me down, working my dick like she’s a fucking porn star.
But I’m not in the mood for her to dominate. I also don’t want to come yet, so I pluck her off me and rise up. Then I spin her on the hardwood floor and push her down so her ass is in the air and she’s on her forearms.
I pull her panties to the side and thrust in deep.
I’m not interested in a slow build.
Hard, fast, fucking filthy.
And she pushes back, grinding herself on my cock. “More, give me more, you fucker.”
“Shut the fuck up and take it. I’ll fuck you how I want, when I want.” I grab her ass, holding it as my cock disappears into her, only to drag out, her inner walls clinging like she’s trying to suck me in.
Fuck, this view is something.
Ava moans, tiny grunting sounds, as I slam into her, and everything in me swells, aching, electrified. She starts to tighten. With her first full contraction, I come, hard, my cock twitching as she spasms on me.
I thrust once more and then pull out, turning her over, kissing her hard with her back against the floor.
Finally, I pull out, and I pick her up, throwing her over my shoulder only to toss her on my bed so I can kiss her slower and deeper.
I think I’ll take my time exploring her, stripping her down to the bone, and then?
I’m gonna fuck her all over again.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand while Ava sleeps. I grab it and get up from the bed.
I know the number. It’s Da.
He rarely uses his prison cell phone.
Rarely calls us, that is.
“Da?”
“Ah, Seamus, yer mam says yer all good.” Da passes information on through Mam. The phone calls might be monitored, they might not, and he’s a careful man in everything he does, even if his Irish blood runs hot and wild.
“Everything good?”
“Aye,” he says. “Yer mam mentioned a friend of mine. He was enjoying the Scottish sun, but I hear he’s into experimenting with some of that Cuban music and visitin’ Stateside.”
My heart thumps as I unravel what he’s saying to me. “I might have seen one of his friends. Scar?”
“That’ll be him. Kier Hanlon.” Da laughs.
It’s a low-key, hearty laugh that’s in no way full of humor or goodwill.
“Heard he’s into shipping. Likes to make things his own.
Got a daughter, Kelly. If you see him, be nice.
Very nice. Yer mam said she’ll call over the weekend. Take care. Give yer brothers my love.”
“Love you, Da.”
He hangs up. And I sink down onto the couch.
We’ve been looking for someone named Kelly, but now things start to make sense. If I read between the lines, Da just told me that a man named Kier Hanlon uses the name Hank Kelly here. I sit straight up. Maybe he’s in bed with the cartel. Shipping tells me he’s looking for a good smuggling route.
The best one around would be Volkov.
I text my brothers. And ten minutes later, we’re in the garage, Cal smoking when I know he’s supposed to be quitting as he listens to me relaying the details of the call.
“I didn’t even look him up,” Torin mutters.
Cal slants him a look as he leans on my bike and Dec inspects the damage on the car. It seems like he’s not listening, but he is. Very closely.
I stand, whiskey glass in one hand, the bottle on the floor.
“Wouldn’t matter,” Callahan mutters, taking a drink from his glass and setting it back on the saddle. “No way he came in legally. So he’s the guy with the scar. The Semtex bomb might be him.”
“Might be?” I ask. “Gotta be. If he’s trying to impress the cartel and sees Volkov smuggling routes as important leverage, then we need to get rid of him. That’s the bottom line.”
“How?”
My head starts to throb. “Ava.”
My brothers stare at me. “Your wife?” Tor asks.
“It’s mutual convenience. We need to nip this in the bud sooner rather than later. Da said this guy likes to make things his own.”
“Fuck.” Cal downs the rest of his drink and finishes his cigarette. “That means he’ll do what they did in Ireland. Disrupt order. And if he’s in with the cartel, he’ll be looking to take over not just Volkov, but other routes.”
“We need to work this out. It affects us and a lot of others. He’s Irish, and some people might decide to throw us in with him for that reason.” Torin takes a swallow of his drink. “Puts a target on our heads, too.”
“So, we get rid of him. Lure him,” I say.
“How?” Dec asks.
My spine stiffens. “Ava… I have to sacrifice Ava.”
And for a split second, I wonder why those words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.