Chapter 32
brONX
The enforcer the Murphy family sent to represent them looks exactly like the lowlife scumbag I expected. He’s got a deep scar through his left eyebrow, calloused, tattooed hands, and enough piercings in his face alone to fry a metal detector.
“Two million euros,” he says in a thick accent, sliding a folder across the table in the back room of one of the restaurants where we hold meetings and negotiations. “That’s what Declan Blake owes. It’s non-negotiable.”
“And if we pay it?” Kingston asks.
“Connor and Tierney Blake are off limits.”
I lean back, studying this bastard who had my wife kidnapped. “What about future debts? What’s to stop Declan from running up another tab?”
“That’s between you and Blake. We get our money, we go back to Dublin.”
“What guarantees do we have?” Kingston says. “That you won’t come back for more in six months?”
The Murphy fuck sits back in his chair and laughs. “You think we want a war with the Viacavas over some washed-up Dublin criminal? Blake’s more trouble than he’s worth. We get paid, we’re done with the whole fucking family.”
I think about Tierney lying in that hospital bed after having been stabbed by one of this guy’s men, betrayed and broken because of her father’s debts and lies. “How do we know you’ll honor the deal?”
“Because Murphy’s word is good. Always has been.” He leans forward. “But if you don’t pay, we’ll hunt down Connor Blake and put a bullet in his skull. Then we’ll come for the girl.”
My hands clench into fists under the table. “You threaten my wife again, and this conversation ends with your fucking blood and brains on the floor.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “This is what you married into. Now you have two choices. Pay the debt, and everyone stays safe. Don’t pay...”
He shrugs and takes a long gulp of his beer. Then he slaps a piece of paper on the table.
“Those are the account details. That’s where the money needs to be sent. You’ve got twenty-four hours. Once the payment comes in, Murphy will consider the debt paid and we go back to Dublin.”
When the Murphy prick finally leaves, Kingston and I head to our parents’ house to debrief Dad.
He’s in his office reading the newspaper because he hates technology and would rather feel the pages between his fingers than stare at a screen.
“How’d it go?” he asks when we walk into the office.
“They want two million euros for Blake’s debt,” Kingston says. “We pay and Connor and Tierney are safe.”
“And if we don’t?”
“They die.” Kingston rubs the back of his neck. “And then the ball’s in our court. We’d have to act. It will look like weakness to the other families if we let it go. We’re tied to the Blakes by marriage now.”
“They’re serious,” I say. “They just want to get paid and get out. Blake’s caused them more trouble than he’s worth.”
“Two million to avoid a war with Irish criminals over someone else’s debt.” Dad tosses the newspaper onto his desk. “Not ideal.”
“But necessary,” Kingston says. “These aren’t street thugs. They’re organized, connected. Aside from the optics with the other families, a war with them would cost more than two million in the long run.”
Dad’s quiet for a long moment. Then he nods. “Pay it. Get them out of our city.”
“What about Blake?” I ask.
“Declan Blake is banned from New York. He ever sets foot here, he’s a dead man.”
Simple. Final. That’s how Dad operates.
We get up and walk toward the door when Dad’s voice stops me.
“Bronx. Your mother wants to see you.”
Fuck. I’ve been avoiding Ma since everything went to shit. Not because I don’t want to see her, but because she sees too much. Always has.
Kingston leaves, and I follow the scent of simmering marinara sauce to the kitchen. She turns away from the stove the second I walk in, like she sensed my presence and the chaos waging a war inside of me.
“Bronx,” she says, pointing at the kitchen island. “Sit.”
She scoops some pasta onto a plate and covers it with sauce. Then she places it in front of me. I take a deep breath, my stomach roiling at the thought of eating, but I know better than to argue. Food is Ma’s love language, and refusing it is like spitting in her face.
“So,” she says, sitting on the stool next to me. “It’s over. The arrangement. The fake marriage. The whole mess.” She narrows her eyes at my face. “You should be relieved to not have to pretend behind closed doors.”
I push food around my plate. “Yeah. Relieved.”
“But you’re not.” She drums her fingers on the marble.
It’s not a question. Ma always could read me like an open book.
“It’s complicated.”
“Okay, tell me why.”
I drop my fork. It clatters against the plate. Ma watches me with those sharp eyes that see everything, and I know she’s waiting for me to stop bullshitting and tell her the truth.
“I fell in love with her.”
The admission hangs in the air between us and she doesn’t look at all surprised.
“And how does she feel?”
“She hated me from the beginning and maybe a little less as time went on. But now she’s back to wishing me dead. She overhead things she shouldn’t have. Now she thinks the whole thing was a game and that I was just using her.”
“Were you?”
“No. Kind of. I mean, I was supposed to, but...” I rake a hand through my hair. “In the end, I couldn’t go through with it.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was...” I struggle for the words. “She was real, you know? Fierce and stubborn and fucking beautiful. And when she laughed...” I stop as Ma folds her arms across her chest.
“Did she make you happy?” she asks.
The question makes my gut wrench, not because it’s true but because I let that happiness slip through my fucking fingers.
“Yeah. She did.”
“Happier than you’ve ever been?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, I didn’t trust that girl when I first met her,” she says. “I thought she was too wild, defiant, and angry. A liability to our family. Although, she reminded me of someone else I know.” She gives me a pointed look. “Like Livvie.”
I let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. And?”
“And look how that turned out. Best thing that ever happened to your brother.” She crosses her arms. “Sometimes the women who challenge us the most are exactly what we need.”
“Tierney’s different—“
“Tierney put your life before her own. It’s no secret I hated bringing her into the fold as the daughter of that bastard Declan Blake. But that fierceness in her…it charged you. I had no idea how things would work out, but I know you need a woman who’ll keep you on your toes and challenge you.”
“She definitely did that.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Ma asks.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“The woman almost died for you, Bronx. That doesn’t sound like someone who’ll find it easy to walk away.”
I cover my face with my hands and let out a groan. “Christ, I need to get my wife out of the hospital and back in our apartment.”
Ma nods. “Yes, take her home and talk it through.”
I pull out my phone and dial the number for the hospital. “I’m calling to check on my wife, Tierney Viacava. Room 314.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Mrs Viacava was discharged an hour ago.”
My blood turns to ice. “Discharged? She just had surgery yesterday.”
“She signed herself out against medical advice and left.”
Fuck, I bet that lying little shit helped her escape while I was dealing with Murphy’s people.
“Did she leave any forwarding information?”
“No, sir.”
I hang up immediately and check Connor’s credit card activity on my phone. There were three charges in the last hour for a pharmacy, car service, and the Four Seasons.
I slide off the stool and straighten. “I’ve gotta go. She’s at the Four Seasons. But knowing her, she won’t stay long. I need to find a way to convince her that our marriage is real.”
I’m already heading toward the door when Ma calls out to me.
“Bronx?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch yourself, son. She’ll be angry.”
I pull open the door and head toward my car, my heart crashing hard against my sternum, blood pounding in my ears.
Tierney Viacava is mine. She became mine the moment she said ‘I do’ in that courthouse.
She thinks she can run? She thinks she can disappear and pretend none of this happened?
She’s about to learn that I don’t let go of what belongs to me.
I don’t care if she hates me. I don’t care if she fights me every step of the way. I don’t care if I have to drag her kicking and screaming back to where she belongs.
Because she’s my wife. My life.
And I’m done letting other people’s lies tear apart what’s ours.
Tierney can run all she wants.
But she can’t run from me.