Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
DOMINIC
W atching Roisin is both a torment and a blessing. The latter because no one from the LCN can question my motives, it’s orders. The former… I don’t know what’s gotten into me when it comes to my little pocket dynamo, but I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind. Stalking her doesn’t help with that.
A couple of times I’ve been so distracted by the woman herself, wondering how she’s really doing behind the facade, if she’s acclimatizing after her ordeal, whether she thinks of me as much as I think of her, that I’ve come close to being made. Talk about a sure-fire way to get myself killed. Giving her my number was probably the single, most idiotic thing I could have done–after sleeping with her, of course. Taking her virginity.
The thought of her sweet, tight clasp, unknown to any man before me, still haunts my dreams.
Fuck! I really need to find a willing woman and screw Roisin out of my brain with someone else.
Except after watching her, day after day, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Not sure what that says about my state of mind.
I watch from my elevated position as Roisin emerges from the Bratva compound–just another complication that makes everything I feel for her a very bad idea. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy bun and oversized sunglasses hide her eyes. She's dressed casually in leggings and a loose sweater, but even in something so simple and with the lenses of my binoculars between us, she still takes my breath away.
She walks briskly to the car waiting for her, offering the driver a small smile before she gets in.
That smile. It haunts me, reminding me of the way she looked at me that night, her eyes filled with trust and desire. I clench my fists, forcing the memory away. It won’t do either of us any good.
There’s nothing to report. Nothing out of the ordinary. Roisin’s brothers were both out of town last night, yet to return, and other people are following them. But so far, it seems like whatever urge to retaliate might have existed, died with Vito.
And that’s the way Mika wants to keep it, so reconnecting with Roisin is definitely not on the cards.
That’s what I thought, anyway. Fate, it seems, has other ideas.
Barely ten minutes pass after she’s dropped back at the ár n-áit compound before my phone rings with an unknown number. That in itself isn’t an unusual thing, but what is, is the voice on the other end of the line.
“Dominic?” Her throaty tone burns through me, the soft burr of her accent even more beguiling. She doesn’t name herself, but then, she doesn’t need to. Her voice is burned into my subconscious. “I need to see you. It’s important.”
I frown and check my watch. The last update told me her brothers were still out of state, so this is probably as safe as it’ll ever get.
“Dominic?” The uncertainty in her voice tears at me and I realize I’ve not uttered a word throughout the entire call.
“Can you get to me undetected?” I finally ask by way of a greeting, not knowing how I actually feel about any of this. It’s likely suicide, after all. But I don’t think Roisin would risk everything if there wasn’t a damned good reason, so I’ll humor her, for now.
“Where?” she asks, keeping the conversation short.
I consider all the options. I don’t want her out on the street without protection. There are still too many of Vito’s old cronies who blame her for his death and their expulsion from LCN. We already know some of them have been selling information to anyone who’s interested. “Meet me outside the rear gates in fifteen minutes, exactly,” I tell her, not wanting her to know I’m already there, parked up and watching like some stalker with a twisted obsession.
“I’ll be there,” she agrees, and the line goes dead.
That gives me ten minutes to come up with a plan. Where the hell do I take her?
I spend those minutes warring with myself, debating whether to call everything off. Nothing good can come of it.
But something in Roisin's voice already has my gut telling me this isn't a social call. She sounded worried, maybe even scared. I can't turn my back on her, not when she might genuinely need help.
At precisely fifteen minutes after our call, I see her slip out of the rear gate, glancing furtively over her shoulder. She's changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up to obscure her face. Smart girl.
I pull up beside her and she slides into the passenger seat without a word. Up close, I can see the tension in her jaw, the slight tremble of her hands.
"Drive," she says tersely. "Anywhere. Just get us away from here."
I comply, merging into traffic and heading away from both the Irish and LCN territories. We drive in tense silence for several minutes before I can't take it anymore.
"What's going on, Roisin? What’s so urgent?"
“We need to go somewhere we can talk. Where I have your undivided attention.”
I nod, my mind racing through potential safe locations. Finally, I settle on a small, out-of-the-way motel I know. It's neutral territory and takes by-the-hour cash bookings, no questions asked, and no cameras. It should offer the privacy Roisin is asking for.
"Alright," I say, turning onto a side street. "I know a place."
We arrive twenty minutes later. The parking lot is nearly empty, but I still put on the ball cap and sunglasses I often use when tailing the woman next to me, thanking the circumstances that I’m wearing casual clothes instead of my customary suit.
“Stay here and keep your head down while I get us a room,” I tell her, pulling up close to the door. Minutes later, I have a key to their most private unit and drive around the side of the building, happy for us to be out of sight.
As I guide Roisin to the door and quickly unlock it, I can feel how tense she is.
Once inside, Roisin paces the small room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. I lean against the wall, watching her, waiting for her to speak. The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words and barely concealed tension.
"Okay, we're here. What's this about?" I finally ask when it seems she’s not going to elaborate.
She stops and turns to face me, her beautiful green eyes meeting mine and making me consider things I have no business considering.
Roisin takes a deep breath, There's fear there, but also determination.
"I'm pregnant," she says quietly.
The words hit me like a physical blow. I lean back, stunned, my mind reeling.
Of all the scenarios I'd imagined, this wasn't even on the list.
"Are you... are you sure?" I manage to stammer out.
She nods, her lower lip trembling slightly. "Three tests. All positive."
I run a hand through my hair, struggling to process this information. "Christ, Roisin. This is...
"It can only be yours," she says quietly.
She didn’t need to tell me that. I didn’t doubt it for a second. She was a virgin, after all, and since I’ve been watching her every move since she was released, I’d sure as hell know if there’d been anyone else.
But even if I hadn’t, I know Roisin’s not that kind of girl.
The implications of her words sink in, and I feel a cold dread settle in my stomach. This isn't just complicated – it's potentially catastrophic. A child born of the LCN and the Irish mob? It's unthinkable.
"Have you told anyone else?" I ask urgently.
“Emylyah knows,” she confesses. “I needed her help to get hold of a test once I suspected…”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she plans to keep it, but I’m guessing we wouldn’t be having this conversation if she hadn’t already decided. She could have just taken care of things without anyone being any the wiser. Then again, her family is Catholic…
Still, it might have been safer all around if she had made that decision. But even as I think it, something inside me rears up in protest at the idea. A child. My child. With Roisin. The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me, followed quickly by panic.
"What do you want to do?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
Roisin looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm keeping it," she says firmly. "I know it's crazy and dangerous, and probably the worst possible thing I could do right now. But..." She places a hand on her stomach. "It's my baby. Our baby."
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions coursing through me. Part of me wants to grab her, hold her close, and promise her everything will be okay. Another part is screaming at me to run, to get as far away from this complication as possible.
"Roisin," I say slowly, "you understand what this means, right? The danger involved for both of us, as well as the child?"
She nods, her jaw set. "I know. But I also know I can't... I won't get rid of it. I’d never be able to live with myself, Dominic. It would destroy me.”
I don’t tell her keeping the child may well have the same result. She doesn’t need to hear that right now.
Now I’m looking at her more closely, I can see how fragile she is. The dark circles under her eyes and the slight pallor to her skin suggest she hasn't been sleeping well.
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "Okay. Let's think this through logically. Your brothers are going to notice eventually. What's your plan?"
Roisin bites her lip, looking uncertain for the first time. "I... I don't know. I was hoping you might have some ideas. You're more experienced with... well, everything."
I can't help but let out a humorless chuckle. "Trust me, Roisin, I've never dealt with anything like this before."
She looks crestfallen and I immediately regret my words. I step closer to her, not quite touching, but close enough that I can smell the faint scent of her shampoo. "But we'll figure it out. Together."
Her eyes widen slightly, hope flickering in their depths. "You mean... you're not going to just walk away?"
The thought hadn't even crossed my mind, though perhaps it should have. It would certainly be the smarter move. Running, yes. But not without taking her with me.
Looking at Roisin, vulnerable and scared but still so determined, I know I’m going to see this through with her, as far as I can.
Even if it turns out to be the death of me. Which is probably a given.