Chapter 1
one
“Are you even listening to me, fuck stick?” Everett asks, purposely putting a little more pressure into the tattoo gun currently gliding across my collarbone.
I take a deep breath, never willing to admit how much I get off on this pain. Instead, I’m scrolling absentmindedly through the hook up app on my phone. All the random girls are starting to blend together at this point.
“Does he ever listen?” Elijah says from the room across the hall, the deep rumble of Breaker’s laugh echoing behind him.
“Not if he can help it,” Breaker replies, his eyes searching for his wife, finding her where she stands behind the front counter.
“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this for you,” Elijah grumbles, and Breaker scoffs.
“Hey, don’t fault the man, Eli. He’s in love,” Everett replies, focusing intently on the lines he’s etching into my skin.
“It’s sad really, bro. My sister has you so pussy whipped. She says jump, you say how high,” Eli adds, laughing under his breath.
Rory stands at the front counter, a tiny baby boy held tightly to her chest in one of those wrap baby carrier things. Their son, Jasper, is sleeping soundly against her chest, his dark hair peeking out of the top of the carrier.
“Elijah, if she told me to set myself on fire, I’d beg her for the matches,” Breaker answers, staring at his family with complete reverence.
A pang of jealousy strikes through my chest. As much as I joke, I’d kill to have someone who loves me that way. Unfortunately for the female population, that’s not my priority right now.
When I heard Jack was selling his bar last year, I went straight to him and offered him ten thousand over the asking price.
To my surprise, he turned me away. He told me the bar was his legacy, and I wasn’t ready to take on that responsibility yet.
Who does the old man think he is? Yeah, he’s seen me leave that bar with a different woman on my arm more times than I can count.
But what does that have to do with my ability to run a business?
“Earth to fucktard,” Breaker shouts, throwing a balled up paper towel at my head. Pulling me from my thoughts, I flip him off, watching the slight twitch in his eye as Elijah finishes the delicate crown design directly over his heart, an homage to his wife.
“Fuck you guys,” I sing, knowing how much they love giving me shit. Everett finally finishes the edge of the letter M on the simple wording I chose this time around.
ón anam, the phrase my grandfather taught me to live by.
“If you’re doing anything at all, déan é ó d'anam, mo pháiste. F rom your soul, or not at all.” I can almost hear his thick Irish brogue saying it to me now, even though he’s been gone for years.
Irish Gaelic is a language my parents still speak in our home, and when they’re calling my family back in Ireland.
My sister and I speak it, too, when we need to.
It’s something you don’t hear outside of the Emerald Isle these days.
But in my house? It was spoken across the breakfast table just as much as English ever was.
My parents were determined to do their part to keep it alive, even all the way in Chicago.
They moved to the Windy City three years before I was born, so technically I’m first generation American-born Irish.
Not that my parents would ever let me forget that.
My older sister, Saoirse, was barely a toddler when my parents first came to America.
Now they live just outside Myrtle Beach, enjoying their retired lifestyle and spending as much time with my sister’s kids as they possibly can.
“You and you’re fuckin’ Gaelic,” Everett mumbles. He’s completed no less than twelve Gaelic phrases in various places across my back, chest, and arms.
“Póg mo thóin,” I tell him, puckering my lips as I tell him to kiss my ass.
“English, please. If you’re gonna insult me, I wanna know what you’re saying.
That way, I can say the same to your mom later tonight,” Everett says, shooting me a smirk.
I grit my teeth, knowing he’s cracking jokes but still irritated every time anyone talks about my mother. The woman is a fucking saint.
“Whose mother are you insulting now?” Kelsea says, coming through the back door and leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed.
Since having their daughter, Evelyn, Kelsea’s curves have doubled in size.
I’m almost afraid to admit I have trouble looking away.
A sharp slap burns against the fresh ink on my collarbone and I jolt forward, the look in Everett’s eyes telling me he caught me staring.
“I was insulting Iris’s mother, who apparently forgot to teach him the Tenth Commandment, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Unless thou wants to pull my foot out of thou’s ass,” he replies, and I laugh.
“Coming from work, Kels?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Unfortunately, yes. But I did put in my two weeks notice today. I’m sad to leave Revamp, but I finally heard back from the high school. I start work as a guidance counselor as soon as school starts in August.” She replies.
“That’s awesome! Congratulations. We’ll have to make sure you have an escort on your first day, so those teenage boys know to leave you alone,” I tell her, and Everett nods in agreement.
“Yeah, I’m not above punching a kid, goddess. Especially if he touches what’s mine,” Everett says, trailing his eyes down his wife’s body. Suddenly, I feel like I’m interrupting an intimate moment. Kelsea blushes under his attention and I feel that twinge of jealousy pinch in my chest again.
As much as I bullshit about how I love living the manwhore life, it’s getting real old, real fast. I’m tired of having an endless string of faceless girls in my bed.
We celebrated Rory and Breaker’s wedding anniversary a few weeks back, and I spent the whole night wondering why the one guy I never imagined would settle down has a wife and a baby, and I haven’t been able to keep a steady girlfriend since I left the Corps.
It’s not that I don’t want one. But every girl I meet sees my tattoos and my Ducati, and all they want is a walk on the dark side. Nobody brings the bad boy home to mama.
“I thought Maggie was coming with you?” Everett asks Kelsea, and my ears perk up at the sound of her name.
Magnolia Monroe, the single most earth-shatteringly beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. And the one woman I cannot have. She’s so far beyond my reach, I couldn’t find her with two hands and a fucking map.
“Oh, she did. She’s in the lobby with Em. They were talking about some new book Ember recommended. Something about lords and ladies, secret society shit. Sounded quite scandalous.” Kelsea quirks an eyebrow at her husband and he winks back at her.
Magnolia Monroe, reading something scandalous? God, what I wouldn’t give to be the scandal that makes her pretty freckled cheeks flush. To be the hand that turns her perfect curvy ass red. But she’s too good, too pure, for someone like me.
It’s no secret that I kill people for a living.
That’s as plainly as I can possibly explain it.
After Breaker and Rory got married, he asked me to take over the wet work side of our operation and I was happy to do it.
He deserved to give his soul a break after everything he’s put it through.
I don’t mind getting my hands dirty, never have.
Especially when the people we target are the fucking scum of the earth.
Murders, rapists, sex traffickers, people the world doesn’t miss.
But I could never bring that kind of darkness into Magnolia’s life.
Standing from Everett’s chair, I stretch, the freshly inked skin on my collarbone pinching. His focus is already on his wife as she slips into the seat I just vacated. I pull the door closed behind me, my brow quirking when I hear Kelsea moan before the door latches closed.
Fuck, I don’t even know what it’s like to have my hands on someone that’s all mine. Someone who belongs to me just as much as I belong to them. My friends think I’m just a joker, a playboy. But that’s because I allow them to think of me that way. It’s easier than the alternative.
Magnolia’s melodic voice cuts through the buzz of tattoo guns and chatter around me.
She laughs loudly at something Ember whispers to her, both women clutching paperbacks to their chests.
I recognize the book they’re discussing, knowing I have the rest of the series on my bookshelf at home.
Romance novels are a secret obsession of mine.
The darker the better. The mix of sex and violence is a stronger addiction than any drug.
I’m not surprised to see Ember reading something so devilishly dark, knowing I’m the one who gave it to her.
We’ve swapped book recs a few times, so she knows my secrets.
But Magnolia, a fucking angel straight from heaven, holding a book about taboo sex fantasies?
Now that’s enough to have my dick perking up behind my zipper.
“Ladies, what are we laughing about today?” I ask, sliding my card across the counter to Rory so she can charge me for Everett’s work. She’s distracted, on the phone with someone who obviously doesn’t have a brain.
“Oh just girl talk, ya know,” Ember says, elbowing me in the ribs.
Magnolia’s perfectly straight teeth bite down on her bottom lip, and I wish I could freeze this moment in my mind. God, she is breathtaking.
“Girl talk about what, Ember Harding? Dark romance got your panties in a twist?” I ask, giving her a fake stern glare with my fists against my hips.
I didn’t bother putting my shirt on after Everett was done, and I don’t miss the way Magnolia’s head falls to one side as her eyes slide down the length of my body.
Good. Let her look.
“Dont think you ever have an effect on my panties, Dalton Murphy. But I am grateful that you recommend this one because…wow,” Ember sighs, ratting me out in front of Magnolia. I see her curious eyes go wide when she connects the dots. Yeah, men read smut, too.
“You can read?” Magnolia blurts out, quickly slapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was incredibly rude. I didn’t mean that I think you can’t read. I just meant I didn’t know a guy like you would be in to this kind of reading.”
I feign insult at her comment about a guy like me. I’m not really bothered by her statements at all, but it’s fun to watch her squirm.
“A guy like me? What’s that supposed to mean, Magnolia?” I ask, trying my best to suppress my smirk.
“Oh, Christ on a cracker, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant... you know… guys. They don’t typically read things like this.” She’s red as a tomato at this point and I can’t get enough of it.
“Things like what, aingeal?” Angel. Thats what she is. And I love to make her wings shiver. She steps closer to me, her hand resting against my bare chest. Her forest green eyes peer up at me from below her thick lashes. I would kill for this woman, I swear.
“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me uncomfortable, but it’s not going to work. I hate being rude, Iris. But I’m not ashamed of the things I read or the things I fantasize about.” Her full lips spread into a devastating smile and I know I’m going to be wrecked for life.
“Tell me, Magnolia. What do you fantasize about?” I ask, wrapping one auburn curl around the end of my finger. I tug gently and watch her pupils dilate. My angel has a devious side.
She pushes up on her toes, her lips skimming the shell of my ear as her breath fans across my skin. I would kill for her, lay down and die for her. I would slay dragons for this woman.
“Don’t you wish I would tell you my fantasies, Dalton?” The way she says my name has my cock rock hard already, her perfectly manicured nails dragging across my skin, not helping the situation.
The shrill sound of a phone ringing breaks the spell. Magnolia steps back, blinking like she doesn’t know what came over her. Shaking her head, the moment lingering between us broken far too soon. Sliding her cell phone from her pocket, she swipes the screen without even looking.
“Yes, mother?” She answers, walking out the door to find some privacy. Her tone is bitter and cold. I can’t imagine speaking to my mom that way. I’d catch a backhand for sure.
“What the hell are you doing, Iris?” Ember asks, quirking an eyebrow in question. I’d honestly forgotten she was standing right here watching whatever the fuck just happened between Magnolia and I.
“Absolutely nothing, Harding,” I tell her, giving her a side hug and pulling my shirt over my head. I have to get the fuck out of here and under someone else before I do something stupid like fall for Magnolia Monroe. That cannot happen.
“She’s not like the other girls, Dalton. You can’t use her and throw her away. She’d never allow it.” Ember’s smirk crawls under my skin, making me feel uncomfortable. I would never throw a woman like Magnolia away. She’s a forever kind of woman. Wifey material, as Kelsea would say.
I watch her for a few more moments, standing outside the shop window, gesturing wildly with her hands like whatever her mother is saying is upsetting her.
As much as I’d like to rain down hell on anyone who causes her even a slight inconvenience, it’s not my place.
Instead, I wave goodbye and push the back door open.
Pulling my helmet on, I climb on my Ducati and rev the engine unnecessarily.
I speed down the back alley, turning on the Main Street in front of the shop in time to see a flash of green eyes as Magnolia watches me leave.