SAVAGE PROMISES
Lennox Donnelly – Age 18
He’s here!
I stop in my tracks, my heart thumping, blood pounding in my ears.
Shane Quinlan shouldn’t be here, though. Not in my house. Not at my birthday party. Not anywhere near me.
And yet, there he is. With crossed arms and a narrowed gaze, a halo of light bathes his broad shoulders. Leaning against the battered old pool table in my family’s raw and unpolished basement, he looks like this is the last place he wants to be.
Why would a high-ranking Quinlan brother, who works for the Irish Mob of Astoria, want to be at a high school senior’s birthday party? Especially when his family hates my father who also works for the O’Rourkes. But Shane is best buds with my older brother.
On the down low.
Garrett blocks my line of sight to Shane and yanks me into a headlock. “Happy birthday, Lenny the loser,” the jerk teases me.
“Don’t call me that!” I growl and drive my elbow into his ribs.
He grunts, loosening his hold just enough for me to break free. I quickly fix my hair and glance back at Shane, hoping he didn’t notice.
“Where’s Neve?” I ask.
“Top of the stairs. Spying on you,” Garrett says wryly, having abdicated his promise to keep our nosy little sister away from my party.
“She’s twelve and is supposed to be in bed.” I adore my sister, but everything is always about her.
Tonight is my night.
Garrett curses under his breath and slogs to the stairs to chase Neve up to her bedroom.
When I turn back, Shane is looking at me. A rush of heat floods my stomach, and I swear, I can’t breathe. His piercing stare holds until a burst of teenage laughter near the television shifts his gaze away.
Why is he even here? The Donnellys and the Quinlans don’t mix in public functions. They barely speak behind closed doors. They sure as hell don’t show up at each other’s birthday parties.
For a stupid, reckless second, I let myself believe Shane is here to see me. And wasn’t dragged here because Garrett has to stay and supervise. Shane’s older brothers are more powerful than Garrett, who’s merely a bagman for my dad’s squad. Shane is smart and calculating. He plants cameras and bugs for his brothers’ investigation company.
And I’ve had the stupidest crush on him since I was fifteen. He’s only ever seen me as his friend’s little sister, but I’m eighteen now.
The sacrifice and risk he’s taking being seen at the Donnelly house, for my birthday no less, thrills me. Maybe the tide is turning. Or maybe he’s just here for the booze and cake. I made the delicious cake myself, but the booze isn’t anything to risk your reputation over.
As a Quinlan, Shane can do whatever the heck he wants. Right now, that includes just gazing at the crowd of kids with a mask of annoyance. Maybe because he’s twenty-four and finds high school brats...annoying.
Shane, who’s unmistakably a Quinlan with a Hollywood square jaw that looks carved from granite, is right there, but so far away. Untouchable. I doubt he has any clue what it means to me that he showed up tonight.
His dark auburn hair looks a little too long these days. The sleeves of his leather jacket are pushed up, and his muscular forearms take my breath away. God, how does he always look so perfect? It’s unfair really.
As if he feels me staring, his steely blue eyes flick my way again. I blush at being caught gawking at the youngest Quinlan brother. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only one. The only brother who matters.
When his penetrating gaze stays on me for longer than two seconds, my stomach flips so hard it hurts. I turn away and bump into Mara.
“Did you get anything good for your birthday?” my bestie asks me.
“The usual,” I say.
I got nothing.
If my mother were still around, I know she would have bought me an extra special gift, but she tragically died two years ago in a car accident. A drunk driver T-boned her BMW. After that, Dad stopped celebrating everything. No Christmases, no birthdays. Not even the anniversary of her death.
Unable to shake the crushing weight of sadness, I focused on school. Now I’m set to graduate early from Astoria Prep. I’m going to Penn State to study finance with a minor in Hotel and Restaurant Management.
Dad’s rundown dive of a bar needs a rescue. My brother is too much of a loose cannon to run a business, so I plan to be that force my father needs. But I have to work hard. Prove myself. No one is going to hand me anything in this life.
Especially the guy I want.
My gaze keeps drifting back to Shane and the floor that is littered with discarded plastic cups and beer cans. Dad will kill me for the mess tomorrow. But tonight is my night.
Because Shane is here, I can finally ask for what I really want. The only thing I want.
I grab the red solo cup from Mara’s hand and gulp down the horrible, watered-down vodka punch she mixed up. The overpowering sweetness tastes sticky on my tongue.
The music vibrates up my legs as I weave through the crush of teenagers to speak to Shane. All while pretending my pulse isn’t going haywire. But he’s on my turf now, and hot damn, I’m going to do something about it. If he won’t make a move, I will.
“Hey, Lennox!” a voice cuts through the crowd.
Derrick Rossi, Astoria Prep’s star quarterback, steps in front of me. He’s cute enough, but I’m not into loud jocks. I prefer brooding guys with quiet power, leaning against pool tables.
I smile to be polite. “Hey, Derrick. Having a good time?”
“I know how to have a better time.” He nods toward a group of kids sitting in a circle in front of my dad’s storage closet.
Holding playing cards, when two kids draw the same one, they laugh and go into the closet.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven. Really? What are we, fourteen?” I huff.
“Better. Eighteen.” He knocks my arm, spilling my drink. “We can do stuff.”
“Stuff...” I shake my head. “Well, have fun.”
Behind Derrick, Shane is still watching me, and when the jock tugs my arm, Shane’s eyebrows pinch and his nostrils flare.
Protectiveness? Jealousy? I can work with either one.
“You know what? That does sound like fun.” I let Derrick lead me toward the game circle where I sit next to a girl who I’m pretty sure I didn’t invite.
“Cards.” Derrick holds out his hand. “Donnelly and I have a date in the closet.”
“Just go in,” Liam Riley says. “You get a pass. It is your birthday, Lenny.”
I feel my Irish temper raging through me, and I want to murder Liam right now for calling me Lenny. But his father is powerful, too.
With one last glance at the pool table, I find Shane’s fiery gaze on me. I look away fast, pretending not to notice.
Or care.
Derrick’s cold fingers circle my wrist as the group heckles us. He yanks me to my feet and we step inside the closet where a musty smell wrinkles my nose. The louvre doors click shut and light from the party slices into the darkness through the slats.
Outside, someone slips the locking hook into place.
Suddenly, I think the punch has gone to my head. What am I doing locked in the closet with this guy? I don’t want Derrick. I want Shane. I want him to be my first kiss. My first everything. Even if that’s a pipe dream.
My pulse hammers. Not from Derrick. From the fact that Shane knows I’m in here with a guy.
Derrick leans in. “You nervous?”
“No. Of course not,” I rush to reply, but I’m panicking.
“You should be. I’m not exactly gentle.” Derrick’s breath fans my cheek.
Ugh...
Before he has a chance to kiss me, the louvre doors rattle. The flimsy latch catches and holds for a second before the force behind it splinters the frame.
The busted doors fly open and Shane stands there towering and furious. “Out. Now,” he barks, the lights casting a shadow on his tight jaw.
“Dude, chill. I, uh—” Derrick stammers when he realizes it’s not one of his jock friends.
It’s Shane Quinlan.
“I said out,” Shane repeats in a low, lethal voice.
But he doesn’t wait. He yanks Derrick by the collar and shoves him to the floor, right into the circle of kids. The music is still pounding, but all voices stop. The whole room holds its breath.
Shaking his head, Shane steps inside the closet and shuts the broken door. My breath catches. Oh my God, it’s just me and my crush. Alone. In the closet. In the dark.
Heart racing, I barely manage to speak. “What...what are you doing, Shane?”
Breathing hard, and fists clenched at his sides, he grinds out, “What the hell are you doing, Lennox? Playing stupid games with an idiot like Derrick Rossi?”
“I’m eighteen.” I fold my arms, hiding how I’m shaking. “I can do what I want.”
“Aye? You want that kid slobbering all over you?”
If he considers six-foot Derrick Rossi a kid, what must he think of me?
“Maybe I do.” I rock on my heels. “Are you jealous?”
His face goes blank. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe. It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be drunk and kiss whoever I want.”
Shane swears something in Gaelic under his breath and runs a hand through his thick, wavy hair. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
I blink up at him. “What? It’s my house. It’s my party.”
“I’m aware of that.” Shane shoves the closet door open with one hand, the other grasping my fingers. His hold feels gentler than it should, given the fire brewing in his eyes.
We leave the closet and Shane pulls me through the crowd, sending another signal that he doesn’t care about the Quinlan/Donnelly feud. He’s claimed Garrett as his best friend. Now he’s claiming me, too.
But for how long? One kiss? One night?
Kids stare and whisper to each other, but Shane ignores all of that. He opens the basement door and pulls me up a set of cement stairs that lead to my backyard. The cool night air hits my heated skin like a blow. The hum of my party fades behind us the further we get away from the house.
We get to the street where Shane’s gleaming black Mustang with red pinstriping is parked at the curb. The Quinlans live at the end of our dead-end street in a stately manor and all the brothers drive nice cars.
But I know the heartbeat of this particular car when it rumbles down my block. I listen for it every night sitting at my window. Wishing. Hoping. Dreaming.
Shane opens the Mustang’s passenger door. “Get in.”
“Where are we going?” I stand frozen on the curb.
His jaw clenches. “I’m not leaving you with a bunch of drunk kids. Your father is out. And Garrett is...”
“Yeah?” I detect a crack in their relationship.
Garrett is my lifeline to seeing Shane. What if he plans to tow the Quinlan line and distance himself from my brother? This may be my last chance to be near Shane and feel his lips on mine.
I’m taking it.
I slide inside the Mustang and Shane shuts my door. Strutting with power, he rounds the car and climbs in beside me. The scent of leather and his cologne wrap around me.
Clean. Sharp. Too much. It’s too real.
How did I get here?
Shane revs the engine and peels away from the curb. We drive in silence down the empty streets of Astoria. I’ve never been out this late. Knowing what my father does, what Shane’s father does, the emptiness I see isn’t empty at all.
Wicked deeds hide in the shadows of these streets.
“Mr. All Talk, now you’re quiet,” I say, my pulse still off the charts.
White-knuckling the leather-wrapped steering wheel, Shane grinds out in his faint Waterford, Ireland accent, “Trying not to say something I’ll regret.”
I swallow thickly. “Like what?”
He shakes his head, expelling a harsh breath.
After a few minutes, Shane pulls his hotrod into the secluded parking lot of a warehouse overlooking Astoria Harbor. City lights from behind us shimmer on the water, casting a soft glow that bounces back into the Mustang’s interior. He cuts the engine, and the silence is a gong, thundering in my ears.
Heavy and tense, the air between us slowly thickens with something deeper than the November night sky.
“Well, you got me here.” I turn to him, anxiety spiraling through me.
“I can’t believe you were going to let Derrick Rossi kiss you.” The biting anger in his voice reeks of envy and malice.
“Sure, why not?” God, his jealousy fires up my excitement. Down there. “I’m old enough now. That’s the whole point of waiting and marking off the calendar until you’re eighteen.”
Shane’s gaze peers into me, full of conflict. “Just because you’re eighteen, Lennox, doesn’t mean you’re an adult. Going into a closet with a football jock might be a game. But giving a guy like that permission to touch you is not. You have no idea what kind of fire you’re playing with. Plus, he’s Italian with ties to the Parisis . The Italian mafia is causing all kinds of trouble lately. We stay clear of them.”
I know by we he means us, the Irish.
I wave off his concern. “We don’t care about that in school. Irish. Italian. There’s even a kid named Petrov who just got here from Russia.”
“You need to stay away from the Russians even more than the Italians.”
I stare back, my throat tight. “You sound prejudiced, Shane. And you shouldn’t keep treating me like a child.”
He strokes a tendril of my hair between his fingers. My asymmetrical blouse hangs off one shoulder, inviting his other hand to caress the exposed bare skin. His touch sends tingles through my body.
“You are most certainly not a child anymore, Lennox.”
“I’m glad we agree.” Silence stretches out until I whisper, “In a couple of months, I’ll be away at college.”
“College?” he murmurs. “Already?”
“Yeah, I have the credits to graduate. I want a degree and work. Have a career. Dress in nice clothes and high heels. Do my hair and makeup every day. Live , Shane.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“Except for one thing.” I lick my lips.
“And that is?” he drawls.
My heart pounds as he taunts me to say the words. The desire I’ve only imagined and never dared to say out loud.
With liquid courage, however, I whisper, “I want to head off into this new chapter of my life with the memory of a great birthday kiss.”
I’m shaking like a leaf, my throat bone dry waiting for his response.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Lennox,” Shane says, but there’s no warning in his voice. Just need.
I boldly stare at him despite the way my knees are knocking together. “I know exactly what I want.”
“Fuck,” he curses for the first time. He’s usually very proper around me. “I’ll give you that kiss. Me. Because...” He cups my cheek. “Because I’ve wanted it, too. I only want you . And I’ve hated myself for wanting to feel your lips on me.”
A shiver bolts down my spine, my breath catching as Shane’s words sink in. He wants me too? But... He hates himself for wanting me?
My fingers curl into his shirt, like holding on to him is the only thing keeping me grounded. A slow, dizzying burn spreads through my limbs. My heart slams against my ribs, every pulse a drumbeat of finally, finally, finally .
“Then stop hating yourself,” I whisper, my voice shaking as I tilt my chin up to bring our lips level and oh-so close. “Stop fighting it.”
“You’re so damn innocent.” He grips my hair in a near-painful hold, his breath ragged against my mouth. “And mine. You’re fucking mine.”
Shane kisses me and everything just stops . I swear the air between us crackles like a live wire. His lips are warm and strong, softer than I imagined. I press into him and let Shane set the pace, opening and closing my mouth in sync with his. He’s so damn gentle at first. Tentative.
Then everything changes.
With a sexy little grunt, Shane deepens the kiss. His tongue swirls with mine, and my entire body trembles with a sensation I’ve never felt before.
I feel his heartbeat pounding in rhythm with my own, suggesting that Shane might want to take this further. But am I ready for more?
His big hands slide down to my waist, pulling me on top of him. I’m sandwiched between him and the steering wheel, my legs splayed open across his thighs. Even in tight jeans, I feel a bulge in his pants rubbing against my center while his mouth devours me.
I see stars as an ache blooms between my legs.
“God, Lennox,” Shane moans. “Your mouth makes me want to fuck you right here, right now.”
His confession leaves me speechless, my body painfully tight with want.
But the distinct sound of gunfire wrenches Shane away from me. He turns his head in the direction of the jolting noise at the end of the block and his jaw drops.
My gaze follows his. The powerful gaits of his older brothers and the red hue of their hair in the moonlight are unmistakable. They’ve got someone in their grasp. It doesn’t mean anything to me until a familiar slope of shoulders is thrust into the glow of a streetlamp.
My father.
My stomach drops as Dad shifts from side to side. His face twists in a scowl as he argues with Griffin Quinlan, the second oldest brother in Shane’s family. The tension between them is visible even from a distance. There’s faint yelling and clenched fists. Whatever I’m seeing isn’t a deal or a drop-off.
It’s a warning.
Shane’s body goes rigid against mine. The mood and our stolen moment shatter, reality crashing back like the tide.
“Ah, bloody hell.” Shane swiftly maneuvers me into my seat, his mask back in place. “Christ, I’m sorry. This was wrong.”
Tears well in my throat. “What? Why?”
He shakes his head, his voice breaking. “Because a Quinlan can never be with a Donnelly.”
Shane revs the engine and doesn’t say another word to me as he drives off.
The silence thickens for a new reason, coiled tight like a thread holding a boulder and ready to snap. Shane’s jaw flexes, the muscle ticking.
I steal a glance at him, but his eyes stay locked on the road, his expressionless face carved from stone. Once again.
He brings me back to my house. But he stares at his home. Quinlan Manor sits there in the foggy distance. The beacon of his family’s power must remind him of who he is and his responsibility to the Quinlan legacy.
“Don’t say a word about this, Lennox. Forget this ever happened.”
Forget this ever happened?
How am I supposed to forget the way he looked at me just moments ago? The way his hands trembled when they touched my skin, like I was something he craved.
How am I supposed to forget the way he kissed me—like he was claiming something he knew he had no right to? Like I was his.
How am I supposed to forget the way he pulled back, eyes burning, jaw tight, forcing himself to shove me away like I was nothing?
Like we were nothing.
But his earlier words come crashing back: A Quinlan can never be with a Donnelly.
A bitter laugh claws at my throat, but I swallow it down. My fingers curl into fists in my lap as I force myself to breathe past the ache in my chest. He doesn’t want me. Not enough. Not the way I want him.
I won’t beg. I won’t ask why.
I won’t let him see me break.
“Fine. Have a nice life, Shane.” I get out and slam the car door.
He makes a U-turn and drives off. Probably racing to join his brothers or find some other girl whose name isn’t Donnelly.
I only want you...
The bells of St. Agatha’s ring twelve times, and I take a few more seconds until my birthday is officially over. I wanted to kiss Shane Quinlan and I got my wish.
Now... I’m the one who wants to forget.