FIVE
Dillon
The clink of my fork against the plate was a soft chime compared to the buzz of voices inside Sabatino’s on a Friday night. Grace’s laughter, rich and unguarded, filled the space around our dimly lit corner table. The kind of spot that offered just enough privacy without seeming conspicuous.
That’s when I spotted him—the prick with a chip on his shoulder, striding toward us as if he owned the joint. His eyes were locked on me, his gait screaming trouble.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” I muttered under my breath, my hand slipping beneath my jacket. The cool metal of the gun felt reassuring against my palm, a silent promise of protection.
“Who is that?” Grace asked, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of concern.
“Nobody,” I said, but even as the word left my lips, I knew this nobody could turn into a somebody real quick if things went south.
He stopped at our table, looming over us like a dark cloud ready to burst. “Dillon,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Take a walk,” I told him, my voice nothing more than a low growl. The slightest shift of my jacket revealed the glint of my gun—a warning as clear as day.
The restaurant had gone quiet, the soft hum of conversation replaced by a tense silence. Patrons sat frozen mid-bite, their eyes darting between us and the exit, calculating the odds.
The icy grip of the gun beneath my jacket was a reassuring weight against my ribs. Grace, her hand warm on the tabletop, didn’t flinch. I could feel her eyes on me, wide but unblinking, waiting for what would happen next.
“Back off,” I warned him again, the edge in my voice sharp enough to cut through the thick atmosphere.
Grace’s breath hitched. A subtle sound drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears. For a split second, her fingers tightened against the linen tablecloth—a silent display of nerves and exhilaration. She was scared, sure, but there was a fire there too. The kind that could either keep you warm or burn you down to ash.
“Alright, alright,” the man grunted, his bravado crumbling as he took a step back. His eyes, two pits of rage and fear, flickered over the deadly promise strapped to my side. “I won’t forget what the O’Shea’s did to me, Dillon Blake. You better watch your back.” He spat the words out like they were poison, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
“If you want to leave here on your own and not in a body bag, you need to remember who the fuck you’re talking to,” I shot back, a smirk playing at the corner of my mouth. But inside, I was already plotting his demise. Nobody threatens me or mine and lives to brag about it.
He hesitated for a moment; his fists clenched at his sides as if trying to muster the courage to do something. Then, with a sneer, he turned away. The tension bled out of the room like air from a punctured tire, and the buzz of chatter slowly resumed. But the silence between me and Grace spoke volumes. I returned my attention to her, the gun now an afterthought, tucked away but not forgotten.
“Always an adventure with you, huh?” Grace said, her voice steady but with a tremor that betrayed the adrenaline high we were both riding.
“Stick with me, babe,” I replied, “and life will be a goddamn thrill ride.”
She gave a little laugh that told me she wasn’t afraid. Not of the danger, not of the violence, and certainly not of the dark path we were barreling down together. And hell, if that didn’t turn me on more than any shootout ever could.
“Hey,” Grace’s voice was soft, but it still cut through the tension. Her hand, small and brown, with nails painted the color of blood, trembled lightly against my arm. I could feel the heat of her skin, the silent strength she offered without a word spoken.
“Hey yourself,” I muttered, not taking my eyes off the spot where the guy had vanished. “You good?”
“Better now that it’s over.” There was an edge to her words, one I recognized all too well. Fear wrapped in the veil of relief.
I finally tore my gaze away from the crowd and looked down at her. Christ, those big brown eyes were wide, and I saw something raw there. It wasn’t just the fear and knowledge of what had gone down. It was seeing me, Dillon Blake, for who I really was. An unrepentant mob enforcer with more blood on his hands than most had in their bodies.
“Didn’t think dinner would come with a side of drama, did you?” I asked, trying to keep it light despite the darkness that clung to my soul like a second skin.
“Seems to be your specialty,” Grace shot back, a spark lighting up her eyes. She wasn’t backing down. Wasn’t running for the hills like any sane person should’ve. No, she was here, willingly by my side, in the thick of my fucked-up world.
“Comes with the territory,” I said, giving her a half-smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. But damn if she didn’t make me want to believe in something more than the next job, the next threat, or the next kill.
“Yeah, I guess it does,” she agreed, squeezing my arm before letting go. “Just another night in Boston, right?”
“Right,” I echoed, the word tasting like a lie on my tongue. Nothing was ever easy in this life. But looking into her eyes, I wondered, maybe for the first time, if it was worth the risk of having someone like her staring back at me.
“Someone needs to teach that asshole a lesson,” Grace declared, her voice steady despite the tremor I had seen in her hand moments ago. Her eyes were ablaze with a fierceness that caught me off-guard, a stark contrast to the softness I’m used to in her.
“Grace,” I started, but she cut me off.
“No. Dillon. He can’t just walk in here and threaten you. Threaten us.” Her chin jutted out defiantly and her decision was made.
I eyed her, trying to gauge if the adrenaline had hijacked her good sense. Then I realized she was deadass serious. Too damn serious for my comfort. The idea of dragging her deeper into my world twisted my guts, but the thought of her walking away did a number on my heart.
“Alright,” I conceded, my brain screaming at me that this was a mistake. “You want to dive into the deep end? Fine. But we’re doing this my way.”
Her lips curled into a smirk that would’ve been right at home on the face of a seasoned hitman. “Lead the way.”
I stood up, throwing some bills on the table for our barely touched dinner, and motioned for her to follow. We were going to meet Tatiana and Conall. If anything could slap some sense into Grace, it’d be a bitter dose of our reality, served up by those two.
“Keep close,” I muttered as we navigated through the maze of tables. “And keep your eyes open. This isn’t a game.”
“Never thought it was,” she replied, her voice a mix of steel and silk that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.
We stepped out into the night, the city’s pulse thrumming around us like a living thing. Grace’s hand found mine, her grip tight. Whether it was for reassurance or to anchor herself, I couldn’t tell. But it was clear she wasn’t backing down. Not tonight, maybe never. Meeting me had created a monster in Grace. Or maybe it had been there all along. And that scared the hell out of me.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked, not cutting her any slack. My world wasn’t one for the fainthearted. “Can you finally admit this is nothing like those books you like to read?”
“Don’t try to scare me away now, Dillon. Plus, I know you’ll protect me,” she said with a smile in my direction.
Once my car was delivered to us by the valet, we climbed inside. I couldn’t help but press her even more. “Sweetheart, we’ve only been at this for a couple of weeks. Why do you have so much faith in me?” Spending this time with her had shown me that she was who I needed. It didn’t matter how long it had been since we first started talking. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to protect her.
She smirked at me, answering my question. “But did I lie? Will you protect me?”
Looking at her beautiful face as she stared at me with such trust, there was only one answer I could give. “Until my dying breath.” Now I knew what Conall felt like when he first met Tatiana. Nothing else mattered but the woman sitting next to me.
“Good. So, where are we headed tonight?”
My gaze slid over to her. “I think it’s time you meet some people.” Unlocking my phone, I dialed Conall. “Conall, I need to come see you. One of the Ricci’s stopped at my table while I was out tonight. I don’t think they’ve forgotten that we’re connected to the Lucarelli’s. You know they have it in for us after we worked with them on that Providence issue. And I had Grace with me when he came up to me. I need to come see you and Tatiana. We’re on the way.” He agreed, and we hung up.
“Conall? Were you just on the phone with Conall O’Shea?” Grace’s shocked voice called out.
As I pulled away from the curb, I nodded. “Yes. He’s my boss.”
“Oh fuck. Everyone knows who he is. So, you really do work for the Irish mafia?”
Now she was panicking? Not when the guy approached us at dinner and I almost blew his fucking head off? Not then, but now? “Come on, Grace. I thought this is what you wanted?”
Grace took a deep breath, her eyes locking with mine. “It is. I just…I guess it’s hitting me now. The reality of it all.” She shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips. “I’m not backing out, Dillon. I’m in this with you, all the way.”
I reached over, my hand finding hers, our fingers intertwining. Her skin was soft against my calloused palm, a reminder of the different worlds we came from. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Grace. I promise you that, sweetheart.”
She squeezed my hand, her touch sending a jolt through me. “I know. I trust you.”
Those three words hit me harder than any punch ever could. Trust. It was a foreign concept in my line of work, but coming from her, it felt like a lifeline. One I wasn’t sure I deserved.
We pulled up to the sprawling estate, the iron gates parting like the jaws of a beast. I killed the engine, the sudden silence deafening.
“Gracie,” I started, but she was already opening the door, stepping out into the night with a determination that caught me off guard. My feisty little minx.
I was right behind her as we approached the house. As soon as her foot hit the first step, Conall O’Shea, head of our family, opened the front door. “Dillon,” he greeted, his eyes flicking to Grace. “And you must be the woman he’s been talking about.”
Grace met his gaze unflinchingly. “Grace,” she introduced herself, her voice steady. “It’s a p-pl-pleasure to meet you.”
Tatiana appeared behind Conall, a smile on her face but her eyes focused on assessing the woman by my side. “Hey Dillon,” she leaned in to give me a quick hug. Standing back, she glanced at Grace. “If he brought you here to us, then this must be serious. Come on in. Let’s grab a glass of wine and then let’s figure out who we need to teach a lesson to.”
I watched as Grace froze for a millisecond before she took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. She wanted the fantasy of having a boyfriend in the mafia. Things had just gotten very fucking real. All I could do was hope she was ready.