Chapter 4
HAYES
I always hate the changing of the seasons. It reminds me of horrible pain and the promise of something worse coming.
Adjusting my legs, I rest forward, eying the closed steel door. She’s late.
Collins O’Brien is never late. Not to class, not to any event, and not coming off her shift at The Dock. She knows better. If she’s late, Maeve will notice and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that wrath.
Imagine my surprise when one night, coming to this club not to partake in the entertainment but to check out the enemy, I happened to grab a glass of scotch and see Collins grace the stage under the name, Topaz.
A long blue wig covered up her noticeable cinnamon brown strands, her glasses gone, and those dangerously long legs were hidden behind blue boots.
But I knew it was her—she could wear a brown bag over her head, body hidden in shadows, and I would still recognize her.
I didn’t plan to watch. Fuck, I didn’t plan on being transfixed so thoroughly, mind gone, senses lost. But when the woman you’re in love with starts to strip? You park your ass in the chair and thank God for the small gift.
It was a deeply held secret. I’m in love with Maeve’s younger sister.
It started innocently enough—a simple crush on the young woman when we were teens.
I was only a few years her senior, assigned as her protection for whenever she left the house.
Collins was the favorite of her mobster father and received special treatment.
She couldn’t go anywhere, do anything, without a guard.
She hated it—hated me. It meant being confined, watched. Unfortunately, my fascination with her grew, a crush blooming into love.
It was easy. She’s beautiful, of course, with a body most models would kill to obtain. But it was her wit—her intelligence, that drew me in, stole my breath and made me completely hers.
Because the rest of the world sees what she wants them to see. A docile mask of perfection, meant to hide the darkness inside of her. Only I knew the real her, felt the darkness call to my own, wrap me into this embrace of depravity and sin, even if she wanted to ignore it.
That’s the thing about Collins I love most. She’s a viper, with a bite strong enough to bring down a man three times her size, hidden inside this tiny package of big green eyes and plump lips. She puts me in my place, and fuck, if I don’t enjoy it.
It’s our little dance. I know that darkness is there, her fury, and I enjoy riling her up to see that flash of silver in her emeralds.
It’s like a strike of lightning in the black sky over the harbor—a warning of danger ahead.
And I’m too stupid to pull away. In fact, I dive head first for more.
Because it’s a part I know and enjoy, and want more of.
But I’ll never touch her. She’s my best friend’s little sister. Maeve would chop off my fingers and shove them down my throat if I even mentioned my love of Collins to her.
Glancing at my phone, I sigh. Still no Collins. If she doesn’t show soon, I won’t be able to hold off her sister’s inquisition.
A sudden, abnormal panic hits my gut. Did Bruno stop her? He’s Maeve’s only true enemy in the city, but it’s always bugged me that Collins is here without protection. Protection only I can give her.
Did he hurt her? Keep her? My jaw clenches, and I sit back, weighing my options. Bruno is lower than scum and if he wants a woman, he’ll do everything underhanded to have her.
The side door jerks open with a loud clang, and Collins stumbles out in her white converse. A sudden breath floats past my lips. There she is.
Grabbing my helmet, I start my bike, ready to leave. She’ll give me the finger and I blow her a kiss, and we’ll head home. This is normal, safe for us. No complications. Boundary firmly intact.
Not like I didn’t just watch her pretty little pussy swing in the air under cool blue lights.
Then, I see the two men following her out, and possessiveness rises up in my chest like a dark cloud. This feeling is different from the urge to protect her from those snaggletooth bullies at her fancy school—this is darker, meaner, the kind of feeling that will level buildings to keep her safe.
Jumping from my bike, I punch one of the closest in the jaw, hearing the crack echo into the night.
He falls to the ground as his friend menacingly steps forward, face bright with the promise of a fight. He’s a big guy, but I’ve beaten bigger—killed bigger.
Standing my ground, I block Collins’ smaller form and wink, just to piss him off.
“Fuck, man,” the one on the ground curses. His mouth is ruby red and I snort. He’s got a glass jaw. “Stop, it’s Ace’s hitter.”
Of course, they know who I am. Half of Boston does. Ace’s hitter, the kid she brought on, trained, and turned loose on to the families.
The thick fucker, gives me a dirty look, glancing to Collins. “Don’t do that,” I warn. My hand grabs the gun in the small of my back. “Don’t fucking look at her. She’s not yours to look at.”
He ignores me which really bugs me, and jerks his chin at Collins. “Roman expects loyalty.”
“Roman can suck his own dick,” she retorts. That’s the Collins I know—short tempered, vulgar, unapologetic. I wish the whole world got to see it.
“And well-behaved women,” the guard continues, narrowing his eyes.
Well, I don’t like that at all.
Before he can blink, I press the barrel against his jugular, much to his friend’s annoyance. My smile turns brighter, cheerier even.
“Good thing she’s not his to command,” I say. “Now back off Ace’s little sister or I’ll be sure to remind you of why you don’t mess with the O’Brien clan.”
“Hell,” Collins mutters behind me. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, Hayes.”
“Good thing it comes free of charge, then, viper.”
She growls something under her breath. She hates that nickname.
“Enough,” the fallen guard interrupts, pulling his companion away. “Ace will get the contract tomorrow. Don’t start shit now before she has a chance to consider.” Contract?
His friend pauses. The indecision to leave or to fight wars behind his eyes. I make it easy for him, clicking the safety off and grin.
Unfortunately, he’s too smart and ducks inside without another glance.
“Thanks,” Collins says snidely. “I really needed that after my night.”
I gesture with my gun before putting it away. “What was that about?”
She ignores me, turning back to her sedan.
She’s not getting out of this so easily.
Grabbing her wrist, I spin her to face me. “Collins, answer me. What the fuck was that about? Are you fucking Roman?”
Because that’s the only logical reason for all of this. Why else would he care about loyalty, about good, behaved women?
I ignore the twitch in my gut that Roman is screwing Collins. If I think too hard about it, I’ll vomit.
“What? No.” Her lips twist. “Gross. Nothing like that.”
My chest deflates. Thank fuck.
“Then, what?” I press, encroaching her against the car. “Roman just happens to have his guards throw you out? Telling you to behave? For what, viper?”
“They weren’t throwing me out.”
“Fine. Escorting.” She always has to correct me.
I step closer still, chest brushing and I inhale her sweet perfume—like a stroll through the streets of Paris in the height of springtime. “Why, viper? What did Bruno want?”
“Jesus, I don’t need this right now.” She seethes, waving me off. She darts away, taking off before I can grab her. “I have enough to worry about without your fucking third degree, and I’m already late getting home.”
Running after her, I sidestep her exit. “Then you can come home with me. Just like old times.”
Days when I was her bodyguard, her ride, her only means of protection.
If Bruno is sniffing around, then she needs all the protection she can get.
Collins bristles, hating the idea of being close to me on the bike. “Because that won’t be suspicious? We didn’t leave together.”
“How is this any different than picking you up from school?” I lead her over to the bike, even as her feet drag. “Want to stop for ice cream? That used to cheer you up.”
“Fuck you, Hayes.”
I can’t help but laugh, throwing my only helmet at her. “No? Maybe you can tell me what the fuck is going on then. Because messing with Bruno is one sure way to piss your sister off.”
“Jesus,” she curses, lean arms catching the helmet, glaring at me. Another flash of silver. Oh, she’s very mad tonight, a hissing cat ready to claw my eyes out. “I get it, alright. The clan—Maeve, all come first. I don’t plan on pissing her off.” She rolls her eyes, slamming the helmet on.
When she misses putting the strap together, I grab the edge, pulling her close, visor still open.
The quick jerk brings our bodies flush and I bite back a groan.
“You’re in rare form tonight. Do you need something to take the edge off your latest performance?
” I adjust the strap, pulling tight. “All that build up, dancing on stage, feeling the hormones. You’re probably feeling needy.
You know, I’m always willing to help out.
” She thinks I just say shit but she doesn’t know how willing I am.
She yanks away, feet tripping in the gravel. “God, you’re disgusting. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
I wink. “Good thing that’s the length of my cock.
” Her cheeks darken and those eyes flash again.
God, it’s so easy to get under her skin.
I have a damn death wish to do it so often.
“C’mon, viper, get on the bike.” I tug her by the thin tank.
She’s not dressed for a bike ride. She’ll freeze right off.
“Stop telling me what to do.”
“Stop acting like you’re twelve and I will.”
Her eyes narrow, tiny fists clenching and unclenching. “I can always tell Maeve you’ve been spying on Bruno, going against her explicit orders to keep off his territory.”
My grin widens, and I lean against the bike, arms crossing. I love this side of her.
“I could also tell her you’ve been stripping here every Saturday for, what? Fun?”
She wants to stab me. I see it clear as day, her face pinkening, her chest heaving. If she was halfway competent with a blade like her older sister, I’d be flayed and dead in a ditch already.
Score one for Ferguson for never teaching his younger daughters to fight. We all know he didn’t because of how Maeve turned out—the poor bastard was afraid of her and didn’t want to repeat it with the others—but still, right now, I’d like to thank him in Hell for keeping me alive.
“Such an asshole,” she mutters, throwing her duffle at me. I can’t help but nod, fighting the laugh at her irritation.
“And yet, still lovable.”
“Doubtful.”
Swinging a leg over the side, I place the duffle in my lap, securing it to my waist. She twists, tripping and I grab her hand to settle her behind me.
She’s the only person I trust enough to touch. Given my upbringing, touch meant hurt—vulnerability. As such, I’ve limited physical affection, using restraints or rope to enjoy carnal pleasures. Yet with Collins? Touch has always been easy.
She’s not a danger. Not when she settles her thighs against me, or how her core heats the small of my back. My heart pounds in my chest; she’s not a danger, but my body reacts as if thrown into the deep end without a lifejacket. Pumping, thumping so loudly, I can barely hear the rev of my engine.
It’s Collins, for Christ’s sake. Maeve’s little sister. Get your shit together.
Tugging off my jacket, I toss it back at her, her green eyes dark with confusion. “You’re going to get cold, viper. Just put it on”
“Gee, thanks,” she mutters, pulling it over her dainty shoulders. She’s dwarfed by it.
When she doesn’t grab my hips, I raise an eyebrow and she huffs. “What?”
“You’re going to fall off.”
“No, I’m not.”
Revving the bike, we lurch forward and she slams into my back hard enough to release a gasp from those pouty lips. My mouth opens to comment and she slaps me. “Fucking prick.”
Finally, her arms slide around my middle, and I still. Warmth and heat trickle into my gut and I have to stop the groan of contentment at her closeness.
“Going to explain to me what happened there?”
She rolls her eyes. “Nope.”
“Collins…” I warn and she sighs. I’m done playing and she knows it.
“Alright, fine.” She shifts, body tight with tension. “Roman is going to send Maeve a contract.”
“For what, exactly?”
She avoids my eyes, looking to the dark night sky. This close to downtown, the stars are hard to see over the dazzling lights and city smog.
“For an alliance.”
“What alliance, viper?”
Shifting, she clears her throat. “He wants to marry… me. For the alliance. He’s going to send a proposal to Maeve for my hand in marriage.”
It sounds like a boom of thunder explodes over my head, a cresting wave of suffocation plunging me into the darkest expanses of the ocean. There’s no way. No fucking way Roman would do such a thing.
It’s madness. Absolutely, fucking, madness.
Roman Bruno is going to ask for Collins O’Brien’s hand in marriage.
My Collins. The woman I’ve loved for years. Marriage. To Roman.
To my brother.