Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

D eclan

She's on my bed watching me dress. Her sigh reaches me. "You're so gorgeous. If I saw you on the cover of a magazine, I would think you were airbrushed or something."

I laugh as I cross to her. Bending down, I kiss her. "If you keep looking at me like that, you're going to have me climbing back into bed with you again. I was reminded when I pulled out of you earlier that it's been a long time for you. I don't want to leave you in pain."

We fell asleep with her on me, my cock inside her. And when we woke up this morning, I rolled her over and made love to her again. Despite Aoife stuffing the fridge, I'm in the mood for bagels and lox. So I had a shower and am getting dressed to go get them.

Her giggle floats up to me. "It's not my fault—it's all you. I always thought those people who claim sex addiction were lying their ass off, but I get it now. You're highly addictive .

It stills me, the way she calls me an addiction. The same thing I thought of her as I ate her sweet cunny. Interesting. We're on the same wavelength on more things than I thought possible.

Grasping her by the ankle, I pull her down the bed to me. "I want you moved into my room before I come back." I don't miss the way her forehead crinkles. "What?"

"It's just so dark in here. I like the other room better."

Sighing, I give in. "Fine. We'll be in the other room until you can redo this one."

"You want me to redo your room?" Green eyes are wide.

"If that's what it takes to have you in the bigger room with the better bathroom attached. I'll do it."

"But I'm not going to be here for long." The words are small.

She's not going anywhere. "Whether it's two weeks or two months, I don't care. I'll talk to Aoife so she can arrange everything."

A smile plays on her beautiful mouth. "You're so bossy."

"And you love it."

She giggles as she nods.

"Get dressed. No wandering around the house half-dressed. I don't need to kill Colm for seeing what's mine." I warn her with a smack to her ass. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes or thirty minutes. They're usually busy on a Sunday."

"Okay, I'm going to take a shower now." She sighs as she pushes off the bed.

I wait until she's in the shower before I go downstairs .

Colm is downstairs. Since he's on the phone himself, I give in to what I need to do and call Brenna.

"Declan, hi."

"Brenna, I'm sorry, dear. I don't see us making a match. I'm going to speak to your da tomorrow. I didn't want you unaware before I did."

"Oh." She sighs. "If it's about another woman. I told you, Declan. I'm fine with it. You can keep her."

"You might not have a problem with it, but she would. And you deserve to marry someone you would care about." I end the call. There isn't more to say.

Colm's eyes are wide. "The Beckett woman? She's a civilian Dec."

"I know what she is. So does she. It's none of your fucking business."

Miranda

In the shower, I study my body. There are small bruises from his hands on my hips. I'm not upset by them—they send an odd thrill through me. His lovemaking was amazing, awesome, spectacular, and every word I've ever thought to describe mind-blowing.

If I had known it could be that way, I would have given in the first night. I'm kind of annoyed with myself for losing out on a week with him.

I can't believe he really wants me to redo his room. Just so I'm happier in it with him—even though I won't be here long. I'm in so much trouble .

I'm in love with him. I don't know how or when it happened. But I am, and it's scary as hell. Is there any way that this won't blow up in my face? What would tomorrow look like with a man like Declan? To go to work every day and come home to him feels like a dream—a dream that one day I'll have to wake up from.

I don't know if I'm built to have him coming home looking like he did last night. In his world, it's more likely than not I will see him go through something like it again.

Getting dressed, my skin feels different. Almost like it's new. Every minor brush against it is a reminder of Declan's mouth on me. The way his tongue taunted, teased, and drove me mad. I wish he were here right now.

But no, he was out getting food for us because he didn't want to hurt me by us making love again. I hadn't expected to be sore this morning—especially when it felt so good waking up with him inside me.

Sighing, I go downstairs.

I'm not sure how I feel when I see Colm sitting in the living room watching television. Declan didn't trust me not to leave? How do I tell him that Colm could go home because no one had to keep me here? I want to stay with Declan…forever.

The fear of the last word sends me into his office. But the door is locked. Annoyed, I give in and decide the least I can do is start the coffee.

I'm sipping my coffee when Declan walks into the kitchen with a bag.

"Smells good. I was wondering where you were." I force a smile .

Ocean runs over me. "They were busy. I had a wait. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I made coffee. I'll make you?—"

"No, you won't, sit down." He places the bag on the table. "I got some blueberry cream cheese and some honey cream cheese to go with the plain."

I open the bag. There are not only three different types of bagels and the various cream cheeses he mentioned. The bag also holds two blueberry and two poppyseed muffins—my favorite. "Holy crap, this is enough to feed a small army."

One shoulder lifts. "I wanted you to have as much of a choice as you could."

As he sets down a plate for me and him and knives for the cream cheese, I take the refill of coffee he offers. "Thank you."

"You're really going to lie to me?"

My stomach drops. "What?"

"Something is wrong. I want you to tell me what it is. Now." His eyes are hard as they run over me.

I really thought I could let it go. "I'm not sure how I feel about you needing Colm to babysit me while you were gone for all of thirty minutes."

"Ah," he shakes his head. "If we can get to a place where I trust you'll still be here when I come back, Colm can go home and stay there."

"You didn't trust I'd still be here?" I'm hurt, and I don't know why exactly .

"I wish I could, m'fhiorghra. You simply have a habit of lying to not only me but yourself. I wanted you to be here. I wasn't willing to trust you wouldn't have one thought too many and run."

It stings when he calls me a liar. Because he's right. I've been lying to him and myself since the first night. Only I can't help punching back. "Wouldn't want me to not complete the audit."

He finishes his sip of coffee before putting the cup down. "If that's what you want to believe."

There's something in those blue eyes I don't understand. "Why were you upset last night?"

His jaw works as blue flashes at me. Then his eyes drop. He takes a bagel, the lox in the container, and the plain cream cheese out of the bag. Sighing slowly, he nods. "Do you go to the South Side of Chicago?"

I don't understand his question.

"It's not a simple question. There isn't a simple answer. If you're going to be here with me, you have the right to know. But without context, it doesn't mean shit." He's focused on cutting his bagel and slathering on cream cheese.

"No, I don't go to the South Side."

"Why?" Still not even looking at me as he layers on his lox.

"Because I've heard it's scary. It's where the whole Chiraq thing came from. My father said it wasn't safe." I shrug. I'm embarrassed. I've lived in this city my whole life and have never once been to the South Side.

He nods. "Your father was right. You're never to go to the South Side. People are going to say I'm an asshole for saying it. I don't give a fuck—it's a fact. And the reason it's not safe is because the Outfit doesn't control any of it. Active FBI investigations are squashed on a monthly basis to leave the Outfit in charge of the city of Chicago so that the whole city doesn't become like the South Side. It's not simply having a few judges and cops in anyone's pocket. They found out it's easier to leave the policing of very bad men to very bad men."

The FBI thing should surprise me. If I hadn't lived in Chicago my whole life, it probably would, but it doesn't. "Why is it the Outfit and not just the mafia, like New York and Philly?" I ask the question I've always wondered.

"Because in every other city, they answer to the mafia. The Outfit answers to no one but the Don here in the city. While the Outfit is mafia, they aren't the mafia, and the mafia isn't the Outfit." He takes a bite of his bagel.

"Would the FBI not investigate you?" My stomach twists as I wait for the answer.

His jaw hardens. "It's unlikely ."

My stomach hurts. "Why did you say it like that?"

"Because there are benefits to them for investigating me that could make it worth it to them. A case they can close and say to the public they're putting bad guys in prison. Especially when it comes to the connection to Ireland. We also aren't big enough to be a threat not to put us in prison."

"Threat? You don't have enough power to threaten them?" I'm confused.

Another sip of his coffee. "No, the reason the FBI doesn't go after mafia anymore was because after the press conferences where they patted each other on the back and made attorney general off their convictions, bigger and badder players moved in and made Swiss cheese of the areas where they could take over easiest. Bad shit is never going away. There's too much money to be made and people who care more about money than people. It flourishes in places where people are vulnerable. Remove one bad person and it creates a vacuum. The vacuum becomes filled with people who are worse than what came before them. Those who have something to prove and are willing to solve every problem with a bullet."

I'm suddenly no longer hungry.

"However, the money I pay Tony and Dominic Sabatini isn't just for operating in their territory. It's to protect me from cops and investigations. Someone would have to be willing to piss them off. They have been in it since their grandfather came to take over for Capone. So pissing them off would be done only if they were desperate. But I told you before, I'm always going to be as honest as I can be." He shrugs.

"Tony Sabatini…" It has to be the same man my father told me to ask for help.

An eyebrow goes up. "How do you know about Tony Sabatini?"

"A long time ago my father mentioned an issue Tony Sabatini asked him for information about. I was afraid it was a bad thing—that he would hurt my father. But my dad told me that he preferred me to ask for help from Tony than the cops."

He nods. "Your father wasn't wrong. Tony Sabatini is a very well-respected and powerful capo in the Outfit. Which is why it's highly unlikely. Because there wouldn't be much of a vacuum created by removing me. Since I'm operating in Sabatini territory, they'll remain to police whoever tries to take over. However, only a fool takes anything for granted. And I'm no fool. I have a way out of the city if heat comes down on me." He puts a blueberry bagel heavy with blueberry cream cheese on my plate. "Eat. "

Since I can finally breathe again, I do.

"The policing done isn't just against very bad men. It's to keep them from ever getting a foothold in the city, a territory. Have you noticed there are no MC—motorcycle club here?"

I nod. Every once in a while, I might hear a throaty Harley. But it's one guy, not a bunch of them.

"It's because there's an agreement they remain out of the city. The thing is, lately, they're trying to go against the agreement. So, people in Outfit territory were told not to rent apartments, houses, or parking spaces to MC, and if one of them tried to, they were to let the Outfit know. The Serbians have long tried to get a foothold in the city. So, the call is out against even serving them a meal. The call I got interrupting our dinner that first night was because an Irishman rented to a Serbian who blew up a club of an Outfit member. Six people were killed in the blast, all of them civilians."

Oh god.

"The Irishman was a man I've known since I was a kid. His daughter got mixed up with the Serbian. Dominic needed me to question him because he didn't trust Dominic. Because he went against the rules, I ordered his death that night. And last night, I had to lie to his one good daughter and hold her while she sobbed as she came to the realization her father was likely dead."

I put the bagel down, as I work to swallow the bite I took. "So you can just kill someone and not think of what you did after?"

"You mean, does it keep me up at night?" An eyebrow is up.

My nod is stiff.

"It used to. The men who put me in charge stressed remorse and to find any other resolution besides murder. They never wanted me to make the call easily. I didn't, and I still don't. But as far as keeping me up at night, no." His blue eyes are clear as they meet mine.

His lack of remorse sends an ache through me. "Why did you have to kill him? I mean, it was already done?—"

"You tell a child, no, don't do that. If you do, I'm going to spank you. What happens when they do it again, and you don't spank them?" The words are hard.

"In their mind, there's no reason not to do it. Six people, Miranda. He knew he was going against a rule set, not because we said so. It was to protect others and, in the end, himself. To not pay for it, he'd think he could do it again. If it got out that Seamus went against what was set and walked away without repercussions, others would think they could do so, too."

Why does it have to make sense? Context. He was upset because he had to hold the man's daughter while she cried for her father—that he ordered dead.

Yet, he spoke so easily about ordering the death of a man over bagels and coffee… Wait. He admitted to me that he ordered a murder. It's a little different than what he admitted the first night. By telling me the FBI could be interested in building a case against him and three minutes later admitting to a murder. Declan just placed his life in my hands.

How could he do that? My eyes jerk up to meet his. I can't blink at the churning ocean storm.

His hand is behind my neck as he pulls me to within inches of him. "I never intended to keep you the night Ryan and Colm brought you to me. You were always supposed to spend every night in your own bed. But I took one look at you, and I couldn't let you go. "

I bring up my hand to his cheek. He's real. This isn't a dream. He never planned on kidnapping me. But he couldn't let me go.

"You are the devil," I whisper as I press my lips to his. Only the devil, a fallen angel, so beautiful and filled with pride he resented man being put before him, could make me accept not only what I thought I never could—he made it make sense.

Declan

After we finished a very late breakfast, I asked her what she wanted to do for the day. Whatever she wanted to do, I would do. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and make love. While my cock was aching for her, I couldn't forget the wince of pain on her beautiful face when I pulled out of her this morning. So we compromised by cuddling on the couch, and she'd have a long soak in the jetted tub I rarely used before we went to bed.

She was greedy for me to tell her everything from the time I was a child and teenager in Ireland. I found out more about her losing her parents—the pain in her eyes was almost more than I could bear.

Our late lunch is a stew Aoife cooked earlier in the week that Miranda warmed up while I was on a call with Ryan. Dinner is the Chinese place she loves from near her house.

We're barely finished when she's tugging me up the stairs. I hate calling an end to it. I'm firm that she needs at least twenty minutes in a hot bath before I fuck her again. With a sigh, she stomps up the stairs—pouting the whole time.

I laugh, and she flips me off. God, I can't wait to go toe to toe with a little girl as bratty as her mother .

Once I'm sure she's in the bath, I go upstairs to change the sheets to get ready for bed. It takes a minute to strip the bed and put new sheets on—but not long enough. My eyes are glued to the timer I set when my phone rings. Shit. It's Brenna Downey's father.

"Eoin."

"What's this about you not fancying marrying my Brenna? You got another? Are you going to marry the other girl?"

Closing the door to the bedroom. I fight a sigh as I sidestep the question. The last thing I need is for the men in Ireland hearing about Miranda before I'm ready. If I get her pregnant, they'll march my ass down the aisle. However, if I simply tell them she's what I want—they'll fight me on it.

"We won't make a good match. Brenna is a fine girl. She does you proud. But I've already had one marriage that was complete shite. I'm not willing to try it again unless I'm sure."

"Hmm…" It's annoyed. The one good thing about how fucking wrong my marriage to Orla went is that everyone knew it and understood my reluctance to do it again. "Aye, then. What about your man, Colm? Brenna wants to stay in Chicago. What with her, you know, different. She can't stay in the States without a marriage license. With Colm an American she could stay."

I shake my head as I understand Brenna likely dealt with less prejudice in Chicago than in Ireland. Her mother was a Vietnamese woman who traveled to Ireland on vacation and never left. Sadly, she died only days after Brenna was born.

"As much as it pains me, I want her happy. And she's never been as happy in Ireland as she has in Chicago. She feels she fits better there. "

Colm would agree if I told him. He'd remarked Brenna was a good-looking girl when I first spoke to Brenna about a possible marriage. "Colm is a good man. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow."

The timer goes off at the same time the call ends.

Miranda is stepping out of the bath, gloriously naked. When she sees me, the smile on her face takes me completely out.