Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

E ight days later

Miranda

"I found them." I'm triumphant that my hard work has finally paid off.

We're both in Declan's office. He's also worked in his office at times since we made love. It's been rare he even needed to leave the room, so I didn't hear what was going on.

"Them?" Declan's head comes up.

"Them, it's Shannon Tanner and Ian Cormac. It seems like Shannon Tanner is the primary, but Ian has to know what he is doing. Several of the entries are signed off as Ian but are in Shannon's writing. The handwriting is close, except both eights and fives are no one's but Shannon's. There are also several entries made in Ian's hand that are exactly the tally Shannon had entered previously, which couldn't possibly be correct based on the days. The ledger before this started showed a very cyclical routine. "

Declan is up and at my side, looking down at the ledger. "Shannon is involved in both pubs, so he has to be skimming from both, but Ian is only at The Black Swan. How much do you believe they've managed to skim away?"

"I can't say for certain. I don't really feel comfortable answering that question." The sweet, kind Declan is gone. He's the gangster now. The men are dead. They just don't know it yet. And I helped Declan find them.

"How much, Miranda?" It's a demand I don't dare refuse.

"More than forty thousand, perhaps as much as forty-five thousand."

Anger is flowing from him in waves threatening to take me under. My nerves are so frazzled the ledger slips from my hand.

"What's the matter?" He doesn't miss it.

"Nothing. I've finished. Here, you probably want to shred my notes so that no one—well, I'm sure you're used to that." I offer him the notepad.

He tosses it on his desk without looking where it lands. "Miranda, talk to me, love."

"I'm tired. I did it. It's done. I need to go home." I'm backing away from him.

"Damn it, Miranda, what the hell is the matter now?"

Declan's exasperation sets me off."What's the matter now ? The same thing since I met you, but you keep refusing to listen. You're going to kill them, aren't you? You can dress it up as nicely as you want, but it doesn't change that if you scratch the surface, you're just as bad as any member of the Outfit. If Peter doesn't pay, your men are going to hurt him enough to scare the shit out of him so that he comes through with the money, like you would anyone you lent money to. These men fucked up big time, I get that. But anywhere else, they'd be prosecuted andsentenced. Except in your world, you'll kill them. Because of me."

His jaw is hard. "Yes, they'regoing to die. That was their decision to make. It's not because of you. They knew the minute they hired onit was dangerous to be in this world. There's a reason why they are paid well—for those dangers. If they're loyal and work hard, they earn more than enough. I also gave ways of making more money, but neither of them ever took me up on it. If it gets out I did nothing more than rough them up for stealing for me, I will be considered weak. A weak man is a dead man. They are going to die, but it was because they took a chance knowing they could die from it."

I squeeze my eyes tight. I'm so confused. Who would be dumb enough to cross Declan? "It doesn't change the fact I'm the one who is giving you the name."

He cups my cheeks, his thumb wiping the tears away. "Miranda, love, look at me. I will never hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you. I'm not a hero. I do bad shit. But never without provocation. I take no enjoyment from it. I will not ask your forgiveness. All I need is your love."

The tears fall harder now.

"Don't leave me. I lied. I'm sorry. At the time I said it, I meant it. But Ican'tlet you go. Don't ask me to. Stay here with me." He lowers his head to mine.

I open my eyes. It's there. What I hoped but didn't dare dream I would ever have. Declan's heart. "You'll have to tie me to the bed to keep me. "

Waves churn, "I will spank your ass if you don't use your words, Miranda."

"I love you, you fool."

"Thank god." He groans as his mouth crashes down on me.

A long time later, he sighs as he rolls onto his back, holding me tight to keep his cock deep inside me the way I love.

"I hate to tell you this, and it feels like it ruins the moment, but your brother is in jail. He's likely to be there for a while. The idiot robbed a jewelry store with a gun out in Vegas. He's looking at ten to fifteen years."

I freeze at his words, only to accept it easier than I thought I would. "Is it bad I'm not heartbroken? The only thing I'm surprised about is how quickly it happened. A part of me always knew he would end up in prison. How did you know?"

"I hear things. People know he owes me money. The same people know you're his sister and that you're with me."

How did they know we were together when I'd only beenin his home for almost three weeks? God, it's only been three weeks, and my life has changed beyond recognition.

Was I bad for accepting him as he is? Did it make me as bad as him? As I look into soft blue, concerned over if I'll be upset over my fuck up brother, I don't care. This man has cared more for me than anyone in my life, except for my mom. Even my dad never made me feel as loved and safe as Declan has since that Sunday.

We would start out the morning together. He would go off to do things I didn't want to know about. I would work on the audit and take a break for lunch. A few times, Declan was able to have lunch with me. If he didn't, he always checked in on me and ordered me tostop to eat.

Things were so good, we even went out. Once, we went to a local bookstore, another time to a movie, an afternoon out atthe Institute of Art, and even an evening out to attend a play he helped finance.

He wasn't as busy as I worried he would be and we shared dinner every night. While Aoife often made dinner, we did go out a few times. Last night, we had dinner at one of his pubs. He introduced me as his Miranda. I loved the way he smiled when he said it proudly. Everyone was nice and polite at the pub. A few men teased him, but he wasn't bothered at all.

One thing I've noticed was how people treated me when I was out with him. It was obvious he was respected, and they treated me with the same respect and deference. Women complimented me and asked where my clothing was from or my opinion on where to shop. Men smiled but it was rare for them to do more than nod at me. Apparently Declan made it known that no men were to allow their eyes to remain on me for long.

He might do bad things but he also did so much good. Things he did without wanting recognition—helping a single mother find a new place to live when she was priced out of her rental. Another older woman needed help caring for her own dementia-suffering mother but was unable to afford it. Declan paid the bills without allowing his name to be used. The respect he was paid was deserved and he never took it for granted.

His phone is ringing. Frowning, he checks the display. He answers."Yeah."

My stomach sinks as whatever is said turns his face dark .

"I'll be right there." He's up, pulling on his clothes. "I might be late. Don't wait up."

I want to ask him questions. Where is he going? What's wrong? Something feels very wrong. Only I can't. It's nothing I'm supposed to know. He promised he would be honest when he could because there were going to be questions I would ask that he couldn't answer—this is one of those times.

This is what I agreed to. What I'm accepting by staying with him.

Declan

Fucking Tommy is at the building hassling the working girls to tell him where Sara is.

The building is in Dominic Sabatini's territory. The idea came from his father, Tony. Tony had a woman come to him with the request to operate what amounts to a brothel with an apartment building filled with working girls who paid monthly for their protection and screening of clients. Once the woman retired, Tony took over the running.

I liked the idea of keeping it simple. The women could live in the building, or not. But they paid a rent roughly seventy percent over what they would pay if our men didn't provide security and be the threat of violence if an idiot decided to break a woman's rules—or the rules of the building. The no drugs thing applied to the men, as well as the women.

Supposedly, good Catholics, the old men at the top in Ireland, weren't happy about the building—at first. But once the old men saw how profitable it was, they didn't say another word about it .

When I get to the building, the foyer is locked down as usual, but even my card scan won't unlock it. Patrick sees me, eyes wide, and he hits the button to unlock the door.

"What the fuck?"

He's white as a ghost and looks like shit. "Tommy killed Liam."

Fucking hell.

"Liam went to protect Rhonda when he started beating her. Liam pulled his gun as a threat, and Tommy shot him. He's beating the fuck out of Rhonda. The girl is dead—she has to be. She stopped screaming a few minutes ago, and he won't fucking stop. He's out of his fucking mind."

"Why the fuck didn't you stop him? Once he shot Liam, he was a dead man." I push the button for the elevator. "What floor is she on?"

"Sixth floor. He's beating her with a fucking gun. We tried, and every time, he pointed the fucking thing at us. You didn't say if we could kill him."

"If he comes down before me, you have permission to kill him. He does not walk away from this." I order him as I pull my own gun.

In the elevator, I flick off the safety and rack the slide, pulling a bullet into the chamber. Closing my eyes, I give a prayer that my da forgives me for what I'm about to do. I don't pray to god. I know he stopped listening long ago—it seems fair since I did, too.

I return the gun to the small of my back beneath the jacket. Out of the elevator, I can hear Tommy yelling, followed by thuds. Two men are guiding women off the floor. They give me looks that plead for me to understand why they didn't stop Tommy .

Women are pushing into the elevator, and others are going down the stairs. I push past them to an open door.

The door opens into a small hallway, and the kitchen is open on one side. I round the corner into a living room that sends my stomach up to my throat. His back is to me. I pull my gun, aim at his fucking head, and pull the trigger.

He goes down with a thump. The girl is covered in blood, and my stomach heaves. Jesus.

Ryan is at the door, breathing in gulps of air. "I couldn't get past the girls. I'm sorry, Declan."

I shake my head. "Clean this mess up."

Going down on a knee for Liam, I turn him over. His da—fucking hell. "He's alive. Call the doctor."

Liam coughs up blood, his hand pressed against the bullet wound in his chest. I run to the bathroom to grab a towel and push it into the wound.

"The doctor is on his way. Barely five minutes. Patrick called him already in case he could have helped Rhonda." Ryan pulls up Liam's eyelids as they slide closed. "Hold on, you crazy sonofabitch."

It feels like fucking forever until the doctor enters with his bag. I've seen bullets dug out and sewn up before. Only it's never felt like every second it could go either way the way it does with Liam. I help where I can, holding things down, getting bloody, and wondering if this is all for nothing because Liam is white as snow.

Patrick is the same blood type as Liam and willingly does a direct blood transfusion. By the time the doctor is satisfied I worry Patrick is going to need more blood himself .

More than an hour later, the doctor declares he's done what he could. It's up to Liam if he heals. However, it would be good if he had someone who could watch over him. While the doctor can stay the night with him, he can't shut down his practice tomorrow to do it. The men move him to the bedroom in the bloody apartment.

Fuck. I'm about to kill two men, meaning we're already short men. The thought is there before I can push it down. Clare, Seamus's daughter, was a nurse. An ER nurse—so she had to have seen gunshot wounds and cared for them.

I pull my phone and call her.

She answers on the first ring. "Mr. Kelly."

I hate how hopeful she sounds. "Clare, I have a favor to ask of you. One of my men was shot tonight. Things don't look good. Would you be willing to take care of him for a few days? Just until he's out of the woods. I'll double the salary you're missing away from the hospital."

Her sigh is heavy. "I, um…"

"Make it triple your salary." I offer.

"Okay, yes. You don't need to do that. It's just that I'm on the verge of being fired if I call in. They're angry I won't work overtime. But this is what I need. The push to quit and find something else. Where is your man?"

I give her the address in relief.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." She promises.

Telling the men she's on her way, I give them the instruction that whatever she needs or wants, she gets. But remember not to say anything about Seamus or business in front of her. It might be a moot point since she'll be in the brothel, but the charges on this are next to nothing. The last thing I need to worry about is a murder charge.

James is waiting in the lobby, and he's pissed.

Fuck that, so am I. "This wasn't getting him under control. You helped make this mess."

"You shouldn't have done that. The old men will be angry. How could you kill your own flesh and blood?" James hisses at me.

"He was coming unraveled. Do you think he was going to get away with what he did to Rhonda and Liam? She had nothing to do with this shit. We're paid to protect her from men like him. The only good thing about this is it happened where we can contain it, but that's it. I warned you, and you did nothing." Fuck him and the old men.

I don't want to go home. It's the first time I've ever felt this way. If I go home, there is no way Miranda won't see the blood. The questions she has that I can't answer will eat away at her—at us.

What kind of curse did someone put on me to have Miranda tell me she loves me tonight and she wanted to stay with me, then less than two hours later cover me in the blood of my man? The last week has been close to perfection. Every day felt better than the day before it. I wasn't shocked when she told me she loved me. It was in her touch and her eyes. She was at last exhaling in relief. It was why I asked her to stay.

When she said yes, the relief was so immense I could barely breathe deep. My woman and she wanted to be. She didn't want to leave me. Her place was with me, and she knew it at last .

Inside the house, I'm glad to see the lights are off downstairs. Colm wouldn't have gone to bed before he was sure Miranda was asleep. I decide to go downstairs and use the guest bathroom to clean up and dump my clothes in the laundry room.

My foot has barely hit the bottom stair when Colm appears. "Dec? Do you think Liam is going to make it?"

I shake my head as I begin unbuttoning my shirt after tossing my jacket into the hamper for dirty clothes. "Hell, if I know. If it were anyone, it would be his crazy ass who could live through that amount of pain."

"I don't know Dec. I don't think it's a good idea to have Clare in the brothel. What with us ordering her father's death and all."

I'm in boxers, and I can't fucking believe where all the blood got to. "It's a few days. She keeps Liam alive or at least comfortable until he passes, and she walks away with cash. There's no one else to be there with him. Without her, he likely dies. Clare is a good girl. As long as the men keep their mouths shut, it will be fine. Now, I'm going to take a shower so I can clean off Liam's blood—if you please."

Hanging his head, he sighs and leaves me be. The water runs over me, turning the bottom of the tub brown with the blood and soap. I don't know if the blood is worse or the tears of a woman clinging to me… The woman, definitely the woman. I might have been the cause of them both—for not getting Tommy under control and ordering the death of Seamus. But Liam knew there was a risk. Clare was an innocent civilian without any idea of the world she walked into.

I feel it, and it freaks me out… Miranda's worry, her fear. It sends me out of the shower with a towel wrapped around me, drying myself as I go upstairs. I'm wrong. I have to be .

Only as I open the door to our bedroom, I'm not. She's awake, her eyes open with fear find me the second I'm through the door. The sigh that comes out of her touches me and turns my blood cold.

"Are you all right?" Her eyes run over me and she holds her hand out to me.

I take it and press my lips to her palm. She caresses me, running her hand over my cheek. "I'm fine."

Shaking her head, her eyes are wide. "You said you wouldn't lie to me. You aren't. Something happened."

Closing my eyes, I want to hide and curse the heavens. Her hand is gone. I open my eyes to find her blinking back tears as she pulls away from me. No. Catching her behind her neck, I hold her still as I allow my head to fall to hers. A shaky breath whispers over my mouth from her.

Miranda

Something is wrong. I've known it since he left. Everything felt off. I tried to go to sleep, but all I could do was clutch his pillow tight and wonder if he was all right.

I heard the front door and was, at first, relieved. Only for time to pass while I wondered if it was someone else and it meant something bad happened to Declan. When he came through the door, I sagged in relief that he was fine. But he's not fine. Something is wrong.

And he's going to keep it from me.

Do I want to know? No. Not really. All I want is for him not to look as though he walked out of hell .

Blue disappears. "I should let you go. If I were a better man, I would. But I'm not. I swear months, years at times, will go by with nothing more violent than a beating for money owed. I haven't pulled my gun in more than two years. No one has dared pull one on me in more than five years. It's not usually this shit-soaked, but this night was..."

My chest twists. I stroke his cheek. He leans into my touch. "I'm here. However, you need me. I don't want you to let me go. Here with you is where I want to be."

His hands slide around me hugging me to him. "I want your body something awful, but tonight. I just need to hold you."

I hug him tight. So large and strong. He sighs into my hair. His towel is gone, and we're in bed together, his arms around me.

Pressing my head into hischest,he strokes my hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. "No, love. Talk to me. Tell me what your favorite memory is of growing up."

"When my mom would allow who she was to come through. It was rare. She grew up with her parents as migrant farmers from Mexico. And she hated it. At fourteen she ran away because they wanted her to quit school and go into the fields and take care of her little brothers and sisters. She wanted a different life. So she stole money and bought a ticket out of California for as far as the money would go. It stopped in Chicago."

"I wondered where you got your fire and determination from." He murmurs.

"Hm, I tried. It was just sad she never talked about her family. She refused to even tell us her real name. Thank goodness there were some police roaming around the bus station. They knew immediately she was too young to be on her own. CPS took her in and because she stuck to her story and they could find no one to call her a liar they ended up keeping her. At her age, she was placed in a group home. She hated it, but it was a roof over her head. After some testing, they stuck her in high school. there's no way she was born Ashley Smith." I sigh.

"She was trying to hide. Ashley was one of those top baby names for a while." Comes out of the dark.

"Yeah, she kind of admitted it. Every once in a while, she'd turn the radio on, and she'd cook Mexican food. She showed me how to make tortillas, rice, and salsa. Then, my dad would come home. She would act as if she didn't know where the food came from. For a few days, she would be almost depressed. The next time, she would go longer before doing it again. It went from a few weeks to a few months until right before she died. One weekend, we spent the day in the kitchen, and she showed me how to make all these dishes. I asked her why, and she said it was for when she wasn't around to show me. We froze a lot of it. A weeklater,she died. My dad never ate the last dozen of tamales she made he loved so much before he died."

His sigh is loud. "You also got your love of hiding from her, too."

I nod. "If I ignore it, it will go away. It was safer. Who the hell wants pain? I just never realized without the pain, there's no pleasure. There's no light without dark. Is one better than the other? Sometimes. Sometimes, the light burns, and it's safer in the dark. But other times, you can't see what you're missing in the dark."

"That's my girl." He whispers against the top of my head before pressing a kiss to it .

Closing my eyes, I float on the gentle wave. Whatever comes tomorrow, I'm going to step into the sun and hope it doesn't burn me.