Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“You’re moving too fast,” I say, my tone gentle. “Even if the circumstances were on our side, I wouldn’t be thinking about any of that yet.”
“Every morning in the cafe,” Mom replies. “Every. Single. Morning. And you’re going to sit there and tell me you haven’t thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship with her… and where that relationship might lead?”
I hold my hands up. “Okay, guilty as charged. But it changes nothing. I can think and fantasize all I want. But it’s never—”
“Don’t think about the future,” Mom cuts in. “You like her. She likes you. Do you want to know the secret, how me and your father were so happy for so long?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“We took it, not one day at a time, but one hour at a time. We never took tomorrow for granted. Each moment was precious. Considering his line of work, we never knew how many we would have left.”
“It’s a little different, Mom. You were born into this life. So was Dad. Lucy is a civilian.”
“Those concerns are for tomorrow, not for the now.”
“So, you want me to become a monk?”
That gets a smile out of her. “I want you to be happy.”
“I’ll think about what you said,” I reply. “In the meantime, I need to call Colm. It’s about work. Love you, Mom. Send my love to Ellie, too.”
“I love you, son. And sorry if I came on strong.”
“I know you want the best for me… and I know you want grandkids, too.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you seriously think my concern could be that selfish?”
I wink, then end the call. Picking up my cell, I call Colm. “Did you have any luck?”
“I’ve been asking around,” Colm replies. “Maybe people are reluctant to talk to me because they know we’re friends. Nobody will say a word about the trafficking.”
“Hmm. Uncle Frank didn’t deny it, and Owen has heard whispers. Get me a list of Callahan properties. I’ll go door to door if I have to. If he’s keeping more innocent people in this city, I want to know about it.”
“Sure thing… boss.”
I laugh darkly. “Don’t call me that.”
“Yet,” Cold says.
“Ever.”
“Newsflash, Killian. If things are going the way they seem to be, you’re the only one who can save this Family, who can save this city.”
No pressure, then. “Just get me the list.”
The day proves fruitless. The warehouses contain cut-price electronics, fake designer clothes, and a bunch of other illegal—but not evil—crap. After calling Mom and Ellie, I swing by The Celtic Crust, telling myself it’s to make sure that Lucy is safe. The thing is, I know she’s safe; I’ve been texting Ronan all day.
I want to see her again, but I know it’d be better to stick to the plan. The taste of her lips is unforgettable. I can’t stop thinking about her curvy body as I clutched onto the perfect thickness of her lips. Her sweet, ample ass in my hands as I carried her.
Dammit. I’m getting hard just thinking about her, and there’s something else… a twitch in my heart, the tightness in my chest. Mom was right. The morning visits to the bakery have filled my mind with too many impossible dreams.
I sit outside for about an hour until the front door opens, and Lucy emerges. She’s wearing hip-hugging jeans and a flowy shirt that takes my breath away. I stand to greet her.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she murmurs, offering me a small paper bag. “It’s just a little something.”
“Anything you’ve baked has not disappointed me,” I tell her.
“Is that woman okay?”
I nod. “I made sure of it myself. She’s with her family, and the local cops are watching her, with backup from a security team I hired at my expense. It was the Russians who grabbed her initially. She responded to an ad for ‘modeling’… but they’ll never get their hands on her again.”
“Good,” Lucy says, then she smiles shakily. “Earlier got a bit… much, didn’t it?”
I take the pastry from the bag, a smile spreading across my face. This is exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. These feelings are precisely the sort I should let shrivel and die before they consume me. She’s baked a raisin pastry in the shape of a four-leaf clover.
“For luck,” she murmurs.
I take a bite, making a loud hmm noise which earns me the most gorgeous, magnetic laugh.
“Why would I need luck when I’ve got my charm right here?”
Her cheeks redden. She wraps strands of her red hair around her finger, then drops her hand when she realizes what she’s doing. “Is your plan to sit out here all night?”
“I wanted to see you,” I admit. “But…”
“Do you have any idea how annoying it is when people start sentences and then leave them all mysteriously unfinished? Do you have any clue how overactive it makes my imagination? You could say literally anything. Put me out of my suspense. Please.”