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Dying will do that to you.
My husband died in my arms six months ago. Then twice more on the operating table. If it hadn’t been for Keegan, I probably would have died too.
Whether by an Albanian gangster or a broken heart, I would have been DOA either way.
It was Keegan’s quick reflexes that had saved our lives. Keegan had been waiting for Lucifer in his idling vehicle and witnessed everything in real time. He’d returned fire, taking out the gunman and driver before Lucifer hit the ground.
A week later, Niall led the crusade that wiped out what had remained of the Albanian street gang following the FBI bust on Pier 19.
There was one thing the Mob, Mafia, and Bratva could agree on: the Albanians couldn’t be allowed to rebuild their operations. An attempt on one boss was a threat to all families—regardless of DNA. Only time would tell if Boston’s three major crime families would continue to stand united if the street gang tried to resurface.
After a trip to the orchard and an AA meeting at St. Patrick’s, we returned to the estate with Honeycrisp, Golden Delicious, and Cortland apples, and fresh-baked doughnuts to spare.
There was more interior work to be done to the mansion, but for the most part, the Flynn compound had been restored to its original grandeur, aside from a few decorative changes and upgrades. We still had a dungeon, but we were no longer the proud owners of a creepy Virgin Mary statue.
I sat on the kitchen island, cross-legged with an apple in one hand, and a Gerber StrongArm in the other.
I’d eventually gotten my knives back.
Light spilled into the room as I cut another slice from the core.
Lucifer paused in the doorway with a curious grin in place. “What are you doing in the dark?”
“Conserving resources,” I muttered.
“Ah. I see.” Lucifer’s tone was filled with the patience of a dozen saints.
He knew his monthly phone meetings with Aidan Brennan gave me actual hives—and I knew the calls were nonnegotiable so long as both sides were playing nice and honoring the agreement between our families. So I suffered through that hour once a month with a grumpy attitude, and afterward, my husband held space for me while I worked through my emotions.
Make that two dozen saints.
I didn’t know all the details of Lucifer’s plan to destroy the Brennans, but I did know that there was a plan. It was fluid—it had to be—but the few things Lucifer had shared with me were, well, brilliant.
Unbeknownst to the Brennans, Lucifer had brokered deals for the Brennans’ competition in the Old Country. He was making the Brennans weaker by making their enemies stronger.
The art of war and all.
He crossed the kitchen in relaxed strides, then rested his hands on either side of me and dropped his forehead to mine. Tension left my body in waves.
“You trust me. Aye?”
“Aye,” I whispered.
“Good.” Lucifer pushed off the counter. “Now finish your snack so I can have mine. I’ve been waiting all day to taste your sweet pussy.” He turned and walked away, then called over his shoulder, “Bring your inhaler. You’re going to need it.”
I chuckled and popped the last bite of apple into my mouth.
Lucifer
We never made it to the bedroom.
After three orgasms, my wife lay on top of me, sated and on the cusp of sleep. I nuzzled her hair, and she snuggled deeper into my chest with a sigh.
I would never tire of that sound.
I dragged my thumb over her lower lip. “Sweetheart.”
“Hmmm . . .”
