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“Not yet, but they will.”
I shrugged. “Still amazing what you can do.”
He smiled, blushing. “Come look at this…”
He walked off, invigorated that I was showing interest. I made to follow him but stopped in my tracks. While Eoghan’s back was turned, I nabbed one of the trackers from the table and slipped it into my pocket. He said they didn’t do what he’d designed them for, but I might be able to find a use for it just how it was. And in the mob world, it was always good to have a trick up my sleeve.
* * * *
That evening, as I exited through the reception area, Zara said a polite goodbye. I returned her farewell, then stepped into the elevator, opening my messages with Jack. I’d finally thought of the perfect response, one of Steinbeck’s more optimistic ruminations.
“We have only one story. All novels, all poetry, are built on the never-ending contest in ourselves of good and evil. And it occurs to me that evil must constantly respawn, while good, while virtue, is immortal.”
Three little dots appeared, letting me know he was typing.
If I were suffocating, I’d miss you more than the air in my lungs.
My inhale was sharp, the sound circling around the enclosed elevator. My retinas burned and my nose itched with unshed tears. I licked my lips, replying just as fast.
I miss you too, devil of mine.
Chapter Twelve
Emma
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about Jack.”
Eoghan offered me one of the iced coffees in his hand. Thanking him, I sipped the vanilla-infused drink, resuming our walk. It was another lonely Saturday, but the sun was beaming and a lazy breeze made its way across the Hudson. Battery Park was full of life. In the distance, a ferry crossed toward Liberty Island, packed to the hull with tourists.
Eoghan stood on the boardwalk, one hand in the pocket of his jeans. I shrugged, twisting the end of my sundress between my fingers.
“Why would I?” I asked, feigning nonchalance.
“Because I know you miss the shit out of him. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You can barely keep your hands to yourselves for two seconds.” He pretended to gag. “It’s sickening.”
Rolling my eyes, I made my best attempt at deflection. If thinking of Jack was painful, talking about him was agonizing. “You said you’re from Louisiana. Why the change in scenery?”
Eoghan’s humor disappeared in a flash, the tendons in his neck tensing. “I don’t like talking about my past.”
Nodding, I bit my lip. “From my experience, that’s a common trait amongst humans.”
A pair of siblings raced by—in the throes of a thrilling game of tag—and we were forced to dodge them. Their mother charged after, giving us a polite apology before threatening her children with no tablets for a week if they didn’t rein it in.
“I’m sorry, Em,” Eoghan said once we’d settled onto a nearby bench. I picked at the lid of my plastic cup, keeping my gaze downcast. “I really am, but we’re all a little damaged. A kid with well-rounded parents and an infallible support system doesn’t just up and decide to join an international criminal organization, you know? We’ve been fucked by circumstance and we’re trying to fill a void. I love the mob. I finally feel like I belong. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to a family.”
I tossed my empty cup into the recycling bin, pondering his words. Family. At its heart, that was what the mob was about. Loyalty and trust were what bound the men together, not blood and steel. I had my own family, but I wanted to be a part of Jack’s, too. If that was greedy of me, so be it.
Crossing my legs, I leaned back on my hands to let the vitamin D soak into my bones. “Any updates on the dating front?”
Eoghan started to groan, but it was cut off by his ringtone. “Saved by the bell, eh?” He winked at me, pressing the cell to his ear. “I’ve got Wings, but she can’t hear.”
I straightened, my heart pounding. “Jack?” I mouthed to Eoghan, maniacally pointing at his phone.
“Got it,” he spoke, then shook his head toward me. I sighed, deflated. “Uh…how about ten?”
A flush came over Eoghan’s cheeks. I tilted my head, wondering who the hell he was talking to. It didn’t take long before he ended the call, and I asked him just that.
“Kieran,” he replied. He stood, widening the distance between us with purposeful strides. “They’re back.”
