“I suppose…” he says slowly, and I hold my breath. “If you need me, I can assist. But this Declan…he’s a good man?”
“He’s the leader of the head Irish Mafia family.” I snort.
Jo shoots me a dirty look before turning back to Dad. “He is. Not in the…legal sense, but for a mafia man, he’s as good as you can get. He took out Cian when he tried to start usin’ omegas as currency, he’d never let an innocent person get hurt, and he values family above all else.”
Dad’s brows furrow. “Values family…except when he killed his own father.”
Jo lets out a bitter laugh. “I can see why you might be put off by that, considerin’ the fact you are also a father. But just ‘cause someone donated their DNA to your existence…well, it don’t make ‘em family. Cian Gallagher was a vindictive, abusive, evil motherfucker and the world is better off without him in it.”
“Just like the world is better off without the thirteen alphas you killed,” Dad observes. I can see his mind working overtime, trying to figure out how he feels about the whole thing.
“Fourteen.” She bares her teeth in a smile. “Plus a number of betas I can’t seem to keep track of—thoughthosehave only been in self-defense.”
Dad is silent for a moment as he looks between Jo and me. He’s never been one to have a gray moral code, but I know thatsome things shook up his perspective after he stopped working for West’s dad. It makes me wonder if Xavier Bowen’s Beta Liberation Union had anything to do with it.
Jo and Dad are in a silent stare-off, Jo nonchalantly sipping her coffee. After what feels like forever, Dad sighs. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
My omega’s smile is genuine as she hops up and plants a kiss on Dad’s cheek. “That’s just peachy keen. Why don’t you go pack a bag and we’ll all head to my brother's place?”
Dad chuckles, shaking his head as he dumps the rest of the coffee down the sink and walks past me. “She really does run everything around here, doesn’t she?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You have no idea.”
He pauses, looking back at Jo as she chugs the rest of her coffee. He wears a wistful expression on his face. “Oh, I think I do. Walk with me.” I follow Dad as he moves out of the kitchen and starts going up the stairs. “Now I know why you mouthed the word ‘mom’ at me when she was standing in the yard covered in blood as she introduced herself. They couldn’t be further from each other when it comes to looks, but there’s that same fire. That same inextinguishable spirit roaring through her veins.”
“We’re true scent-matches.”
Dad halts in his steps. When he turns, there’s a look of pure glee on his face. “Well, my boy, you never had a chance then, did you?”
“Not for a second. Though…I fell for her before we knew about the match.” At his confused expression, I detail everything that happened from the moment I first came upon Jo at Thornfield. I help him pack up for the journey, and one full suitcase later, Dad is caught up on every event.
“It seems that you five have stumbled into a big mess of trouble.” Dad zips up his suitcase.
“That’s one way of putting it.” I grimace, running a hand over my face.
“I have a few buddies in the FBI…” He trails off thoughtfully. “Maybe I can reach out.”
“Declan has guys too,” I shrug, “but right now they don’t know who they can trust. Maybe give their names to Aidan and he can look into them.”
We jump at the sound of Jo’s voice ringing up the stairs. “Do you boys need help up there? We gotta be out of here in the next ten minutes!”
Dad smirks. “The lady runs a tight ship.”
I snort. “That’s putting it lightly.”
four
Jo
Gods, why am I sohot?
Sweat is plastered to my forehead when I sit up with a gasp. Eyes wild, I try to remember exactly where we are, but only darkness greets me. Hayden grumbles sleepily next to me, his movement making the blankets move underneath us—
Right. We drove to Virginia, saved Sam’s daddy from a group of unskilled lackeys, and now we’re heading back to New York in the Mission Im-Pizza-ble delivery van. Hayden and I had fallen asleep together on top of a sleeping bag in the very back.
Groaning, I run my hand over my face. It comes away wet, and I grimace as I wipe it on my shirt. Sam’s concerned voice callsout from the front seat, “Trouble, you ok? Your scent, it’s…reallystrong.”
My voice is hoarse. “What…what time is it?”
