Page 6 of Then We Shatter

“I miss you so much, Shorty,” I confess in a whisper. “You said you’d never let me go, but you did.”

I drop my head and bite one of my knees to silence my pain, but I can’t hold back the raw grief burning my throat and making my chest heave. I know I need to stay strong to face whatever comes next, but for just this moment, I let the sadness overwhelm me. I give myself permission to mourn the man I fell for under the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Killian McConkey, heir to the Irish mafia, was the only man I will ever love. No one is ever going to replace him and I dare anyone to try.

Chapter 3

Killian

Before

Ireturn Malachy’s death glare, determined not to be the one to break first. My brother is a slightly younger, slightly better polished version of myself and our favorite pastime is pissing each other off. We hold identical poses, backs straight, legs spread wide and arms folded over our combat shirts. We only blink when our bone-rattling truck hits a pothole and two benches of twenty men jolt up out of their seats. I say men, but there’s a veritable goddess sitting next to me, which is why I’m getting the evil eye from my brother.

“Couldn’t you have found better transport, Mal?” I complain. “Like maybe one with fucking suspension?”

“I’d say we’ve done pretty well considering we had zero notice, and this isn’t our fucking fight.”

I shake my head imperceptibly. I expected pushback for turning up with my unannounced plus-one, but there should be no question about why we’re traipsing through the Blue Ridge Mountains in the middle of the night.

“We’re here for the lowlife who made the mistake of thinking they can steal Ash Griffin’s family. Not all the battles we pick are ours. Sometime we have to step up for our friends and this is one of those times. Dad knows it. So should you.” The fact I have to point it out is why Dad trusts me as his second in command. At twenty-nine, I’m the oldest of his five sons and for my sins, I’m heir to the Irish mafia. One day I’ll inherit a sizable empire covering most of Nevada and a little more besides.

“Sorry if I’m a wee bit confused about who you class as friends these days,” Malachy says as we resume our staring match. He’s concentrating on glaring at me just as hard as he is ignoring the woman who sends a jolt of electricity down my spine every time her shoulder knocks against mine.

“The fleet was the best we could secure at short notice, Kill,” Lorcan interjects before I can offer our brother an expletive or two. As the third of John McConkey’s sons, he’s used to being in the middle of our battles.

Lorcan sits on Malachy’s right and it’s the first time he’s spoken since I landed at our meeting point somewhere north of Atlanta. He doesn’t engage much with the world around him, but it would be a mistake to assume Lorcan isn’t absorbing everything.

“At least we brought useful assets to the fight, not more trouble,” Malachy says. The fucker’s itching for a smack in face.

“I think he means me,” Katarina says with a bored sigh.

“She’s exactly who I mean,” he answers, his gaze still locked on mine.

It pisses me off that he won’t look at her, or call her by name. It may only be the second time I’ve met Katarina Barkov, but how can anyone not look at her? She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Long-limbed with curves that could lead the purest soul into temptation, and pure I’m not.

Nor is Katarina. There’s nothing sweet or innocent about Vasili’s niece. Her eyes are a darker brown than mine, darker even than Malachy’s and his are almost black at present. Her hair is the color of polished ebony and falls in a single braid down to the base of her spine, a practical measure for tonight’s mission but a distraction too. I want to wrap that braid around my fist and…

“I can think of a few uses for her.”

My gaze slides to Malachy’s left and the man giving Katarina a look I don’t much like. Of all my brothers, he was always going to be the one to pay our guest attention. Too much attention.

“Tier, I suggest you shut the fuck up if you want to keep your teeth,” I growl.

My hand tightens into a fist, and even my dumbass brother knows it’s not a good idea to start a fight in a tightly enclosed space.

“What did I do? I didn’t say anything bad,” he complains, his blue eyes shimmering with innocence as he turns to Malachy. It’s a look he practiced to perfection on our mother. “Did I say anything, Mal?”

We all ignore his questions and Tiernan sits back with a huff. Twenty-five-years-old and he can still pout like a toddler.

I’m about to relax when Katarina stretches out long legs that had to have been poured into her skin-tight black jeans. She’s sitting directly opposite Tiernan and when she crosses her ankles, the heels of her boots come to rest in the middle of his splayed feet. Any part of Katarina between his legs is not a situation I’m comfortable with.

“I think he was suggesting he could fuck me,” she says.

The silence above the rumble of the truck’s engine is deafening as Tiernan glances nervously from Katarina to me. I see the warring thoughts in his head. He can either take notice of my earlier warning and keep his teeth or… He stretches out his feet towards her, capturing more of her legs between his. “If you’re offering, I could–”

As I lunge at Tiernan, Malachy leans out of the way. He’s not about to intervene in a fight over a Bratva princess, and it’s Lorcan who reaches across Malachy to sandwich himself between me and our younger brother. He doesn’t say anything. He simply uses his thick arms and body as a blockade.

“I’m going kill you, you little arse-wipe,” I yell over Lorcan’s shoulder.

“It’s OK, Shorty,” Katarina says, pulling me back. “This boy couldn’t handle me.”