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″What more?”
He smirks, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “Paddy says this woman, the doctor you’ve been seeing, is the one who operated on his leg.”
″I’m hardly seeing her. I’m considering recruiting her to be a doctor for us.”
″You’re going to be forty next week. It’s time you find a wife, Callum. You need to have children. Men. To run this after you.”
″Paddy’s children can do that. I don’t expect I’ll be marrying soon. You were having Saoirse at thirty-five. I haven’t even started.”
″I don’t want you to be alone, Callum. You deserve to be happy.”
I try not to roll my eyes at him. He’s right, he’s gotten soft in his old age. We arrive at his house, and I follow him inside to see Ma. If she found out that I dropped him off without coming inside, she’d have my balls served as the main course for our next meal.
″Honey! Your son is home.” Da calls for her, hanging his jacket on the coat hanger in the large foyer.
Ma steps into view, an apron around her waist. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight, her red and gray locks wild and untamed.
″Smells delicious Ma,” I say. “What are you cooking?”
″Apple pie. I’ll send you home with a slice.” She releases me from her hug, then plants a kiss on Da’s lips. “How are you feeling?”
″Just fine,” he promises her as he squeezes her arms. His lips brush hers again and she turns a subtle shade of pink, smiling.
My parents married for love, sneaking around behind her father’s back when she was a lass. After she got pregnant, they married quietly. Her Da was pissed, rightly so, but knew there was nothing he could do about it. When I was nine, Da moved us to the states after he and her Da had gotten into an argument. They’ve never told us what the argument was about, and I doubt they ever will.
Da brought over a crew of Irish with him, and they’d begun recruiting for gambling on sports together. They’d take illegal bets, rig them, and split the profit. Slowly, it became more. Now, we’re working to get our hands in many businesses. This war with the Russians just makes little sense when they deal with prostitutes, whereas we handle gambling, firearms, and drugs. Though our clan was a strong one, there’d be no way to keep the Russians out of Boston. I only hope that they want in on the drugs. And that they can have. I’m banking on a compromise to hold them away.
Ma says, squeezing my arm. “Come, love. Sit and tell me about this woman Patrick keeps mentioning.”
I’m going to fucking kill my brother.
Chapter fourteen
I’mnotsurewhatis happening to me and don’t know if I like it or know what to make of this situation. Callum doesn’t make my skin crawl. He doesn’t make me want to kick and claw and scream to get away from him when he touches me.
Callum makes me feel safe. Secure. It’s a foreign concept.
And Scotty does, too. It’s weird to go from hating anyone with a dick, to actually liking two of them. Scotty makes me tea when he sees I’m upset. He keeps the car warm, so if I decide to ride to work, I’m not cold.
I know he reports my every move to Callum. I don’t mind. It means someone is looking out for me. Even if it is a little creepy how quickly Callum has grown into this new protector role in my life.
As I sit, eating from a tub of ice cream on my couch, I wonder if this is a sign that the scars are finally healing from my fucked up past. Maybe I just need someone to care about me enough to do something about it.
Griffin refuses to tell me anything about the Murphy boys, which is irritating as hell. The only thing I learned Callum owns the bar where Paddy had his birthday party, but that’s about it.
The vague job description, covered in tattoos, security team, all of it adds up to shady. I’m supposed to be bothered by it—know that I should be. But I’m not. Mostly because how can a hard, dangerous man be so fucking soft? Meanwhile, Drake Kirkland gives me the creeps. Maybe being shady is okay, it’s just about how you treat the people in your life. Maybe skirting the lines between black and white is okay, as long as you don’t touch women.
I bite my lower lip. How can I even be sure on his character? I barely know the man. If anything, I’ve already learned most people can’t be trusted. Callum doesn’t change that.
There’s a rap at my door, and my heart skips a scared, little beat. I jump, clutching my aching chest, and exhale loudly. Once the fear disappears, I anchor into rationale. Scotty is standing guard outside that door. He wouldn’t let anyone in. That isn’t just anyone knocking, It’s got to be Callum.
The corners of my mouth lift as my cheeks flush, and now my heart pounds with joy because I get to see Callum. Jesus, he is going to give me a stroke by the end of this.
When I don’t move, he knocks again, and I hurry to put the ice cream away. Just as I’m about to open the door, he knocks a third time. It’s grown louder, and I can almost hear him grumbling under his breath on the other side.
″Who is it?” I ask.
″Housekeeping.”
