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“Do your brothers come over here and do those things?”
“Not often. But I’ve thrown a few parties here. My cousins from Chicago even came.”
“Really? The Rossis?” I’d forgotten about the Connollys’ connection with the Italian mafia in Chicago. Their father’s sister married an Italian man. The couple shared their time between Rome and Dublin, and rumor was that Mr. Rossi had climbed to the top so fast because of the combination of knowledge he gained from both mob families.
“A year or so ago they stayed a few days. We hooked them up with…” Patrick stops, eyes on me.
I know why too. He can’t speak about business in front of a no-good Hunt.
Compressing my lips, I look away. “I’m sorry for all my father did to your family, Patrick. I apologized to Heath too, and I hope to get a chance to say the same thing to Linc. I want you to know I had nothing to do with his choice to rat you guys out.”
I steal a peek at him from the corner of my eye. He’s gone back to his phone as if my words don’t matter or he didn’t hear me.
“I don’t expect any of you to believe me when I say I haven’t had contact with my father for years. Even if I knew where he was, I want nothing to do with him.”
More silence ticks by. Finally, he lifts his stare from the screen. “Apologies don’t mean shit to us, Serenity.”
The words sting. I’m never to be forgiven for the stupid choices my father made. I have to carry the weight of his sins on my shoulders for the rest of my days.
“And Con?” I ask Patrick about his father. “Does he know what Heath’s done for me?”
A set of vivid blue eyes meet mine. “Not a hell of a lot he doesn’t know about in this city or when it comes to us.”
I look away, my stomach beginning to churn with worry. “Would he turn me over to Stepanov?”
He lifts a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “Doubtful. Unless you give him reason to.”
A shudder rips through me. I snap my arms around myself. Years ago, every piece of me was shattered like glass hurled onto concrete. It’s taken me so long to pick up those shards and piece them back together. Even more to find the glue to hold them in place.
A few words have dissolved that glue and I can feel myself falling apart.
“Patrick, I have to ask.” My voice comes out as a rasp.
He waits for me to continue.
“If Heath and I…happened to…you know…hook up. How would your father react to that news?”
Patrick gives me a sad shake of his head. “Serenity, you already know the answer to that. Asking won’t tell you what you want to hear.”
I drop my head into my hands. “He despises me.”
“Your old man tried to send mine to prison. He’d be sitting there rotting even now if not for the men who agreed to take the fall for him. Now you’re dragging us back into some shit with Sergei, who we already consider an enemy. So no, my father’s not going to be happy about any of this shit, least of all one of his sons being with you.”
There it is. The bald, raw words that poison every little bud of hope nurtured back in that cabin.
I knew better than to hope. It’s the ugliest four-letter word on the goddamn planet. My unhappy life cannot be turned around by a few encounters with the man I’ve never stopped loving.
My resolve to leave the city on my own is back in place, more solid than ever. As soon as Patrick goes to the bathroom—eventually he’ll need to—I’ll be running out that door.
I lower my lashes and peek at the door, counting the steps it will take to reach it and how long before Patrick notices I’m gone.
I also have to take into account that the Connollys see everything that goes on in this city. How long before one of them tracks me down? Or Sergei and his men find me?
Any silly hope I harbored of Heath sweeping me off my feet are wiped out. I’m left sitting in a dark void of despair.
Patrick drops his phone to his lap and reaches for the remote. “Wanna hit up some Mario Kart? Just like old times?” he asks me.
Dammit, why do those blue eyes need to be identical to Heath’s? I’m helpless against all of the Connolly boys.
