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Too bad I’m stuck being me.
We get out of the car together, holding hands.
Chapter19
Gareth
“Gareth! Fiona!” Orin walks over to us, arms spread. Fiona clings close to my arm. Orin’s in a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he’s one of a dozen other rich assholes that spend their summers around here. “Great of you to make it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” I say, shaking his hand. I kiss Molly on the cheek. “Lovely to see you. This is my wife, Fiona.”
“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” Molly says, beaming. Orin’s wife is tall, broad, all hips and big brown hair. She grins as she gives Fiona a tight hug. “How’d you end up with a man like Gareth Kane? You know how we feel about lawyers.”
“You… love them?” Fiona asks, looking panicked.
Molly bursts out laughing. “All right, dear, you’ll do fine. Come on inside. I’ll have Robert bring your bags in. Do you want a drink?”
“Drink would be lovely,” Fiona says, casting me a look.
The girls disappear, leaving me out front with Orin. His friendly grin narrows into an appraising smile. “Didn’t think you’d bring her,” he says, nodding back toward the house. “Then again, you’re newlyweds. I bet you can’t stand being apart for long.”
“I figured you’d want to see her again.” I shift my weight, worried he’s already seeing through the ploy. Did Liam find something he shouldn’t have? Did I walk into a trap?
“Ah, true enough, but would’ve been good to have a boys’ weekend,” Orin says, slapping my back, and I realize this is just some classic mafioso sexism instead of actual suspicion. “Still, it’ll be good for Molly to have a lady friend around. They can distract each other with chatter while we get real work done. Do you golf?”
Fucking golf. I loathe the game. “Absolutely. I didn’t bring my clubs, but I’d be happy to play with rentals.”
“Perfect.” He grins at my viciously. “I hope you don’t mind losing money. I only play for cash.”
Great. I get to pretend like I’m bad too. “Sounds great to me.”
He laughs, slapping my back. “You’re going to fit in around here.”
“Are your sons around?” I ask as he takes us inside.
“Nolan and Carson are down at the beach. Finley’s got business back in the city, and sadly won’t be joining us. Liam’s up in the air. I never know with that boy.”
Hopefully, he lands on a fucking spike when he comes back down. “Sounds good. I appreciate you extending me the invitation.”
“Here’s the thing, Gareth.” Orin puts an arm over my shoulders as we move through the beautiful house. Hardwood floors, nautical-themed antiques, a chandelier that must cost a fortune. “My business is my family. Anyone that enters into the inner circle has to be vetted.” He squeezes tighter. “You come highly recommended. I enjoyed our meeting in the city. However, there was that one little… hiccup.” He raises his eyebrows.
“I understand,” I say smoothly. “Fiona wasn’t meant to be involved. She’d only come for a little vacation. We didn’t get a honeymoon.”
Orin chuckles, nodding. “Understood. Got to keep the new wife happy. And like I said, I do appreciate family.” He pauses in the middle of a dark, back hallway, and turns to face me. The jovial, middle-aged man disappears, replaced by the sharp, conniving stare of a crime boss. “But I don’t like fucking surprises. No more fucking surprises, right? You’re up front with me now. Understood?”
I nod slowly. I sure as hell understand. If they find out that I’m lying about my marriage to Fiona, I will die, and she will die with me. “Understood. It won’t happen again.”
“Great,” he says, slapping my back, harder this time. “Let me show you around the place. It’s our pride and joy.”
He gives me a quick tour of the house, from the game room to the observatory where the views of the ocean stretch in all directions. He talks mostly about local history—about shipwrecked pirates, bootleggers, smugglers. “My kind of folks,” Orin says, grinning.
“My kind too. Without men like that, men like me are out of business.”
He laughs, throwing his head back, pounding on the wall. The man’s like a cartoon sometimes, overly animated, exuberant to the point of absurdity.
That’s a mask. The real Orin was the man I saw moments ago in the hallway. The clever crime lord. The dangerous fucker. I can’t let his little happy-go-lucky bullshit act distract me from what he is.
A killer.
