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“I promise.” Jack holds up his hands, nodding, and I chuff. Accepting that promise, I push down the unpleasant sensation weaving between my ribs. The car abruptly comes to a stop, and I tense up as Jack gets out. I'm worried because he hasn't told me where we're going for dinner. What if I’m overdressed? I look down at myself, my tight dress leaving little room for imagination. When I look up again, Jack is standing there with his hand out, and I hesitate to take it.
But the restaurant he chose is beautiful even on the outside. The white tablecloths are visible through the big, crystal clear picture windows, topped with candles in crystal vases. The wait staff is in sharp suits. I lick my lips nervously as Jack presses his palm against the small of my back and whispers something in my ear. I can barely hear him over the blood drumming, and I hold my breath as my heart leaps into my throat.
“Wow,” I marvel at the nearly empty restaurant. “It’s not very busy for a Friday night, huh?”
“This restaurant closes at three on Fridays and Saturdays and becomes a reservation-only place,” Jack answers before giving the hostess his name, and I glance over curiously. Only four or five tables are occupied; it’s barely six in the evening. Is it early? The sign says the bar closes at eleven. I shrug off my thoughts when Jack starts forward, and I follow him to our table. He pulls my chair out, smiling over my shoulder when I sit down. “You’ll enjoy this. The seafood here is amazing.”
"I'm not really a seafood person," I admit, blushing in the face of Jack's intense, astute gaze. My hands hover over the table before I realize there is no menu, and I cast him a curious glance. “Where’s the menu?”
“It’s a set tasting menu,” he replies, his grin widening when my brows rise in surprise. “Just one bite, so don’t worry about getting something you won’t want to eat a whole plate of. So, what made you want to become a teacher, Heather?”
A tasting menu... now that’s fancy. Gulping down my nervousness, I hum in acknowledgment before the waiter appears with a bottle of wine. Had Jack ordered it? I’m so apprehensive; I must’ve missed it. Leaning back to look over at him, I blink at the expectancy in his eyes before remembering he’d asked me a question.
“Oh, being a teacher? When my mom died, I ended up taking stock of my life. All the things I’d been through until that point... and what I wanted for the future. After moving in with my dad, seeing how stressed he was about his job,” I purse my lips, my mouth drying; obviously, being a lawyer wasn’t the only thing my dad stressed about. Jack leans forward intently, and I shake my head. “I thought being a teacher was a smooth ride, I suppose. Sure, it’s a lot of work outside school, and for the most part, I know I got lucky about where I’m working. To be at such a prestigious school right out of college for my first year? It’s almost unheard of. I honestly don’t know who made that clerical error, but I’m grateful.”
“You did get lucky,” He holds a finger to his lips, grinning lopsidedly. “I promise, before you say it, that I had nothing to do with it. I was busy trying to locate your brother before your father even kicked the bucket.”
“Frankie, yeah, he’s—” I trail off, trying to find the right words. “I can see how he’d get tangled up with someone like you. The longer I went without contacting him, the more relieved I was. I don’t really know if he’s a bad person, but I also felt like I never wanted to know. That’s gotta count for something.”
“You said on Tuesday that all the men in your life are assholes. I don’t think it’s surprising that, in some ways, you felt comfortable with men like that because you know them,” Jack doesn’t seem at all offended by the way he describes himself, essentially. I grab my wine glass to hide my frown. “I’m the only one who can make you cum hard enough to forget it.”
I nearly choke on my wine at that, and Jack throws back his head to laugh. My throat closes, and I grasp my chest with my free hand. Grinning broadly at me, fondness blazes from his eyes. Covering my mouth with the back of my hand, I glare at him as heat threatens to melt my cheeks. “You know it’s true.” He declares.
“That doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud at a restaurant, Jack,” I snap, my voice high, and he chuckles merrily. My mind churns backward, remembering all the times Mike left me so unsatisfied that I had to do the job myself. “It’s humiliating, thinking of everything I put up with because I was comfortable with Mike. That I convinced myself it was fine because I wasn’t risking anything. And after what happened... that he’s capable of that.”
“Change is lifelong, Heather. You’re allowed to want more for yourself after realizing your mistakes or finding something better. This—” he gestures between us with a wave of his hand and smiles warmly, the lines around his eyes crinkling lightly. “Can be temporary. Or not. That’s your choice, whether you look back on this as a time of struggle or growth. Despite what I’m asking of you, the last few weeks, you can’t deny that you’re happier with yourself, your disposition, I mean.”
“My disposition,” I echo thoughtfully. Temporary? My mind shies from the notion. There is no way I can let go of Jack, and goosebumps blanket my arms and across my chest at the realization. My throat burns, growing tight, and I shake my head again. “You’re just trying to make nice words out of the fact that you’re corrupting me.”
"Am I?" He posits, and I lick my lips nervously. "Or are you trying to justify the fact that none of this is necessarily something you have an explicit problem with? Surely, Mayor Shaw, and this job tonight... Anyone in their right mind would be conflicted. But you've adjusted well, and that's what bothers you the most."
I don't respond, and it's clear that Jack does not expect me to. As usual, he reads me like an open book. As I look around the fancy restaurant with its white tablecloths and starchy uniformed staff, dread seeps into my veins. I could easily become accustomed to this, and all Jack wants me to do... is kill a few people? They’re bad people, too. Mayor Shaw was a crook. Whoever he wants to eliminate tonight probably is no saint.
I’m justifying murdering people.Men and women, the sons and daughters of others, who probably didn’t start out life expecting to be criminals. Stiffening when Jack reaches across the table to hold my hand, I catch his eyes as he rubs the back of my hand with his thumb. Even Jack, as a boy... “You said you weren’t supposed to do this job. What did you want to be when you were little? You never talk about your parents.”
“I always thought I’d grow up to be a fireman,” Jack reveals, and I’m shocked. A fireman? He chuckles fondly, the memories glistening in his eyes as he leans back in his chair. “My dad was a fireman. My mom was a nurse. It wasn’t until I was around 15 or 16 that they sat me down and told me about the family business because Robert gave my uncle such a hard time. But, yeah, for a while... I wanted to be just like my dad. They’re living it up in Florida if you’re wondering.”
It's adorable to imagine a young Jack honking a fire engine horn and donning his father's helmet. Yes, even Jack, the top boss of the Irish Mafia in Boston, did not start out this way. He was once a little kid who didn't know any better and had made choices to get to this point. No matter what innocence had been there, the reality of the present is what’s right in front of my face.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Jack
Heather giggles and leans against me, puckering her lips and making kissing noises. I lean down to capture her mouth, tightening my arm around her and enjoying her pleased gasp. She's very agreeable when she's had some wine and good food. I take off my jacket to wrap it around her shoulders as the biting, chilly air stains her cheeks red. Big, brown eyes look up at me as if I'm amazing, and I bask in it.
“You really know how to make a girl feel special. That tasting menu was good! Maybe, I’m more of a seafood person than I thought.” Heather clings to the lapels of my jacket, her tone breathless from excitement. We walk down the sidewalk, illuminated by soft, golden light; this part of historic downtown is stunning at night, but nothing compares to her. Part of me wishes I could just skip this job and take her straight to bed, so I wrap my arm around her shoulders and sigh contentedly.
I can get used to this. Companionship.
“I know it might sound condescending, but I’m proud of you, Heather. It’s really a feat to overcome everything you’ve gone through and be such a well-rounded person.” I grin when she blushes up to her ears at my praise. Nudging my side with her elbow, she shakes her head mutely. We round the corner from the restaurant to the car idling on the curb, and I open the door for her. Sliding into the back seat, Heather pauses when she sees the familiar duffle bags piled onto the opposite side.
“You really give meaning to the phrase ‘no rest for the wicked, huh?” She asks as I sit next to her, shutting us inside the car. Apprehension brightens her eyes when they meet mine. “You never told me what we’re doing.”
"About what you said," I start, and the car begins to move as I reach over to Heather to retrieve a bag. "I didn't know tonight would be the night when I asked you on this date. No, I hope you believe me when I say I wanted this date to be a date."
"You want me to know you're a doer, not just ordering people around with no merit of your own," Heather responds as I unzip the bag, echoing my earlier sentiment. I nod, holding up a pair of thick, black leggings and a black turtleneck similar to those she wore for the Shaw job. She eyeballs me briefly before looking down at herself and frowning. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I thought I’d be taking this dress off.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” I reply firmly, and Heather puckers her lips in a pout before grabbing the clothes. She shuffles and bends sharply, grumbling to herself, but there's nothing I can do about it. I take the sneakers from the bag and place them in my lap. “This job is about turf. The Italian Mafia—or what remains of them—is trying to strike a deal on my territory. We’ll be taking care of them and the buyers they’ve got lined up.”
