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Fuck that. Fuck it all.
I open the large black umbrella in my hand and cover the King and his Queen until we reach a crowd gathering around the hole where a man will be buried. We’re on a large compound, and I’ve been told there shouldn’t be any attacks, despite the New York war with the Russians. Yet, I’m still scanning the area for any signs of threats. The tree lines in the distance could be riddled with enemies, even though the Green family promised our safety.
My sight clashes against Aoibheann Green, clad in a red dress. It’s not the best color against her pale skin and wild copper curls, but it causes me to chuckle. I haven’t seen the woman in sixteen years, since her wedding to Alastair. I was a teen back then, but I remember how sad she seemed, saying her vows in the Irish Catholic church. The way her body trembled, and how sad I felt for her.
The red is a celebration, I’d say. A celebration of her new life without her mobster husband.
“Look at my sister,” Senior says, tsking as he wraps an arm around his wife. “Why is she wearing a red dress to her husband’s funeral?”
“I’d say she’s happy he is dead, dear husband,” Alana says. “She was a sobbing mess all those years ago. You really did a disservice to her.”
“It needed to be done,” Senior says, dismissing his wife’s concerns.
We approach the burial site where a Catholic priest is standing under a tent beside Aoibheann.
I stop in my tracks when my gaze settles on her: my red-headed beauty. She’s covered by a gray peacoat, her loose curls flowing over her face as she wraps her arms around Callum Junior. Even after all these months, she still takes my breath away. She pulls from Junior, and I force away the lump in my throat as I take in the sight of her.
I can’t see much with that damn peacoat, but what I do notice in her face is enough to make me want to rage. Her eyes are circled in dark rings, and her cheeks are sunken in. She’s lost weight, and she didn’t have much to begin with.
My hand tightens around the metal handle of the umbrella.Hasn’t anyone been taking care of her? Hasn’t whatever person working to protect her noticed that she isn’t eating?That her family hasn’t noticed or stepped in also makes me want to bash their heads in.
It’s obvious to anyone who knows Saoirse that she has an eating disorder. It had only taken me twelve hours since I first laid eyes on her to know this. So why am I always the only person to stop it?
Saoirse offers me a small tug of her lips and an awkward wave as I continue toward the pack of siblings, trying to maintain my composure. The entire Murphy family is here. All four of Senior’s sons and his youngest baby, the daughter. Callum, Paddy, Declan, Sean, and Saoirse.
Declan spots us and waves. I force myself to move my feet to keep up with Alana and Senior.
My heart pounds. This is the first time I’ve seen her since I told her to leave Boston. It’s the first time I’ll be so close to her that I can smell that smoky vanilla scent since she cried over my bedside when I’d been shot.
I long for that scent. It’s a distant memory now, but I ache to have it back, along with the mint shampoo she uses, her soft red hair brushing against my face as she shook me awake from the deep sleep that took me while I recovered from a bullet hole in my chest.
Fuck, we had been so close. So close to admitting our feelings for each other, only for that bullet to put the pump on the brakes.
Saoirse Murphy. God, she’s so beautiful, even with the scowl on her face right now as she glares at me. Maybe I fucked up, maybe I shouldn’t have pushed her away, and maybe I should have let her kiss me as she cried all those months ago.
But I didn’t. I put distance between us and drove her off to the West Coast. It was more than just because I wanted her to be safe. It was because the feelings I had for her terrified me.
They still do.
She deserves better than the Mob soldier I am. She deserves a husband who helps her reach her goals, who can sit with her at the dinner table and talk to her about how wonderful her architectural work is. Who can appreciate the fine dinnerware she’s chosen, and can discuss the state of the stock market. She deserves stability, safety, security.
I can give her none of those things. So, I refused to let myself have her at all.
Declan claps me on the back, pulling me away from the beating heart that walks outside of my body. “Missed you, brother. Glad you’re home,” he says.
“Good to be home,” I say.
“Where were you?” Saoirse asks.
I turn to her, green eyes watching me with hesitation. Her arms are folded over her chest while she stands beside Callum’s fiancé, Haley. I don’t answer her right away, not sure what to say. How do I tell her that I’ve been in Virginia for the last four months taking care of a friend’s widow, when I’m trying not to reach for her and give in to my desires?
Declan puts us out of our misery. “He was in Virginia for a funeral,” he says to her, then turns to me. “Are you back for good now? Or just for this funeral?”
“For good,” I say, shaking the hands of the rest of the brothers. Sean is last, and he pulls me into a brotherly hug.
“Come in tomorrow and we’ll get you set up with some work,” he says.
He’s the youngest boy of the clan, but the one who handles most of the delegation. Computer geek turned protector, he assigns the guards while also keeping cyber security fortified. He does other things too but mostly stays behind the scenes while Declan is the enforcer, the politician, the spokesperson.
