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"I've got to get going," I said as I finished the last of my whiskey.
"You need me to walk you home, princess?" Tommy cracked a grin, but I knew he meant it. "I'll carry your books for you, make sure you don't fall on your pretty face."
"Ha-ha, very funny," I said. "I'll see you around."
I headed out into the chilly evening, pulling my jacket tighter around me as I walked. The air smelled like rain, a hint of ozone on the breeze. I turned up my collar and walked down to the T station.
One week later, the entire Clan and half of South Boston had witnessed Tommy’s little sister become Mrs. Cassidy McTiernan, and I drove the newlyweds up to the family summer home in Kennebunkport, Maine in what was possibly the most awkward car ride of my life. Connor was grim, even by his standards, and Cassidy possessed all the warmth of an ice sculpture. I didn’t envy Connor.
Me, I had my own problems. Connor followed up my cheeky parting shot about not doing anything I wouldn’t do with a teasing line about me working my way through South Boston’s female population, but the truth was, I was in one hell of a dry spell. Tommy had tried to get me to go slumming with him multiple times, but the prospect of guilt-free, no-attachment sex wasn’t enough to break me out of this funk I was in. I couldn’t even muster up enough enthusiasm to make use of the couple phone numbers I’d collected during the week. Pathetic.
And it was all because of Emilia.
It was a good thing work occupied most of my time right now, because I was even having trouble sleeping. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. A fifteen-minute encounter and one brief kiss, and Iwas mooning over this girl like I was some teenage loser with his first case of blue balls.
Fists wrapped and stripped to the waist, I took out my frustrations on the heavy bag until I was sweat-soaked and panting. I usually didn’t feel like I needed to sink my fists into something to clear my head, but the instability seemed to dissipate the harder I hit. Maybe Tommy was onto something, here.
When I could barely lift my right arm, I swapped to my left. It wasn’t like me to get tied up in knots over one girl. A bookish, mousy girl (who happened to have the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen) and who probably wouldn’t give me the time of day if I ever saw her again.
Hell, she’d probably hit me with the book this time. I think I’d let her.
Emilia wasn’t the first girl to help me out of a bind, but she was the first one to help me when she had everything to lose. I didn’t want to think about what her family would do if they found out she’d lied for me. Especially Angel. I hadn’t mistaken the possessive tone in his voice.
The heavy bag creaked on its chain, and I wiped the sweat from my eyes. Unease churned in my gut. I didn’t think Emilia would be naive enough to let it slip, but what if one of her brothers found out? What if they had doubled back and seen me sneaking out of the back of the shop?
It had been days. Anything might have happened.
"I think it's dead."
I swung around and squinted through the sweat in my eyes. Teagan stood on the other side of the ring, looking up at me with his arms crossed.
"Fuck off," I gasped. "I just got started."
"If you say so." He ducked under the ropes and tossed me a towel.
Teagan was a hard man to read. He had a way of smiling that sometimes made me feel like I was in a shark cage at the bottom of the ocean, no air and no way out. I guess that came with the territory of being a hitman for the mob. Teag was a tough customer, all right, but there was no doubt he’d bleed for Ireland and the Clan.
All the same, I wouldn’t want to be caught on the wrong side of his gun.
I mopped the worst of the sweat off, draped the towel around my neck, and leaned against the ropes. "What brings you down here, anyway?"
"Callum wants to see us." Teag jerked his chin toward the locker room. "Got a job tonight."
"I've been working my ass off for two weeks straight, and I don't remember a meeting on the books."
"It's a last-minute kind of thing. Connor's not here, and we need to move the merch tonight."
The merch in question was likely the illegal shipment of P90 automatics that we were holding for some buyers coming up from Rhode Island. Arms dealing wasn't our usual area--Connor preferred moving liquor and electronics, which were far easier to launder. But guns were straight cash, and Callum was always the first one to jump on an opportunity.
I stripped off my wraps and ducked under the ropes. "Fine. Let me shower first."
"Hurry it up. The boss isn’t in a good mood."
"Callum hasn’t been in a good mood since 1972.”
Teagan cracked a grin as he walked out the door. "Alright, be quick, smartass."
I ducked into the locker room, took the world’s fastest shower, and attempted to finger-comb my curls into some semblance of order. I had no intention of going to the meeting with Callumand Teag. They’d probably be a little pissed, but I had something more important to do.
