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“I suppose you’ll be calling me pop, soon.”
“That’s the word on the street.”
We settled back into the booth, engaging in pleasantries and getting his partner up to speed. Callum, of course, did most of the talking, but I noticed Michael was paying a lot more attention to me that he usually did. Probably had something to do with the fact I was about to marry his daughter.
And speak of the devil, there she was—the lady of the hour. A devil in a blue dress, just like that old song.
Lord, have mercy.
I almost didn’t recognize Cassidy but for that tight-lipped, disapproving frown of hers. Her strawberry blonde hair was loose and lazily curled, hanging past her shoulders in waves that reflected the low café lighting, burning like amber against the ocean backdrop of her dress.That dress.It hugged in all the right places, showing off a surprisingly curvaceous figure. Long legs. Perfect, pert breasts. An ass that those scrubs of hers could never do justice. And a poise and confidence in the way she was carrying herself that was just as much of a turn-on.
I had to check myself as Cassidy slid into the booth across from me, followed closely by her brother. She was probably furious about the position she’d been placed in, probably a little scared, too, and here I was ogling her like a caveman. Never mind the fact that Tommy had gleefully and graphically described precisely what he would do to me if I disrespected his sister or broke her heart.
C’mon, Connor boy, get it together.
Cassidy was looking at me, now, and I looked right back at her, noting the precise location of each little freckle dotted across the bridge of her nose. The hard jade of her eyes, coldly sizing me up. Her stubborn chin tilting up in challenge. Velveteen lips painted pale rose and parted ever so slightly, ever so kissable.
I couldn’t have told you what Callum and Michael were talking about if I’d had a gun to my head.
I wondered what she tasted like.
I was so fucked.
You see, during the past two sleepless nights, I’d made a promise. To myself, and to Cassidy. As much as I hadn’t wanted nor needed this little headache, here it had fallen—quite literally—in my lap. Cassidy had already been hurt enough by my world. I could see the scars it left behind from where I was sitting, peeking out beneath the fresh bruises Johnny’s killer had left. Blue on blue to match her dress. The sight of them made me want to hit something. Made me want to pull her in my arms and shield her from every bad thing in this world, even if it meant earning my own set of bruises. Or worse. I was going to do everything in my power to do right by her and protect her in a way I hadn’t been able to protect too many people in my past.
Mum and Da.
Aiden.
Johnny.
I refused to add another name to that list.
“Sunday the seventeenth it is, then.” Callum rapped the table like a judge’s gavel, gaining my attention. “I’ll book the venue, the Monseigneur owes me a favor. Jillian will handle the details.”
Well, that was fast. It was just as well. The sooner Cassidy and I were legally married, the sooner she would be safe.
Cassidy’s head swiveled sharply. “This Sunday?”
“Why, you got something else pressing?” Michael wouldn’t even look at his daughter. “A VIP tour of the city morgue, perhaps?”
Bloody hell. If I thought Callum was standoffish with me, then Michael was downright cold with Cassidy. This feud must run deeper than I thought. Surprisingly, Cassidy bit her tongue. She settled back against the faux leather and calmly sipped her coffee, her eyes detached and distant in a way that broke my heart.
I didn’t have much to say, either. It seemed that everything was being planned for us. It was just as well. I never had much use for weddings, especially a fake one to a woman who seemed like she’d gladly push me into traffic at the first opportunity.
Finally, we were done. “Tommy, stay a minute and catch up with your old man,” Michael was saying. “Connor can walk her out.”
Steaming Jesus, could he not even say his daughter’s name? I didn’t know if it was Michael’s callous attitude or the way I firmly gripped her hand when I helped her to her feet, but Cassidy went rigid as I led her out of the café. She pulled out of my grip and walked ahead.
I’m more than this suit and these tattoos.I wanted to tell her.I’m more than what my past is. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry this is happening to you. This isn’t fair to either of us.
Instead, I spat in a voice I hardly recognized as mine, “Where’s your car.”
“The blue Volvo.”
Blue, blue, blue. Everything about her was blue.
I was so wrapped up in the puzzle that was Cassidy Quinn, that I almost didn’t spot them until it was too late. Grey Impala, parked at the corner. Two men inside, blocky Eastern Europeans wearing sunglasses despite the cloud cover.
