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I kiss her forehead and then her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her lips. It’s a featherlight touch, but it’s enough. It grounds me and, from the way her shoulders slump, it does the same for her.
“My parents came to America from Northern Ireland when things were at their worst. Finn was still practically a baby at only two and I wasn’t even born yet,” her voice is soft, it pulls me in and lulls me with the cadence of her words. “There hasn’t been a time when I didn’t know about the backdrop of my parent’s childhood. They have always raged about the cause, about independence and violence.”
When she shudders, I shift her so she’s straddling my lap before I wrap my arms around her even tighter. She burrows into my chest, taking up the space that was always meant to be hers. Something clicks into place, and I know it’s her now that she’s willing to give me the truth.
“During that time, my grandfather and father only sold to the side who stood for independence, even though our family immigrated generations ago,” I tell her softly, hoping some of my history will help her share.
She nods against my chest, her nails clawing at my skin like she would rip me open and crawl inside if she could. If fucking only.
“My parents never let it go. Even after a relative peace was found. They never let go of the need to exert Irish dominance through fear and bombs.” She shakes her head, sadness leeching into her words. “I don’t think they’ve ever been proud of me because I never understood why they couldn’t let it go. We’re here, not there. We have family there, but it wasn’t something they had to continue to live through.”
I tug the elastic holding her hair back in a low ponytail and start to run my fingers through her silky strands. For both of us. We need the connection, the touch, the comfort.
“You’re American,” my voice is gentle, “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“They would disagree,” her voice cracks and my heart breaks. “I never fit in. When I was going to school, I would talk to them about America’s history and how peaceful protest turned tides when violence only incited more violence. They didn’t want to hear it.”
I feel her tears as they hit the skin of my neck. I can only hold her. I can only give her my strength.
“I was always on the outside of my family because of it. I tried, but it was like they didn’t trust me because I didn’t want to devote my life to militance or something.” She takes a deep breath, her shoulders shaking with the effort of holding herself together.
What she doesn’t understand is I’m here now to hold her together. I’m never letting her go.
“My parents, more so my father, came to me and told me I was to get a job here. I was to listen when you came in or when people talked about your business. It was something Cillian Murphy wanted done and I was the best candidate, I guess?” She shakes her head slightly and her voice drops so low I can barely hear her, “When I said I didn’t want to, my father told me you wouldn’t be able to resist a woman and would let me in.”
I stiffen for a second and Roisin’s fingers curl around the fabric of my shirt, begging me with her touch to wait. I force myself to relax because she might have been sent in as a mole, but the connection between us isn’t fake. I’ve never let another woman in, I’ve never wanted to. She’s special. Her father has no idea what he delivered to me.
Hell, he practically gift wrapped his daughter for a monster to open. He should be ashamed of himself, and I should thank him.
She sighs, “I didn’t want to do it. I knew it could be dangerous. Even though a small part of me did want to gain my father’s acceptance, maybe even love, I knew it was a lost cause at this point. I agreed to it because I figured you would never tell me anything.”
“What else did you get out of it?” I push her a little, knowing how damn smart my woman is.
“The promise that they would never ask anything like this of me again,” her voice is steel.
Now is not the time, but my cock takes particular interest in the savageness of her tone.Down, boy.
Later.
Soon.
I swallow down my need to lay my woman out on the couch and remind her who she belongs to while she screams my name. “Why now? I’ve sold to Cillian before, but it’s been a little while.”
“They had information about your involvement with someone from the Orange Order, a loyalist group.”
I nod slowly, my mind ticking over who I’ve been dealing with lately. I smooth a hand down my woman’s spine and she almost fucking purrs against my chest. It does nothing to help my cock at all.
“It’s not like it used to be and I don’t take a side when it comes to business. Money is money and politics don’t sway me,” there isn’t even a hint of apology in my voice.
Roisin doesn’t hesitate, she just shrugs and mutters, “You can run your business however you want. I’m not judging you for it. I’m just telling you what I know.” She tries to pull away from me, but I tighten my grip. “I told them about the location of the fight. That’s why Finn was there. I have no idea what the plan was for him from there. I’m just one piece. I was to collect information and hand it over.”
“That’s not all you gave them,” my voice is a coo because I don’t want her to feel like she’s on trial.
I’m not judging her either. Seeking the love of her family is understandable, even though they were never going to give it. Bartering for her future, for her freedom, makes me proud as fuck. They probably weren’t ever going to give it either, but that doesn’t mean you don’t try.
My heart warms as the depth of my woman’s strength hits me in the chest.
She’s perfect.
