RELENTLESS HUNTER

MAFIA WARS - BOOK TEN

MAGGIE COLE

PULSE PRESS

This book is fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All names, characters, plots, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Maggie Cole

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

TOXIC BLURB - add

TOXIC prologue ADD - not edited on here

ALL IN BOXSET

CAN I ASK YOU A HUGE FAVOR?

More by Maggie Cole

About the Author

PROLOGUE

Finn O'Malley

DARCEY ARCHES HER EYEBROWS. "Sure you want another?"

The twenty years I spent in prison didn't cause her to stop butting into my business. I've known the woman since we were kids. Our mothers were cousins. My father passed away when I was under the age of five. Darcey never knew her sperm donor. So, to save money and help each other out, our mothers moved in together. She's the closest thing I have to a sister, but she seems to have taken on a nagging role since my mother passed.

Not that I got to say goodbye or even attend her funeral. I was locked up in the pit of Hell and didn't learn about it until my uncle Darragh informed me during the monthly visitation.

I sniff hard and scowl at Darcey, putting all the rage I'm feeling into it.

Unintimidated and giving me her death glare, she grabs the fifth, refills my crystal tumbler with whiskey, and studies me. Her brown eyes pin to mine, turning into golden flames.

Not flinching, I down half the liquid, numb to the burn since I've already drunk too much. I'm pissed off and slowly crumbling. There's nothing I can do about it. It's been a year since I got out of prison. Every lead to find Brenna might as well be ashes scattered in Lake Michigan. The few people who know the truth about what happened to her are all dead. I can't even blame it on anyone else. I murdered them. One of them, Judge Peterson, I killed too soon. My anger and frustration spun out of control with every answer he gave me. I'm pretty sure they were all lies. Unable to stop my wrath, I snapped his neck when I yanked his head backward too hard.

Obrecht ended Jack Christian's life either a moment before or after I stole the judge's last breath. We were both caught up in our personal vendettas, barely able to see straight. Jack was so far gone at that point, there was nothing left for me to get out of him. I spent months interrogating him at the Ivanov garage under Maksim's supervision. Neither Obrecht nor I should have been near Jack until Liam gave us the go-ahead. But neither of us could stay away. We both had our reasons, albeit very different ones. Maksim understood and controlled us from pissing off Liam.

Darcey's opinion on how much I'm drinking isn't helping the black hole I'm going down. She should know by now it only makes me knock it back faster.

If I were an ordinary man, I'd be happier than anyone on Earth. The plan Liam and I concocted in prison to drive Jack's company to the ground worked. The clan has billions, which means I've got more money than I'll ever spend.

But I've never cared much about money. The O'Malleys spent years earning a living off drugs and gambling. So far, Killian was right though. Our windfall only created new problems.

It hasn't been a black-and-white transition out of the illegal activities rooted in our clan. We have men who know only that life. They aren't corporate types and will never be. Plus, they aren't willing to change. Yet, the real struggle is what to do with the territory. Even if we stopped it all tomorrow, it's just inviting another crime family to take control. Unless we have an alliance with them, it's dangerous.

Several months have passed since our bank accounts got fat. I'm more miserable than I've ever been. In prison, I could only obsess about getting out and finding Brenna. Engrained memories of how she felt in my arms or lit me up when she just looked at me haunted me for those twenty, dark years.

Everything is different now. I'm not a prisoner, living in a world of someday, unable to move forward with my search. I'm in the present, and it's much worse. I have my freedom, yet nothing has led to her.

In prison, the lack of knowledge about where she was and what could be happening to her made my skin crawl. Now that I'm free, the agitation intensifies daily, itching every inch of my flesh.

"Drinking isn't going to get her back," Darcey reprimands.

"Fuck this." I rise, down my drink, then slam the glass on the bar.

"Easy," Declan orders.

I spin, ready to lose every ounce of control I have left.

Snow covers his head, shoulders, and coat. He holds his hands out. "Sit down."

"I'm done here." I shove past him, storming through the pub and into the back alley. A wet blanket of snow falls down over me.

"Finn! Stop! I think I know where she is," Declan calls out.

I turn so fast I almost slip, growling, "What are you talking about?"

White flakes thicken in his hair and on his coat. He squints and holds his hand above his eyes. "Simona hacked into Bridget's electronic communications. She's tracked her since we returned from New York. I looked at the messages. I think she's been contacting Brenna."

My mouth turns dry. All the alcohol I drank is suddenly nonexistent. I'm sober as a baby, and every beat my heart takes pounds in my ears. I step closer. "Where is she?"

Declan lowers his voice then glances behind him. The wind whips fiercer, slapping the cold snow against my cheeks, but I barely feel the sting. The vein near his eye twitches. "She's in New York. Bridget's meeting her at an underground club in two days."

"That lying bitch," I seethe. Over Thanksgiving weekend, I grilled Bridget face-to-face. She swore she didn't know where Brenna was and only ran into her once by accident. The next night, I saw Bridget again and interrogated her some more, but she kept to her story. She claimed Brenna wouldn't tell her what was going on and begged her not to tell anyone she saw her, then left within minutes. I snarl, "I'm going to kill her."

Declan's eyes widen. "You don't know her reasoning. Don't do something you'll regret."

His brother, Sean, may have loved Bridget, and she and Brenna might have been close, but I'm past the point of giving anyone mercy. A sarcastic laugh flies out of my mouth and fills the alley. "Don't talk to me about regret. It's all I've known for twenty-one years."

1

Brenna Doyle

21 Years Earlier

NO. No. No. This can't be happening.

I feel like a hand is reaching down my throat, violently twisting my stomach. I can't breathe. Everyone in the restaurant is looking at us, including our families. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Someone even turned the music off.

Brad's brown eyes glow with cocky happiness. His one knee is on the floor. He's holding a huge diamond. It has to be at least two carats. It's way too big for my hand or my taste. "Will you marry me?"

My insides quiver, just like my voice. "Ummm... I...oh God." I put my hand over my mouth.

Lately, Brad's arrogance is driving me bonkers. The initial excitement I had when we started dating faded over the last month. Every time he opens his mouth or flashes his family wealth, I cringe inside. The past few days, I've contemplated breaking it off with him. I thought about canceling our date tonight, but he surprised me at work. When I stepped out of the hospital after doing my nursing school rounds, he was waiting. He took me to my place then waited for me to get ready for dinner. I ignored the voice in the back of my head telling me not to go. It screamed even louder when we got to the restaurant and both our families were already seated.

Now, I wish I could return to a few hours ago when I had the ability to end things between us before it got to this stage. Not that I expected him to propose.

Brad's smug expression grows. He grabs my hand and starts sliding the ring on my finger.

I yank it back. "Brad! No. I'm...oh, jeez."

He freezes, and I wince. The room seems to get quieter. I watch his arrogance evaporate. Blood slams into my skull as his face turns into something I've only seen a few times. Anger. Betrayal. Confusion. It all laces together, creating a raging storm. His cheeks turn almost purple, and I step back when he rises and lunges toward me. "What do you mean, no?"

I shake my head, suddenly afraid of what he might do. He's never hit me before, but the only other times I've seen him look this pissed off, he got into bar fights. Still, I square my shoulders, standing straighter, and look him in the eye. "I'm sorry. I can't marry you."

"Why the fuck not?"

Gasps echo in the room. Heat scorches my cheeks. I step back and hit the table.

He leans over me, his eyes blazing with potent fury. He grits through his teeth in a lower voice, "Answer me, Brenna."

Tears well in my eyes. I whisper, "I'm sorry. I-I can't."

He grinds his molars, his nostrils flare, and he wraps his arm around my back. "I need a better answer than that, Brenna."

The way he says my name gives me goose bumps. It's as if I'm his child and in trouble.

Behind me, I hear my father clear his throat. His hand circles my wrist and he tugs me toward him. "I think it's time to go home."

I turn my head, thankful for my father's interruption yet also feeling horrible about everything. It's not my intention to hurt Brad. My family adores him. I have no doubt he asked my father for his permission. My mother rises and stands next to my father. Her eyes tell me everything.

She's heartbroken and disappointed.

My father steers me toward the exit, and I glance back. Brad's scowling, his hands in fists at his sides. Another wave of regret hits me. I mouth, "I'm sorry."

Nothing is said until we get in the car and my father pulls out of the parking lot. My mother turns to the backseat, pinning her eyes on me. "Brenna, why on Earth would you turn Brad down?"

"Sarah," my father warns.

Her head snaps toward him. "Brian, that boy has everything to offer our daughter. All the things we couldn't give her—"

"Mean nothing to me. I don't want to marry someone for money!" I blurt out.

My mother sighs. "Don't put words in my mouth. Of course you wouldn't marry him just for money. But Brad is the whole package, and yes, money is part of it. If you don't have to struggle, then why should you? A woman chooses who she loves. When a man like Brad comes along, you snag him. You don't toss him back in the water."

"Mom! Are you listening to yourself?" I accuse as my father grips the wheel so tight, his knuckles turn white. It's not the first time she's made my father feel crappy about not being rich. He works two jobs to give her all the extras she wants in life, and it's still not good enough for her. She's always complaining about what she lacks instead of being thankful for what she has. The way she gripes, you'd think we were barely making ends meet instead of living in a beautiful part of Chicago in a house my father has remodeled twice upon her insistence.

She shakes her head, tsking me. "I'm sure if you go over to Brad's tonight, apologize, and tell him you were scared, he'll reconsider."

I shift in my seat, declaring, "I'll do no such thing. I'm not marrying him, Mom. And it's not because I'm scared. It's been over between us for a while now."

"Well, Brad doesn't think so," she seethes.

"He does now," my dad firmly states.

My mother glares at him. "Brian—"

"Enough. Brenna doesn't want to marry him. Drop it," my father asserts in the voice he rarely uses. Whenever he does, my mother knows not to push him.

The rest of the ride to my apartment is quiet, a mix of my mother's toxic desires for me to be an arm-candy trophy wife, who hangs out at the country club all day, and my father's protective, kind heart. He keeps peering at me through the rearview mirror.

When he pulls up to my building, I open the door. "Thanks for saving me. Sorry to disappoint you, Mom."

She sighs. "I think you should think about this, Brenna. You don't want to be cleaning bedpans your entire life when you can be living the easy life."

Holding my groan, I pat my father on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dad." I get out, escaping another lecture from my mother about how I picked a horrible career.

According to her, nurses are maids for doctors. My entire life, I've wanted to help people who are sick. When I was little, my grandma had surgery. Two amazing nurses took care of her. She used to send them Christmas cookies every year until she passed. Something about how they not only helped my grandmother recover but made an impact on her inspired me. And I want to do something meaningful with my life, not have it revolve around my husband.

Maybe that's how I know Brad isn't the right choice for me. He has the same opinion my mother does. More than once, he stated I should quit nursing school since I didn't need a job while I was with him. It always rubs me the wrong way. No matter how many times I insisted I wanted to work, he acted like I was silly.

I step into the apartment and go into my roommate's bedroom. "I'm home."

Her school books are spread all over her bed. Her brown hair is in a messy bun. She sits crisscrossed and furrows her eyebrows. "You're back early."

I move a pile of her books and sit. "Well, that's because my father had to save me."

"From?"

My pulse increases, thinking about Brad's proposal and my mom's nagging insistence that I apologize to him while begging for forgiveness. I clear my throat. "Brad proposed."

She gapes at me, grabs my hand, then tilts her head. "You said no?"

"Yeah. I told you I was having doubts about him. I'm not going to marry him if I'm not even sure I want to date him. Plus, I'm only twenty-two. Who the hell gets married that early? It's not 1950."

"Well, he isn't twenty-two. He's twenty-five." She smirks.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

"How did your mom take it?"

I grunt. "Like I threw away all my opportunities for a spectacular life."

Kim's lips twitch. "Poor Sarah."

"More like my poor dad. I don't know how she lives with herself, making him feel so worthless. He's done nothing but shower her with everything she's ever wanted, and it's still never good enough," I admit.

Sympathy fills Kim's expression. She softly asks, "How did Brad take it?"

My chest tightens, remembering his eyes. "He hates me."

She studies me then jumps off the bed. She grabs my hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To pick an outfit for tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yep," she sings, popping the p. "You're single. I'm single. Time to go out."

"Whoa! I'm not looking to get involved in anything else right now. I've been in Brad-land for the last six months. Let me breathe for a bit."

She huffs. "You can breathe at the bar. I've not had my single friend for half the year. It's been very boring, by the way."

I wince. "Sorry."

She snorts then waves her hand. "It's fine. I get it. But your next boyfriend better have some hot friends and not be stuck on himself."

I put my hand on my hip. "Do you not like Brad?"

She gives me a knowing look.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I inquire, surprised she's kept this to herself.

"Not my style. What if you did marry him? I wouldn't want you to hate me."

"Why didn't you like him?"

She opens her closet door and flicks her clothes across the pole. "Please. He's into himself, stuck up, and pretty boring from what I saw."

I bite my lip.

She holds a purple stretchy top against me. "Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not. I'm trying to remember what I ever saw in him."

"So you aren't going to get back with him?"

"No. We're finished. It's a relief, actually," I confess.

She smiles. "Good. Wear this with your new jeans and boots. I'll be ready in fifteen."

I laugh. "Just like that, huh?"

"Yep. My brain is mush. I need a few shots, a hottie who can dance, and some fun. Go! Get ready!" She flaps her hand toward my bedroom.

I obey, and fifteen minutes later, a cab pulls up. We get in, and she says, "Triple Shots."

"What's that?" I ask.

She gasps dramatically. "Have you been living under a rock?"

"No. Well... I don't know. Have I?"

"Yes. If you don't know what Triple Shots is, then you might as well not be from Chicago. Jeez. Did your man take you anywhere hopping?"

"Guess not. And don't call him my man."

"Sorry. Ex-man."

"Ugh. Can we just not talk about it anymore?"

She smiles. "Yep."

"Okay. And don't push any men on me tonight. I'm serious about wanting to breathe."

She groans. "You've gotten way too serious. Regardless, let's just have fun. See where the night takes us. I haven't been out in forever."

That's Kim's way of saying she's ready to see who's hot and fuckable. "I'm prepared to take a cab home on my own. Don't let me stop you. But I will not be going to anyone's house at the end of the night, except ours."

She rolls her head toward mine. "You can't. You're my ride or die. We stick together."

"Guess we'll be in our warm beds tonight then," I chirp.

The cab stops in front of a building with a line snaking around the corner. She tosses cash to the driver, and we get out, then link arms. We wait in line for twenty minutes before getting admitted into the bar.

Triple Shots is packed. There are booths, four-top tables, and standing ones. Most are taken. Every stool at the bar has someone sitting on it. The room glows in a soft pinkish-purple color. A DJ station is situated in the corner at the front of the dance floor. We snag one of the last four tops in the middle of the room.

A server with huge fake boobs and lots of cleavage approaches us. Her shirt is tied, displaying her stomach. Her cut-off shorts barely cover her ass cheeks, and her over-bleached hair is in a ponytail. She shouts, "What can I get for you, ladies?"

"Two shots of tequila, and I'll have a Captain and Coke. Brenna?" Kim replies.

"Captain and Coke works, thanks."

The server leaves, and Kim surveys the room. I check it out as well. If I had to guess, I would say everyone is under thirty.

Kim claims, "It's still early. In about an hour, it'll be wall-to-wall."

I don't doubt it. The bar is clearly the new hot spot. I ask, "How long has this been here?"

Kim shakes her head.

"What?" I cry out.

"Thank God you said no to Brad. Your life would have been one big boring event after another."

I put my hands over my face and groan. "I thought we weren't going to talk about him all night?"

"Sorry. We aren't. But this has been here for three months," she informs me.

The server sets down our shots and drinks. I hand her cash, and she leaves.

"I've got the next round," Kim states and licks her wrist.

I follow suit, sprinkle salt on it, and pick up the lime. We hold our shots in the air.

Kim says, "To freedom."

"Amen," I say. We clink glasses, and I lick the salt, toss the tequila in my mouth, swallow, and bite on the lime while grimacing.

Kim does the same then leans closer. "When did you know it was over with Brad?"

I shrug then chase my shot with my drink. "I've been trying to convince myself to stick with him for at least a month."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Every time I thought it was over, he'd redeem himself, and I'd tell myself he's a good guy." I take another sip of my drink then admit, "Plus, I knew my mom was going to be heartbroken."

Kim arches her eyebrows. "Your mom should fuck him then."

I slap the back of my hand on her arm. "Not funny."

"At least your dad is normal," she teases. But it's true. If I didn't have him to keep me grounded, I would have killed my mother by now. Or maybe I would have turned out to be a different person than I am. One my mother would be proud of instead of disappointed in all the time.

I turn toward the dance floor. It was empty when we walked in, but several people are now on it. I divulge, "I do feel bad. The entire restaurant was staring at us."

Kim wrinkles her nose. "Yikes. I don't understand why men do that. It seems so unromantic, proposing in front of a bunch of people, never mind a roomful of strangers."

I can't disagree and add, "Well, you know Brad. Everything is a show. You should have seen the ring."

"How big was it?"

"Huge."

Kim nudges me.

"What?"

"You should have taken the ring then broke up with him. You could have made it into a necklace or something."

"Kim!" I reprimand while laughing.

"What? You might as well get something for the six months you endured with him," she teases.

"Ha ha! Funny!" I stir my straws in my rum. "I can't imagine wearing anything that big and flashy. It's another sign we weren't right for each other. No matter how many times I've told him I'm not into that type of jewelry, he never listened."

She finishes her drink and motions for our server to bring us another round. "At least we can find you a dirty, hot man instead of Mr. Country Club." She surveys the room again.

I warn, "I told you. I'm not here to meet any men tonight. Don't be pushing anyone on me. That's the last thing I need right now. My priorities are finishing nursing school, getting a good job, then maybe I'll start dating again."

Kim's lips curl into a smirk. "Who said anything about dating? What about a hot night to remind you what good sex is like?"

I tilt my head. "I never said Brad was bad in bed."

Kim huffs. "Oh, please. I highly doubt Mr. Country Club was a giver. I'm sure it was all about him, just like everything else in his life."

I stay quiet, not able to deny that, either. Sex with Brad wasn't bad, but Kim hit the nail on the head. Still, I proclaim, "I'm not into one-night stands. You know this."

She groans. "You need to get over it."

"Hey, I don't judge. But it's not for me."

"Why not?"

I shift in my seat. "One, I've never met anyone I wanted to have a one-nighter with, and two..."

"Two what?"

My face heats. "I don't know. I just think it would be strange."

"Strange how?"

The server sets down more drinks, and Kim pays.

I continue, "What do you say when it's finished? Thanks for screwing me, now leave?"

Kim laughs. "I mean, I guess you could. I usually just tell the guy I have an early morning, then leave, or it gives him the hint to get the hell out of our house."

I flinch. "Ouch. That's harsh. Yeah. I couldn't do it."

"What if the guy was smoking hot and staring at you like he wanted to eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?" Kim nonchalantly asks.

My core clenches. I squirm in my seat. "See, now that doesn't happen. In theory, it sounds hot, but guys don't really look at women that way. And if there are men out there like that, we aren't going to meet them tonight."

"Wanna make a bet? Loser does dishes for a week." She sticks her hand out.

I glance around the room and decide she'll lose. "Fine. You're on." I shake her hand, and we take our shots.

As soon as we put our glasses down and finish sucking on our limes, Kim slides her arm around my shoulder. "You shouldn't make bets you can't win."

My pulse increases. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't look now, but the guy in the dark corner wants to sample you for every meal."

I freeze. "What are you talking about? Where?"

"Don't look. At the end of the bar, toward the door."

I spin in my chair, and my heart skips several beats. Butterflies spread their wings and take off inside me, making my head spin.

"I said not to look!" Kim shrieks.

I ignore her, unable to comprehend anything. Standing against the wall, intensely pinning his gaze on me, is a tall, built man. His T-shirt stretches across his chest in perfection, taunting the world with his ripped flesh. He has a chiseled face, and unlike Brad's clean-cut, country-club, frat-boy appearance, this man has a dangerous flair. Tattoos travel down his arm. One peeks out of his T-shirt, as if the artist took a brush and dragged the strokes to the middle of his neck.

Another good-looking man approaches him and hands him a drink. He takes it, keeps his eyes on mine, says nothing to his friend, and comes toward me.

Every step he takes makes it harder for me to breathe. By the time he gets to our table, I'm holding in the oxygen, and my heart races. The air around me becomes so electric, my skin buzzes. No one else seems to exist except us.

His lips slightly curl. He places his hand on the back of the chair next to me. The sexiest voice I've ever heard asks, "Lass, is this seat taken?"

2

Finn

A SEA of blue appears under her long lashes. Faint freckles splatter her cheekbones. Pale-pink, plump lips curve up, showcasing a dimple that's trying to pop out, making my heart pound harder. She sits straighter, subconsciously twisting a lock of her long, reddish-blonde hair.

"No. By all means. Take a seat. You, too," another woman says.

I tear my eyes away from the firefly in front of me, only momentarily, to find her friend checking Maksim out while batting her lashes. I slide the chair out and sit, cautioning myself to play it cool. The moment this woman walked into the bar, my veins buzzed. The longer I watched her, assessing every move she made, wishing her smile or laugh would reappear, my dick got so hard, my balls hurt. As soon as she made eye contact with me, I was a goner.

She's beautiful. My guess is she has Irish in her, which is a plus, but even if she doesn't, I'm ignoring the O'Malley's long-standing tradition and making her mine. There's something about her; it goes beyond her stunning features, and I can't explain how I know this. I haven't even heard her speak, but I can feel it.

A pink blush creeps into her cheeks. She inhales slightly, parting her lips before her tongue swipes at them.

I hold in a groan. This girl is the sexiest woman I've ever met, and it's not helping the bulge in my pants. I put my hand on the back of her chair. My fingers graze the side of her biceps. I lean closer to her, and she shivers slightly.

Jesus, help me.

She smells like sunshine on a rainy day, which only adds to the pandemonium permeating my every cell. "I'm Finn. What's your name?"

Her lips curve higher, intensifying the pleasurable ache I can't escape. The air crackles between us. Her voice drips honey as she replies, "Brenna."

I grin. "You're Irish?"

She arches an eyebrow. "Yes."

"Bonus."

Even through the music, her laugh makes my heart skip a beat. It's a sound I want to hear more of, and I wish we were in my nana's pub instead of this loud bar. It's where I usually hang out, but Maksim insisted we hit this place first, stating O'Malley's was getting stale for female selections.

I couldn't argue. It's mostly regulars. Every now and then, someone walks in and surprises us, but it's not exactly full of single women in their 20s. And I don't know what's going on with Maksim, but he's been tense lately. Actually, it's more like the last year. At times, he disappears, and I have to go looking for him. Often, his eyes are hostile. I'm not sure what it's about, but whenever I question him, he shuts down. It's been a long time since he even showed any interest in hitting the town. So when he came into the pub looking for me tonight, wanting to troll for women, I didn't deny his request. And now I'm going to owe him big-time for selecting this place.

Brenna asks, "I take it you're Irish, too?"

"One hundred percent," I proudly boast, puffing up my chest. I can't help it—O'Malleys pride themselves on our heritage.

Amusement climbs across her expression. "My father is. My mother has more English in her."

"I'll overlook it." I wink. Sure, I'll hear about it from my nana and the rest of the family, but I'll deal with it.

Her cheeks grow hotter. She picks up her drink.

"Do you live in Chicago?" My chest tightens, waiting for her answer. There's a high chance whoever you meet in this city is only visiting, especially in summer. I say a Hail Mary while she swallows her drink.

"Yes. You?"

"Born here. Never leaving."

She tilts her head. "Never?"

"Nope. I love Chicago. It has everything."

A tiny line forms on her forehead. "Mmm...what about the beach?"

"We have Lake Michigan."

"True. But it's not the ocean."

"It looks like it."

"Not like how the ones in the Caribbean look."

"Have you been there?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. I've always wanted to go since I studied geography in school and saw a picture."

"We can vacation there. But we'll live in Chicago," I cockily state.

Her face turns as red as a beet. "Ummm...did you just say we'll live?"

I stroke my thumb on her shoulder. "Yep. Sure did."

She turns her head but not before I see her bite on her smile.

I lean closer. "You love Chicago, right?"

She meets my gaze, and our breaths merge. The scent of tequila and spiced rum mixes with the hops on mine. Her blues swirl, just like the ocean she wants to see. "What if I didn't?"

"I'd say you weren't telling the truth."

"Oh?"

"You're a bad liar, Brenna. I hope you're not an attorney." I glance at her lips and catch her holding her breath and looking at mine.

"How do you know I'm lying?"

"You hesitated."

"Did you major in how to tell if someone is telling the truth?" she teases.

I fixate on her lips again, replying, "You could say that."

"What is it you do?"

My gut tightens. The O'Malleys are known all over Chicago as a crime family. We run this town, and it isn't a secret. My uncle Darragh is the head of the clan. I gave my commitment to them when I was only sixteen. I respond, "A lot of things."

"What kinds of things?" she asks.

"Things you're better off not knowing," I admit. I usually have a few responses for women when I first meet them and the topic about what I do arises. It's not exactly a lie, but it isn't the truth, either. I tell them I'm in the family business and help out my nana at the pub. It sounds so normal, they never ask more until they find out my last name. Then all the questions come.

For some reason, my gut says not to bullshit Brenna.

She glances at my neck tattoo, studying it. "Bad things?"

I grasp her chin and make her look at me. She gasps as I reply, "Sometimes."

Her eyes widen. The DJ starts another song, and the thumping of it pounds in the air.

Get past it. Don't let her analyze it. I repeat this a few times, not wanting to lose her from my bold confession.

"What do you do? Did I get it wrong, and you're an attorney?"

She takes a deep breath then shakes her head. "No. I'm in my final year of nursing school."

My pulse bashes into my neck. "You're a nurse?"

"Will be."

"That's hot," I mutter, not realizing I said it out loud until she twirls her hair around her finger and averts her gaze from mine.

A server stops at our table. "Can I get you another round?"

"Brenna?" I ask.

"No, thanks. I'm still working on this one."

I hold up my almost-empty Guinness. "I'll take another pint."

"Another one for Kim and a vodka," Maksim adds.

The server nods then leaves. I realize I never introduced myself to Brenna's friend. I hold my hand out. "I'm Finn."

"Kim."

Maksim holds his hand out to Brenna, and they exchange greetings.

"Is that a Russian accent?" she asks.

"Yes." Maksim tosses back the rest of his vodka. He sits back in his seat. "Do you ladies come here often?"

"I've been here several times. Brenna hasn't. She finally escaped and let me take her out," Kim says.

"Escaped?" I inquire.

Brenna gives Kim a death stare then shifts uncomfortably.

Kim throws her hands in the air. "What? Don't look at me like that. It's true! Brad had you on a tight, boring leash."

Brenna puts her hands over her face, closes her eyes, and groans, "Kim!"

My stomach flips. I demand, "Who's Brad?"

"Her ex-boyfriend she finally dumped today. Thank God you didn't accept his proposal!"

Proposal? My stomach stops flipping and takes a nosedive. Did she love this guy? If she only dumped him today, does she still have feelings for him?

A mortified expression fills Brenna's face. She mumbles, "Why don't you drink some more, Kim?"

"Oh, come on!" Kim whines.

Maksim glances at me then rises and pulls Kim up. "Let's go dance."

She beams at him and he leads her away.

I study Brenna, not wanting to imagine any guy's paws on her but not able to get a faceless dickhead out of my mind. I wait for her to say something, but she turns toward the dance floor and says nothing.

Screw this.

I rise and tug her onto her feet.

"What—"

"Let's dance. We have a lot to celebrate," I claim.

She scrunches her forehead in confusion, asking, "What would that be?"

I step three feet onto the wood floor, spin her into me, and firmly plant my palm on her lower back, pulling her against my body. My other hand fists her hair. Her breath hitches, and blue flames erupt in her eyes, drilling into my orbs. I lean in an inch from her mouth, her scent deliciously flaring in my nostrils. "You didn't make the biggest mistake of your life by marrying that guy."

Her eyes briefly dart to my mouth. Then, she refocuses on my gaze. "How do you know?"

"Because he's not me."

She pulls her bottom lip under her teeth. Everything about her makes me want to drag her out of this bar and take her to my place. But it's too soon. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, and that includes a small amount of anxiety.

I hold myself back, kiss her forehead, then spin her.

Surprised, she laughs, lighting up like a firefly, just like earlier when I watched her from across the room.

We dance to every song the DJ plays. The shot girl comes around several times, but we don't even partake. Instead, our bodies sway together, in perfect sync. All of the tunes are fast until a slow one finally comes on. I wrap my arms around her, keeping my mouth close to her ear, and ask, "Can I take you out tomorrow night?"

She freezes, her body stiffening.

I lightly kiss under her ear. "Why aren't you saying yes, firefly?"

Hot breath hits the curve of my neck, sending tingles down to my toes. She presses her head against my cheek. "Firefly?"

"Yeah. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with fireflies. I would catch them in jars and watch them glow all night. You remind me of them. You light up the room. So, I could sit and be happy watching you glow all night," I confess.

Her body relaxes a little.

I stroke my thumb behind her ear. I try again. "Tell me I can take you out tomorrow night."

"I-ummm..." She sighs, and a heavy breath hits my ear. "I just got out of a relationship. I don't know if I should be dating right now."

I ignore the way the air turns stale in my lungs. I tug her head back so my lips are a sliver away from hers, pinning her with my gaze. "Do you love him?"

She pinches her eyebrows together. "No."

"Do you think you'll get back together with him?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the issue?"

She swallows hard, and I realize she's grappling with fear.

I move her off the dance floor until we're in the corner at the back of the bar, which is the farthest spot from the DJ. I position her against the wall and cage my body over hers.

Her chest rises and falls faster as she waits, the potent blue concoction of hesitation, confusion, and a desire that's grown all night with every look she gives me, never straying from me.

"You don't love him. You're not getting back together with him. So what's the issue? Don't say you aren't attracted to me. I see it. I feel it. So tell me why you think you can't go on a date with me," I demand.

She opens her mouth to speak then snaps it shut. Her eyes drift to my neck.

"You don't like my tattoo?" I ask.

She reaches up and traces the ink. "No. It's beautiful."

Zings flare along my skin under her fingers. I step closer and tilt her chin up. "Brenna, what is it?"

"Isn't..." She closes her eyes, and I hold myself back from kissing her. She opens them and blurts out, "I told myself I would concentrate on school and just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know. Breathe." She cringes.

I claim, "I'm not going to interfere with your school. Is that what he did?"

She shrugs and shakes her head. "I don't know. He..."

"He what?"

"Didn't want me to work."

"And you want to?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm not stopping you." I drag my finger across her lips. "I'll even be your pretend patient if you need some practice." I wiggle my eyebrows.

She attempts not to smile but ends up laughing.

I speak so my lips brush hers, the electricity exploding around us. "Are you saying you can't breathe around me?"

"I—"

The music stops, a woman screams, and the bar erupts in breaking glass. Men shout and the patrons scurry toward the door. I turn toward the dance floor, and Maksim's in the middle of a brawl with four thugs, his fists flying all over the place.

Kim's several feet away, screeching for them to stop.

"Stay here!" I release Brenna and fly to the dance floor, yanking a goon off Maksim's back and land a hard one on his skull. He goes down, and I duck when his friend throws a punch at me. He rushes toward me, and his body slams into my torso, but I'm used to combat. Every O'Malley male grows up in the gym, trained to fight. Maksim is no stranger to defending himself, either.

He takes a guy out, and we push the men together so their heads slam into the others. They fall to the ground. The first man I took out gets up, swiping a broken beer bottle at me, slicing my arm.

Brenna screams, and I glance her way, fearful she's hurt, but Kim has her arm around her as they watch.

My distraction allows the thug to make contact with me again, and he lands a right hook on my nose. Blood bursts from my nostrils and Brenna screams again.

This time, the real animal within me awakens. The beast I've learned to control, the one I keep caged up and hidden from the world, lunges toward my enemy. I take him to the ground before pummeling my fists into his face so many times, it becomes unrecognizable.

Everything around me narrows to a tunnel until the police are yelling in a megaphone to get on the ground or they'll shoot us.

Somehow, I manage to subdue the out-of-control rage coursing in my atoms and lie on the ground. From the corner of my eye, I see Brenna, horrified. Her blue eyes meet mine, full of tears and something else I don't want to acknowledge.

My heart bleeds, unsure how to take care of her so she's not distressed, but a deeper awareness hits me. I can't pretend I don't know what's behind her distraught expression.

She saw the monster I am. It wasn't me telling her the extent of what I'm capable of doing. She witnessed it. If the police hadn't shown up, I would have killed that thug. The demon who resides in me, she saw. And the awareness in her eyes as the police lead me past her makes me hate myself.

I get read my rights and the police shove me into the back of their car. Maksim is already inside. We stay quiet until we go through the booking process and get thrown into a cell together. Two other men already occupy the space, and we ignore them, huddling in the corner.

"What the hell happened?" I ask.

Maksim sniffs hard. He glances at the ceiling.

I grab his shirt. "Don't you dare do this to me. Not now. I've spent a year dealing with your silent treatment. Who the fuck were they?"

He pushes me off him, and his blue orbs turn to ice. "Petrovs."

The blood drains from my face. The Russian mob isn't someone to mess with. My uncle Darragh has always warned us we steer clear and don't create issues with them. I lower my voice. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Maksim," I growl, sick of his secrecy all the time.

He shakes his head then snarls, "They jumped me."

"Why?" I press further, determined to get an answer.

Something passes in his expression. It scares me, and I'm unsure why. As quick as it arrived, it leaves. He replies, "I assume since I keep turning down their offer to join Zamir."

Zamir runs the Petrov operations in the US. My skin crawls, thinking about Maksim having to deal with these threats. "They coming after your brothers, too?"

His silence tells me everything. It's a dumb question on my part. Of course they are.

I say, "We should tell Darragh. See if he can help."

Maksim grunts then sniffs again. "No. There's no way of avoiding it. I'm Russian. It's a constant battle, and you know this. There's nothing Darragh or anyone can do."

"But—"

"Drop it!" he growls.

I decide to back off. I don't know what it's like to be in his shoes. But, if this is why he's been aloof this past year, I can't blame him. The Petrovs are not people you want to piss off. And since Maksim's father died, he feels the weight of taking care of his four brothers.

Several moments pass. It's a long shot, I know it is, but I have to find Brenna. I ask, "By any chance, did Kim mention Brenna's last name or where they live?"

Maksim shifts on his feet. "No."

I tug at my hair. "Great."

Maksim walks to the bars and his shoulders slump. I step up next to him and put my hand around the slats. He mumbles, "Always made it a goal not to be behind these."

"Tell me about it."

A guard steps toward the cell and unlocks the door. "Ivanov. O'Malley."

I pat Maksim on the back. "Let's not make a habit of this."

He snorts. "Not on my agenda."

I follow the guard, vowing two things. I'm never stepping foot in another cell again, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to find Brenna.

3

Brenna

A Few Weeks Later

FOR SEVERAL DAYS, I turned on the news and scoured the newspapers to see if there was any mention of the bar fight, but nothing ever popped up. It was silly, really. Chicago must have dozens every night. I'm unsure why I kept hoping I would find more information on Finn.

Of course, it didn't help that Kim kept mentioning him. This morning is no exception.

"Are you looking for news on your bad boy?" she teases, walking out of her room and yawning. It's barely six a.m., but I have to be at the hospital by seven.

"Why would you ask that when I'm eating my breakfast and minding my own business?"

She smirks. "You don't care about world events. You never watched the news before Mr. Irish Stud got cuffed and taken to jail."

Unwilling to admit anything to her, I deny it. "You're reading into things. I told you I'm not looking for another boyfriend. School and breathing are all I care about."

"I'm sure he'd be down with a one-nighter," she chirps.

I groan. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her Finn wants more from me than that, but I realize how stupid it sounds. He's a bad boy. Of course he'd be fine with a one-nighter, no matter what my gut is insisting. I keep my thoughts to myself and say, "I need to go." I put my empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher and grab my bag.

"Bye!" She waves and opens the fridge.

I hightail it out of the apartment, way too early for my shift but not wanting to discuss anything about Finn. Since that night, I can't stop worrying about what happened to him. Was he okay after he got slashed with glass? Is he still in jail? What would have happened between us if the fight hadn't occurred?

My stomach flips in regard to that fight. It's every reason I should stay away from him. I've never seen anyone so brutal. Granted, the other men were out for blood, and Finn showed no mercy.

Brad used to get into bar fights. I hated it. Yet, nothing was as violent as the one Finn was involved in.

He was what made it so violent.

Okay, that isn't fair since he got cut with a bottle and it was four against two.

He didn't even pause when he got cut.

He would have killed that man if the police didn't arrive.

Can I hold it against him when four men were jumping Maksim?

I shudder, not even sure why I'm contemplating these thoughts. And it doesn't matter anyway. The chances I'll ever see him again are slim.

"Ugh," I mumble, opting for the stairs, practically running down several flights, then exiting into the warm summer air. It's barely light out. I stroll down the block and go into a cafe. The smell of fresh-ground coffee simmers in the air, and I inhale it deeper. I stand in line, reading the menu, when a familiar hand circles my waist.

I freeze as my pulse skyrockets.

"I've been calling you. Why aren't you returning my calls?" Brad's voice accuses.

I try to step away, but he holds me close to him. "Let me go."

"We need to talk, Brenna."

The woman in front of me advances through the line, and I attempt to step forward. Brad moves with me, not releasing his death grip.

"What can I get you?" the woman behind the counter asks.

My chest tightens. I don't want to make a scene, but I want Brad to get off me. I'm suddenly unable to speak.

"Two coffees. Cream and two sugars in each. Thanks," Brad orders and tosses a twenty-dollar bill at her. "Keep the change."

She beams at him. "Thank you."

There he goes again, flashing his money.

"No problem." He stays attached to my hip, his arm tight around my waist, and guides me to the end of the counter.

"Brad—"

He leans into my ear. "All I want is five minutes. You owe me that."

Do I?

No, I don't.

I glare at him but decide I should give him his five minutes so he can leave me alone.

We get our coffee, and he steers me to a booth. I slide in, and he sits next to me.

"Brad, this isn't—"

"How could you do that to me?" he softly accuses, but his expression fills with hurt.

I sigh, suddenly feeling guilty. I'm sure he was embarrassed in front of all those people at the restaurant. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Honestly."

He picks up my hand. "What did I do, Brenna? Did I treat you bad?"

"No. It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

I stare at the table, not sure what to say.

"Brenna, tell me so we can work it out."

I turn toward him. "Brad, it's nothing you did. We just aren't right for each other. I'm sorry I hurt you. You'll make another girl really happy, but it's not going to be me."

His eyes darken, turning into slits. The split second of fear I felt when I turned down his proposal returns.

"I need to go. I have school," I announce.

He doesn't move, only continues peering at me, making my skin crawl.

"Brad, let me go," I sternly demand.

"I'll let you go when I'm ready to," he seethes.

"I need to go," I say louder and attempt to push him out of the booth, but he's too strong. He doesn't budge.

"Who is he?" he sneers.

"What? Who?"

"Whoever you're fucking."

My face turns red from anger. "This isn't about anyone else. I never cheated on you. Now, I said we're through and to move. Let me go!"

I push at him, and he grabs my wrists.

"Ow!" I cry out.

"You listen to me, Brenna. This—"

"Ma'am, is everything okay here?" a uniformed police officer asks, scowling at Brad.

Relief crashes through me. "I'm just leaving."

Brad stays put.

The officer opens his holster and puts his hand on his gun. "I believe that means you need to get out of the seat, son."

A smile grows on Brad's face. "I'll get up when I'm ready. Mind your own business, or I'll have your badge."

I grimace, but his disrespect only confirms my decision not to marry him.

"Excuse me?" the officer growls.

Brad scoffs. "My father is Judge Peterson. Now, fuck off."

The officer leans closer. "I don't give a rat's ass who your father is. Now, get out of the booth and let the lady go, or I'm cuffing you."

Brad's arrogance intensifies, but he finally gets up. "Give me your badge number."

The officer doesn't flinch and rattles it off then says, "Ma'am, you can leave now while I have a discussion with...sorry, what's your name, son?"

I slide out of the booth and grab my bag, leaving my coffee on the table. "Thank you," I say and skedaddle out of there before Brad can follow me.

It doesn't matter how much time passes. My insides quiver all day. I've never seen Brad so controlling. It scares me, and by the time I've finished my shift, I'm worried about going home.

Questions plague me all day. How did he know I was at the coffee shop? Was he following me? He lives on the other side of town and has no business being in my neighborhood now that we aren't together. Is he waiting for me outside of the hospital?

For an hour, I stay in the locker room, almost frozen with fear about moving from the safety of the building. Finally, I decide I'll take a cab. It isn't a long-term solution since it's expensive, but maybe I can swing it until he cools off. I grab my bag out of my locker, and when I get to the lobby, I freeze.

My heart skips a beat. The quivering in my belly is no longer from fear. It's pure, hungry lust. I blink a few times, wondering if I'm imagining him.

Finn is standing against the wall, his arms crossed, displaying his bulging biceps. His white T-shirt hugs him perfectly, showcasing his pecs and well-defined V. His grin beams when we lock eyes, and he shoves himself off the wall.

Every step he makes toward me creates a humming in my bones. I'm still paralyzed as he approaches. The relief and happiness spiraling through me just from looking at him catches me off guard.

"I found you," his deep voice states.

My voice slightly shakes from the excitement of seeing him. "You've been looking for me?"

He nods. "Yeah."

I should be fearful after what happened this morning, especially knowing how much more violent Finn is than Brad, but I'm oddly not. Instead, I reach for his arm, tracing the scab that's formed from where the thug sliced him with the bottle. "I wondered if you were okay."

He steps closer, and the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and sugar consumes me. I hold my breath when he cups my cheeks. "I'm fine, now that I found you."

Anticipation spins, pooling at my core, tormenting me. The way Finn's looking at me makes me clench my thighs together. I remind myself to inhale, trying to calm my racing heart. "How did you find me?"

His green eyes twinkle. "You told me you were finishing your last year of nursing school." His thumb strokes my jawbone, sending fresh zings racing through every atom of my existence.

I close my eyes, unable to stop enjoying his hands on my body but also trying to stabilize my pulse.

"I think we have unfinished business to discuss," he states.

I open my eyes. "What?"

His dexterous thumb swipes over my lips. He intensely studies it, saying, "You were going to agree to let me take you out."

"I was?" I breathe.

His lips twitch. "Yeah. Tonight."

"Oh...ummm..." I can't seem to remove my orbs from his lips. They're so close, tempting me to rise on my tiptoes and see what he tastes like.

"Brenna."

"Hmmm." I lift my gaze to his.

"I'm sorry about the other night." He assesses me, looking for what, I don't know, but regret is all over him.

I debate what to say. Do I make it into a big deal? I finally decide there's nothing to discuss. He's violent. I'm not going to change it, nor do I know if I want to. Something about watching him take on that many men and still come out on top turned me on. It shouldn't, especially after today's encounter with Brad, but it did. Maybe this is why you're supposed to stay away from the bad boys. Their danger is attractive. But I hated Brad fighting, so why do I think it's okay if Finn does?

I don't have time to analyze it all. Finn's worry is written all over his face, crippling me from even attempting to dive into this and blow him off because of it. I finally reply, "I'm glad you're okay."

"I wish you never saw it—saw me—like that." He releases a nervous breath.

I stay quiet, still torn over it yet not about the event itself. He defended his friend. I've never once felt mad about it over the last few weeks. Maybe I should be scared to be around him, but I'm not. My dilemma is about why I hated Brad being violent but excuse it with Finn. Then again, Finn didn't start the fight like Brad always did. And there's no way to kid myself. Finn's a magnet pulling me toward him, and no matter what I do, I'm not getting away. Deep down, I already know this.

He strokes my hair. "Are you frightened to be around me?"

My mouth turns dry. I didn't think Brad was scary, and he proved me wrong. It's all I can compare this to, and I hate the inner voice telling me I should cut this off now.

But I can't.

"No."

"Then you'll let me take you out? Tonight?"

"I have an exam tomorrow."

His face falls, but he straightens his shoulders. "Okay. What about tomorrow night?"

I blurt out, "I already studied and am ready. I just need to be home at a decent hour. My exam is at seven a.m."

His face lights up. "Even better. What time do you want to be home? Eight? Nine?"

"Ten or eleven will work."

An adorable, eager expression continues to morph across his features. He proclaims, "I can have you home by that time. Want to start it now?"

My butterflies spread their wings so big, I put my hand on my stomach. "Would it be okay if I went home to shower and change? Scrubs are okay for work, but they aren't my 'let's go out' apparel."

He glances at my clothes then wiggles his eyebrows. "You could put on a white nurse's uniform."

I backhand his arm. "Funny."

He chuckles. "We can stop at your place first."

I briefly forgot about my "how am I getting home" dilemma. Gratefully, I nod. "Sounds good."

He slides his hand under the strap of my bag then throws it over his shoulder. His other hand circles my waist, and I sink against him. He leads me through the parking garage and my belly flutters harder when I see his car.

It's everything Brad would never be seen dead in. It's not new or imported. It's a mint-condition, black 1985 Camaro IROC-Z sports car.

"Wow. This is sexy," I tease, sliding my hand over the roof.

Finn grins. "Glad you approve." He opens the passenger door.

But I don't just approve. I love it and all the bad boy flair it gives off.

I get in, and once he does, I tell him where I live. My stomach continues to flutter as everything about him consumes me.

His scent.

His charming, bad boy good looks.

The intense way he keeps peering over at me, as if he'll eat me up in a few seconds.

He states, "You're only a few blocks from me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'll point out my place when we pass it. Then you'll know where to find me."

Another burst of flutters expands in my belly. "Did you grow up on this side of town?"

"Yeah. My entire family did. What about you?"

"Same. I'm an only child though. It's just my mom and dad," I reveal.

He pays the parking fee, the lever lifts, and he adds, "I'm an only child, too. I meant my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents."

"Do you have a big family?"

His jaw ticks. He glances at me with a hint of nervousness. "My last name is O'Malley."

"Oh. That's—" A lump forms in my throat. Does he mean...no. He can't. Surely, he's not part of Chicago's notorious crime family.

He pulls into another lot and parks. "Brenna."

I swallow hard then turn toward him.

He picks up my hand. I should pull it away, yet I can't. Tingles shoot up my arm. My brain says this isn't a good idea, but my heart keeps reminding me how much I want him.

I don't even know this guy.

I thought I knew Brad, and look what he did today.

He's the total opposite of Brad.

He's the most violent person I know.

"You aware of who my family is?" he asks, but it's more of a statement.

I scrunch my forehead, trying to figure out what to say.

"Brenna, I just need you to be honest. I'll be truthful with you, and you do the same, okay?" he calmly instructs.

I release an anxious breath. "Okay. I've heard of the crime family. Is that the same O'Malleys you're part of?"

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

"Yes."

"Oh." I bite my lip, my heart pounding hard in my chest cavity.

He reaches for my hand that I don't even realize is twirling my hair. "Are you scared of me now?"

His get-to-the-point demeanor startles me. I'm used to men playing games. Brad did, and so did other guys I dated, yet none of them had anything this drastic to discuss. Finn's honesty makes me respect and trust him.

"Should I be?" I ask.

"No," he firmly replies.

I raise my chin. "Okay. And are you in the family business?"

His piercing gaze never leaves mine. "Yes."

Tension fills the car. I pause to let this settle. "Ummm...what do you do?"

"A bunch of things you shouldn't know anything about."

Right. Of course. "Sorry. That was a stupid question."

He kisses my hand. More zings race right to my core. "There aren't any stupid questions, firefly. You can ask me anything," he proclaims, and I believe him.

It's something else I never got from Brad. He used to make me feel inferior if I asked him questions about his job and even other things. Finn's activities probably aren't legal, but his up-front approach and honesty give me relief and add to my confusion. Theoretically, I should tell him to drop me off and cancel our date. I've always dated guys I could bring home to my parents. Ones my mother would approve of.

My mother definitely won't approve of Finn, from his tattoos, to his bank account, which is probably less than Brad's, to his lack of a prestigious career she can brag to her friends about. Plus, I highly doubt he's a member of the country club.

"Firefly?" He arches his eyebrows.

My insides pulse. No man's ever had a pet name for me. I love how Finn's is original and isn't canned.

"What other questions do you have?" he gently prods when I continue not to speak, trying to regulate my throbbing loins.

I shake my head. "Nothing right now."

He sweetly smiles. It's another surprise. Finn's a bad boy, no doubt about it. I've seen his scowl and his intensity. His current expression stirs everything in my core, and that's before he insists, "When you have more, just ask."

"Okay. Thank you."

He releases my hand and pulls back onto the road.

I inquire, "Where are we going? So I know what to wear."

"That's up to you."

"Me?"

"Yep. I'll throw out the options, and you get to pick."

I turn more in my seat. "Now I'm intrigued."

A hint of cockiness fills his features, but it's different from Brad's. Finn's isn't haughty. It's just pure male virility. He puts his blinker on, turns, then declares, "It's hot out."

"It is," I agree.

His green gaze meets mine. He licks his lips. "Do you swim?"

"Yes. I love it, actually."

"The water is finally warm. I have everything we need for an awesome evening down at the shore," he voices.

"And what is option two?"

"I'll take you to a nice restaurant. We can catch a movie later."

"Hmm." I pretend to think, but it's a no-brainer. Seeing Finn half-naked in swim trunks and enjoying the summer amenities is totally up my alley.

"I'm good with whatever you choose," he claims, but I can tell he wants to swim by the change in his voice when he told me the options. It's another thing I like about him. Brad would only swim in his pool, claiming the lake was for peons. And swimming is creative instead of the typical first date like option two.

"The restaurant," I say.

He puts on a good face, but I see a tiny ripple of disappointment. "Okay."

I laugh. "I'm kidding. How could anyone say no to a night on the beach?"

He grins. "Yeah?"

"Duh!"

He pulls in front of my building. "Mind if I change in your place?"

"Nope. Be my guest."

He grabs my bag and a small duffel then leads me into the building. Like earlier, I melt into him, feeling some jitters but a sense of comfort I've never had at the beginning of a relationship.

Is this going to be a relationship?

Am I right he wants more, or am I setting myself up for a big disappointment?

I push the thoughts away when we get into my apartment. Kim is there and does a double take. She smirks. "We were wondering what happened to you and Maksim."

"It's all good." I point to my bedroom. "You can change in there."

Finn nods to her then takes his cue and leaves.

As soon as the door shuts, I beg Kim, "Please don't say anything to embarrass me."

She feigns innocence. "Moi?"

"Funny!"

"I won't, but where did you find him? Give me the scoop."

My heart flutters. "He came to the hospital."

Her eyes widen. "He got injured?"

"No. He was waiting for me."

"He hunted you down?"

My smile gives it away.

She screeches.

I smack her across the arm. "Shh! Stop it."

She steps closer and whispers, "I'll go stay somewhere else. Then you can have the place all to yourself."

"No! That isn't happening. Plus, I have my exams tomorrow. It'll be an early night," I insist.

She rolls her eyes. "That's so boring."

"Stop! I'm going to freshen up and change. Whatever you do, don't embarrass me!" I chastise her again as Finn steps out in his T-shirt and trunks. I motion to the couch. "Make yourself at home." Then I go into the bathroom. I keep my hair in the bun it's in, take a quick shower, then put on my bikini, cut-off jean shorts, and a tank top. I add some fresh makeup, slide into my flip-flops, and step out of the room. "Ready?"

Kim's deep in conversation. I cringe inside, wondering what she's saying. I love her to pieces, but she has zero filter.

Finn spins and eyes me over, a smoldering fire burning hotter as he trails my body.

My face scorches, desire seeping into my bones. Heat creeps into my cheeks.

He steps forward and kisses the top of my head. "You look gorgeous. Let's go."

We leave. I ignore Kim's lewd hand motions and take a deep breath. I'm not sure how we got here, but it feels pretty good, and our date hasn't even started.

4

Finn

I FOUND HER. After weeks of searching, I finally found her. Full of nervous excitement, I pop open the trunk and pull out the bag and cooler. Once I knew where she was and what time her shift was over, I said a few Hail Marys and took the leap she would say yes to a night on the beach.

"You did come prepared," she teases then reaches for the bag.

"I've got it," I tell her and toss it over my shoulder. "Can you shut the trunk?"

"Sure." She slams the Camaro's trunk, and we walk half a block from where I found parking. It's early evening, barely touching five. The weather turned humid a few days ago, and it hangs heavy in the air. People lay everywhere, but it's not as crowded as earlier today when I drove by. Many are in the water on rafts or inner tubes. Lake Michigan is calm today, with barely any wind rippling across the water.

Brenna has on brownish-gold, tinted sunglasses. I can still see her eyes, and the glasses look hot on her. It's just like the tiny cut-off jean shorts and tank top she's wearing. The blue bikini string tied around her neck is giving me a hard-on. I tried to keep my mind off what she looks like underneath since she stepped out of her bedroom, but it's pointless.

"I haven't gotten to swim in the lake this year." Brenna smiles while peering at the water.

"Me, either. This spot okay?"

She nods. "Yep."

I put the cooler and bag down then take out a blanket. She immediately helps me lay it flat then kicks off her sandals and puts them on the edge of the blanket. I add the cooler, bag, and my shoes to the other corners, not that I'm worried about the wind today. I take the towels and plastic cups out of the bag then open the cooler. I ask, "You want a drink?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

"Captain and Coke, water, or beer. I could have gotten more creative, but I thought I'd go with what I know," I admit.

Her lips twitch. "You pay attention."

I give myself a mental high five. Her expression tells me she's impressed. I pull a small bottle of Captain out, add some ice to it, then open a Coke to fix her drink. I go to hand her the cup, and my dick twitches. She's taken her clothes off and is bending over, putting her neatly folded clothes on the blanket.

Thank you, Jesus.

I mentally make the sign of the cross and try to play it cool instead of drooling all over her. Her ass is grabbable, filling out the blue material that V's over half her cheeks. I study her spine, thick sexy thighs, and sculpted calves when she rises.

She's not a twig and has meat on her bones. I knew this when I met her, but seeing her practically naked is making my testosterone rage. She spins, and my adrenaline bounces around like a ping-pong ball. Her waist curves, creating a sensual hourglass figure. The triangle top covers her breasts in perfection. They're full, maybe a size D, and natural. I wonder what her nipples look like and what she'll sound like when I wrap my mouth around them.

Her face flushes when she realizes I'm ogling her. I reprimand myself and hand her the drink. Then I remove my shirt and toss it on the ground. I pull a beer out of the cooler, put the lid back on, then catch her checking me out, happy her sunglasses still let me see her eyes.

Her cheeks deepen to maroon when she meets my stare. She nervously takes a drink.

I plop on the ground and pat the blanket next to me.

She sits, and I'm suddenly more nervous than I've ever been. I struggle with what to say and am grateful when she breaks the silence.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five. You?"

"Twenty-two."

"What made you want to be a nurse?" I ask, genuinely curious why she chose that career path.

She takes a sip of her drink. "My grandma had her hip replaced when I was little. She got an infection and had to stay in the hospital. Two nurses took excellent care of her. Even at ten, I saw how gentle and kind they were with my grandma. It was like they were her friends. Anyway, she stayed in contact with them for years. Every Christmas, she'd have me help her make them cookies. When I was sixteen, my grandma told me she never experienced so much pain or a desire to go home, but those nurses kept her sane. They added light to her darkness. Something about it just stuck with me. So, I want to help people when they feel their worst." A tiny nostalgic smile appears on her lips.

People have all sorts of reasons for why they do what they do. Most of it revolves around ego or money. Brenna's tug at my heartstrings. "That's a good reason to do something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"What's the hmm about?" I question.

She stares at the water a moment then shrugs. "Nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

She licks her lips then turns. "Sorry. I spent the last few months arguing with my ex about my career. And my mother." She groans. "Don't let me forget to mention my mother."

My chest tightens. "Your ex didn't support your career?"

She snorts. "Nope. It didn't involve being a trophy on his arm at the country club. A nurse was beneath him."

"Ah. So he's a rich boy?"

"Yep." She rolls her eyes and takes another drink.

I take a mouthful of beer, barely tasting it. She appears like she doesn't care about money, but I don't have a bank account with tons of zeros.

"Let me rephrase that. His father has money."

A daddy's boy. An uncomfortable feeling rolls in my chest. One thing I can't stand is pretentious men who don't earn their way in life. I let more beer slide down my throat then ask, "Your mom doesn't want you to be a nurse?"

"Nope. She wants me to marry a rich guy, pop out tons of babies, and become president of the snotty wives club."

My gut dives. It's not just about the money. I'm sure Brenna's never brought a guy like me home before. I blurt out, "So she's not going to approve of me?"

Brenna freezes. My pulse bangs between my ears, and she slowly turns toward me. She pins her eyebrows together. "Do you want honesty?"

"Always," I state and mean it.

Okay. No. She won't approve of you."

I breathe through the anxiety. Brenna's a nice girl—way too innocent and good to be with a guy like me. And I'm fully aware I barely stand a chance to make her mine, but there isn't a bone in my body that won't let me do everything in my power to succeed. I find the courage to ask, "So how much influence does your mother have on you?"

"Where you're concerned?"

To the point, no games. Christ, I'm already in love with this girl.

"Yeah." The blood continues pumping faster, racing through my veins, ready to explode with too many emotions I shouldn't be feeling at once.

"I make my own choices about who I date. All the guys my mom loves, I don't. So the answer is none," she confidently states.

Relief replaces most of my fears, but there's still a tiny part that worries. I say a quick prayer Brenna can overcome any objections her mother may have regarding me. Then another thought pops up. "What about your father? What will he think?"

Her face turns more loving. It's a subtle change, but I see it. Her voice softens. "My father wants me to be happy. He'll give you a chance if I ask him to."

"And are you going to ask him to?" I very ineloquently inquire.

She tilts her head. "Is this a normal first date conversation?"

"No. But nothing about you is normal."

Her sexy blush creeps into her cheeks again. "You're intense, aren't you?"

"I go after what I want."

She bites on her lip. That lush, pale-pink, driving-me-crazy lip I want to suck on. "If we get to the stage where I introduce you to my parents, then yeah, I would ask him if I needed to. But my father is kinder than my mother. His manners are better, too."

"We're going to get to that stage," I confidently tell her.

She takes a deep breath, smiles, then sets her drink down. She leans back and lies down, stretching out. "The sun feels nice. I'm glad you planned this."

I follow her lead but turn on my side, propping my elbow on the blanket and resting my head on my palm. I study her face, memorizing every freckle, the way her lips slightly part, and the curve of her cheekbone.

She turns her head. "You're staring at me."

"Yep."

She nervously laughs then rolls on her side, facing me, mirroring my body position. "Can you tell me anything about what you do?"

The voice in my head screams she's too beautiful, too pure, too innocent for my world. He fights with the part of me determined to prove I can show her the good sides of the O'Malleys and me. All the ugliness and sin I convince myself I can shield her from. I vow to make her nothing but happy.

Yet, I'm not stupid. I'm aware I'm a lucky bastard that she didn't already run, and if this is going to work, I can't hide the truth from her. I choose my words carefully. "What do you know about my family?"

She hesitates then says, "Only the stuff in the paper or on TV, not that I pay attention to a lot of world events."

I smile at her comment and drag my knuckles down the curve of her waist, torturing myself when she shudders. "And?"

She twists a loose piece of hair around her finger. "Drugs, gambling, murder." She pauses then asks, "Is that correct?" before holding her breath.

A fist might as well be squeezing my lungs. The truth on her lips makes me cringe inside. I'm unsure why she's here, lying next to me, instead of running away at full speed. I admit, "Yes. It's the truth. We also have other businesses, but I won't deny that."

She reaches out and traces one of my favorite tattoos. It's of a shamrock with a Celtic cross over it, the word O'Malley, and rays of sunshine brushed over my collarbone and halfway up my neck. Her touch is pure adrenaline surging right to my cock. I hold in my groan, waiting for her to speak.

Her voice stays calm, laced with honey. "So, are you involved in that side of the business?"

"The part that's always on the news?" I ask.

"Yes."

I wish I could tell her I wasn't. I'd give anything for the truth to be something different. I could easily lie to her. It's what I do with other women. But Brenna isn't one of those women. She's special, so I confess, "Yes. That's the part I'm involved in."

She nods as if it doesn't surprise her. I'm unsure if I like the fact it doesn't, or if I should be worried she doesn't see me as someone who would deal with the legit side of the clan's affairs. Her fingers continue to slide over my ink, and she swallows hard, questioning, "What's your role?"

My demons continue to fight, my desire to be with Brenna and keep her, creating a deep conflict.

"Finn, you said I shouldn't know anything, but I don't want to be in the dark. But that won't work for me. My mind will spin and spin until it drives me crazy with fifty thousand different scenarios."

I study her, debating what is okay for her to know.

"I don't need details. But what do you do? If someone asks me what your profession is, what do I say?"

Hunt. Brutalize. Kill.

Whatever the clan needs to dole out revenge against those who wrong us.

I can't tell her all of that.

I slide my palm over her hip, outlining the blue string with my index finger. "Your question's fair. I hunt."

"Hunt?"

My stomach flips. "When men try to avoid my family, I find them."

She gapes at me. I don't think she realizes it, but her mouth hangs open. I wince inside, trying to keep my cool, but I'm shitting my pants she won't be able to handle it. She starts to speak then stops.

"Ask me whatever you want," I encourage her, needing to know what she's thinking.

"Is that what you did with me? You hunted me down?"

"Yeah. I used every skill I had to find you."

She clears her throat. "Did anyone get hurt?"

I slide closer to her and cup her cheeks. "No. I wouldn't bring any part of that into your life."

"No?"

"No." I adamantly shake my head.

"Okay. So...ummm...what do I tell someone? Say, Kim asks me what you do."

I release her and put my hand back on her waist. "I usually tell my girlfriends I work in the family business, helping my nana run her pub."

She arches her eyebrows. "Your nana has a pub?"

"Yeah. O'Malley's."

"A few blocks from my place?"

"Yep."

"Okay. I feel a bit foolish now, not putting two and two together."

"Don't be."

She stays quiet, and I let her process it all. She touches my tattoo again. "This is cool."

"Thanks. It's my favorite one."

She licks her lips. "Why did you tell me the truth? If you always tell your girlfriends a lie?"

"I wasn't serious about them."

"But you barely know me."

"So? I know enough."

Our eyes stay locked on one another through our sunglasses. All I want to do is kiss her, but something tells me to wait. Maybe I'm just being a pussy and need to get some balls. I usually don't hesitate or overthink anything around women. I take what I want, when I want it.

But Brenna has me questioning everything. Just being near her makes my head spin. The pain in my balls only grows, and I struggle not to pull her into me and kiss her harder than I've ever kissed anyone.

"Did you always know you were going to work for your family? Is it expected?" she asks.

I suddenly have an urge to end this conversation. Staying fixated on my family isn't a recipe for making her want me or my idea of a fun time. If she's going to see past the O'Malleys, I can't keep her attention on this. "Yes. Do you want to swim?"

"Sure."

I rise and help her up. Unable to stop myself, I press my lips to her forehead, mumbling, "Thanks for still being here."

She tilts her head up. "I probably shouldn't, huh?"

I don't lie. It stabs my heart as I reply, "Probably not. You're way too good for me."

Her lips curve up. "I don't know about that." She takes my hand and steps toward the lake.

I sigh in relief, quickly walking side by side with her into the water. We wade far into the lake. It's shallow for several hundred feet. The water is refreshing, warm from the summer air, with a touch of cold to it. When it's over her head and up to my shoulders, I pull her into me.

She wraps her legs around my torso, and nothing has ever felt better than her body against mine. She grazes her nails over the back of my head. Her nipples harden and press against my pecs. "What's the pub like?"

"You're Irish and you've never been in it?"

She shrugs. "Is that a sin?"

"In my family," I tease.

My firefly lights me up with her smile. "My parents never really got into their heritage. We're just American."

I wince dramatically. "Ouch. Whatever you do, don't say that in front of my family."

She laughs. "So it's just you, your mom, and your dad?"

The bitterness I've always felt about my father's death rises. "Just my mom. My father passed away when I was five."

Sympathy fills her expression. Even through her sunglasses, I see it. She says, "I'm sorry."

"Is what it is. You should check out the pub. My nana swears it's just like the ones in Ireland where she's from."

"Sounds fun."

"You'll have to deal with all my cousins checking you out."

She arches her eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Yep. They're all younger and horny little fuckers, except for Liam and Sean. They've got serious girlfriends," I reveal.

"How many cousins do you have?"

"A ton. The O'Malleys procreate like rabbits, but there's only a handful I'm close with."

She laughs, lighting a spark inside me again. I tighten my arms around her, a bundle of nerves unraveling in my gut, unlike my usual, cool composure. All the people around us disappear. It's Brenna and me, standing in Lake Michigan, with the early-evening sun beaming down on us.

Her lips are so close, I practically taste them. She takes a slow, controlled breath, and her eyes dart to my mouth. "I'm glad you found me."

My ego pats me on the back.

She continues, "I had a pretty bad day until you showed up."

I drop my palm to her ass and move my other arm so my hand is over her messy bun. "What happened? Do I need to kick someone's ass?"

She hesitates but then says, "No. Nothing I can't handle."

I meant the ass-kicking part as a joke, but her response makes me think something is going on. It's not confident. My radar ignites, so I demand, "What happened?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing important. Did you miss the part where I was happy you found me?" Her fingertips caress my neck, and the sexual energy between us intensifies.

I lean forward to kiss her, and an alarm blares through the air. We both turn and see the lifeguards waving everyone to shore.

"What's going on?" she asks.

"Not sure. Let's go."

By the time we get to shore, police and divers are everywhere. Brenna nervously looks up at me.

"What's going on?" I ask a woman in the crowd.

"One of the kids found an arm. It's..." She cringes. "It's human."

A warning bell rings in my head. I push Brenna to the side. "Stay here."

She nods.

I move toward the area where the police are and peek through the crowd. An officer picks up the arm and puts it in a bag. It's a man's arm, darkly discolored from the water, probably bloated from fluids but still beefy. I've seen plenty of dead bodies since I was sixteen, but the thing that makes my blood run cold is the tattoo.

Fish must have nibbled it, but it's still visible to me. The family crest outlined in green with a Celtic sword handle is still evident.

I know that tattoo. For weeks, I hunted for the man wearing it. After I found him, I turned him over to my uncle Darragh in our clan's warehouse.

My stomach pitches. Someone screwed up. O'Malleys don't leave evidence, especially when it's a top leader of our archenemy, the Baileys.

I have to tell Darragh.

I spin and return to Brenna, leading her to the blanket. "I'm sorry, but we have to go."

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

I hand her a towel and dry myself off then toss on my T-shirt. I lie, bending down and folding the blanket. "Yeah."

She puts her hand on mine. "Finn, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine. Sorry, we need to go." I shove the blanket in the bag.

Brenna dresses, dumps our drinks, and tosses the cups in the nearby trash can. She comes back, and I've packed everything. I sling the bag over my shoulder and carry the cooler.

She stays quiet as we walk down the street. My insides are shaking, wondering who left a body part like that and how many are out there. This isn't a mistake you just make. Someone wanted that arm, with that tattoo, to pop up.

There's a traitor in our house.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. I shove the items in my trunk, open Brenna's door, and she gets in. I try to calm down before I get inside the car, but I can't. I slide on my seat and start the Camaro.

"Finn."

"Yeah?" I check the road behind me and pull out into traffic.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine." I don't look at her, gripping the wheel as tightly as I can, trying to control the rage building in my body.

What if my fingerprints are on that arm?

Brenna puts her hand on my thigh. "You don't look fine."

"I am," I insist through gritted teeth. I cut into the other lane and accelerate. Horns blare, mixing with rubber sliding on the pavement.

"Whoa! Slow down!" Brenna demands.

I don't, barely hearing her, not able to get the visual of the arm and tattoo out of my mind. I weave in and out of traffic, breaking the speed limit and running red lights. Within minutes, I pull up to her building and get out.

She jumps out of the car without waiting for me, dashing toward her building.

Shit.

"Brenna!" I call out, chasing after her, reprimanding myself for not pulling it together. She's pushing the elevator button when I step into the lobby. "Brenna! Wait up!"

She storms into the stairwell, and I follow her.

"Brenna!" I growl, her name echoing in the air.

She gets to the first landing, and I grab her, spinning her into the wall. She gasps, her blue eyes full of anger, her lips trembling.

I slide my hands over her cheeks and step closer. There's no air between us as I inhale her scent, asking her a question I already fear the answer to. "Why are you running from me?"

"You could have killed me," she seethes.

Guilt eats at me. Still, I reply, "But I didn't."

The Irish in her comes out. Her eyes turn to daggers, slicing through me, and her face turns bright red. "We're finished."

My gut clenches. I shake my head. "No. We're just getting started, firefly."

She hesitates then opens her mouth to speak.

I slide my tongue in her mouth, kissing her with no mercy, not letting up, and pushing my erection into her stomach.

I kiss her because it's the only thing I've thought about since I met her.

I kiss her because I'm not letting her run from me.

I kiss her because I fucked up, and I know it, but it's not going to end like this.

I kiss her and kiss her, then I kiss her some more because I don't want to stop. Her tongue flicks against mine, zapping me straight to the core, causing a chain reaction of heat and need and explosive desire that flows through my blood, making me forget about anything but how good her body feels against mine.

She consumes me—all of me—whimpering into my mouth, her hot breath a heady drug creating an addiction after one hit. Every inch of my being, she has the power to love or destroy, yet I let her have it, knowing she can ruin me. I'm so engrossed in her, I'm unable to take the reins and protect myself, falling deeper under her spell.

"Sometimes, I'm an ass," I mumble then return to circling my tongue in her mouth, even though I should be telling Darragh about the arm right now.

Her tongue and the rest of her body freeze. I stop kissing but keep my lips on hers. She states, "I don't want or deserve an ass."

Panic hits me, along with more regret. I stroke her cheek. "No. You don't, firefly."

She breaks our gaze and turns her head then closes her eyes.

I press my lips to the side of her forehead. "I'm sorry. I lost my shit back there."

She pins her blues on me. "Why?"

The turmoil rages in my chest. I clench my jaw, wanting to tell her everything but knowing this is too much. Stale air sits in my lungs, suffocating me.

Her eyes widen. "Do..." She swallows. "Do you have something to do with that arm?"

The horror on her face makes my stomach somersault. My mind spirals with how to respond, and I finally admit, "I didn't kill him."

"No?" she asks.

"No."

"But you know who did?"

Technically, I don't know which of the O'Malleys ended that fat prick's life. But saying no to her question seems misleading. And maybe I should make my life easier and go with it, yet I can't. Creating anything deceptive with her isn't what I want.

"I see," she barely gets out.

"He wasn't a good man, Brenna. He killed members of my family," I state, trying to justify his ending and my role in it.

She pushes my chest. "I-I need to go."

I don't move. "Brenna—"

"I said I need to go," she firmly states.

Something in her eyes tells me not to fight her. It also breaks my heart in two, splitting it so wide open, I think it might not beat anymore. I step back.

She continues up the stairs, and I follow her. When she gets to her floor, I put my arm above her head and hold the door shut. "Wait."

She spins, her eyes glistening. "Finn, I don't know what I'm doing with you. I-I—"

I put my fingers over her lips. "I'm not perfect. God knows, my family isn't perfect. But I'll never hurt you, Brenna. Never. I'm sorry I was a dick. If you knew—" I glance at the ceiling and let out an exasperated breath.

This is my life—nephew of the leader of the clan, trained killer and hunter since I was sixteen. Is it even fair for me to expose her to any of this shit?

"If I knew what was freaking you out?" she quietly asks.

I close my eyes, count to five, then meet her gaze. "Yeah. And I'm sorry, but I need to go." I step back and open the door.

She doesn't move, only gives me a sad look that further annihilates me.

"Go on," I say and motion for her to go.

She squares her shoulders, blinks hard, then walks through the door and down the hall. When she gets to her apartment, she turns.

I don't move, holding myself back from running to her and begging her not to hate me. I want to make her promise she'll see me again, but I already know before she speaks that this is it.

"I think it's best if you give me some space. I-I need to think about things."

My heart claws its way into my throat. "Is that what you want?"

She closes her eyes, nodding, then enters her unit.

Seeing red the entire way down the stairs—not at Brenna, at myself—I stomp out to the Camaro. "Fuck!" I yell and punch the seat.

I tried to do something I shouldn't. You can't take an angel and immerse her in the fires of Hell. That's where I live and survive. There's no changing it. You can't make it any better than it is. I knew this and that Brenna doesn't belong there. I was only kidding myself, thinking I could somehow thrive in both worlds.

I curse myself for letting myself indulge in a fantasy that could never be.

5

Brenna

A Week Later

OXYGEN FEELS NONEXISTENT. Every breath I take is a chore. I've never felt like I was drowning before, but I imagine it's similar to this.

It's bad enough I struggle to fall asleep ever since my date with Finn. All I think about is him, how it felt to be in his arms, and his kisses that made my head spin.

The debate I've had over who Finn is and whether I can get past it never ends. There are two arguments in my head, and they're at a standstill, even though the longing for him only hurts more.

Brad won't stop calling my apartment. He sent flowers there and to my work. I even thought I saw him following me several mornings.

Paranoia was already setting in, but now, I'm about to lose all control. And I don't know how my own blood could betray me this way.

"It's just jitters over such a big commitment. Once you and Brad talk, you'll see what a huge mistake you've made," my mother insists. She pulls a tray of lasagna out of the oven and sets it on the stove. She's dressed to the nines, something she always did whenever Brad was coming over. Even her heels are absurd for a family dinner of lasagna and garlic bread.

Well, it would be a family dinner, except she overstepped and decided to push me farther into Hell.

"I can't believe you invited him over. You do understand he's borderline stalking me, correct?" I accuse.

She puts her hand on her hip. "Don't raise your voice to me. He's chasing you because he loves you. If you would have seen him—"

"You had no right to meet with him!"

"Now stop! You can't expect me to turn down an invitation from his father, can you? Not after how we left dinner," she claims, which only enrages me further.

"Let me guess. It was at the country club."

She feigns innocence. "So what? I don't know why you have such a bad taste in your mouth for the country club. It's a wonderful place."

"Oh my God, Mom! It's full of rich snobs who I have nothing in common with, nor do you," I point out.

Her face darkens. Insinuating she's not like the members is a direct blow to her ego. She glares at me. "That's not true. There are lovely people there."

I grab my purse. "Well, you can enjoy your lasagna with Brad. In fact, why don't you marry him? Or, on second thought, stick your garlic bread up his ass for me!"

My mother gasps. "Don't be disgusting. I didn't raise you to speak like that."

I step in front of her. "You're my mother. You're supposed to be on my side. Not that of a man who I don't want anything to do with, who has also been harassing me."

She shakes her head. "He's only fighting for you. Even his father told me how torn up he is, when Brad went to the restroom. Love doesn't just grow on trees, you know. Nor does someone of Brad's caliber."

"I'm not in love with him. I never have been," I shout.

"Whoa! What's going on?" my father interrupts, putting his keys on the counter.

I spin. "My mother decided to hobnob at the country club while going behind my back and inviting Brad over to dinner."

My father's eyes turn to slits. His voice turns colder than I've ever heard it before. "Sarah, tell me this isn't true."

"He's in love with her! She's never going to find anyone half as good as he is for husband material!" my mother cries out.

"Wow! Thanks, Mom!"

"It's true! Who could you meet that could ever offer you anything half as good as Brad?"

"What about my happiness?"

"Happiness comes and goes," she claims, and my father's face turns bitter.

"What about chemistry?"

"Overrated," she states.

"What about someone I feel I can talk to who doesn't make me feel like they're better than me? Or what about someone who doesn't lie to me all the time?"

My mother crosses her arms. "You're nitpicking."

"Nitpicking? Are you serious?"

She groans. "Your head is in the clouds. What you want doesn't exist. You don't get all those things in one person. You just don't."

Finn's face pops into my mind. The ache I've felt since he dropped me off burns. I shake my head. "You're wrong."

"No, I'm not. You believe something that isn't true," my mother states.

"It is, and I know it is."

"No. It's not—"

"I already found someone who is ten times the man Brad is," I claim.

The room turns silent. My mother's shocked expression pins me. "You cheated on Brad?"

"No! Of course not!"

"It's only been a few weeks. You had to have—"

"I did not cheat on Brad. I met him after we broke up. But it doesn't even matter. I'm not in love with Brad, nor will I ever be. I'm not marrying him, and this is unforgivable what you've done, Mother," I snarl.

She turns toward my father. "Brian, tell our daughter—"

"No, Sarah. Have a nice dinner with Brad." He picks up his keys. "Let's go, Brenna."

"What? Brian, you can't be serious."

My father steps in front of her. I've never seen him look at her like that. It's an angry hurt that makes me wince. He warns, "I think you've said your piece. We all know how you feel. Don't say another word."

My mother's eyes widen.

My father puts his hand on my back. "Come on." He guides me outside to his car. When we're both in, he drives several blocks, then pulls over. "I'm sorry, Brenna."

"For what? You didn't do anything."

He briefly closes his eyes then sighs. "She means well."

I snort. "Sorry if I have a hard time believing that right now."

He taps on the steering wheel, assessing me.

"What?"

"Who's this man you're seeing?"

Flutters fill my body. I quietly admit, "I'm not. We...well, we had some issues pop up. I said I needed some time to think."

"But you like him?"

My heart skips several beats. "Yeah. A lot."

"What's he like?"

"Not anything like Brad," I chirp.

My father laughs. "I'll tell you a secret."

"What?"

"I never liked that uppity prick, either."

I gape at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs. "You seemed to like him. Your mother, of course, loved him. It's not my place to tell you who to see. You aren't a child anymore. I only want you to be happy."

I don't speak, processing his admission.

"Does this other guy make you happy?"

I think about the little time I spent with Finn then confess, "I'm not sure. I think so, but I don't know him very well."

"Does your heart think he'll make you happy? Not all the time, because no relationship is perfect, but the majority of the time?"

I blink hard, the ache I feel over not seeing Finn and all the debate about him catch up to me. There's only one answer to give my father. "Yeah. I think we'd be happy together."

"And he respects you?"

"Yeah. He does," I reply without hesitating.

"Okay. I'm glad to hear it. Don't second-guess Brad. I'm going to lay down the law with your mother."

I arch my eyebrows. "Will you record it? Maybe set up the camera?"

"Ha ha, funny."

I ask my father the question that's always been on my mind but pains me to ask. "Why do you stay with her?"

A cyclone of emotions spins in my father's expression. He finally answers, "Because I love her."

"But she's so horrible."

"Yeah, she is at times. But that's the thing about love. You find it in your heart to overlook the things that aren't perfect because no one is. Everyone has their demons, so you accept them and love them for who they are."

His words hit me. I soak them in and ask, "But are you happy? With Mom?"

"Not right now. But overall, yeah, I am."

I'm unsure how my mother makes my father feel anything but misery, but it's not my relationship. It does give me some comfort to know he doesn't regret his life with her.

He pats my hand. "Okay, where am I taking you?"

I almost say home but stop. "There's a pub a few blocks from my house. Can you drop me off?"

"Sure, what's it called?"

My nerves vibrate. I won't hide Finn, but I don't even know if he'll still want to see me. I'm unsure if my father will put two and two together, but I figure there's no point getting my father worked up if things don't work out with us. So, I do something I've never done before. I lie to my father. "O'Malley's. Kim's meeting a group of friends and invited me to go, but I told her I had dinner with you guys."

My untruth seems to work. "Sure. I know where it's at. How's Kim?"

"Oh, you know Kim."

My father chuckles. "Say no more."

We drive in silence the short distance to the pub, and he pulls up in front. My stomach flips and I almost back out but realize I'd have to make up another lie or tell him the truth. Neither choice feels good, so I lean over, hug him, and get out of the car. I get to the door and look back, but my dad is waiting for me to enter the pub.

I wave, take a deep breath, and pull open the heavy wooden door.

It's dinnertime, and there's hardly any sitting room. I scan the large area but don't see Finn. There's an empty table in the corner, so I go there and sit.

What am I doing?

This is nuts.

It's the only way I know how to get ahold of him.

A friendly server comes up. She looks close to my age, has red hair and brown eyes. "Hi! I'm Darcey. Did anyone give you a menu?"

I cringe. "No one was at the hostess stand, so I sat myself. Is that okay?"

She smiles. "Sure! Let me get you a menu."

"Okay. Umm..."

She arches her eyebrows.

I clear my throat and find my courage. "Do you know if Finn O'Malley will be here tonight?"

Shock registers on her face, then her lips twitch. "He's usually here at some point. Plus, Nana made her shepherd's pie and soda bread. I'm sure all the boys will be rolling in here any minute."

"Popular dish?"

She nods. "Of course, those boys eat whatever's in front of them. They work up quite the appetites from all their boxing."

"Boxing?"

"Yep. You didn't think Finn got his body by luck, did you?"

My face heats, thinking about Finn's ripped flesh covered in ink.

"You want a drink? We've got whiskey sours on special."

I admit, "I've never had one of those before. Are they good?"

"Don't have any complaints."

I nod. "Okay. I'll try one. Thanks."

She grabs a menu from another server who walks by and puts it on the table. Then she leaves.

My stomach is in knots. I sit in the opposite chair so I can watch the front door, wondering again if I'm setting myself up to get rejected.

What if he's over me?

What if he comes in here with another woman?

My thoughts keep spiraling. I wish I would have brought Kim. At least she'd keep me occupied.

Darcey sets a yellow drink in front of me. "Do you know what you want to eat?"

"Is it okay if I wait awhile?"

She nods. "Sure. Just holler if you get hungry."

"Thanks." I pick up the plastic sword with the maraschino cherries on it and pop one in my mouth then nurse my drink. Tables turn over, and time keeps ticking.

This is stupid. What am I doing?

Chickening out, I rise to leave, when a voice calls out, "Where are you going?"

I spin. An older woman with reddish-gray hair, wearing a Kelly-green O'Malley's apron, gives me a questioning stare. She's shorter than me, but something about her makes me think she'd kick my ass if I pissed her off.

She points to the table with her free hand. "Sit." Then she sets a plate of food down.

I don't argue with her and obey.

She takes the seat next to me. "You're Brenna?"

"How do you know my name?"

She smirks. "Lass, I own a pub. I know everything." She nods to the food. "Eat before it gets cold."

Too intimidated not to do as she says, I take a bite of the shepherd's pie. It's the first time I've ever had it, but it tastes divine. The mashed potatoes and beef mix in perfection. "Mmm. This is delicious. Did you make this?"

"Of course I did. These men don't cook."

I smile. "Are you Finn's nana?"

"The one and only."

"It's nice to meet you."

She smiles. "What's your last name, Brenna?"

"Doyle."

"Strong Irish name."

"Yes." I take another bite, suddenly famished.

Another woman, close to my age, puts a bookbag on a chair and sits in the one next to me. She holds her hand out. "I'm Bridget."

I shake it. "I'm Brenna."

"So I hear."

"How was your exam?" Nana asks.

Bridget shrugs. "I passed. Nothing to write home about."

"Your father isn't paying for nothing to write home about," Nana reprimands.

Bridget sighs. "I know. Nana, I'm starving. Any more pie left?"

Nana pins her steely gaze on Bridget. "Sean needs to make sure you get home at a decent hour the night before exams."

"I agree. Will you tell him again?" Bridget asks, her eyes wide.

Nana pats her shoulder. "Let me get you a plate of food."

As soon as she's out of earshot, Bridget rolls her eyes and leans in. "One of these days, I'm going to tell her how her grandson fucks me all night until I can hardly walk the next morning." She picks up my drink and downs half of it. "Sorry. I'll get you another one. It's been a rough day."

I laugh. "It's okay. Have it."

She tilts her head, studying me. "Finn's going to flip when he sees you here."

My worries take over. "In a bad way?"

She snorts. "No. He got drunk a week ago and told Nana how he screwed everything up with you. He's been moping around ever since."

I bite on my lip, my cheeks flaming with heat. "So that's how she knew my name?"

"Yep. She even knows you're only half Irish, but she still fed you. Finn must have laid it on thick."

"What do you mean?"

Bridget takes another large mouthful of my drink. "It's an O'Malley thing. Hell, it's the same in my family. There's a rule you only marry full-blooded Irish. You don't mix the bloodline."

"Marry? We're only dating. Well, to be honest, I'm not sure if we're dating." I tap my hands on the table, getting more nervous.

Bridget snickers. "Now that you're here, I don't think you have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

She smirks and glances above my head, and that's when I smell him.

My pulse pounds between my ears. I slowly look up behind me.

But Bridget is wrong. He doesn't look happy to see me. His face is neutral, or maybe it's the start of a scowl. My insides quiver, and I turn. He pulls me up, slides his hand around my waist, and maneuvers me through the pub.

I'm too shocked to say anything, embarrassed I came here where his entire family is, and wonder if I've become as bad as Brad.

He pulls me into the alley, moves me against the brick, and forces my chin up. His green eyes glow hot. He's a dragon, breathing fire, ready to torch me. All I can think is I should never have let him leave my apartment how he did. I've ruined us before we even began.

Coming here was a mistake.

6

Finn

A TOXIC WEB OF ANGER, regret, and hatred consumed me over the last week. It drove every action I've taken. I've drunk too much, thrown too many punches, and stewed too long over my date with Brenna. Yet, nothing stopped the deep-rooted agony I felt.

I didn't know you could miss a person so much, especially one you barely know. I don't know why I thought she was the one. It was foolish of me. I should have known a girl like her wouldn't accept all my shit. And if I'm honest with myself, she shouldn't have to. She's better than all of it.

Now, here I stand, with my blood boiling, pissed at myself because she's here and I still want her. The desire for her hasn't withered a bit. The longer she stands in front of me, the more it burns in my veins, creating an ache so big, I'm unsure how I'm ever going to survive it.

"What are you doing here?"

"I-I..." She shakes her head, tears welling in her blues, breaking our gaze.

I step closer, inhaling her, lifting her chin so she can't avoid me. I admit, "I've been in misery without you."

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Why are you here?" I repeat, confused. She made it clear she couldn't handle everything that will always be part of me.

"I'll go. I shouldn't have come." She steps to the side.

I step with her then move so close she can't budge. My heart feels like it's squeezed dry of any blood. But her expression kills me, so I soften my delivery. "Brenna, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here?"

She shuts her eyes then swallows hard. "I-I thought we could see each other again." She opens her baby blues and destroys my heart some more. There's hope there. As if we could have a real fighting chance.

But we can't. Tomorrow, she'll change her mind.

My chest tightens. "You can't deal with the things I'm involved in."

She confidently claims, "I can."

"No. You made it clear you needed space."

"Yes. And all I did was think about us."

"I'm an O'Malley. There's no escaping it. Your space should have made you realize that," I point out.

She slides her hands on my cheeks. "I know. I don't care."

"You do care. Maybe today you don't, but tomorrow will be another story," I tell her, hating the truth.

"No. It won't," she insists.

"Damn it, Brenna," I curse.

"Why are you so mad at me?"

"You can't come in and out of my life like this," I cry out then look at the sky, trying to regain some composure.

She pulls my face toward hers. "I'm not going to do that."

Silence fills the alley with palpable tension. I remind myself it's not her fault who I am. She's not in my world. She doesn't get the extent of what I'm involved in. I calm my tone, but once I open Pandora's box, I can't stop. "I'm a bad man, Brenna. I hunt people down and hurt them. Sometimes, I kill them. This week, I stole the last breath from a man who planted that arm on the beach. I don't feel guilty about what I did. I don't regret it. I'd do it a hundred times over if needed. That's the type of person I am. So all the space you just put between us isn't going to erase or change a goddamn thing about the evil that reigns in my core. And I can assure you that you're way too good for me and don't have any business taking part in my dark world."

She takes a shaky breath. "I know who you are, Finn. You already told me. I saw it the first night we met in the bar. It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No. It doesn't. I'm still here. I still want you."

They're the words I've dreamed about hearing, but she doesn't know what she's saying. I spout, "Why? You can have any guy you want. This isn't what you should choose. Go marry your country club boyfriend. You'll have money, prestige, and your mom will be happy."

She slaps me so forcefully, my head turns.

Breathing hard, I reach up and touch my stinging skin. No woman has ever slapped me before. Her body trembles as I slowly face her.

She glares at me. "You were right. You are an asshole sometimes."

"Don't ever slap me again," I warn.

"Again? That would insinuate you're going to see me often. You just told me to spend the rest of my life with a man I can't stand, won't take no for an answer, and who's stalking me. But you're right. My mom will be super happy."

A new rage builds inside me. "Stalking you?"

She pushes my chest. "You can get out of my way now. Sorry I showed up at your family pub unannounced. It was obviously a mistake. But, hey, everyone knows who I am, so that made it really comfortable. Your nana's nice...a little scary, but nice. Darcey seems cool. Bridget's a hoot, but her radar must be off because she thought you'd take me back. Sorry I was wrong." She puts her fists on my chest again, but I grab her wrists.

"Let's go back to the stalking part."

"Let's not. Forget I said anything. In fact, forget I came here. I'm sorry I barged in. I-I won't do it again." She tries to move again.

"Jesus, Brenna. Just wait a minute."

Her eyes turn into hot daggers. "Let me go, Finn."

"No. I want to know this guy's name."

"It's not your business. Now, get out of my way. You made it clear you don't want me anymore," she hurls.

"That's the lie of the century. You know damn well I want you," I state.

She huffs. "Yeah, well, you sure have a funny way of showing it. I thought you weren't into games, but I was wrong. Now, move."

"Games? You think this is a game? I can assure you that nothing I've done concerning you is a game, firefly."

She scoffs. "Now you're going to call me firefly? I come in here, telling you I want you, and you reject me, then call me firefly while claiming you don't play games?"

Ugh! It sounds bad when she puts it that way. I sniff hard, staring at her.

"Just let me go." She pushes me again, and I break.

"I can't do this with you, Brenna. Not because I don't want you. Jesus, I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you. But I'm falling apart, acting like a fucking lunatic without you. And I can't go back and forth between times you're okay with my world and times you aren't. It's going to destroy me, and I'm already damaged enough."

She freezes, the only thing moving is her quivering lips.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," I admit, swiping them.

"Why do you think I'm here?" she whispers.

I shake my head. "I don't know. A moment of weakness. A sudden whim thinking you can deal with what I represent. I don't know."

"Why do you get to be the only one who has shit in their life? I'm not perfect."

"It's not the same."

Anger fills her face and tone. "So that's it? You get to tell me what I want? What I need? What I can and can't handle?"

I sigh, stroking her cheek. "What happens the next time I fuck up?"

"What about when I fuck up?"

I stay silent, unsure how to answer her question, wanting only her but trying to do what's right.

Hurt floods her voice, cutting me. "I see I already have when I asked for space. There are no second chances with you, Finn, are there?"

"It's not about that," I claim.

"Isn't it? If I hadn't asked for space to think, we'd have gone out again. We wouldn't be standing here, having this discussion."

There's no denying her statement. It makes me see what kind of a prick I look like in her eyes. In a final attempt, I declare, "I'm trying to protect you."

"From who? You?"

"No. Everything that comes with me."

Her voice shakes but sounds oddly strong. "Then protect me from it. Don't keep me from you."

My heart twists. It's painful, remorse-filled, fearful rotations. "What if I can't, Brenna? What if my world comes crashing down over yours?"

She shakes her head. "It won't."

"What if it does?"

"Then I'll deal with it."

"Why?"

She blinks hard, but a tear falls. She shuts her eyes. "I don't know how or why, but I can't breathe without you. I'm suffocating."

The walls come down. I can't hold back anymore. She stated what I couldn't put into words. So I vow to myself, no matter what, I'll protect her. I'll give her me but never let anyone else harm her. And if they do, their last breath will be my doing.

I slide my hands on her cheeks. "Look at me."

She obeys, pinning her eyebrows together.

"Tell me if we do this, you aren't going to change your mind and run from me. I need your word, Brenna. If you can't give it to me, I understand,

but—"

"I won't change my mind."

The moment the words come out of her mouth, my lips and tongue are on hers, licking, sucking, exploring every part of her I've replayed and obsessed over this past week.

She grips my hair, holding me as close to her as possible, trembling in my arms. Her whimpers fill the alley, making sweet sounds.

I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around me, grinding on my aching cock. I groan then press my forehead against hers. "Come home with me."

She nods then returns to kissing me as if her world begins and ends with me.

I take several steps, reach for the doorknob, then move into the corridor. It's barely a three-foot walk before the stairs start. As I climb them, she grinds harder on me, moans, then mumbles, "Where are we going?"

"Home."

"Convenient," she breathes and reclaims my mouth, owning it, worshiping it, making every part of my body tingle with heat.

"Fuck, firefly, I can't wait to taste you," I murmur, slipping my hand under her cut-off shorts and along her warm skin. I step on the landing and move through the tiny living room and kitchen combo, going straight into the bedroom.

She shudders, her cheeks flush, and her blue eyes light up. "Umm..."

I kiss the curve of her neck then suck on it.

"Oh...umm...oh...Jesus," she moans.

"What's wrong?" I ask, licking behind her ear and sliding a finger into her sex.

"Ah...oh God...I'm...ummm...oh..." She circles her hips on my hand.

I pump my finger in and out of her. "What are you trying to say?"

"Okay. Just stop for a quick minute."

I pause then put my face in front of hers, waiting for her to speak.

The flush in her face deepens. Heavy blue eyes blink as if struggling to focus. "I'm on the pill."

I peck her lips. "It's against my religion but good."

"What?" She furrows her brows.

"I'm Catholic. Aren't you Catholic?"

"Protestant," she says.

"Christ. Don't tell my family that."

She tilts her head. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Your family was on the wrong side of Ireland, firefly."

She stares at me as if I might be crazy. I probably am, but before I marry this woman, and I will marry her, she's going to have to convert. I'll leave that conversation for another time.

She releases her legs so she's standing on the ground, but my finger is still inside her.

I pull it out. "What's wrong?"

She takes a deep breath. "I'm clean. I just had tests done."

I brush the hair off her face. "Okay. Thanks for telling me." I try to return to kissing her, but she moves her head back.

"What about you?"

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I'm clean," I announce.

"When did you get tested last?"

I arch my eyebrows. "You think I have something and would lie to you?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm just asking."

"A month ago during my physical."

"And have you been with anyone since?"

"No. It was before I took the test, then I met you."

"And you really haven't been with anyone else?"

"Why do you sound surprised?" I ask.

She cringes. "I don't know. I guess...well, you're the type of guy who I look at and think you probably have a different woman in your bed every night."

I bust out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"So I'm a male whore?"

She winces. "I didn't say that."

"Didn't you?"

"No. I just...oh, jeez." She covers her face with her hands.

I remove them. "Chill, nurse firefly. You're on the pill. I don't have any diseases, I promise. And as much as I love that you think I'm a male whore, I'm not."

She groans. "That sounds really bad. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I used to be," I tease, but there's some truth to it.

She smothers her laugh.

I kiss her hand then reach into my drawer. I pull a box of condoms out and toss them on the bed. "Those are for later."

She bites her lip and arches an eyebrow. My cock strains against my zipper. She's beautiful, sexy, and so damn innocent. I may not be quite the male whore she imagines I am, but I'm going to service her all night until she's hoarse and exhausted.

I bunch her shirt and pull it over her head. "Spin," I command, circling my finger in the air. She obeys, and I push her hair over one shoulder, then kiss the nape of her neck.

She whimpers and I smile, ready to listen to every sound she can possibly make. I place my lips behind her ear while unfastening her bra. "Do you know what I want?"

"No," she replies in a raspy voice.

I move her straps down and toss her bra across the room so it lands on my chair. "I want to play with these gorgeous tits," I murmur, sliding my hand around her and circling my fingertips over her nipples.

She leans her head against my chest and closes her eyes, sighing.

I pinch her pebbled nipples, and she gasps as her lids fly open. Licking her ear, I continue, "I want to fuck every part of your body, firefly." I unzip her shorts and let them drop to the ground. Sliding my digit over her damp panties, I add, "This pussy is mine. It's for my mouth, my fingers, my dick. No one else's. Understand?"

She takes a shaky breath and nods.

I move my other hand over her ass, dragging a finger over the seam between her cheeks. "Has anyone had all of you?"

She freezes then meets my eyes.

"Yes or no?"

"No," she breathes.

I give her a chaste kiss. "Good. If you want me, you have to take all of me, Brenna. Every depraved, greedy, sinful act I want to experience with you, you're going to allow. And you'll love every minute of it."

She inhales sharply.

I cup her sex. "Now, is this pussy mine, or are you having doubts?"

She leans her head back on my shoulder and rolls her head toward me. "No. Fuck me, Finn. However, you want."

"Oh, my naughty girl. How I've dreamed of you saying that," I confess.

Needy blue flames meet mine, as she rasps, "Then fuck me."

I peck her lips again. "Relax, firefly. No one's watching. Nothing's recording us. No craziness tonight. Just you and me."

"Recording?"

"Yeah. But not tonight."

"You have videos here with other women?"

Shit. "Yes."

Her eyes widen. "Did they know you were recording them?"

"Yep. I'm not that type of bastard."

"Where are they?" she demands.

"Away. Don't worry about it. I don't have anything recording," I assure her.

She squares her shoulders. "Where are they, Finn?"

"In the cabinet under the TV."

She walks over to the TV and opens the door. She pulls out the box of videos.

"Brenna, we aren't watching those."

She spins and shoves the box in my arms. "No shit, Sherlock. Toss them. Now."

"Don't be mad—"

"I'm not mad. You're going down to the dumpster and throwing them out. If you're going to watch anyone, it's going to be me, not your ex-girlfriends, one-nighters, or whoever they are," she states.

Fair enough. I've had no desire to look at any of them since meeting her anyway. I agree, "All right, I'll take them to the trash now."

"Where are the cameras, Finn?"

I open the cabinet door on the desk's hutch that sits across from the bed, remove the pictures on the opposite walls, and stand on the bed, reach up, and pull the shutter off the lens hidden by the light fixture.

Brenna gapes. "Four?"

"It's a hobby," I state.

"A hobby?"

I grin. "Yep."

"I didn't know shooting homemade porn was a hobby." She smirks.

I shrug but feel the arrogance on my face. "I'm into video editing."

She bites on that damn lip of hers, and I can't tell what she's thinking. Her eyes dart between the four cameras, sending my dick into a frenzy. Since I met her, I've thought about filming her...filming us. But it's too soon.

"They aren't on. Go ahead and inspect them," I assure her, hoping this doesn't make her run or not feel comfortable enough to stay over tonight.

She demands, "Turn them on."

"What?"

Her voice becomes stronger. "I said, turn them on."

I stay frozen, not sure I'm hearing her right. She's innocent. I didn't expect to get her to agree to this until much later in our relationship. The thought of recording our first time together makes my erection turn to steel. I ask, "Have you done this before?"

"No. I wouldn't let him," she admits.

Him. Is it the almost fiancé or another guy? I push my curiosity away. It doesn't matter. She didn't let him but is willing to let me.

"You don't want to record us?" she asks in a hurt voice.

I grunt. "That's not it at all."

"Then why aren't you turning them on?"

I balance the box under my arm and slide my hand around her head. I tug her head back, and she gasps. "You sure, firefly? Once they're on, I'm not turning them off."

"Yes. Why are you hesitating?" Her expression spirals into a mix of hurt and shame. "Is it me? Am I not like the women you normally record?"

"You're not like any of those women. You're a thousand times sexier, turn me on more than you could ever imagine, and have me so fucking hard at the thought of recording you, my balls ache." I kiss her cheek then put my face over hers. "I only hesitate because I don't want you to think you have to do something tonight you aren't ready for. I'm fine easing you into things."

"I don't want to be eased into things. So turn the cameras on, toss those in the trash, and don't hold back. But there is no other woman in this apartment or your life besides me. Are we clear?"

Christ, she's my dream woman.

I smile and kiss her hard. "I wouldn't have it any other way, firefly."

7

Brenna

FINN TURNS on all the cameras. I intently watch where they all are. He kisses me again then takes his box of past women porn to the dumpster. I go to the window and watch him toss them in. He shuts the dumpster's lid when a man steps out into the alley and pulls him aside.

My nerves kick off as I glance at each camera hidden from view, unless you're searching for them.

Dirty boy.

Am I really going to do this?

Brad wanted to tape us, and I said no. I always looked around his place before we had sex to make sure he didn't have any cameras hidden. Why does the thought of making a video with Finn turn me on, when it was the opposite with Brad?

Several minutes pass, and I return to the window. The man returns inside the pub. Finn glances up at me and holds up two fingers, as if to tell me he'll only be two minutes, before he follows the man.

I pace for a minute then stop, reminding myself the cameras are on.

Should I?

After I contemplate for a few minutes, I go into the bathroom, fluff up my hair, and give myself a pep talk. Then I return to the room and lie on his bed.

I stare at the camera in the desk hutch then gaze up at the one directly over me. My nerves accelerate into a dangerous zone of what-ifs.

What if I look stupid?

What if I'm not as hot as those other women on camera?

What if Finn's too experienced for me and I disappoint him?

The door slams shut, and the sound of water hits my ears. I hold my breath until Finn enters the room. He pauses, leans against the doorway, and studies me. His eyes linger over my naked breasts and pussy, his eyes growing hotter the longer he assesses me.

I squirm and blow out a nervous breath.

Why did I agree to do this?

I'm going to look stupid.

"Turn over on your knees, hands stretched toward the headboard, firefly," he commands.

I take a deep breath and obey, reaching for the headboard and gripping the bars. Music fills the room. It's low, just enough to hear, but not so overbearing I can't hear him whisper in my ear. I don't know what it is. I've never heard it before, but it has a club-like beat and screams it's time to grind your bodies together and have dirty sex.

Not that I've ever had dirty sex.

He cuts the lights and darkness fills the room, leaving shadows flickering against the headboard.

The mattress shifts from his weight. I hold my breath, unsure what he'll do, desire pooling around me. "Fuck," he mutters then drags his knuckles down my spine.

I shudder as he palms my ass cheeks.

Oh God. Is he going to take me there first?

What am I doing? I'm not experienced enough for a guy like Finn.

His tongue hits the top of my ass. He drags it up my spine, and I moan from the zings exploding in my core. His body hovers over mine, warm, hard, so delicious, I could stay in this spot forever. He slides his hands up my arms until they cover my fists. Tingles burst on my neck from his hot breath. He murmurs, "You're a good girl, obeying me."

I turn my face toward him, not expecting to see the intensity of his green eyes, smoldering so hot, I forget about all my insecurities.

"Have you submitted before?"

Have I? "I-I...no. I don't think so?" I shake my head, not even sure what submit fully means.

His lips curve, and he kisses me, flicking his tongue in my mouth like a hurricane out of control. My pussy clenches, and I arch my back, my ass grinding into his cock.

He groans and retreats, taking a few breaths. "Do you trust me?"

I blurt out, "Yes. Do you trust me?"

He pecks me on the lips. "You wouldn't know what you know if I didn't."

I smile, happy at his answer, and I believe him. I lean forward for his lips, but he doesn't allow me to kiss him.

He stares at me as if waiting to see my reaction. "Just do what I say, firefly. Don't think. Turn off your brain and don't question anything."

The anticipation crackles around us, electrifying my skin. Any notions of what I thought this moment would be like are insignificant. I've never felt so desperate to be with a man. Sex has always been something that happens, and it's okay, but nothing about Finn is average.

He's raw, uncut heroin—a dangerous, unpredictable, bad boy of inked muscle. There's never been anyone like him. Something tells me there never will be anyone else.

Two fingers slide into my heat, scissoring and stretching my walls, creating sensations so intense, I whimper, "Oh God!"

He licks my ear, sucking on my lobe as I continue to writhe under him. "Do you know what your cunt tastes like, firefly?"

Heat cyclones through me until I feel like I'm going to pop out in a sweat. I close my eyes. "No."

His fingers spread wider, curl, then spread again as he repeats it. "Have you thought about my mouth on it? Eating you? Sucking you? Fucking these tight walls with my tongue?"

"Oh God," I breathe.

His other hand moves to my clit, strumming it with perfection.

"Finn!" I blink several times, seeing white, already on the edge of coming.

"Look at me," he growls.

I turn my head, gripping the headboard tighter, and he lowers his lips to my shoulder. "Don't move. Keep your eyes open." His hands work me faster, and I lose it.

"Fi-oh...oh!" I cry out as my eyes roll and my body erupts in scorching adrenaline.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful," he murmurs then commands, "Let go of the bars."

The moment I do, he flips me over as if I weigh nothing. His naked body hovers over mine, his erect cock pressing on my mound, his tongue darting out of his mouth and licking mine. I slide my arms around him, arching my back to take him, but he presses my hip to the bed. "Not yet."

"Please," I whisper, desperate to finally have him inside me.

His lips tickle my ear. "Relax, firefly." He gracefully slides down my body, his muscles teasing my puckered nipples until he outlines one with his tongue.

My ragged breath fills the room. I stare at the ceiling, remembering there's a camera, and tense up.

He lunges toward my face. "Forget it's there."

"Sorry."

He shakes his head. "No sorries." His lips devour me until I'm fully relaxed. The moment he pulls back, I glance at the ceiling.

"If you can't forget it, then own it."

"Own it?"

His lips twitch. "Yeah. You're hot as fuck. So be my little porn star."

I laugh.

"Should I turn them off?" he asks.

"You said once they're on, they're on," I remind him.

He pecks me on the lips. "I'll turn them off for you."

My belly flutters, but I shake my head. If those other women could do it, so can I. "No. I want to do this."

He doesn't look convinced. "You sure?"

I take a deep breath. "Yeah."

He pauses then strokes my cheek. "You're gorgeous, firefly. Perfect beyond measure. And I want to capture every time you moan, or tremble, or roll those pretty blue eyes. But if you aren't going to enjoy this, I'm turning them off."

"Are you going to show me after?"

"No. I'll show you after I edit it. Then we'll watch it together."

"Will it be strange?"

He drags his finger across my jaw. "With you? No. It'll be a work of art." Mischief fills his expression. "And it'll make you wet. You'll want to fuck me some more."

My face heats, and I stifle another laugh. I resolve to dig into my inner freak.

"What's it going to be? On or off?" he asks, but I see the challenge in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

A part of me wants to give in to my insecurities, yet the other wants to do whatever I can to make him happy. He's into it, so why not?

"Make me into your porn star," I bravely reply.

He grins, but then his face turns serious, his intense green eyes diving into every deep part of me. "I don't want you to be a porn star. I want you to be you. Nothing fake. Just the real you, Brenna."

His statement makes me realize I have nothing to fear. I may not know Finn well, but my heart tells me he'd never harm me in any way, including this. I lace my fingers in his hair and kiss him, mumbling, "Stop talking."

A fiery need for domination and submission burns in our kiss. I didn't know what he meant when he asked if I had ever submitted before. Yet, I feel the shift. I let go of every insecurity, every voice telling me I might not live up to his expectations or turn him on in the video like the other women did, and engross myself in every touch, every sound, every intense way only he's ever made me feel.

He never rushes. His mouth and hands explore my breast, teasing sensations in me until sweat pops out on my skin. From time to time, his eyes study me as his mouth continues bathing me in pleasure.

His hot breath creates tingles on my torso. He runs his fingers down the curves of my waist, and I shudder. He smirks then widens my thighs, dragging his knuckles over my clit.

I arch off the bed.

"That's my firefly," he growls, sitting back on his knees and stroking my inner thighs.

"Oh," I moan, sure I've stained his bedspread.

He palms his cock, and for the first time, I stare at the length and girth of a monster, erect as steel, complete with a pulsing vein. My mouth goes dry, and my insides quiver. I thought I had been with men before, but I hadn't. They were boys compared to Finn, and I'm unsure how he'll fit.

The ink on his torso is pure art. It covers his one arm, pecs, and the side of his waist. More Celtic symbols, roses, snakes, eagles, and bones cover his body.

I focus on the tattoo on the hand he's dragging along my thigh. It's a snake wrapped around a hand, but the hand is just bones. It's brilliant and looks real, as if his hand is only a skeleton and the snake is alive.

My dangerous bad boy continues taunting me, peering with heavy breaths at my glistening sex. He pushes my thighs even wider. His deep, delicious voice goes right to my core. "You'r pussy's gorgeous, firefly. Lift your hips."

I obey, hoist my ass off the bed with my legs spread open, and hold my breath, waiting to see what he'll do.

Approval fills his face. He caresses my thighs for a moment then dips down and inhales deeply before flicking his tongue on my clit.

"Oh hell!" I cry out.

"Fuuuck," he groans.

He pushes my body back on the mattress then presses his palms on my thighs, moving along my skin until he's stroking from my entrance to my clit. It's a glorious, agonizing punishment. He penetrates me with both thumbs, swiping my insides like windshield wipers on a misty day.

"Finn! Oh...oh...more!" I demand.

The music changes to a faster tune. It hums in the background, still barely audible, easily drowned out by my cries.

"You get more when I decide it's time," he asserts, keeping his thumbs at the same speed.

My head spins from sensory overload. I turn into a beggar with no shame or self-consciousness. "Please. I need more."

"What do you need more of, firefly? My cock? My mouth? My entire fist that could slide inside you to split you in two?"

I groan, on board with whatever option he chooses. I barely get out, "Any."

He pins me with his cockiness, turning me wetter, then breathes fire on my thighs.

"Jesus," I whisper. I thought I couldn't have any more tingles racing to my pussy, but I was wrong...so extremely ignorant of the extra zings Finn's breath creates, right before his mouth sucks on my thighs to the point I know I'll have marks. It's as close to my sex as he can get and his stubble grazes my wet folds.

It's borderline painful, twisted with pleasure. Then his tongue and teeth swipe over my sensitive skin. I clench my thighs against his cheeks, bucking my ass in the air, crying out, "More. Please."

Pinning his arrogant green orbs on mine, he repositions my thighs wide. I struggle to take full breaths, desperate for his mouth, the uncomfortable, self-conscious feeling I always have whenever anyone's been this close to my pussy nowhere in sight.

He lazily laps his tongue over my throbbing bundle of nerves then pauses, drilling his virility at me. "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours," I say with zero hesitation.

"That's right. Mine. If any other man ever tries to touch you again, I'll kill him, Brenna."

My pulse races faster. A statement so certain as this should bother me. It doesn't, though, and I realize I must be as crazy as Finn. Instead of turning me off, it pulses through my core, giving me a twisted, dark satisfaction I didn't know existed within me.

I reach for his head and tug him to my bare skin, demanding, "More. Show me how you own me."

A loud, vibrating groan ricochets out of his chest, overpowering the music. He kisses my clit then makes my head spin until I think it's going to combust. Fingers, tongue, teeth, and lips manipulate me from one high to the next. I never know what will be where as he expertly repositions himself in and out of me. Every time I start to fade, he shoots another dose of endorphins into my veins.

The blanket underneath me is damp from my sweat. I writhe on it, grinding my sex like a dog in heat, not wanting this to ever end, crying out until I lose my voice.

That's when he comes up for air, pouncing on me, shoving his orgasm-filled tongue in my mouth, claiming me all over again.

He presses my thigh to my chest and takes me in one thrust.

I arch off the bed, crying out his name.

He doesn't still. He swipes the wet hair off my forehead and thrusts harder, filling me, stretching me, making me see white stars all over again. "Mine," he growls in my ear, as if I could somehow forget it.

I dig my nails into his shoulders. The tip of his erection slams deep inside me, and I come unglued in an entirely new way, my body erupting in violent spasms.

"That's it, firefly."

He thrusts through my orgasm then flips on his back, taking me with him. His hand slides on my cheek, and he kisses me. Hungry. Filthy. Demanding. Through it all, I whimper, unable to stop the buzzing in all my cells.

He fists my hair, tugging my head back, sucking on the spot where he marked me earlier.

"Finn," I croak, my voice barely audible.

He pushes my shoulder until I'm straddling him straight up. He growls, "Ride me, firefly. Show me how your tasty pussy takes me."

His filthy orders make my cheeks scorch, but my pussy clenches his cock, loving every word he selects.

I ride him, slowly at first, trying to catch my bearings, watching his intense expression study me.

He palms my breast, pinching my nipple, and I moan. His tongue darts pasts his lips, slowly circling them. "Fucking perfect tits. Put your head back."

I do it without question. My hair touches my ass as his thumb plays with my clit. I close my eyes, moaning, "Ohhhhh."

"Eyes open," he demands, somehow knowing.

Another orgasm destroys me, and I open my eyes before they roll.

He wraps his hand around my neck and repositions me until I'm facing him again. A drop of sweat rolls down his cheek. His chest heaves, and his ink comes to life with every breath he takes. He grips my hip and growls, "Ride me hard."

Before I can obey, he's thrusting into me, controlling my body. His grip bites into my hip. His fingers stay curved on my neck, keeping my focus locked on him. I meet every thrust with equal need, circling my hips as if my life depended on it.

He presses his face in my cleavage, letting my breasts bounce around his cheeks. Sweet kisses and feral licks tickle my sweat-coated skin. The sound of his mumbled obscenities merge with the song, as if they're a part of it.

"Finn! I'm...coming...oh!" I scream as another orgasm rips through me.

He thrusts faster, then, when my ability to hold myself up fails, he slides me off him, jumping to the floor. It's fast, and before I can breathe, he yanks me to the edge of the bed. He positions my legs against his torso, wraps his arm around my calves, then resumes fucking me.

Harder. Faster. Deeper.

Every thrust is that of an animal. Hungry. Unfed. Ready to consume its prey until there's nothing left while watching my every expression.

His cheeks redden, and I see the fighter in him. The boxer and beast who'll stop at nothing to conquer and take what's his.

He lowers his hand, pinching and circling my sensitive nerves, unstitching every last thread that's barely hanging on. I don't see his face when he comes. I only feel his balls slapping against my ass, hear his deep, throaty groan, and see a blurry canvas of white light and stars.

Then my walls get stretched, farther than I could anticipate, and the friction of his erection pumping deep within me almost makes me black out. "Fuuuuck, firefly," he grunts, continuing to pound through his high.

When it's over, my vision comes back into focus. The low music and heavy breathing are all I hear. Finn's chest rises and falls quickly, and his intense gaze never flinches.

My insecurities come back, not sure what he's thinking. What if it wasn't as good for him as it was for me?

He finally releases me and sits against the headboard then tugs me into his arms. His dexterous fingers tuck my drenched locks behind my ear. He presses his forehead to mine, still struggling for oxygen. His grin makes me melt some more. "Perfection, firefly. Pure, sweet, carnal perfection."

8

Finn

"FIREFLY, TIME TO WAKE UP," I murmur in Brenna's ear.

She stirs, blinking her baby blues, and when she sees me, a smile grows on her face. "What time is it?"

"Five."

She stretches her arms then slides her fingers through the side of my hair. "You smell nice."

"Already showered."

"Did you sleep?"

"Enough." I don't tell her I stared at her all night, watching every breath she took as she slept. But it's not a lie. I feel refreshed, like she injected life into me.

She's mine.

I tug her on top of me, kiss her on the lips, then cop of a feel of her ass, squeezing it with both hands. "We better go so you aren't late for school."

She groans. "Maybe I should skip it."

"Don't tempt me. Come on. I'm not going to be the cause of you losing your dream." I roll her off me, rise, then reach for her hands.

She lets me help her up. I find her clothes, and she dresses. When we get into the car, I ask, "Do you drink coffee?"

"Yes."

"When you get to your place, why don't you get ready, and I'll grab some from the coffee shop around the corner. Then I'll drive you to the hospital."

A sweet smile fills her face. "You don't have to wait around. I feel bad."

"Don't. It's not a big deal."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Thanks."

I pull out on the main road and slide my hand between her thighs. "What are you doing tonight?"

She squirms. It's slight, but I don't miss it. My cock twitches like it hasn't been fed several times in the last twelve hours. Everything about Brenna turns me on to a deeper degree than I'm used to. I stroke my thumb a few inches from her sex, and her heat penetrates it.

She replies, "I don't have any plans."

"I have tickets to Eminem. Do you want to go?"

She gapes at me. "For real?"

I chuckle. "Yep. They might be front row VIP ones."

"You're serious?" she shrieks, turning in her seat.

My grin hurts my cheeks. "You're a fan?"

"Duh! How did you get tickets? They sold out in minutes!"

"I know people. Anyway, Sean and Bridget are going. Are you in?"

She claps. "Yes!"

"Great. We're tailgating before. Can you pack a bag and change after your shift? I'll pick you up at the hospital?" I ask.

"Sure."

I park in front of her building, and we get out. I start to walk her to her unit, but she pushes me away. "You don't have to walk me up."

I grunt. I'm an O'Malley. It's not in my nature not to walk her to her door. "No worries, firefly."

"I thought you were getting coffee?"

"I am, after I drop you off at your door. How do you drink your coffee?"

She rolls her eyes, and we get into the elevator. "Cream and two sugars. What do you put in yours?"

"Nothing. I drink it black."

She laughs. "Of course. Dumb question."

"Am I that predictable?" The doors open, and we step into her hallway.

"Black coffee is what tough guys drink. You're a badass, so..."

My ego inflates. I spin her against her door, cage my body around hers, and put her hands above her head. She gasps, tilting her head up. I kiss her until I'm hard then murmur, "Make sure you pack whatever you want for my place tonight."

Her lips twitch. "I don't work tomorrow. It's Saturday."

"Good. We can sleep in. When you wake up, I can suck your sweet pussy before breakfast."

Her face lights up, glowing like a firefly. I give her a chaste kiss then step back. "Get ready. I'll get the coffee."

She salutes me, and I pat her ass as she walks into her unit. I take the stairs two at a time, feeling like I'm floating on air. Within minutes, I'm at the coffee shop.

I order two coffees, fix hers how she likes it, and buy her a blueberry muffin. I don't know if she ate dinner last night, and she has to be starving after all we did. I should have cooked her breakfast, but I wasn't prepared and didn't have anything of substance in my place. I could have gone downstairs into the pub, but that would have required me leaving her.

I hoof it back to her building and take the stairwell. When I get to her floor, some prick in khaki shorts and a polo shirt stands in front of her door. Red flags rise before I hear Brenna state, "I told you we're through. And that wasn't cool what you did with my mom. Stay away from me and my family, Brad."

He crosses his arms. "What wasn't cool was what you did before dinner last night."

Dinner last night? What's he talking about?

"Stop harassing me! It's over!" Brenna tries to shut the door, but he puts his body in the doorframe.

I set the coffee and muffin bag down, take four steps, yank him by his uppity shirt, then push him against the wall.

Brenna screams, and Brad's eyes turn wide. He flinches at first then attempts to push me back.

But I'm stronger than him and am trained to fight. So I squeeze his throat and keep him pinned to the wall. I seethe, "She said to leave her alone. If I see you around Brenna again, my hand is going to keep squeezing until there's no air left in your lungs."

"Finn!" Brenna shouts.

He chokes, turning purple.

"Finn!" Brenna cries out again.

I release his throat and drag him to the elevator. I slam my fist on the button and the door opens. I push him in and hold the doors from shutting.

He's still gasping for air. His fists shake at his sides.

I bark, "I mean it. You come within her eyesight, and I'll pummel you six feet under." I push the lobby button, step back for the doors to close, and take too many breaths trying to calm down.

Minutes pass before Brenna puts her hand on my back. She quietly says, "Finn."

I spin. "Did you have dinner with him last night?"

Her eyes widen. "No!"

"Then why did he make it sound like you did?"

"My mom invited him over. I didn't know. I-I left before he got there. I swear. My dad dropped me off at your pub."

"Why would your mother invite him to dinner if it's over between you two?" I ask, my rage burning at the thought that Brenna might still be into him.

Did she sleep with me but might still get back with him?

Is that why she needed space? Was he still an option she was considering?

Her trembling hands cup my cheeks. "Finn. I told you, my mother..." She closes her eyes, and pain fills her expression. When she finally pins her gaze on mine, her eyes haunt me. "I don't want him. She won't drop it, and he won't leave me alone."

"What's his name?"

She winces. "You can't go after Brad. His father's a judge. He runs the entire city. I-I'm afraid you're going to end up in jail for what you just did to him."

Anger digs into my bones. I shake my head. "Listen to me, Brenna. No one is going to harass you. And I don't care who his father is, so tell me his last name."

Conflict fills her expression. Her lips quiver. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Th-they aren't just anyone, Finn."

"Neither am I. Now, tell me his last name," I bark.

Her voice cracks. "Peterson."

I pull her into me and kiss the top of her head then murmur, "If you see him anywhere near you, I want to know. Don't hide this from me, firefly."

She trembles in my arms, and I realize how scared she is. It only makes me want to hang the bastard by his balls and stretch out his death.

I tilt her chin up. "Are you okay to go to school?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Okay." I give her a quick kiss on the lips. "Did you pack your bag?"

"Yes. I'm ready to go."

"Okay. Let's go." I lead her into the apartment, sling her overnight bag over my shoulder, then pick up the coffee and muffin bag. "I thought you might be hungry."

She smiles and takes it. "Thanks. I am."

I grab my coffee off the floor then lead her through the building. She tears a piece of the muffin off and holds it to my lips. "Have a bite."

I eat it and wink, but my gut is still spinning with rage. I watch her take a bite and tell myself to calm down. She's not hurt, and I'm going to handle this asshole.

We step outside, and I glance around, double-checking he's not in sight. I open the car door for her and she gets in. Scanning the street one more time, I slide in the driver's seat and turn on the engine.

"What does he drive, Brenna?"

"He just got a brand-new Audi."

I snort. "Figures. Daddy has deep pockets, doesn't he?"

"Yep. Most of the time, his driver takes him around the city," she adds.

We don't say much more, and when I pull up to the hospital, she turns in the seat. She puts her hand on my arm. "Finn, don't do anything that's going to get you in trouble, okay? I mean it about his father. I've seen Brad get out of all kinds of trouble without even lifting an eyebrow."

"Don't worry about this, firefly. I know what I'm doing."

"But—"

I cover her lips with my fingers. "All I need to know is that it's over between you two."

"Have I not been clear? I want nothing to do with him. I only want you."

Relief fills me. I kiss her. "Good answer. Is your shift over at three again?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll pick you up then." I get out of the car and go around and open her door. I reach in for her, helping her out. Then I sling her bag over my shoulder. I lead her into the lobby and give her a chaste kiss. "Have a good day, firefly."

She smiles, but it's nervous. "Promise me you won't do anything crazy?"

I shift on my feet.

"Finn!"

"Don't make me promise you things I might not be able to deliver. If I find him near you, he's dead."

She sighs. "But you won't go after him while I'm at work?"

Since I'm going to research everything I can about this bastard, I tell her what she wants to hear. "I promise you I'm not going to do anything while you're at work today."

She sighs in relief. "Good." She rises on her tiptoes, kisses me, then asks, "So I'll see you at three, and I should be ready for the concert?"

I palm her ass. "Yeah, firefly. It's you, me, and Eminem tonight."

Her lips twitch. "And Sean and Bridget."

I grin. "God save us."

She laughs. "Okay. I'll see you later." She takes her bag and walks away.

When I can't see her anymore, I leave. I drive directly to my uncle Darragh's house. I ring the doorbell, and my auntie Ruth answers.

"Finn! What are you doing here so early?"

"Sorry, Auntie Ruth. Is Uncle Darragh home?"

She smiles. "You know better than to say sorry. Come on in." She steps back.

I enter and hug her. "You're dressed nice today." She has on a summer dress and matching shoes.

"Thanks. Mary Kelly is picking me up in a few minutes. We're going to church, then to a committee meeting for the fundraiser, and a luncheon after.

I try not to roll my eyes. Auntie Ruth is the most religious person I know. She goes to church every day and confession weekly. But I have no idea what she asks for forgiveness for since she doesn't seem to do anything wrong. "That sounds interesting."

"Did you have breakfast? Darragh's finishing up his eggs."

"I'm good. Can I go through?"

She nods. "Sure." A car pulls in the driveway. "Oh. That's Mary Kelly. Gotta run. Bye, Finn." She strolls to the vehicle. Once she's inside, I shut the door and go into the kitchen.

Uncle Darragh's plate is empty. It's yellowed from yolk, pushed off to the side, and he's reading the newspaper while smoking his pipe. I turn a chair around backward and sit in it.

He looks up. "Finn. What's going on?"

"I need information on a judge and his son."

Darragh lifts his eyebrows and sits back in his chair. "What judge and why?"

"Judge Peterson. Do you know him?"

Darragh takes a long drag off his pipe then slowly releases it. "We haven't had him in court before, but I'm aware of him. Why?"

My gut clenches. "His son is harassing my woman."

Darragh's eyes widen slightly. "Didn't know you had a new lass. Sorry, it's hard to keep track of all you lads."

"She's not just any lass," I state.

Darragh studies me then takes another hit from his pipe. "What's her name?"

"Brenna Doyle."

"She's Irish?"

I nod, refraining from telling him she's got English in her and isn't Catholic. "He showed up at her apartment today. I tossed him out and threatened him, but Brenna swears his dad has unlimited power. She seemed scared for me to go after him."

Darragh scratches his head. "Judge Peterson is one of the most influential judges in Chicago. You picked the wrong judge to mess with."

"So I'm supposed to let his son stalk my woman?" I growl.

Darragh motions with his hands. "Easy. I didn't say that. I meant, you're going to have to watch your back. I guarantee you, if this kid always has daddy cleaning up his messes, he's already told him about whatever happened today."

"I want him dead," I declare.

Darragh puts his pipe on the table. "Taking out Judge Peterson's son isn't going to be cut and dry. He's got eyes everywhere in this city. My guess is his son is no different. A man like that keeps tabs on everyone, especially if they're causing problems he needs to cover up."

"So I'm supposed to let him get away with it?" I angrily hurl.

"No. You're supposed to see what his next move is and play it smart. Don't go looking for trouble. You might have just scared him away from your encounter this morning. Lie low, enjoy your new lass, and see if he pursues this. If he does, let's talk again," Darragh instructs.

"That's horrible advice."

He leans forward, and his voice turns cold. "It's not advice, Finn. It's an order. You don't make any moves on Judge Peterson's son that I don't approve of. With the recent O'Malley splash in the papers, we don't need any more spotlights right now. Do I make myself clear?"

I scowl.

Darragh picks up his pipe and holds his lighter in his hand. "You got anything else you need to talk about?"

"No," I grumble, pissed off at myself for coming to him. Now I'm under orders, and disobeying Darragh isn't in my blood.

"You want some breakfast? There's more in the pan on the stove."

I rise. "No, thanks. See you later." I storm out of the kitchen and bump into my cousin, Liam. He's kissing his girlfriend, Megan, right in front of the door.

I clear my throat, and Megan jumps. Liam gives me a cocky glance. "Finn. I didn't know you were here."

"Had to talk to your dad. Sorry to interrupt."

Megan gives me a big smile, batting her eyelashes. "No problem."

I don't know why, but something about that girl bugs me. Liam's crazy about her, so I bite my tongue.

"I need to go." I shove past them outside then jump in the Camaro. Pissed off, I drive way too fast, weaving in and out of morning traffic. When I get to my apartment, I go in and pace, not happy about Darragh's orders.

I'm pulling my hair out about what to do when the camera catches my eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the footage from the four cameras, download it to my computer, then upload it to my editing software. A few years ago, I taught myself how to edit after I made my first video with my girlfriend at the time. It was a necessity since I wasn't about to share my footage with anyone. Now, I'm grateful I took the time to master it.

The moment Brenna appears on the screen, I hold my breath. She's stunning, but on film, glowing in the candlelight, she's a piece of rare art.

I watch all of it—every second of the different angles mesmerizes me. I make notes on the different feeds, studying each one like I wasn't in the room while we filmed it.

Hours pass. I lose track of time until Sean shouts, "Finn!"

I turn off the screen and go out into the other room. "What's up?"

He grins. "Are you wearing that?" He points to my track bottoms and T-shirt I threw on to take Brenna to school.

"Shit. No. What time is it?"

"Two thirty. Bridget wants to know if you have bug spray. She can't find hers, and I'm out."

I open my cabinet and toss it to him. "Let me change. We need to leave in ten minutes. Brenna's shift at the hospital is over at three."

Sean crosses his arms and smirks. "Heard she came into the pub. Bridget said you dragged her to the alley."

I ignore him. "Tell Bridget to be ready, and I'm not in the mood for her fashionably late excuse today."

Sean snorts. "I'll tell her. But you know how she is."

"I mean it. I'm not arriving to get Brenna late. And grab some Captain and Coke. I'll see you in a few." I go into my room, put all the evidence of the footage away, and shower. I get dressed and spray cologne on my neck.

When I get to the back alley, Bridget's sitting on the hood of my Camaro. Sean's leaning over her, dragging a finger through her cleavage. She giggles.

I groan. "Get a room."

Sean turns his head. "Much better attire."

I open the car door and push the seat forward. "Time to go."

Sean helps Bridget off the hood, and she gets in the backseat. I pop the trunk. Sean and I stuff the cooler and bags sitting next to the car inside it. He gets in the front, and I slide into the driver's seat.

Bridget slides forward and puts her hand on my shoulders. She smirks, "So you and Brenna worked things out?"

"Is this your business?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm glad. I like her. She's way better than Megan."

Sean groans. "Megan's so annoying."

"Yeah. Liam can do so much better," Bridget states.

I turn on the car and pull out of the alley, still biting my tongue about Megan. If Liam loves her, then I'm not going to express my opinion.

"So you had a good night then?" Bridget wiggles her eyebrows.

As cool as I want to stay, I can't. My grin overpowers my face. I put on my shades and turn onto the main road.

"What does Brenna do?" Sean asks.

"She's in her last year of school, doing her nursing rounds," I say, unable to hide the pride in my voice.

Sean whistles then glances at Bridget, licking his lips. "You'd look hot in a nursing outfit." She giggles, and he turns to me, arching his eyebrow. "Brenna have any extra uniforms lying around?"

9

Brenna

FINN'S STANDING against the same wall as the day he found me. I rush over to him. "I'm sorry I'm so late! My instructor stopped me in the hall."

He tugs my hair back and leans over me. "Not a problem, firefly. How was your day?" He scans my face.

My heart skips a beat as desire pools between my legs. He has the intensity in his green eyes he always has when he looks at me. Every time I see it, it's like I can feel how much he wants me. I reply, "It was fine. I'm excited to go."

He grins and tugs me closer. "You look hot."

I smirk. "In my cut-off shorts and tank top?"

He glances at my cleavage, then his smoldering eyes drill into mine. "Super hot."

I lace my fingers through his hair and pull his mouth to mine, eagerly sliding my tongue against his, happy to be back in his arms.

He squeezes my ass. "We should go. Save more of those for me later." He winks and starts guiding me out of the hospital.

"You look great," I say. His jeans hug his ass perfectly. The white T-shirt fits his ripped upper body as if it were made for him, showcasing a lot of his ink. I inhale his scent, deciding I've never smelled anything as good as him.

He tugs me tighter to his hip. "As long as you approve, firefly."

Instead of his car being in the parking garage, it's at the curb. A man, who I assume is Sean, stands with Bridget outside the Camaro. She's leaning against it, engrossed in a heavy make-out session with him.

"Time to go," Finn barks.

Sean cockily glances at us but doesn't remove his hands from her jean shorts pockets. Bridget's face is flushed. She grins. "So glad you two figured your shit out."

Finn groans. "You're such a pain in my ass, Bridget," he claims, but he's smiling.

"Hey, it's not often I get to hang out with another girl in this family. And Liam was trying to get you to sell him your tickets. As moody as you've been, I was worried you were going to. I would have had to hang out with Megan all night." Bridget wrinkles her nose.

"I would have saved you, baby. Taken you to a dark corner." Sean arrogantly smiles.

Finn opens the door. "Brenna, meet Sean. Come on. Everyone in."

Finn pats my ass as I get in the backseat with Bridget. Tingles explode on my cheek, going straight to my pussy. He slides in and glances at me in the rearview mirror. "You have enough room back there?"

"I'm good. Thanks."

Bridget slides her arm around my shoulders and lowers her voice. "Do you have any extra uniforms?"

"Scrubs?"

"Eww. No. A white nurse outfit. Or maybe a sexy candy striper one?"

"Sorry. No one wears those anymore. It's only super unsexy scrubs for me," I admit.

She groans then leans forward and glides her arms around Sean's chest. "Sorry, baby. Brenna said they don't wear those outfits anymore, only scrubs."

Sean snaps his head toward me, his eyes widen. "Seriously? What's the point of being a nurse?"

"Umm..."

Finn slaps Sean's head. "She isn't becoming a nurse for the clothes, dumbass."

I bite on my laugh and turn. "Bridget, what are you studying? I didn't get to ask you last night."

She feigns a yawn. "Business."

"Really? Wow."

She snorts. "Nothing is exciting about it. My father insisted I pick something."

"You don't want to use your degree?"

She shrugs. "Not really."

"You should rephrase that," Sean says.

"To?" she asks.

"Tell her what you want to do, lass. It sounds like you don't have any ambition, and that's not true."

Her face flushes.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter. My father will never allow it," she says in a defeated voice.

Sean grunts. "Yeah, but I'll let you, baby. Hell, I'll build it for you." He grabs her hand that's still on his shoulder and kisses it.

She smiles at him. They both look like they're each other's entire world. I've seen people who claim to be in love before, but I've never seen anyone radiate what Sean and Bridget do.

"Tell Brenna what you want to do, Bridget," Finn orders.

She looks at me. "I want to have a daycare. And all our kids can go there instead of being sent somewhere else while we work."

"You'll fill it with O'Malleys before the doors even open," Finn claims.

I tilt my head, smiling. "That's awesome! You must love kids."

Her face lights up. "I do."

"She's going to have a dozen of my babies, aren't you, Bridge?" Sean kisses her hand again.

Her face turns red. She softly says, "Yeah."

Finn pulls into a huge parking lot for the outdoor arena. He stops and flashes his parking pass. The attendant lifts the cones, and Finn revs his engine as he drives through. We get to the front of the lot, near the entrance, and he parks.

A party is already going on. Music plays everywhere, with different Eminem songs blaring through the air. Card tables, tents, and lawn chairs are scattered near people's vehicles, along with coolers and displays of food.

Sean sets up chairs, and Finn makes drinks. He hands me a Captain and Coke and another drink for Bridget.

"Thanks. What are you drinking?" I ask Bridget.

"Whiskey. I'm Irish," she says with pride.

I bite on my smile, amused by how loyal they are to their roots. My family never really celebrated our heritage. We claimed we were Irish on St. Patrick's Day but so does almost every Chicagoan as an excuse to party.

Finn hands Sean a beer and takes one for himself. Bridget digs into the bag, pulls shot glasses out, and sets them on the hood of the car. She takes the fifth of whiskey and pours shots then passes them out. "Time to teach Brenna how to be Irish."

"I'm Irish!" I claim.

Finn slings his arm around me. He says in a teasing tone, "Yeah. Doyle's her last name. She's Irish."

I turn to him. "Are you insinuating I'm not Irish enough?"

"Not at all," he states, taking a swig of his beer.

"Name one thing about Ireland," Sean says.

I rack my brain. The truth is, I know barely anything about Ireland. I finally say, "It's really green."

Sean groans, and Finn chuckles. Bridget holds up her shot glass. "To Ireland's greenness."

I clink their glasses and we toss back the shots. The whiskey burns my throat, all the way to my stomach. I put my hand over my mouth so it doesn't come back up.

Finn rubs my back. "You okay, firefly?"

"Ugh! That's disgusting."

"What? It's delicious!" Bridget claims as if appalled.

I wince. "No. That's gross."

"The Irish drink whiskey," Sean points out.

I grimace and take a sip of my Captain and Coke. "Can't you put a mixer in it? The whiskey sour was decent yesterday."

Finn kisses the top of my head. "You tried it. Don't drink it if you don't like it. You don't have to prove your Irishness to me."

"Aww. Finn, never knew you had such a heart," Bridget taunts.

"Don't tell anyone. It's not good for his badassness," I say.

Finn arches his eyebrows above his sunglasses. He licks his lips, and thoughts about what his tongue did to me the night before lodge in my brain.

"Oh, look! The merchandise tent is open." Bridget points several hundred feet from us.

"Come on, baby. I'll buy you a tight T-shirt," Sean says, already moving Bridget toward the tent.

I glance at Finn. He takes another swig of beer and sets it on the cooler. "Let's see what they got." He takes my hand, and we follow Sean and Bridget.

He leans into my ear. "Bridget's a bit crazy at times. Don't let her pressure you into anything."

"Like drinking whiskey until I puke?"

He chuckles. "Exactly that."

"Irish is a serious thing in your family, isn't it?"

He nods. "Yep. We live and breathe it."

"Have you been to Ireland?"

He shakes his head. "No. My nana and daideó are from there. My uncle Darragh, too. He's Liam's dad. You'll meet him soon."

Flutters flood my gut, excited about the thought of meeting more of Finn's family. I can tell how important they are to him, and I love that he wants me to meet them.

We get to the tent. It's full of T-shirts, bumper stickers, music, cups, and more. Bridget picks out a T-shirt and holds it up to herself.

"Smaller size and you've got your shirt," Sean claims, his eyes drifting to her chest.

Bridget giggles, giving him a set of fuck-me eyes, then asks the lady for the next size down.

Sean and Finn both get the same black T-shirt. I grab a tank top similar to Bridget's.

The rest of the time, we spend drinking. When it's time to go into the arena, I'm buzzed from all the alcohol. Finn makes me eat a hot dog before the music starts, and we spend the night singing, dancing, and drinking some more.

Bridget and Sean are fun. They're easygoing, super into each other, and laugh a lot. Finn's the most relaxed I've ever seen him. He knows all the songs and sings the entire time. The strobe lights zipping around the arena light up his face, and all I keep thinking is how hot he is.

Of course, the kisses he keeps giving me aren't helping my revved-up loins.

By the time the concert is over, it's dark, and everyone but Finn is super hammered. He stopped drinking at some point in the night since he was driving. I wouldn't say he's sober, but he's better than the rest of us. Of course, I wouldn't be able to tell. I've drunk too much, including more whiskey shots Bridget dared me to drink.

We pile into the car, and Finn drops the others off at Sean's house. I get into the front and lean over the stick shift. "Hi."

He glances at me then back to the road, but slides his arm around my back. "Hi. You okay?"

"I'm perfect. You said I was, remember?" I giggle.

He licks his lips. "That you are, firefly."

I rub my hand on his thigh. "Let's go fast."

He chuckles. "Nope. Not tonight."

"Aww. Why not," I whine then slide my hand over his crotch, fumbling with his zipper.

He stays quiet, sliding his hand in my hair.

I release his cock from his pants and shimmy my hand over his shaft. It hardens before my eyes. Thick. Long. The vein running from his base to his tip, pulsing.

"Jesus, firefly," he mutters.

I laugh and reposition my body on the seat then dip down and lick it.

He groans, tightening his hand on my hair.

"I love your cock," I drunkenly state.

"I love that you love my cock," he teases.

I slide my lips over the head, sucking, then inching down farther and farther until I'm deep throating him.

"Fuuuuck," he mutters, pulling my head up, then pushing it back down.

I moan, opening the back of my throat up and swallowing his cap, enjoying the way his fingers weave through my hair. I suck harder, flicking my tongue against his vein.

"Jesus, Brenna."

The car stops moving, and he turns the ignition off. I barely notice it. He's controlling me, thrusting me on and off his erection.

I take all of him, loving the way he feels and the way his pre-cum tastes. And surprised how much I like him determining the speed.

He pulls me off him. "Time to go upstairs. I'm coming in your pussy."

I lean into his neck and kiss it. "Have you had sex in this car?"

He stays silent, and I look at him.

"Of course you have." Something about it makes me laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

I sit back on my seat, yank off my tank top, then unfasten my bra and shorts. I slide them off me and crawl across the stick shift and onto Finn's lap.

His lips twitch.

More courage rises within me. I slide my hand on his cheek. "I think I should show you how to really fuck in this Camaro."

His eyes drop to my chest, then he wraps his arms around me. He kisses me but doesn't let me deepen it. He challenges, "Are you going to ride me hard, firefly?"

'"Yes."

"And what if someone from the pub walks out of that door?" He nods to the right.

I glance at where he motioned and realize we're in the back alley. The thought someone could catch us excites me. I don't know if it's Finn's bad boy influence that is making me want to do things I would never have before, but I'm not only okay with it, I kind of want someone to catch us.

I lean into his ear and suck on his lobe then say, "My pussy would ride your cock harder."

He grabs my hips, raises me up, then slams me over his erection.

"Oh fuck!" I scream.

"You want to fuck me where others can catch us?" he growls.

"Yes! Oh God!" I breathe, my insides already relishing the sweet friction.

He kisses me, continuing to thrust violently and slam me over him. When he retreats, he asks, "Are you trying to make me think of your pussy every time I get in this car?"

"Yes. Mine. No one else's," I admit, shimming my hips.

He slides a hand through my hair, palming the back of my head. "I already do. There's no one else for me, firefly."

"No?" I question, inching on and off him like a madwoman.

"No," he says with certainty, then, "Fuuuuck. We have to stop."

"What? No," I say and keep circling while squeezing my walls around him.

He groans. "I don't have a condom on."

"It's okay. Just...oh God. Don't stop!"

His jaw clenches, then he pushes me off him.

"Finn!"

He cups my cheeks. "Tell me you're good with that when you're sober, Brenna."

"It's fine," I say and attempt to slide back on him, but he quickly has his hands back on my hips and is holding me steady.

"It's not fine. Not tonight. Tell me tomorrow, and I'll never stop you again."

I turn toward the window, upset. No one has ever been inside me without a condom. If I weren't drunk, I don't know if I'd be doing this, but it feels like rejection. And I don't want him to have any memories of any other woman in this car with him but me.

He moves my chin toward his face. "Don't be pissed at me. Let's go upstairs. We'll finish this up there."

I tilt my head. "Why don't you get a condom and come back here?"

He arches his eyebrow. "Are you on a mission to get caught in the alley or have me come in this car?"

I blurt out, "I'm trying to rid you of memories of your previous debauchery. But getting caught might be fun."

He arches his eyebrows. "Listen to me, Brenna. I don't think about anyone but you. I don't care about the women in my past."

I stay quiet, not fully believing that, wishing my insecurities weren't popping out.

He studies me, licks his lips, and caresses my back with his large palm. "Why don't you give me a new memory? Let me do something I haven't done with anyone on this car."

"Like what?"

He opens the door. "What I want. Get out."

"I'm naked."

His challenging gaze meets mine. "I know. Now, get out."

Since I have all sorts of alcohol-induced bravery going on, I do it. I step out of his car, bare, knowing at any time anyone could exit the pub and see me.

He joins me, shuts the car door, then hoists me up so I'm sitting on the roof. His lips curve. "Scoot back."

"What?" I ask, suddenly losing my courage, feeling exposed and super vulnerable on display.

"You heard me. Don't ask questions, Brenna. Spread those sexy thighs wide and put your heels on the edge."

Nerves and flutters fill my belly. I scoot my butt to the middle of the roof then position myself as instructed, leaning on my elbows. "Now what?" I bite my lip.

As Finn stares at me, an animal erupts from him, assessing its prey, ready to pounce but calculating his every move. My butterflies flutter harder, and he cages his body over mine, roughly tugging my hair. His lips suck on my neck in the same spot as the previous night. I writhe under him from the hot, tingling pain until it morphs into zings shooting straight to my core.

"Finn," I moan, clutching his shoulders.

He holds my face in front of his. "Mine. That means you and me, firefly. I don't think, breathe, or sleep with anyone else on my mind. Got it?"

I nod and barely get out, "Yes."

He plunges his tongue into my mouth, claiming me as his, stealing my breath with every dirty flick. My body hums, pinned underneath him on the warm roof of the Camaro. A cloud moves across the sky, revealing the moon, and the moonlight competes with the green glow of his orbs.

He presses a palm on my chest and holds me down while lowering his mouth to my pussy, sucking me in, circling his tongue on my clit like a pissed-off snake. I arch against the metal, crying out his name and obscenities as I come within seconds.

The adrenaline never stops flowing. It only slows before it speeds up again. I grip his hair so tight, I could pull it out. A deep throaty groan fills my ears as a man's voice calls out, "Shit."

I freeze.

Finn briefly looks up, not taking his face more than an inch from my greedy pussy. He barks, "Fuck off, Killian."

There's a chuckle, and a door slams.

I try to sit up, thinking this is over, and Finn pins me to the roof. "I'm not done with you or your tight cunt, firefly."

The summer air becomes thicker. I inhale for fresh oxygen, but it results in a gasp, as his mouth claims me all over.

Warmth pushes into my body, his tongue filling and circling with an unfed hunger, as if he can somehow consume me whole. The pad of his thumb works my bundle of nerves in tandem, cycloning my adrenaline into a new frenzy.

Sweat coats my skin. I arch into the roof, grinding my pussy into his face. Pleasure wraps me in its blanket, swaddling me until a full-blown earthquake rips through my core, not letting up.

I think I can't feel any other sensations when a finger inches past the hard ridge of my forbidden zone. Then his thumb slides into my pussy. The back of his knuckle presses against my wall, creating tortuous friction.

"Oh fuck!" My hoarse voice screams into the night air.

He clamps his mouth back on my clit, and everything spins between bright and dark.

When I can't see straight, my body's a quivering mess, and I'm only able to whimper, he lunges back over me, shoving his tongue into my mouth.

In the middle of his onslaught, he slides his arms under me and lifts me off the roof, carrying me into his place and up the stairs. His lips never leave mine, full of my orgasms, except when we get to his room. Green fire drills into my eyes. He only growls one word before ripping open a condom and thrusting inside me.

"Mine."

10

Finn

A Few Months Later

THE AUTUMN AIR is warmer than usual. Brilliant red, orange, and yellow leaves decorate the trees. I sit back with my arm around Brenna's shoulders, appreciating the view of the small backyard.

My mother insisted on planting the trees when I was a child. I never understood why she would spend her limited free time watering them. All I saw them as were a nuisance since I was the one who had to rake the leaves and mow around their growing trunks. We were in the city, and concrete was my jungle.

Something about their radiance strikes me today. It's the first time I've ever taken the time to notice them this way. Then again, everything seems to look different now that Brenna is in my life.

I'm one hundred percent, head over heels, crazy in love.

It feels a thousand times better than I could ever imagine it would.

Not that I ever thought about love much. Yet now that I have it, I'll do anything to keep it.

Brenna leans closer, and I kiss the top of her head. Her new apple shampoo wafts in my nostrils. She glances up and smiles, lighting up every part of my soul.

My mom returns to the table with the pitcher of sun tea. It's something she makes in the summer. Since it's eighty degrees today, she took advantage of it before the sunshine turns to dark, gloomy winter days.

"Your yard really is stunning, Aileen," Brenna comments.

Mom beams. "Thanks. It took years for the trees to grow, but it's finally how I imagined."

I rise, open the grill, and place the steaks on the platter. I set it on the table and turn off the gas. "I'll come over and clean this tomorrow and cover it up before the snow hits."

"Ugh. Don't talk about it. I'm pretending our extended summer is never going to end," she admits.

"Me, too. It's been so nice," Brenna agrees.

I add a steak to each of their plates then mine. Brenna scoops her homemade potato salad onto my plate and hers then hands it to my mom, who gives her the salad bowl.

We fill our plates and drinks, then my mom asks, "How's school going?"

Brenna pauses with a forkful of lettuce close to her mouth. "Great. I can't wait until May hits and I graduate though. One of the doctors in the surgery center told me there would be some openings. A handful of nurses are retiring. He said I should apply."

"That's great. You're enjoying it then?"

My firefly lights up. "Yes. I love it."

"That's good." My mom's smile is as happy as Brenna's. Since the first weekend we got together, Brenna's joined me for Sunday dinner. She and my mom get along, and Brenna is the first woman I've brought home my mom seems to like. She's never come out and said it, but she's never clicked with any of my girlfriends.

I take a bite of Brenna's potato salad and groan. It's one of my favorite things she makes. "This is so good."

Brenna bites her smile, amusement all over her face.

"It's delicious, just like always," Mom adds.

"Thanks. I only wish I didn't have to peel those darn potatoes."

"Oh. They're such a pain," Mom agrees.

I cut into my steak and pop a bite into my mouth.

Mom asks, "So what are you lovebirds doing after dinner tonight?"

"Brenna has a surprise for me, don't you?" I glance at her.

Her cheeks turn red. She diverts her eyes to the tea, nods, then takes a drink. "Yep." She cuts her steak.

My mom arches her eyebrows at me, but I shrug. I have no idea what Brenna has planned, and she wouldn't give me any hints, only said I was going to like it.

We eat in silence for a few moments before my mom inquires, "I know I'm a bit early asking, but will I see you both for Thanksgiving dinner, or will you be with your parents, dear?"

My gut dives. Brenna freezes then takes another long sip of her drink. My heart pounds harder, and she asks, "What time is your dinner?"

"It's an all-day thing. We normally eat around two, but food seems to reappear as soon as we clean up and put everything in the fridge. If you need to go to your parents first you could come after."

I put my hand on Brenna's thigh. "We haven't talked about it, Mom. I'll let you know once we figure it out."

"Okay. No pressure. I'm sure your family is going to be upset if they don't see you," Mom assures.

Brenna smiles and wipes her mouth. She rises. "Excuse me. I need the restroom. I'll be right back." She goes inside, and Mom stares at me.

I shove more food into my mouth, ignoring her look.

"Finn, what's that all about?"

"Nothing."

"Finn?" Mom sternly says.

I sigh and meet her worried gaze.

"Did something happen with Brenna's parents?"

I shift in my seat, debate about lying, but confess, "I haven't met them yet."

Mom's head jerks back. "Why not?"

"It's complicated."

"Why don't you fill me in."

I tap my fingers on my glass, lick my lips, then declare, "You know who our family is and what we represent."

Mom's eyes turn to slits. "So she's hiding you?"

"No. It's not that straightforward."

"Sounds like it is to me."

My pulse shoots to the sky. It's the one issue between us. Brenna told her parents about me. Right away, they put two and two together. She hasn't spoken to her mother since, and her father isn't happy, either. I state, "They know about me."

Mom tilts her head, squinting her green eyes. "And they don't want to meet you?"

"Drop it," I warn.

"No. You're my son. I'm not going to just drop it. I see the way you treat Brenna. And she's in love with you. What mother wouldn't want to meet the man who's in her daughter's life?"

A claw scrapes at my chest. No matter what I do, I'll always be an O'Malley. It's the first time in my life I've ever wished I could have come from a law-abiding family. Brenna and I don't discuss her parents very much, but I know it hurts her. She's choosing me, no matter what they think, and I own that guilt. I seethe, "I said to drop it."

"She needs to introduce you, no matter what they said. They're her parents. Don't cower away from this Finn."

"Goddammit!" I scrape the chair across the deck and stand, tossing my napkin over my plate. "You think I'm a coward?" I growl, but as soon as the words come out of my mouth, I cringe inside. I've avoided the topic of her parents as much as Brenna has, partly because I'm scared if I push to meet them, their disdain for me will cause her to let me go.

Mom sits back and crosses her arms, giving me a look she always did when I was a child and in trouble. She shakes her head, firmly declaring, "If you love her, you'll deal with this."

"Of course I love her. Don't ever question my love for her," I bark.

The screen slides open, and tense silence thickens around us.

Brenna breaks it. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." I pull out her chair and motion for her to sit.

She hesitates, her brows pinned together, anxiety growing on her face.

"Sit down and eat your dinner, firefly," I calmly say, even though my insides are raging.

She darts her eyes between Mom and me.

"Sit. Eat."

She finally obeys, and I sit next to her, placing my hand on her thigh. I shovel food in my mouth for the next ten minutes, barely tasting any of it, and avoiding Mom's stare-down and Brenna's worried one.

Mom and Brenna attempt to converse, but it's strained. As soon as dinner is over, we help clean up. Then I give my mom a stiff hug. "I'll be over tomorrow to clean the grill."

She opens her mouth then shuts it, nods, and turns to Brenna. They hug, and I guide Brenna out of the house. As soon as we get into the car, I lecture myself not to drive how I want to so I don't freak Brenna out.

She puts her hand on my biceps. "Finn, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Finn?"

I sigh, turn on the next street, and clutch the steering wheel tighter to stop me from pounding on the accelerator.

"You told her about my parents?" she quietly inquires.

I keep my eyes on the road. "Not everything."

"But enough?"

"Yeah."

Brenna lets out a frustrated exhale.

I pull into the alley and park, get out, then open the door for Brenna. I reach in and tug her out, take her hand, and move toward the pub. "Let's get a drink."

"Finn. Stop!"

Blood continues to boil, overflowing with no end in sight. It's not at Brenna or even my mom. It's due to me. I'm an O'Malley. They didn't raise me to be a coward, but I'm letting my fear of losing Brenna turn me into one.

She places her palms on my cheeks, and I close my eyes. I can't lose her. She's become the vein that feeds my existence. I'd swim across Lake Michigan and back during the icy winter months to save her if needed. I'd give her every last morsel of food and water I had, even if I were starving. I'd kill for her, but most of all, I'd die for her.

No one's ever made me happy or feel the way she does. She makes me laugh, feel crazy at times, and makes me constantly try to be a better man.

She makes me a better man.

Every moment I spend with her makes my head spin faster, and my heart swell to the point I think it might explode.

She loves me. Every day she shows me. And she looks past all the bullshit of what my family and I bring to the table and still accepts me. She knows all my faults, yet she unconditionally loves me.

Me. Finn O'Malley. Hunter. Brutal fighter. Killer. Not the Finn the world sees or judges. Just me. Every piece of my goddam soul she accepts and wants. Never once has she looked down upon me, even though I know she's too good for me.

I'm a selfish bastard for not letting her go, but she's like smoke that penetrates fabric, lingering in my thoughts all day whether she's with me or not. I'm stained by her—all the goodness, beauty, and love of hers I won't ever be able to get enough of. She's in my system, and there's no escaping her. So the self-serving person I am takes all of her and isn't giving her back.

Yet, the one thing that could break us is her parents. I'm not a fool. And the few times we've discussed it, I've seen the pain in her eyes.

How long can she choose me over them?

How low can I be to allow her to toss her family aside for me?

Her warm hands on my cheeks are another example of why she's too good for me. She should be pissed at me for causing any distress between her and her parents, yet here she is, comforting me.

I force myself to open my eyes and circle my arms around her waist. "I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you, but we can't avoid your parents anymore."

Her eyes harden. "They aren't important. You are."

The devil in me wants to allow her to stick to this thought and not rock the boat. The man I'm trying to be for her speaks. "They're your parents. They are important. We need to face this."

Her blues soften. Her voice firms. "I love you, Finn. If they can't accept you for who you are, they don't get me."

I stroke her cheek with my thumb. "And I love you. It's why I'm not going to drop this. Whatever they want to ask or say to me, I'll handle. Just..." I focus on the sky.

She tilts my head back down so I can't avoid her. "Just what?"

"Promise me you won't change your mind about us."

She shakes her head. "Never. I will never change my mind about how I feel about you or us. How could I?"

I release an anxious breath. "Okay, firefly. Tomorrow, I want you to call your parents and tell them we're coming over. No matter what, we're going to deal with this."

She hesitates.

"What is it?"

"My mom...she...she can be nasty, Finn."

I tug her into me and hold her head to my chest, kissing the top of her head. "Don't worry about it. As long as you and I are going there together and leaving together, I'll take whatever she dishes out."

Brenna glances up. "You shouldn't have to."

I don't answer her. Part of me says I should for touching their daughter. Instead of replying, I kiss her.

She returns my affection with fervor, pushing me against the brick, then mumbling, "I don't want a drink. I want to give you your surprise."

I smile through our kiss, sliding my hand in her jean shorts over her warm skin. "What is it?"

"Come upstairs in ten minutes." She runs her hands over my earlobes, creating more chaos in my veins.

Breathing hard, I retreat from our kiss and squeeze her ass, then remove my hands. "Don't let me keep you."

She giggles and slides her finger down my nose. "Get ready, Finn O'Malley."

I chuckle. "Why are you making my cock hard right now?"

She smirks, steps back, and wiggles her ass to my front door.

I glance at my watch so I know when ten minutes is up, and Maksim pulls into the alley. He gets out of his car.

I push off the wall, irritated. "Gracing me with your presence?"

He scowls through his mirrored sunglasses. "I've had shit going on."

"Like what? What's so important you avoid me for a month?"

"Forget this." He turns to walk away.

I grab him, spinning him, and his glasses fall to the ground. He pins his icy blue eyes on me, but they're glassy and bloodshot. My pulse increases. "What's wrong?"

He sniffs hard, wrinkles his nose, then looks at the sky, blinking too many times to count.

"Maksim?"

He doesn't look at me, wipes his face, and says, "I need a few cases of vodka."

My stomach does a dive. He looks like he's on the verge of breaking down, and I've never seen him anything but strong. "Okay. Why do you need them?"

His jaw clenches. "For after the funeral."

"Who'se funeral?"

His lips tremble. He picks up his glasses and puts them on. "My mom slit her wrists two days ago. Sergey found her."

The blood drains from my face and goose bumps pop out on my arms. "Shit."

He faces me again. "Can you get me the cases? Tell your nana I'll pay her in a few weeks?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about the money. Shit. Maksim, I'm—"

"I gotta go." He bolts to his car.

I follow him. "Maksim!"

He opens the door then freezes, not turning around. His knuckles turn white from gripping the door, and his voice shakes. "Can you drop them off tomorrow? I don't think it's a good idea to leave my brothers longer than I need to right now."

"Of course. Anything you need. When's the funeral?"

He takes a deep breath. "Three days. We could only afford cremation. It's just a few hours at the community center."

My heart lodges in my throat, making me feel like I can't breathe. "What can I do to help?"

He squares his shoulders. "Just the vodka. Thanks." He gets in the car and starts it.

I stop the door from shutting. "Maksim."

He slowly glances up at me.

"Whatever you need, I'm here."

He nods, sniffs hard, then shuts the door. I watch him drive off as several of my cousins step out into the alley.

Killian lights a joint and takes a long drag then hands it to Nolan as he says, "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

I stare at him, trying to find the words.

Nolan steps closer. "Finn, what's wrong?"

A new shiver runs down my spine as I announce, "Maksim's mom slit her wrists. She's dead."

"Shit," Nolan mutters.

"What are you talking about?" Killian hurls.

I shake my head. "Maksim was just here."

Killian's eyes widen. "Was Boris here?"

"No. Just Maksim."

Killian holds out his hand. "Give me your keys."

"Why?" I ask.

"Give me your goddamn keys, Finn." Purple crawls into his cheeks.

I reach into my pocket and hand them to him.

He jumps in the car and peels out of the alley.

Nolan and I stare at the rubber marks, breathing in the tire and pot smoke. It's appropriate since I feel my lungs are going to collapse at any moment.

Liam and Declan come out to the alley, laughing. Liam grabs the joint and relights it, takes a drag, and scoffs. "Jesus, it's like a fucking funeral out here. You're making me lose my buzz." He passes the joint to Declan.

"Total buzzkill," Declan adds, deeply inhaling.

I take all the rage I'm feeling and slap Liam as hard as I can since he's next to me.

"What the fuck, Finn!" he screams then rushes toward me.

Nolan pushes him back. "Shut up! Maksim's mom fucking died."

The alley turns silent, except for the sound of our heavy breaths. Wide eyes stare at each other, trying to comprehend the situation. The only thing breaking the tension is when Brenna sticks her head out the door. "Finn? Are you coming up?"

I don't take my eyes off Liam. "Yeah. Up in a minute." I finally turn and go into the apartment.

When I get there, I freeze.

Brenna's in a nurse's uniform, seductively lying on my bed. Her smile falls, and she gets up. "Finn, what's wrong?"

"I'm...shit!" I exclaim, pissed my little fantasy is happening at this moment and feeling guilty because my dick is getting hard looking at her. All I should be thinking about right now is how to help my friend.

"Finn?" A fearful expression enters her eyes.

I circle my arm around her. "Sorry. Maksim came over. His mom committed suicide."

She gapes at me.

As she stares at me, a feeling of loss washes over me. It's like the universe is telling me that not everything is permanent—that those you love will eventually be ripped away from you. So I don't talk. I let my instincts take over, and before I know it, I'm fucking her.

Neither of us speaks, our eyes saying more than words ever could.

I fuck her hard and fast, unmercifully pounding my cock into her tight little cunt as she grips my body, trembling. I listen to her moans and cries and whimpers, trying to put a permanent memory in my mind.

I don't know why I suddenly feel like I will lose her, but I do. Maybe it's the mix of the conversation about her parents and the death of Maksim's mom, but everything feels like it could slip between my fingers.

So, all night, I'm relentless, getting hard and fucking her again almost as soon as I come. I don't fall asleep until it's almost light out, but I wish I wouldn't have. A nightmare of blood and handcuffs spooks me, so deep in my bones I can't shake it for days, and even then, it still hasn't completely left me.

11

Brenna

A Week Later

"I'M WORRIED ABOUT YOU," I admit, running my fingers over the side of Finn's head.

He swallows his mouthful of Guinness then pins his gaze on mine. "Why?"

I scoot closer, although I'm already sandwiched next to him in the booth. "Since you found out about Maksim's mom, you've been... I don't know...distant?" I wince.

Arrogance fills his face. He sets his pint on the table. His hand moves between my thighs, right on my pussy. His middle finger strokes my slit. He leans into my neck, and his lips tickle my skin. "Do I need to pay more attention to you, firefly?"

I ignore the heat in my belly and pull my head away from his mouth. "That's not what I mean."

He smirks. "Are you sure? We don't even have to go upstairs." His hand unfastens my jeans, and he glides it on top of my panties.

"Finn, your nana's here," I whisper.

He turns his body, blocking me from seeing anything but his ripped chest. His fingers slip under the thin fabric of my panties. "She already left, but who cares? You're fucking wet. I think your pussy doesn't give a shit about my nana. In fact, I think it's desperate for me to play with it." He shoves two fingers into my channel and rubs his thumb on my bundle of nerves.

Heat rushes to my face. I clench my thighs together, and his green eyes glow hotter.

"Put your arms around me, Brenna."

"Finn," I object, but I'm already on the edge of coming.

His smoldering gaze challenges me. "Put your arms around me and kiss me, or you'll be screaming in the next two seconds."

I obey, lacing my fingers through his hair and flicking my tongue in his mouth to match his speed. The longer he kisses me, working my pussy, the harder I grind into his hand.

"That's my firefly," he mumbles, holding my head firm to his.

I whimper, my eyes roll, and he groans while still kissing me like I'm a melting ice cream cone. Tremors roll through my body as he works me like a well-oiled machine, never missing a beat.

"Mine," he growls through our kisses. "My pussy. My mouth. My gorgeous, too-good-for-me woman."

I moan as another wave of adrenaline hits me.

"Fuck. Maybe when the bar closes tonight, I'll bend you over it and lick your pussy before I desecrate the rest of you."

"Please," I whisper, forgetting there's a bar full of patrons who know his nana well. Any of them could walk up to us at any moment.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes...oh God! Please," I beg, working my pussy on his palm with more intensity.

He pulls his hand out of my pants and moves it between our lips, commanding, "Lick."

I don't question. I start to lick, and so does he. Our tongues touch at the edges of his fingers. Our eyes lock in a heated stare.

He shoves them in my mouth. I suck then cup his crotch, wishing I were sucking on his cock. The lights flicker, it's closing time, and Finn pulls his hands away. He finishes his pint then says, "Why haven't you called your parents?"

My stomach flips. "There's been a lot going on this week."

He clenches his jaw and cocks an eyebrow.

I add, "It's true. We had the funeral and—"

"It was days ago."

I twist my hair around my finger, looking at the table.

He lifts my chin. "It's not going to go away. I'm not letting you avoid this any longer."

"Why?"

"You know why."

I close my eyes.

He brings his lips to my ear. "Because I love you, that's why." He kisses behind my lobe.

"I love you, too."

He nods. "I know. So let's get it over with. Tomorrow is Saturday. We do it then."

I bite my lip.

"Don't look at me like that."

"How?"

"Sadly."

I tilt my head and study him. "Is this why you've been distant?"

"I'm not trying to be."

"Is it, though?"

He nods. "Maybe. Like you said, there's been a lot this week."

I decide if talking to my parents will make Finn happy, then I need to get it over with. But I also haven't been totally honest with him. "I should tell you something."

He arches his eyebrow. "What?"

"I've spoken with my dad a few times."

Color drains from his cheeks. "And?"

My stomach somersaults. "I asked him to give you a fair shot, but he's taking my mom's side on this. He won't listen and wants me to break up with you."

Finn freezes for a moment then asks, "How many times have you spoken with your father?"

"I met him for coffee a few times," I admit, full of guilt for not telling him.

"How many, Brenna?"

I swallow hard. "Four."

His eyes widen. He looks away, and his hands clench into fists.

"Finn—"

"Why would you keep that from me?" He scowls.

"I-I didn't want it to hurt you. If they would just give you a chance—"

"You should have told me."

"I'm sorry." I reach for his shoulder, and he shrugs away. He gets up and goes behind the bar then pours a glass of whiskey.

I'm about to get up when Bridget slides into the seat. She slings her arm around me and leans closer, whispering, "Are you coming to the party next week?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Don't tell Sean."

"I know. You've told us fifty times," I snap.

She jerks her head backward.

"Sorry. I'm…shoot. Sorry. I didn't mean to sound nasty."

"It's okay. You all right?" she asks.

I glance at Finn. He's sitting on a barstool with a fifth of whiskey next to him.

"Everyone out!" Darcey screams, and the few remaining patrons whine.

Killian jumps up on the bar. "Get your skanky asses out."

"You, too." Darcey slaps a bar towel over his calves.

He spins. "Watch it!"

"Out. Nana said everyone leaves at closing time, including you." She motions toward the door.

"Let's go. Cab's here," Declan orders.

Sean comes over and slings Bridget over his shoulder. "Come on, baby. Night's young."

She yelps, slaps his ass, then giggles as they leave.

I gingerly walk over to Finn and put my hand on his shoulder. He shirks away from it again. I sit on an adjacent barstool. "Finn. I'm sorry."

He sniffs hard, finishes his drink, then pours more whiskey.

"Time to leave," Darcey declares.

Finn scowls at her, clutches the whiskey bottle, and growls. "I'll lock up when I'm good and ready."

"When I say—"

"Not in the mood for your power trip tonight, Darcey."

They engage in an intense glare until Darcey caves. She stacks bottles of oil and vinegar on a tray then tosses the towel on the counter. "Have a good night, Brenna."

I cringe. "Night."

Her eyes throw more darts at Finn and she leaves.

Several tense moments pass. Finn ignores me, finishing his drink, then reaches for the bottle.

"Are you going to ignore me the rest of the night?" I ask.

He continues giving me the silent treatment.

"Fine. I'll call a cab." I get up, but he slings his arm around my waist and tugs me to him.

I stare at him, waiting for something, anything, but he picks up his tumbler and drinks another mouthful.

"Finn!"

He sets it down and finally looks at me. All I see is a scared, pissed-off man in agony. I hate that I've caused this. I reiterate, "I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry."

He stays silent.

I stroke the side of his head. "Please. Say something."

"I want to be good enough for you, Brenna."

"You are," I blurt out.

He shakes his head. "I'm not. I knew this the first moment I met you. I shouldn't have ever come after you."

"Don't say that!"

He briefly shuts his eyes. When he opens them, it frightens me.

Panic annihilates me until I'm nothing but a bare thread, trying to keep us together. "Finn, are you trying to break up with me?"

He scoots the barstool back so fast, it crashes to the floor. His fist wraps around my hair, and he dips his face over mine. "Do you think that's possible? That I could ever toss you back? That there's any chance in hell I could ever forget about you?"

"Then stop saying you're not good enough for me. I hate it when you talk like that."

"It's true."

"It's not. I chose you, Finn. You. No one else but you. If my parents can't give you a chance, then I don't care. I've already said my piece and made my choice. And if I had to do it again, I'd still choose you. So, if you want to go tomorrow, we will. But then it's over. Whatever happens, I'm walking out that door with you. Always. Forever." A tear streams down my cheek. "So stop doing this. I'm not going to let you do this."

"Brenna—"

"No! You don't get to let other people decide if you're what I need. I know you are. I decide who I love. So no matter what your mom or my parents say, I choose you, Finn O'Malley. Their opinion doesn't matter. You're all that matters to me."

He presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

"Finn—"

"I don't want you to end up hating me, firefly. They're your parents."

I cup his cheeks, holding his head in front of mine. "They have their choices to make, and I have mine. I'm not leaving you. If they don't want to give you a chance, then that's on them. And I don't want to keep having this conversation. I won't allow them or anyone to come between us or disrespect you."

"Brenna—"

"Tomorrow, Finn. We see them tomorrow, and whatever happens, good or bad, we go home. Together. You and me. That's what I want. So unless you don't want me anymore—"

His mouth crashes into mine, needy, desperate, so full of everything that's us. I clutch my arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, never wanting it to end.

"I love you. I want to do right by you," he murmurs.

"You do. Every day. Now put away the whiskey and let's go home."

He kisses me on the forehead. "Okay, firefly." He grabs the bottle.

"Maybe you can show me the video tonight."

He shakes his head. "Nope. It's not ready yet."

"Oh, come on. It's been months," I whine. No matter how many times I ask Finn to see the sex tape we made, he always has the same answer.

"Be patient, firefly. Good things come to those who wait."

"Says the man who gets to see it," I point out, go behind the bar, and quickly wash his tumbler. I set it on the drying rack. He adds the fifth on the shelf where it belongs and leads me to the back. After he locks the bar, we go up to his place and get in bed.

He pulls me into his arms, and I snuggle in. "What time do you want to go to your parents' tomorrow?"

My stomach flips. I'm not looking forward to confronting my parents, but I meant what I said. Finn and I need to get past it, whatever that looks like. I reply, "First thing. Let's get it over with and enjoy the rest of our day."

"All right."

I trace one of his eagle tattoos on his stomach. "I have to do laundry tomorrow. I'm out of underwear."

His lips brush my head. "Don't wear any."

I laugh. "It'd be too easy for you."

"Maybe." He drags his knuckles over the curve of my waist. "I have to do mine, too. Should we go to your apartment or my mom's?"

"Maybe my apartment. I want to switch up my clothes."

He flips me on my back and cages his body over mine. His green eyes bore into me. "Why don't we move in together?"

My stomach flutters. I bite my lip.

"You're always here. I know this place is small, but in a few months, I'll have some more cash, and we can find a new place if you want."

"I like your place."

He smiles. "I like it better with you here, but there's barely room for your hair dryer, much less clothes. You deserve something nicer."

"That right there is why I love you."

"What?"

I tease, "You worry about the important things. Like my hair dryer and clothes."

He tickles my waist, and I shriek, laughing. "Finn!" He stops and kisses me.

I say, "My lease is up in a few months. Why don't we plan on me not renewing it?"

He grins. "Yeah?"

I happily nod. I don't remember the last time I spent a night in my bed since we got together. We've stayed at my place a few times, but I prefer Finn's. It's private compared to Kim bouncing around or us trying to be quiet so she doesn't hear us. I trace Finn's lips. "Yeah. Everything else we can figure out later."

He kisses me again, and I yawn.

"Did you just yawn in my mouth?" he laughs.

I cover my face. "Sorry! My shift was so early today." I had to be at the hospital at 3 a.m. and didn't take a nap like I planned.

Finn rolls off me and takes me with him, so I'm back in his arms. He kisses my head. "Go to sleep, firefly."

It doesn't take long for me to drift off. When I wake up, the sun is shining through the window, and Finn's staring at me with a nervous expression.

I roll on top of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Morning." He pecks me on the lips.

"Morning. What time is it?"

"Close to noon."

"What?" I shriek. "I never sleep until noon."

He chuckles. "You must have needed it."

"How long have you been up?"

"Since eight."

"You should have woken me up."

He shrugs. "Gave me time to think."

"About what?"

"Things."

I tilt my head. "That's pretty vague. Want to be more specific?"

His lips twitch. "Well, I do think we need a bigger shower. This one is too small for the things I want to do to you in it."

I snicker. "That's what had you looking all nervous?"

His face falls. "No. I was thinking about your parents."

My gut twists. I sit up on him. "I haven't changed my mind, Finn. Everything I said last night still holds true."

He releases an anxious breath. "I still hope we have a good outcome today."

I don't say anything. It's not just about Finn being an O'Malley. He's not rich. He doesn't drive a brand-new Audi, have a membership to the country club, or have connections for favors. If Finn was Al Capone, and he had those things, my mother would look the other way.

My father is different. He only hears O'Malley and knows what he sees on the news. He's worried about me, and that's the one that stings. My mother, well, I'm just over her antics. But I do miss my father.

I force a big smile and lean down to Finn's face. "Just don't forget you're mine, Finn O'Malley. Good or bad."

He smiles, but there's sadness there. I debate about addressing it but decide it'll only create more tension. I peck him on the lips, jump off him, then announce, "I'm showering. Please open my powder room cabinet and get out my hair dryer."

"This is why we need a bigger place," he claims.

I shrug. "I love my cabinet." And I do. After a week of staying with Finn, he cleaned out the biggest cabinet on his desk hutch, apologizing he didn't have any room in his bathroom. It was sweet and showed me he paid attention. He wanted me here, and there were no games about it.

We take turns showering and using the bathroom. It really is a tiny room. I can barely move in it. There's no way two of us would ever fit. We dress and leave.

Once we're in the Camaro, I lean over the stick shift and into Finn. He kisses my forehead, and we stay quiet. I direct him where to go, and within a few minutes, we're in my parents' driveway.

"Me and you," I remind him.

He releases a breath and gets out. I wait for him to come around and open my door. He has a thing about it, and I learned early on it upsets him if I don't wait. It's another thing I love about him.

He reaches in for me, and I don't let go of his hand. When we get to the front porch, my father opens the door. His expression is a mix of surprise and worry. He glances at me, our hands, then Finn, before refocusing on me. "Brenna. I didn't know you were coming over."

"But it's okay, right?" I ask, my insides quivering.

"Of course it is. Come in." He steps back, and Finn releases my hand, motioning for me to go through.

I step inside, and he follows. My mouth turns dry, and I try to remember what I wanted to say. All I can come up with is, "Dad, this is Finn. I wanted you to meet him."

"Sir," Finn says and holds his hand out.

My pulse increases as the seconds tick on the hallway clock. My father stares at Finn's hand and finally takes it. "You can call me Brian."

Okay. That's not so bad.

Finn smiles. "Thank you, sir...umm, Brian."

More tension fills the foyer. I put my hand on Finn's back as my dad assesses him.

Finn blurts out, "I'm in love with your daughter. I'll never let anything happen to her, and I don't want her not to have a relationship with you."

Dad shifts on his feet, taking deep, calculated breaths.

"Dad."

He addresses me. "Your mother's in the kitchen. She's upset from your last visit. Go talk to her. Finn and I need to have a private conversation."

"Anything you say to Finn, you can do in front of me," I claim.

Dad opens his mouth, but Finn adds, "Go talk to your mom. Your father's right."

My eyes dart between them. Finn's eyes implore me to go, so I do, but not before I say, "I'm only here because Finn wants me to have a relationship with you."

"And you don't want that?" Dad asks, hurt filling his blue eyes.

"Of course I do. But I love him. I'm not leaving him. And you don't know him, so until you give him a chance, don't make a decision that will sever us forever."

"Brenna," Finn quietly warns.

I don't take my gaze off my father. He's clenching his jaw, and I don't know what to think. I've always been able to read him, but right now, I can't. He only says, "Go see your mother."

I begrudgingly go into the kitchen. As soon as my mom turns from chopping her vegetables, she pins her cold gaze on me. "Did you dump that thug yet? Brad said he's still willing to take you back."

I groan inside, wondering why I came here and pissed she's still talking to Brad when I've made it clear it's never happening.

12

Finn

BRENNA GOES INTO THE KITCHEN, and I wait for Brian to speak. My insides wage in a war. Part of me wants to grab Brenna and run. The other side is screaming not to be a coward and fight to keep Brenna connected to her family.

Brian's a few inches shorter than me. He has Brenna's eyes, and it almost kills me looking at them. All I see is his love for his daughter, fear I'm going to hurt her, and the struggle to keep her.

"Your lifestyle isn't what I want for my daughter. She doesn't deserve to be caught up in whatever it is you're a part of," he asserts.

I keep my breathing steady, choosing my words before I speak. "I won't claim to be anything I'm not. But you have my word. Brenna is never around any of the things you're concerned about. She will never be around anything that isn't safe."

"And what exactly would that be?" He crosses his arms, digging his hands into his biceps as if trying not to lunge at me.

"I won't go into my family's business."

"So my daughter is an ignorant bystander, not knowing who you really are?" he seethes.

"No. I can assure you I've hidden nothing from Brenna. I love her. And those words aren't something I throw out easily. I'd die for her before I ever allow anything to happen to her," I vow.

"Just associating with you puts her at risk of getting hurt."

His statement is a knife cutting my heart. I can't deny it. In my world, anything can happen. I try not to flinch and reiterate, "I love her. I will protect her at all costs."

His exhale is loud, through his nose, and steam might as well be coming out of it. I wish I could hate him, but every concern he has is valid.

"So, what are your intentions?"

My gut flips a million times in a second. I try to square my shoulders more even though I'm already standing straight. "I'm making payments on a ring. I hoped to get your blessing."

His eyes turn to slits. "And then you get married and have kids?"

"As many as she'll give me," I state.

"What happens when you end up in prison?"

My pulse races so fast, I can feel the blood moving through my veins. "I'm not going to end up in prison."

"You can't guarantee that."

"I don't make mistakes."

"Son, everyone makes mistakes."

His words ring out, echoing until I want to cover my ears and scream. I stick my chin out. "I've been trained. I don't."

He closes his eyes briefly, then another disgust-filled expression appears. His voice booms with rage. "Trained for what?"

"You're a smart man. Next question."

His nostrils flare, he shifts on his feet, staring at the ceiling.

"Sir, I'm not a good man. I won't stand here and insult your intelligence or lie to you. But I love your daughter. I'm a good man around your daughter. She makes me a better one. And I promise you, no one, and I mean no one, will hurt her in any way. If they do, they won't have the luxury of taking another breath."

He closes his eyes, clenching his jaw, shaking his head in tiny movements.

My gut continues to dive. I wish I could hold on to something to keep me steady. At any moment, I'm afraid I'm going to lose my balance from the constant roller coaster going full speed in my belly.

He finally meets my eye. His hard expression doesn't falter, but his voice cracks. "I don't want to lose my daughter."

"Then don't. No one wants that."

The clock in the foyer is loud, ticking in my ear. Sunlight streams hotter through the window, as if a cloud suddenly moved. Sweat pellets break out on my forehead. A bead drops down my cheek, but I don't dare move.

"I won't give you my blessing. It's not the life my daughter deserves."

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to find air. As much as I dislike it, I can't fault the guy for hating my guts.

Just when I think I've lost and the worst scenario possible has occurred, he says, "But if Brenna insists on loving you, then I'll deal with you. For her sake."

I take a shaky breath. It's not exactly what I wanted, but it's a middle ground. "Fair enough."

He steps so close we're face-to-face. His eyes turn to ice. He snarls, "If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and figure out a way to bestow upon you ten times what you do to her."

I nod. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Brenna comes flying through the door. "Finn, we're leaving."

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"You're asking for a hard life," a woman screams, barreling through the door, then freezes, glaring at me.

"Sarah, what's going on?" Brian asks.

Brenna points at Sarah, her face red with rage. "She's still giving Brad hope. Did you know she meets with him every week for coffee, giving him updates on me?"

The beast within me awakens. "What are you talking about?" I ask Brenna.

Tears fill her eyes. "Yep. My own mother told him to wait for me and I'll come around. Said I was getting my wild side out of me first. Answered every question he asked about you and me."

"What?" Brian seethes at Sarah. "I told you to stay away from him. I ordered him to stay away from our family."

"All of you are throwing away the best thing that's ever happened to Brenna. Wake up!" she exclaims.

"Jesus, Mom!" Brenna shouts. "It's never happening. I'm in love with Finn. I don't even like Brad. And now I know why I've seen him following me. I thought I was paranoid, but I'm not."

I grab Brenna's elbow, growling, "What are you talking about?"

She squeezes her eyes shut and whispers, "I'm sorry. I-I thought I was imagining things."

I struggle to stay calm. "Imagining what?"

She pins her scared eyes on me. "He was at the hospital a few times. I kept running into him on my break when I went to get coffee. He said he had a friend getting chemo, and he was waiting for them. Kim said she saw him outside the apartment. I-I ran into him the night Kim and I went out. She said it wasn't accidental, but I just thought it was by coincidence."

"Why would you think that?" I bark.

"H-he seemed normal. He wasn't pressuring me to get back together. But now I know. The night Kim and I were out, he dropped off drinks and said in a joking tone, 'Let your wild sides out.'" She points at her mom. "He only said that because of you! What else did you tell him, Mom?"

Sarah becomes tight-lipped and crosses her arms.

"Sarah," Brian growls.

Sarah points to me. "You. Get out of my house. You have no right destroying my daughter's life and don't belong here."

Brenna laughs. It's a hurt, sarcastic laugh, and tears are on the brink of falling from her eyes. My heart breaks as she says, "Have a nice life, Mom."

Sarah's face darkens. She points to me. "Your life will be filled with struggle and demons with him. Good luck."

"Sarah, that's enough," Brian barks.

She huffs, "I've said my piece." Sarah spins and leaves the room.

"Finn, let's go," Brenna says, tugging on my arm.

"Wait."

"Finn!" Her tears fall, and she swipes her cheek. "Now."

I turn to her father. His hands ball in shaking fists and his eyes glisten. He stares at Brenna. I say the first thing that comes to my mind. "O'Malley's Pub. Come in to see Brenna anytime."

"Finn!"

"Anytime," I sternly repeat and lead Brenna out of the house and into the Camaro. When I get in, I drive two blocks, pull over, then tug her into my arms.

She breaks down sobbing. "How could my own mother do that to me?"

"Shhh," I repeat over and over, stroking her hair, fighting the beast in me who's ready to hunt down Brad and tear him to shreds.

When her sobs turn to shaky breaths, I attempt to stay calm and say, "You should have told me you saw Brad."

"I-I'm sorry. H-he acted normal. I didn't want you to hurt him when he wasn't bugging me." More tears fall, and I pull her back into my chest.

The entire time I'm consoling her, I hate myself. I had forgotten about Brad, listened to Darragh, and assumed he moved on. I ask, "When did you last see him?"

She locks eyes with me. "Yesterday at the hospital."

I glance out the windshield, grappling all the emotions spinning faster inside me, holding myself back from yelling at her for not telling me. I despise the jealous beast clawing at my gut when I know this was innocent, but I still have to deal with him. All I feel is rage, thinking about her near him. I turn back to her. "Did you drink your coffee with him?"

Guilt flashes in her eyes, and I feel sick. "I was already sitting down. My co-worker Karen was with me. He said hi, and Karen told him to sit."

"But you didn't tell me?" It's not a question since I know the answer, but I can't stop myself from asking.

"Finn, I—"

"How many other times did you sit with him and drink your coffee?" I ask, my voice getting louder, my fists itching to punch him until he stops breathing.

"Just once. The other times I was leaving."

I refrain from asking the things that would only hurt her, like if she would have asked him to join her. Or if she enjoyed talking with him. I stop myself from reprimanding her for accepting a drink at the bar from him. I breathe through it all, willing my heart to return to its normal pace. I keep my mouth shut because I remind myself she's chosen me. At the risk of losing her family, she's made it clear I'm the one she wants.

She isn't to blame for this. He is.

"Finn. Please, don't be mad at me," she begs through her tears.

I cup her cheeks. "If he comes near you again, you need to tell me."

She nods. "Okay. I promise."

I peck her on the lips. "Let's go home." Another battle takes place not to put my foot on the accelerator and race through town. I repeat in my head the entire way home, her safety comes first.

When I pull into the alley, I help her out of the car and guide her into the pub.

"Why are we going in here?" she asks.

I don't answer her, and at the end of the hall, we run into my nana. "Is Bridget here?"

Disapproval fills her face. "She's in the game room, supposedly studying. Girl's going to flunk out of college, and it'll be Sean's fault."

"Thanks." I shuffle Brenna past her and beeline for the game room.

"Finn, what are we doing?" Brenna asks again.

I don't answer. The moment we get into the game room, I hear Bridget's giggle. No one is there except them. Sean has her pinned to the pool table. She's lying on her back. Her hair's sprawled across the green felt. Sean has his body caged over hers. He's saying something in her ear.

"Sean!" I boom.

He rolls his eyes up, not moving the rest of his body, a cocky expression on his face.

"I need to talk to you."

He looks back at Bridget, licks his lips, then pulls her into a sitting position on the edge of the table. "What's up?"

"Not here."

"Finn?" Brenna tugs at my arm.

"Hang out with Bridget for a while. I have something I have to do."

Her eyes widen. "Finn!"

I tug her into me and lean into her ear. "Don't worry, firefly. I'm not hunting him down and killing him today."

Not yet, simmers in my mind.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. Stay with Bridget."

"I was quizzing her for her exam. Maybe you can take over," Sean says.

"Quizzing her?" Brenna questions.

Sean grins. "Yep."

I kiss Brenna on the head, pat her ass, and say, "I'll be back later." I ignore her expression. I already know it's full of worry, but this situation has gone too far.

I nod for Sean to follow me. His brothers haven't pledged to Darragh and the clan yet. He hadn't either until he met Bridget. Within weeks of meeting her, he went to Darragh, claiming she was the one, and he knew her father Tully wasn't going to allow her to marry anyone who wasn't an alliance. Our family has one with the O'Connors, but if you haven't pledged to the O'Malleys and you're a man, you aren't part of that alliance.

Sean and I pass Nana and head straight to the alley. When we get outside, I say, "I need backup."

He arches his eyebrows. "For what?"

"That cocksucker's been following her. Her mother's been encouraging him. Brenna thought it was coincidental until we went to her parents' house today."

His eyes widen. "What kind of mother does that?"

"Not the point right now."

"What do you want to do?"

I glance at my watch. One thing I did when I first got together with Brenna is learn his schedule. Since Darragh said I needed to wait and see if it blew over, I couldn't put trackers on him to follow his every move. Now I'm regretting not stalking the prick myself. "It's Saturday. He'll be at the country club playing tennis."

Sean snorts. "Can't even play a real man's sport."

"He's a pussy."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I can't get in myself. But if there are two of us, it'll be harder for them to stop us."

Sean groans. "Let me guess. I get to be the muscle next to you, looking all ominous and shit."

"That's a big word for you. Did Bridget teach it to you?"

He smirks. "You ask the wrong question."

"What's the right one?"

He wiggles his eyebrows. "What did I get from Bridget for learning new words."

I shake my head. "Put your dick back in your pants. Are you going to help me?"

He grunts. "Waltz into the ritzy country club and make him piss his pants in front of his friends? I'm down. Why are you even questioning this?"

My stomach flips. I glance behind me, but the alley is clear. "Darragh might not approve."

Sean's face darkens. "What do you mean 'might not'?"

"He told me to stay away, and I have. He said if something else happened, I was to go to him."

"So why aren't you talking to Darragh right now?"

"This douchebag's dad is a powerful judge. Darragh doesn't want to ruffle any feathers right now. I think he might tell me to stay back," I admit.

Sean scrubs his face. "Shit. Finn—"

"What would you do if it was Bridget?"

He tilts his head to the sky. "Ugh!" He scrubs his face then moves toward my Camaro. "Come on. Call me your ominous bitch."

I pat his back. "That's the spirit." I jump in the Camaro and start the engine. I pull out onto the main road and gun it, driving how I wanted to earlier, zipping through traffic.

"So things weren't all sunshine and rainbows at Brenna's parents'?" he asks.

I press my foot down on the accelerator, shifting the gear, surpassing ninety mph. "Nope. Her dad agreed to deal with me and then Brenna came running out of the kitchen after talking to her mom. The shit hit the fan after that." The light turns red, and I run through it. Horns beep and tires screech on the pavement.

"That was close," Sean comments then turns on the stereo. Outkast's "Rosa Parks" vibrates into the car.

Sean starts singing to it, but I keep my eyes on the road, swerving in and out of traffic, thinking of what I want to do to Brad when I see him.

When the green rolling hills of the golf course come into view, I shift my gear and slow down to fifty mph. The music continues to blare. Men who are trying to get in the last few minutes of their golf game before the winter hits turn to stare as we barrel past.

The entrance to the club is a half-circle drive, complete with valets. I stop, rev my engine, then turn off the Camaro. Sean and I step out, and a college kid in khaki pants and a blue country club polo shirt approaches me with a ticket and pen in his hand. "Sir, can I have your name?"

I ignore him, and Sean and I move toward the door.

Another kid calls out, "You can't leave your car here. We'll have to tow it."

I spin, lunge toward him, and yank him on his toes by his uppity shirt. "If anyone touches my car, I'm holding you personally responsible."

His lips tremble.

"Do I make myself clear?"

He nods. "Y-yes, sir."

I set him down then wipe his shoulders. "Good. What's the quickest way to the tennis courts?"

He swallows hard. "Take a left at the second hallway then the first right."

I smile. "Thank you. Remember, no one lays a hand on my Camaro." I turn, and Sean and I stroll into the club.

We ignore the girl at the front desk as she shouts, "You need to check in."

In under a minute, we're back outside. I scan the dozen tennis courts then see Brad in his white shorts and matching collared shirt.

Women are seated at tables, sipping drinks, dressed in designer dresses, and decked out in expensive jewelry. I push away the thought that this is what Brenna could have if she were with Brad, reminding myself she doesn't care about this crap.

As we walk over the lawn, I'm fully aware of the eyes on us. The chatter stops, and all you hear are the rackets hitting the balls or men grunting.

When I step on the court, the man playing against Brad yells, "Get off the court!"

Brad glances at us and freezes. One by one, all the games stop, not that I take my eyes off him. I try not to increase my speed, wanting him to feel the fear longer and not forget it.

He squares his shoulders, and some of the other men gather around, but they don't come closer than ten feet. I suddenly feel as though I made a mistake. I'm in public and should have waited until he was at his house. His father's a judge, and there are too many people here. No way I'm not going to jail if I lay a hand on him.

His face turns red as he snarls, "Get the fuck off our court and out of my club."

I step closer so he can taste my breath, hovering a few inches over him. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you to stay away from Brenna."

His lips curve into an arrogant smile. "You think she'll stay in the sewer forever with you and your trashy family?"

Sean steps closer, and I put my hand on his stomach, holding him back. I keep my voice low so only Brad can hear. "Whatever bullshit her mother's been feeding you, it's just that—bullshit. Stay away. The next time I come for you, you'll leave in a body bag."

He steps back and opens his arms wide. "Poor boy over here just threatened to kill me. Did everyone hear it?" He starts to laugh. "Jesus, you're a pathetic piece of shit."

I get in his face and threaten, "Don't underestimate me. Your daddy won't save you. Come near her again, and it'll be the last time." I lunge at him like I'm going to slam my head against his, and he flinches backward, tripping on his feet and falling on the ground. Gasps fill the air. I glance at him in disgust. "Now who's pathetic?"

I spin and nod for Sean to follow me. We saunter through the crowd, although it splits as we approach. Sean reaches for a finger sandwich off a platter on the women's table.

"Fancy. You want one?" he asks.

"Nah."

We keep walking, and he bites into it. "Eh," he groans then tosses it on the ground. "You'd think all that money would guarantee good food."

"Guess not." We make our way out the same way we came in, and when we get to my Camaro, I inspect it.

"No one touched it," the kid insists.

Satisfied no one did, I say nothing, hop in the car, and rev the engine when I start it.

We take off and Sean comments, "Thought we were going to have more fun than that."

I shift gears and accelerate, no calmer than I was before I got there. The sight of Brad's arrogant face only adds fuel to the bonfire inside me. "I shouldn't have done that there."

"Yeah, probably not the smartest move. Next time, make sure it's somewhere you can kick his ass without an audience."

I glance at Sean. "You didn't exactly speak up and stop me from going."

He shrugs. "It was good to see what people wear there. When Bridget and I go to New York next week, she said her father is going to make us go to his club."

I scoff. "Have fun with that."

"I'm down. I'm taking Bridget to the women's safe space."

"What's that?"

He smirks. "It's the women's only area."

"And why would you take her there? If you haven't noticed, you have a dick."

"Exactly." He licks his lips and grins. "She hates the country club and that room. So I'm going to lick her pussy until all those women faint or die of a heart attack while listening to her come."

"Jesus. Do you think that's smart when Tully's a member?"

He shrugs. "I'll deal with Tully after. It'll be worth it."

I chuckle. "You're a crazy motherfucker, Sean. Tully will kill you."

"Nah. Bridget loves me. She'll save me. He can't say no to her even about me."

I shake my head then shift the gear to slow down as we approach the pub. If Nana sees me driving crazy, I'll hear about it for weeks. As soon as we pull in, we go into the game room.

Brenna jumps up with the same worried expression as when we left.

I slide my arms around her. "Everything is fine."

"What did you do?"

"I told him to stay away from you."

"Finn, you shouldn't have done that. His father—"

"Can kiss my ass. Come on. We have laundry to do. We aren't talking about him anymore today."

She doesn't argue, and we spend the rest of the day doing laundry, hanging out with her roommate, and fucking.

When she falls asleep in my arms, I don't sleep. Dread hangs over me as I replay the scenes at her parents' house and the country club. I kick myself for not waiting until he was alone and letting my anger lead my actions.

When the sun comes up, I shower, then wake Brenna up for her to go to work. She gets ready, and I make coffee. I fill an insulated cup for her then add cream and sugar.

I drop her off at work and escort her inside then kiss her. "I'll pick you up when your shift's over."

She smiles, and my heart skips a beat. "Thanks."

I peck her on the lips. "Have a good day, firefly."

She smiles bigger, and I watch her until she disappears into the elevator.

I go directly home and turn on the computer. I have an hour to kill before I have to be at the O'Malley warehouse. I spend it working on the final edits for our sex tape. I'm totally engrossed and saving my changes when there's a bang on my door.

"Finn! Get your ass down here!" Darragh's voice booms.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

I get to the stairs, and the door is wide open. Darragh looms in the doorway with sunlight beaming against him. My stomach flips. I trot to the bottom, and Darragh grabs me by the collar, slamming me against the wall.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he roars.

I hold myself back from going into fight mode. If I wanted to take Darragh out, I might be able to. But he's the boss. One thing you don't do is try to protect yourself or fight back when the boss touches you. I blurt out, "He's stalking her."

"I told you if something happened, you come to me," he snaps.

"I have it under control."

"Control? Keiran Kelly just called. All our cases just got switched to his father."

The blood drains from my face. Keiran is the O'Malley attorney.

"That's right." Darragh jabs my chest. "Our boys are getting sentenced by Judge Peterson, not the judge in my pocket."

Speechless, my mouth turns dry, and bile crawls up my throat.

"I don't know what the fuck you did, nor do I want to know. But this one is on you, Finn."

"I-I'll make this right."

Darragh scoffs. "Make this right? Son, you don't know the first thing about how this world works. You can't just make this right."

A heavy breath comes out through my nose. "Let's take him out."

Darragh's face turns darker. "After all our cases got moved to him? Another stupid idea."

"His son is after Brenna."

"You didn't follow my orders. You're going in front of the council."

"No!" Nana's voice rings through the air.

Darragh turns his head. She's standing with her hand on her hip, her face red with anger.

"Stay out of this, Mam," Darragh warns.

"You will not take my grandson, your brother's flesh and blood, in front of the council. I don't care what he's done. I say no. Now let him go," she orders.

Darragh hesitates then releases me. He points in my face. "You stay away from that boy. You hear me?"

I stay quiet, my insides toxic from this entire situation. I hurt my family. I possibly put Brenna in more danger. I didn't think before I went to the country club instead of just picking him up at night and ending his life.

"Darragh, go home," Nana demands.

He shakes his head at me, his scowl deepening, and steps back. "You may be next in line after Liam, but I'll strip you of all your birthrights if you ever disobey me again. And your nana won't stop me."

My chest tightens.

"Two months. No pay. Don't be late at the warehouse today." He gets in his car and drives off.

My gut dives further. I'm going to miss payments on the ring I picked out for Brenna.

Nana calmly inquires, "What has that girl gotten you involved in?"

I pin my gaze on her. "Nothing. This isn't her fault."

Nana arches an eyebrow. "I know you love her, but you can't let it destroy your life."

"Destroy my life? She is my life," I hurl.

"If you keep making bad decisions, you won't have one. I can't save you from yourself, Finn." She pats me on the shoulders and goes into the pub.

"Fuck!" I yell, slamming my fist against the wall and busting the drywall. But the sting bursting in my hand is nothing compared to the fallout from what I've done.

13

Brenna

"BRENNA, you've been requested in emergency," the head nurse informs me.

I tilt my head. "Requested?"

"Yeah."

"Which doctor? Am I in trouble?" I fret.

She shakes her head. "Not sure which doctor, but I doubt you're in trouble. You would get sent to HR if that were the case."

I relax slightly. "Okay. Good to know."

She picks up a clipboard. "You better get moving."

Nervous flutters expand in my gut, but I'm unsure why. I've done a ton of rounds in the ER. It's not uncommon to get shifted around when you're a student, especially if it's a department you've worked in before. But I've never been requested without knowing which doctor sent for me. Plus, I have less than twenty minutes left in my shift.

When I get to the elevators, an orderly is putting red tape across them. The doors are sealed shut.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Service day."

"On all of them? And during the day?" I've been on night shifts before, and that's when the services usually take place, but they do one elevator at a time.

He shrugs. "I'm not the boss."

"Fair enough." I open the stairwell and jog down twelve floors, worrying I'm going to be late. The more-demanding doctors seem to be in the ER. The last thing I want is one pissed at me. I'm about to open the door for the first floor when a black-gloved hand goes over my mouth. My torso gets yanked backward. I hit a man's body and smell Brad's expensive cologne.

My pulse skyrockets and I try to push out of his grasp, but he commands, "Stop moving, Brenna, or I'm pulling my gun out."

I freeze, realizing what the hard thing pressing against my back is. Brad shoots at the range all the time with his frat brothers. He used to wave the gun around until I told him he needed to keep it away from me, or I was going to leave him. I know Finn has one, but he's never bragged about it and keeps it out of sight.

"That's better. Good girl." His hot breath hits my neck, and I cringe.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk."

"There's nothing to say. It's over between us. Now let me go," I demand.

He spins me so I'm against the wall, trapped between the brick and him. His hardened scowl frightens me. I try to retreat, but there's nowhere to go. His voice sends chills down my spine. "You're walking out of this hospital, and we're going to talk."

"There's nothing—"

He holds the gun to my cheek. My breath hitches, and his lips curl. "If you try anything, I'll shoot you, Brenna. I'll put a bullet right through your heart and watch you bleed out."

The expanding lump in my throat suffocates me. I whisper, "Why are you doing this?"

His eyes turn crazier. "You can ask your questions later. Now, are you going to stay alive, or do I need to kill you?"

I stay quiet.

"Good girl. And so you know, I have people on my payroll all over this place, watching for you to make one wrong move."

A tear slips down my cheek. "You'd want me dead?"

He drags his finger on my cheek. "No, I don't want you dead. I want you as my wife. But that choice is yours. Now, move." He turns me, aims the gun at my back, and steps behind me. He pushes me out the exit door, and the cold wind whips into my face.

Brad's Audi squeals to a stop in front of us. One of his close family friends, Jack Christian, gets out. He's between Brad and his father's age. He's a successful businessman. I've met him several times, but he's always checking me out and gives me the creeps. Brad shoves me into the front seat.

"Jack!" I plead, but a smile grows on his lips, giving me goose bumps.

The door slams, and Jack steps in front of my door with a satisfied look on his face. Brad runs to the driver's side, hops in, and peels out of the parking lot.

My body trembles, and I stare out the window, hoping Finn's here early and somehow sees me. But I don't see his Camaro or him anywhere.

Brad accelerates the Audi, and I put my belt on, afraid I might die in a car crash. Within a few minutes, I realize he's taking me to his house.

"Please let me go," I beg again, but he ignores me.

"This stunt you've been pulling is over, Brenna."

"What stunt?"

His eyes turn to slits. He fumes, "That lowlife, poor thug you've been screwing."

"He's not a thug," I blurt out.

Brad reaches over and slaps me. My face flies toward the window, and I scream. Pain shoots across my neck and face. He growls, "You will not speak to me like that!"

Holding my cheek, I shut my eyes, but tears still fall. I don't move and tell myself to keep my mouth shut.

He's going to kill me.

No one knows he has me.

Except Jack.

The quivering in my gut gets more volatile. We pull into Brad's garage and he shuts the door. He comes around to my side and yanks me out.

"Ow! You're hurting me! Please, stop!" I cry out.

Brad freezes and takes two deep breaths while staring at me. He states, "If you do what you're supposed to, I won't have to hurt you."

"I'll do what you want," I say, to buy myself some time and try to figure out how to get away from him.

He grins. It's the same one I used to be attracted to. Now it makes me cringe. "Good decision." He puts his hand on my back and leads me through the house and into his office.

"I-I thought we were going to talk," I say.

His eyes dart over my body. "Take your scrubs off."

"What? No!"

He pulls the gun out of his pants and points it at me. "What did you say?"

My entire body trembles as fresh tears fall. "Brad, please!"

"Get your fucking scrubs off, now," he screams in my face.

With shaking hands, I pull my top over my head. "Brad, please—"

"My wife isn't going to wear poor people's clothes, Brenna. Now get your pants off," he seethes.

I close my eyes, pull the drawstring of my pants, and let them fall.

"Put them in the garbage can." He waves the gun toward the trash.

I bend down, pick up the scrubs, and do what he wants. I stand by his desk and stare at it. There's a letter opener, a Montblanc pen that costs thousands, and a video camera. My gut twists.

He comes behind me and circles his arm around my waist. Bile rushes up my throat, and I struggle to keep it down. His lips hit my ear, and more nausea sweeps through me. "All the things you didn't let me do to you, I'm finally going to do. I'm going to capture it all." He slides the muzzle of the gun over my slit.

Trembling harder, I close my eyes, unable to stop my sobs.

He laughs, digging the gun harder against my panties. "Oh, you're going to be fun to break in."

"Please," I plead again, but it's pointless.

He spins me around, pins me to the desk, and my palms hit the wooden top. His body towers over me. He lunges over my body and slides the gun harder over me.

"You're hurting me," I cry.

I only get more laughs and then he grabs my hair and yanks it so hard, pain shoots through my neck. I shriek, and he shoves his tongue in my mouth, then lowers the gun to my entrance. I try to push him off me, but he's stronger than I am and keeps inching the gun in me through my panties.

The position I'm in doesn't give me good balance. My hands flail until I hit the cool metal of the letter opener.

I don't think, and everything happens in an instant. I grip it tight then slash his torso.

He screams like a wounded animal, arching up into the air. The gun falls on the desk between my legs, but I barely notice it. He comes toward me, and I stab the letter opener in his direction.

He grabs my wrist, stopping me, then uses his other hand to unwrap my fingers. The moment he has it, he comes toward me, and I slide to the side.

The letter opener slices my arm and I cry out in pain then kick him in the balls. He gasps for air, his eyes widening, and he drops the letter opener on the desk, grabbing his crotch.

Blood pools between us, making the metal weapon slippery. I grip it as tight as I can and stab him in the neck.

He takes several steps back, clenches his neck, then stumbles to the ground. Red stains the white carpet, growing larger with every breath I take.

In a trance, shaking, I pick up the gun and stand over him. My tears fall on his body, mixing in his blood. His eyes turn glassy, as if he can't focus.

"Brenna, don't!" Finn's voice calls out.

I slowly turn toward the door, keeping the gun aimed at him.

Finn cautiously holds out his hands. "Give me the gun, firefly."

"H-he needs to die," I sob.

Finn nods. "I know. Let me do it."

"I-I..."

He steps closer. "It's—" His eyes dart toward Brad.

I spin. Brad's trying to get up, and I shoot him in the head. The noise alone makes me drop the gun. Brad's body slams to the floor. Blood spurts out, hitting me in the face. The bloody ring on the carpet expands. Finn pulls me into his arms, and I weep.

"Shh. It's okay, firefly. Everything will be okay."

"He...he made me go with him at the hospital. Jack Christian was there. I-I couldn't stop it. I tried. I swear I didn't want to come here," I hysterically admit.

"Shh. I know." He tightens his arms around me, kissing my head.

I don't know how long it is until a Russian accent says, "Finn, we have to go."

I pull my head out of Finn's chest and stare at Maksim.

"Take her home. I'll be there after I clean this up."

"Are you crazy? We have to go," Maksim insists.

"Her DNA is all over this room. Take her home. I'll be there soon."

"No. Don't leave me. Finn—"

"Shh." He puts his hands on my cheeks. His green eyes plead with me. "Go with Maksim. You were never here. Go."

"No!"

"Goddammit, firefly."

I jump, and he tugs me into him. His heart beats against my cheek. "I'm sorry. Please. I know what's best. Go. I'll be home soon."

Maksim hands me my scrubs. "Put these on, Brenna."

I glance down and realize I'm only in my bra and panties. "He...he tried to shove the gun up me," I bawl, breaking down again.

Finn holds me but not for very long. "You need to get out of here, firefly. Let me help you get your clothes on."

He dresses me. I can't stop crying or shaking. He puts me in his Camaro and kisses me. "I'll be home soon. Remember, you were never here."

Maksim gets in the driver's seat, and I barely remember the ride.

Maksim takes me into my apartment, and as soon as I step inside, his beeper goes off. He glances at it and shuts his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Brenna. I have to go. Take a shower and put all your clothes in a trash bag. Give them to Finn when he comes and gets you."

I stare at it, barely registering a word he said.

He hesitates and his beeper goes off again. "Shit. I'm sorry. Do what I said." He leaves and I don't remember anything else, until I come to.

I'm in my apartment, under the covers, in my bloody scrubs.

I look at the time and it's after midnight. A wave of fear like I've never known rolls through me. Kim isn't anywhere in the apartment. I call Finn's, wondering why he isn't here. His phone rings until the answering machine picks up. I try the pub, but no one answers.

Unsure what to do or how to stop the growing dread in my gut, I step in the shower and scrub the blood off me. I dry off, put on jeans and a sweatshirt, then call a cab to go to the pub. It's the only place I can think to look for him. I open the door to leave, and Jack Christian pushes his way inside.

He shuts the door and snarls, "Seems like you've been busy."

I try to run, but there's nowhere to hide. He lunges at me, tackling me to the ground before I get past the living room. The last thing I hear is, "Trash gets punished."

14

Finn

Seven Hours Earlier

MAKSIM LEAVES IN THE CAMARO, and I shut the garage door. I'm not new to death, but watching my firefly in shock, sobbing, with blood all over her and only in her undergarments, has me rattled.

I return to the bloodbath in Brad's office and cringe. I'm not used to messy jobs. Everything my uncle Darragh asks me to do is calculated. It's well planned out so this situation in front of me doesn't happen.

"Fuck." I assess the room some more, not knowing where to start. I can't use the phone to call Darragh. I don't know when someone will be coming by next. All I know is Brenna's DNA can't be in this room.

Get to work. This won't make it go away, I reprimand myself.

I don't even have gloves.

My panic sets in, but I take a towel and open a hall closet. Brad has plenty of leather gloves, so I grab a pair and put them on. I find trash bags and blankets. I soak the letter opener and gun in a sink full of bleach, wipe down the desk and items on it, then I roll Brad's body in blankets. I hoist it over my shoulder to throw in his trunk. I figure I'll rip the carpet out next. I go down the hall, turn the corner, and freeze.

My gut dives, and a chill runs down my spine, digging into my bones. Red lights flash from outside. Six officers stand in the house, with guns pointed at me, ready to shoot.

"Get down," one demands.

Unable to do anything but run and get shot or obey, I release Brad, and he thuds onto the floor. I put my hands in the air and get on the ground.

My entire life flashes before my eyes. The ring I've been paying for to give to Brenna. Her in a white wedding dress then pregnant with our other babies around us. The sex tape we made that I've spent months editing. It all spins in a vicious loop, and I barely hear the officer reading me my rights.

For the next few hours, I think I'm in shock. I keep wondering if Brenna is safe. Will they pick her up, too, once they find her DNA?

I beat myself up for not burning down the house and running away with Brenna. We could have gone anywhere, far away. Hell, I could have taken her to that Caribbean island she always talks about. It isn't Chicago, but I'd be happy as long as she was there.

A hand slams on the table. "Son, if you don't start talking, this is going to be a lot worse for you," a detective threatens.

I blink, unsure how long I've been in this tiny room. There's only one table and a mirrored window. "Don't I get an attorney?"

His eyes turn to slits. "Is that how you want to play this?"

I stay quiet.

He shakes his head and pushes the phone on the table toward me. "One call. That's it. Who's it going to be?"

I pick up the phone and call Darragh's house. Bile rises in my throat. I'm unsure how any attorney or Darragh is going to get me out of this one.

"Hello," Auntie Ruth answers.

I cringe inside. "Auntie Ruth. It's Finn. Tell Darragh I've been arrested."

She gasps, then the line goes quiet.

"Auntie Ruth?"

"Oh... Finn, are you okay?"

"Yes. Please tell Darragh."

"Yes. Right away."

"Thanks." I hang up the phone.

The officer rises. "You made a bad decision, son."

I ignore him and he leads me to a cell. Another man is lying on the bench, asleep. I slide down the cold cement wall, and my mind spirals.

All I think about is how my firefly looked and felt in my arms, sobbing. I pray they miraculously don't find her DNA. I wonder if there's any way I'm getting out of this.

Hours pass and a guard finally shouts, "O'Malley."

I get up and go back into the small room. Keiran Kelly sits in a chair, wearing a brown suit. He loosens his tie and shakes his head. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I stay quiet.

"You killed a judge's son. And not just any judge. The judge," he seethes.

"How did they even know I was there?"

"A neighbor heard the gunshot. They called the police. He was the wrong man to kill, Finn."

"Aren't you supposed to get me out of this instead of lecturing me?" I spout.

He shakes his head. "This is bad, Finn. They caught you carrying the dead body out."

"Yeah, I'm aware. I was there, remember?"

"Jesus. Your mother—"

"Don't talk about my mother," I growl. My chest tightens.

Kieran leans closer. "Darragh said this has to do with your woman. Was she part of this?"

A claw scratches my gut, digging into my core. "No."

He squints. "Are you sure? Her boss claims she never showed up to her last assignment."

"I wouldn't know about that."

"Don't lie to me, son. If something happened, now's the time to speak up."

I lean forward, feeling the rage expand. "Really? Are they going to let me out if I say my girlfriend was kidnapped and almost raped by the judge's son?"

His eyes widen. "Is that what happened?"

"Answer my question," I demand.

"We would need her cooperation, but it's a start."

"Start?"

Keiran lowers his voice. "The judge is furious and is already making calls. I won't lie. We're going to have a tough time getting you off unless there's someone else we can point to. Is there?"

My gut coils and my heart is on the verge of exploding. I sit back in my seat and sniff hard. "No."

"Finn, this isn't the time to save anyone else's ass but your own."

I cross my arms and grind my molars.

"Jesus. Prison isn't like the jail cell they just had you in. You'll get sent down state," Keiran claims.

I cringe inside. I've heard all about the high-security prison from other O'Malleys who spent time there. It's a place I vowed I'd never end up.

Keiran leans closer. "Finn, whatever happened, I need to know everything."

My heart races, and Brenna in a white wedding dress flashes in front of me. I sniff hard. "I killed him. End of story."

Keiran inhales deeply. Pity fills his eyes. I hate it and look away. In a defeated voice, he asks, "Besides your mother, is there anyone you want me to call?"

I ponder his question for several moments. "Have Sean and Bridget check on Brenna. Have them tell her not to come here."

Keiran's eyes turn to slits. "Why not?"

Because she'll confess to get me out.

Instead of telling him the truth, I lie. "I don't want her to see me in here."

"Son, you're going to get more leeway in here for a final kiss than downstate. You can't even hug there."

His words crush me.

A final kiss.

Jesus.

Reality spins around me, sinking in. "How many years will I get?"

Kieran closes his eyes, and when he opens them, the pity has exponentially grown. The fires of Hell stoke hotter. "You'll be an old man if you ever get out."

EVERYTHING MOVES AT LIGHTNING SPEED, but I don't pay attention to anything. All I know is Brenna is missing. She never went home to my place. Sean and Bridget went to her apartment, but all they found were her bloody scrubs.

The longer I sit in the cage, the more my rage and fear percolate. Kieran suggests Brenna must be hiding out and wants to know why. I say nothing, but I know she wouldn't do that. She's not a coward. If anything, she'd run to my family, not away from it.

My obsession with Brenna and what's happening to her grows. I don't know anything, but I have nightmares where she's crying and calling for me. I'm on the verge of losing it and don't know what to do.

My mother visits me, and it almost kills me. She won't stop crying and begging me to tell her the truth about what happened. But I can't. I won't. I made a vow to always protect my firefly. I'll never go back on that promise.

Maksim visits me, swearing he dropped her off at the apartment.

"I said to take her home," I say.

"I thought you meant her apartment."

"No. Home. My place."

He scrubs his face in frustration. "I'm sorry. I dropped her off, and she was safe."

"How could you have left her?"

His eyes darken. "I got called away."

"By whom? Who is so goddamn important you'd leave her in shock?"

He turns quiet, and it's the same thing that's been happening the last year.

"Go away. If you can't tell me what the fuck is going on with you when my life is on the line, then get the fuck out!" I hurl.

He still doesn't talk.

"Fuck this and fuck you," I growl then knock on the door for the guard to take me back to my cell.

The trial is quick. I plead innocent, under Kieran's instructions. He argues there are no DNA samples, no witnesses, and nothing but me at the wrong place at the wrong time. It's the same argument he used with the district attorney's office to get my charge dropped from manslaughter one to manslaughter two. Since the DNA samples disappeared, they begrudgingly reduced it. But Kieran's argument doesn't go very far in court. The jurors don't buy it. They return with a guilty verdict after a few minutes.

Regret grows roots, creating a vicious hold on me.

If only I'd never gone to the country club.

If only I'd not let my anger rule me and I killed Brad that night instead of only threatening him.

If only I never listened to Darragh and stole his last breath the moment I learned about him.

If only, if only, if only.

Before my sentencing, I get called out of my cell and told I have a visitor. My heart fills with hope. I wanted Sean to tell her not to visit me, but if only I could see her one more time. I need to kiss her and feel her in my arms. I need to know she's all right and not in any danger.

When I step into the room, I freeze. Blood drains from my cheeks.

Brian Doyle sits at the table with a scowl on his face. He motions to the chair, and I sit.

My insides quiver as I meet his icy gaze. He looks like he's aged ten years. His clothes hang on him like he hasn't eaten. Gray streaks run through his hair.

"Where is she?" he asks.

I shake my head, feeling like everything is about to come crashing down, and I'm never going to be able to hold it together anymore. I admit, "I don't know."

"Tell me," he begs, his eyes filling with tears.

"I would, but I can't. I don't know."

He sniffs hard. "Is she dead?"

My stomach dives. It's the question I've not allowed myself to ask. I adamantly reply, "No."

"Then how do you know?"

"I dream of her. I feel her," I admit, realizing I sound like a complete lunatic.

"Then where is she?" he demands.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since..." I turn away.

"Since when?" he seethes.

I find more courage to look him in the eye. "Since it happened."

His eyes turn to slits. "She was there?"

I stare at him.

He slams his hand on the table. "Goddammit. I want to know right now what happened."

"You don't," I insist.

"If you have any soul, you'll tell me right now what the truth is." His voice catches. "Did that bastard hurt her?"

Something in me cracks. Maybe it's because I know he loves Brenna, probably feels regret, and I understand it all too well now. For the first time since being arrested, I speak. "He kidnapped her from the hospital. She was in shock when she left."

"In shock?"

I nod.

"From you killing Brad?"

I stay quiet.

He glances at the ceiling then says, "You said she left. Where did she go?"

"My friend took her to her apartment."

"What friend?"

"Someone who would never hurt her. Someone who got her there safely," I assure him.

"Then why isn't she there?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. I wish I knew. I would tell you."

His jaw trembles, and he turns his head, blinking hard. "If Brad took her from the hospital, who else knows about it?"

"No one. When—" I freeze.

"What?" Brian asks.

"Brenna said a man named Jack Christian was at the hospital. She was in shock and... Jesus." Air turns stale in my lungs. "You need to find out whatever you can about this man and tell me what you discover."

"Do you think he has her?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. But if he helped Brad take her..." More chills rush down my spine.

The guard opens the door. "Visiting time is over."

I rise, my hands shackled. I demand, "Find out."

I'm led back to my cell, and the next day, I go back to court.

The judge, one of Judge Peterson's cronies, stares at me like I'm a piece of filth. "Due to the nature of this crime, I'm sentencing you to the maximum time I can. Finn O'Malley, you will serve twenty years in maximum security prison."

I don't hear the rest of what the judge says or my nana or mother crying. Everything else is pointless. I knew it was coming, yet hearing it spoken shakes me.

Forty-five. I'll be forty-five when I get out.

How do I find Brenna when I'll be locked away for twenty years?

The gavel hits the wooden desk. I don't look at my family as the guards lead me away. I can't. I'm two seconds shy of completely breaking down.

They shove me in a police van, and the six-hour drive downstate begins. When I get there, a new form of hell begins.

They strip me, give me a body cavity search, and my head gets shaved. They hose me down with cold water and hand me an orange jumpsuit and a cheap pair of shoes. I get told the rules, and the journey through the building begins. When the final set of doors open, the prisoners all shout and bang on the bars. The noise is so loud, my ears ring after it quiets down. I walk past them as they try to grab me, with my head high and looking straight ahead.

They throw me into a cell with a man named Sticks. He's scrawny, zits cover his face, and he looks sixteen. I keep to myself, not talking to anyone, including him. That night, I lie on the bottom bunk, wondering how I'm going to do twenty years in this place.

Brenna's face appears. I hear her laugh, and the ache of missing her gets more intense.

I'm unsure how many hours pass, but the cell opens. A guard tells me to get up. A bad feeling fills me, but I know better than to disobey. I follow him through several doors.

It's so dark, I can't see anything. I finally ask, "Want to tell me where you're taking me?"

A punch lands on my face and another one on my stomach and back. I can't find my footing, and my swings don't make contact with anyone. I get hit and kicked so many times, I can't count how many of them there are. The last thing I hear is, "Baileys own this prison, not the O'Malleys." Men's laughter fills my ears, and everything turns to black.

15

Brenna

Several Months Later

"WAKE UP," a female smoker's voice sounds from far away.

"How old is she? Her tits are nice," another woman says from closer.

My face vibrates, and I try to open my eyes.

"Wake up," the smoker crackles over and over as I realize she's slapping my face.

I try to speak, but only a moan comes out.

"How much did Jack give her?" a third woman, with a concerned voice, asks.

"No idea. When he dropped her off, he said it had been several months."

Several months? My heart races faster, and I force myself to open my eyes again. A soft glow hits me, and I keep blinking until I can focus on the room in front of me. Smoke flares in my nostrils, and I cough.

A blonde, maybe my age, wears a pink negligee and offers a kind smile. "Are you okay? Here, have some water." She holds a bottle to my lips, and I drink, unsure what's happening, but my mouth is so dry, it could compete with a desert.

The smoker grabs my chin, peering at me closely. She looks like a grandma hooker. She's wearing lingerie as well, but hers is purple. Her pushed-up boobs look like they're going to pop out. The material barely covers her nipples. She takes a long drag of her cigarette then starts coughing. Her spit flies in my face and I wince.

"You'll get a lot for her with those tits," a Black woman, maybe in her thirties, says. She's wearing an electric-blue bra and fishnet tights. Blue streaks run through her hair.

I try to sit up, and a hammer pounds my skull.

"Careful. Try not to move too fast," the blonde says.

Smoker granny takes another drag. "Spread her legs, Josie."

Still trying to catch my bearings, the Black woman starts moving my knees apart.

"Stop!" I cry out, trying to keep my legs together, but I don't seem to have any control over my lower body.

The blonde grabs my hand. "It's okay. Just try to breathe."

Fear shoots through me. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. She squeezes my hand and offers me another smile.

Smoker granny gets so close to my pussy, I can feel her hot breath. She demands, "Wider."

Josie moves my legs farther apart, and it's like watching from outside my body.

I turn to the blonde. "I-I can't move my legs."

She strokes my hair. "Shh. It's okay. The drugs will wear off, and you'll be able to then."

"Drugs?"

She gives me another pity-filled smile.

More mortification hits me when I realize I'm naked.

Smoker granny takes the unlit end of her cigarette, dabs at my clit, then drags it down to my entrance. "Ah. Nice. Very nice. See the way it just throbbed. I'll get extra for that." She sticks the cigarette in me, then lifts it to her mouth, deeply inhaling. She licks her lips then dips it back to my pussy, blowing the smoke on my sex.

"Please stop," I beg, a tear falling down my cheek.

The blonde squeezes my hand tighter and cuddles my head in her chest. She murmurs, "It's almost over."

"She taste good?" Josie asks.

"Mmhmm," Smoker granny acknowledges. "Pink, young, and tastes fresh. I'm going to get extra. Jackie boy did me proud on this one."

"What are you talking about?" I cry out.

Smoker granny rises, casting an expression at me that creeps me out further. "You ever been to Ireland, honey?"

More panic besieges every cell I have. "Ireland? No."

"Well, get ready. In two days, Jack has arranged to ship you there."

"Ship? What do you mean?"

"Ship. Sold. Which word do you prefer?" Josie asks.

I gape at them, feeling like I might have a heart attack.

"You're scaring her. Stop," the blonde says.

"Should we sugarcoat it, Renee? That's not going to help her. You know that. It's better to let her get over the shock and deal with it," Josie claims.

"She just woke up. Give her a minute. She can't even feel her legs yet," Renee adds.

"Y-you can't sell me! I'm a human being, not a dog!" I cry out.

Renee's body tenses against mine. She tightens her arm around my shoulders.

Smoker granny puts her cigarette in an ashtray and lunges over me so she's straddling me. She yanks my hair and leans down in my face. Her putrid breath floods my airways. "You're my property until I sell you. Jack gave you to me, so that makes you mine. If he hadn't insisted I get you out of the country, I'd break you in here. But I'll get more for you unbroken. Yep, some man is going to pay me big for that privilege."

My entire body trembles. I can't stop the tears, and smoker granny only seems to like my trepidation.

She strokes my cheek. A sinister smile full of yellow teeth grows. "Ah. Are you one of those girls who likes to know what she's walking into? Tell you what, I'll give you a preview. I'll even help you relax and have Josie lick your sweet pussy first if you need it."

Horror ricochets through my bones.

Her laugh crackles through the air. "Or maybe you should suck my pussy. Give me a present for taking such good care of you."

I squeeze my lids shut, wishing all of this would go away, wanting Finn's arms around me like never before.

Smoker granny laughs again, then the bed shifts. She gets off me, and Renee rubs her thumb on the back of my hand.

A humming sound makes me open my eyes. Josie's taking polaroid pictures of all my body parts. I will my legs to move, but they won't. I cover up my chest, and Renee mutters, "Don't."

"Hands off. Now!" Smoker granny snarls.

Feeling helpless and scared, I remove my hands. I sob, which only makes things worse.

"You better toughen up, chick. This is nothing compared to what your owner will do to break you in," Josie warns.

"Flip her," Smoker granny orders.

"Don't fight," Renee whispers then says louder, "Roll your torso over."

For some reason, I trust Renee. She seems to be the only one with a conscience. I might be wrong about her, but I do what she says.

"Get her on her knees," Smoker granny demands.

Josie's hands dig into my thighs. Renee puts hers on my other leg. I think maybe I'll be able to move my legs since I can feel their hands, but I still can't.

The sound of more polaroid shots fills my ears. I dig my head in the pillow, not sure what to do.

"Spread her ass cheeks," Smoker granny orders.

I sob into my pillow as Renee and Josie pull me apart. It seems to go on and on forever. They flip me back over, and Smoker granny makes another command. "Pucker her nipples."

I slap Josie's hand as it comes toward me. "Don't touch me!"

Smoker granny laughs so hard, she coughs. When her fit is over, she sits on the bed next to me. "Do you want to do it? Want to play with yourself while we watch?" She leans closer to my ear, and I grimace. "It might turn me on."

I look at Renee, but she just gives me one of her sympathetic smiles.

"Okay, you do it, Josie," Smoker granny says.

I snap my face toward hers, gritting my teeth. "No. I'll do it."

A victorious smirk appears, and I want to die on the spot. She steps back and puts her hand on her hip. "Come on. I don't have all day."

I move my hands over my nipples until they're hard. She takes several close-ups then says, "Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Are you deaf? Open your goddamn mouth."

I obey, and she snaps pictures. "Yes. No cavities." She grabs her photos and wiggles her ass as she walks out the door, singing, "I'm in the money!"

Josie leans over me. "Word of advice. If you let me eat you out before your owner comes to buy you, you'll be more relaxed. It won't hurt as much."

"Fuck. Off," I sneer.

Josie snorts then rises. She drags her fingers from my thigh to my ankle. "I was trying to be nice, darling. Suit yourself." She leaves.

My pulse starts to slow, and I finally turn to Renee. "Where am I?"

"Mama Christian's."

Confused, I shake my head. "Who is that?"

"The smoker."

Mama...

My pulse climbs again. I swallow hard. "Is that Jack's mom?"

"Yep. Lucky for you, Jack knows what these men want. He kept you intact. I had to service him when he dropped you off." She lifts the pink lace over her torso, and bruises are starting to bloom all over her hips and waist.

I gasp. "What did he do?"

She shrugs. "Nothing I can't handle."

My thoughts are all over the place. I blurt out, "What part of Chicago are we in?"

Her eyes widen. "We're far from Chicago, honey. Is that where you're from?"

"Yes. If we aren't in Chicago, where are we?"

"Philly."

"Philly?"

"Yeah."

Another random thought pains me. The nurse's outfit I bought for Finn flashes in my mind. "It's Halloween, isn't it?"

She tilts her head and strokes my hair some more. "No. It's January."

"January? It can't be," I insist, but several months pop into my mind.

"Jack had you in an induced coma."

I put my hand over my face, wondering why I can't wake up from this nightmare. Anxiety builds faster. I beg, "Please don't let her sell me."

Compassion fills Renee's face, and I already know I'm fucked. "I don't get to make that choice. Only Mama Christian can."

Fresh tears stream everywhere. I'm practically hyperventilating when a cramp runs from my toe up to my thigh. "Oww!"

"Cramp?"

"Yes."

"Your nerves are waking up. Here, drink all this water. It'll help." She hands me the bottle.

I drink it all, a million more questions popping into my mind. "Were you kidnapped, too?"

Renee nods. "We all were. Well, except for Josie. She was homeless and on the street. She sold herself to Mama Christian."

Horrified, I ask, "Why would she do that?"

"Life on the street isn't a rodeo. There are lots of bad men there. At least here, she has a roof over her head and food to eat," Renee justifies.

I glance at my legs and mutter, "I want to go home."

Renee leans her head on my shoulder. "That'll start to fade after a while. Here, put on some clothes." She picks up a T-shirt that's on the table, and I put it on. "Want me to help you get these on?" She holds out a pair of pajama shorts.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Sure." She slides the silk over my legs and has me roll back and forth on my hips to get it over them. "There!"

"Thank you."

Her act of kindness gives me a momentary notion that things will be okay. I'll figure out how to escape this situation, get back to Chicago, and find Finn. I make a vow to myself that this is going to be the worst it'll get because I won't let Mama Christian sell me. But I'm wrong.

Renee rises to leave. "I'll let you rest."

"Thank you...for being nice."

She nods. "Sure." She gets to the door then stops. "Oh, shoot. I forgot." She picks a large yellow envelope off the dresser and hands it to me. "Jack said to give this to you."

I straighten. "What is it?"

"Not sure. He said he'd kill me if I opened it."

I take it, and my insides flip. What could he possibly want me to have?

Renee leaves and shuts the door. I stare at the envelope with a feeling of dread washing over me. My hands shake as I open the envelope.

The pain that cuts through me is unlike any I've ever experienced. A wail flies out of my mouth, and I sob, staring at photos of Finn. He's full of blood, with black-and-blue marks all over him. I barely recognize him, but it's him. The tattoos verify it's him.

A death certificate is attached.

Name: Finn O'Malley

Age of Death: 25

Cause of death: Internal Bleeding

Location: Menard Correctional Center.

Prison. He...oh God! He was in prison because of me. It had to be why he never came to get me.

Finn's dead because of me.

I want to die. All night I cry until I have no more tears to give. At some point, I fall asleep. I dream of Finn and me. He's driving his Camaro, grinning at me. He's asking me to marry him. He's dangling keys to a new house in front of me.

And then the dreams shift. There's no more future, just Finn, in his deep voice, saying, "Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop."

I wake up and realize I have nothing left to stop me. If I die fighting, then I die. There are no more moral boundaries to adhere to. If I have to kill them like I killed Brad, I will.

When I realize I need to use the bathroom, I don't think and stand up. Then it hits me the paralysis is gone. I sigh in relief. The photos of Finn catch my eye, and I slide all of them into the envelope, determined not to break down again. But I have to fight the ache because it's a train slamming into me and I don't know how to stop it.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop, Finn's voice says to me.

I have today and tomorrow to get out of here, then I'm in an entirely new situation.

Not happening.

I open the door, and Renee's in the hall talking to another girl. "Oh, hey! How are you feeling?"

"Bathroom?"

She points down the hall. "On the left."

"Thanks."

I shut the door, but there isn't a lock on it. I do my business then open the drawers and cabinets, looking for anything I can use as a weapon.

I'm about to give up when I realize it's staring at me on the counter.

A lighter sits abandoned next to a full ashtray.

I reach for it, stand against the door and flick it. An intense flame ignites. I turn it off and stick it in the waistband of my shorts, praying it doesn't fall out. I take the can of hairspray out of the cabinet and carry it out of the bathroom.

No one is in the hallway, and I make it safely back to my bedroom. I hide the lighter and can under my mattress and open up the drawers and closet to see if there are any decent clothes.

It's nothing but lingerie. I leave my room and wander down the hallway until I get to the end. A staircase leads to the front door. I walk down it, and when I get to the end, Josie says, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I spin. "Do what?"

"Open that door. If you do, Bo's going to give you a black eye."

"I wasn't going to."

She snorts. "Sure, you weren't."

I glance out the window, and sure enough, a big, burly man is standing guard. My stomach growls. I turn to Josie. "Is there any food? I'm starving."

She points behind her.

I amble down another hall. One side is a small living room. The other is a kitchen with a dining room. I step into it, and Renee, three other girls, and Mama Christian are sitting around the table.

"About time you got up," Mama Christian says and lights her cigarette.

"Is there any food?" I ask, figuring I need to eat to regain my strength.

"I'm not your slave. Make your own goddamn breakfast," she crackles.

I pass her and open the fridge. I assess everything and take out the eggs, bread, butter, and some berries.

"Pans are under the stove," Renee says.

"Thanks."

I find a skillet then make two fried eggs and toast. I eat the berries while I'm cooking the food and sit down for the sandwich. The smell of Mama Christian's cigarette makes me want to hurl, but I eat all my food.

Everyone watches me. I focus on my plate, but I can feel it. When I finish, I wash my dish and the skillet, then ask, "Are there any extra toothbrushes?"

"I put one on your table. It's on the yellow envelope," Mama Christian says.

My heart almost stops. The visual of Finn's beaten face and body crushes me. I hold on to the counter and take a few breaths.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop. Finn's voice fills my head, and I manage to get out, "Thanks."

An alarm goes off, and everyone, including Mama Christian, jumps out of their seat.

"What's going on?"

"Time to get ready. The Baileys will be here soon."

"The Baileys?" I question.

Mama Christian's face seems eerily happy. "Yep. Jack's daddy is going to be here."

My heart beats fast. I can only imagine what kind of monster his father is.

"Jack has your last name?" I ask, confused.

"You have a problem with that?" she snaps.

I put my hands in the air. "No. Just asking."

She smashes her cigarette in the ashtray, but it's still smoking. "Can't name a kid after his daddy when he's got a wife, now can you?"

My stomach churns. "Oh."

Renee puts her arm around my shoulder and steers me out of the kitchen. "Let's get ready."

A new wave of fear hits me. "What will I be doing tonight?"

Mama Christian groans. "Don't worry, princess. Your pussy isn't getting touched. You're on bar duty."

"Bar duty?"

"Yeah. Pour drinks. Shake your titties. Let them lick your ass. I don't care. But no one is taking you until they've paid me."

My insides quiver at the thought of anyone licking me anywhere. I freeze.

She swats my ass. "Go. Renee, you make sure she's presentable."

When we get into my room, Renee opens the drawer and pulls out a skimpy two-piece peach lingerie set. I swallow hard.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

I dig down and find my courage. Whatever I have to do to escape, I will. And it has to be tonight. Tomorrow will be too late.

16

Finn

IT'S BEEN TOO long since I dreamed of Brenna. Since I woke up in the infirmary a few months ago, I've not had one sleep where I saw her. It's like the Baileys beat her out of me.

I try to stay calm, but the longer I don't dream of her, the more I begin to let morbid thoughts into my head.

What if she's dead?

The notion hurts worse than the pain I experienced when I got jumped my first night here. My cracked ribs, swollen body, and broken nose I could deal with, but not this.

There are so many things I miss—the pub, my cousins and Bridget, Sunday dinners with my mom. Hell, I even miss Nana lecturing me and Darragh ordering me around.

I miss fresh air, loud music, and racing my Camaro through traffic. But the thing I ache the most for, the one thing I'm desperate to have in my life again, is Brenna.

My dreams were vivid. I could feel her kissing me or snuggling in my arms. Now, I go to sleep and feel nothing. There's a hole that's growing, and it fills with more fear with each day that passes.

After I got beaten, I missed the first visitation day because I was in the infirmary. There's only one per month. My nana and mother came when I recovered. All it did was stir up toxins. The disappointment mixed with grief in their eyes, and I could barely handle it. Then, hearing about how everyone else was moving forward with their lives on the outside made me hate myself even more.

I couldn't be happy for any of them. Sean had asked Tully's permission to marry Bridget over Christmas. Erin and Nessa, Sean's twin sisters, had both gotten engaged as well. Granted, I couldn't stand the men they were marrying, nor did the rest of the family sing their praises, but it was just another example of how everyone was getting what they wanted in life, except me.

I should have proposed to Brenna by now. She should be picking out a wedding dress and planning our big day. But I don't even know what happened to her. And every time I questioned my mother or Nana if there were any new leads about where she may be, I got pity-filled stares.

At the end of the visit, I told them not to come ever again.

My nana's eyes turned to slits. My mother's filled with tears. But I was living in the pit of Hell, doing my best to steer clear of the Baileys and survive. The more days that passed without dreaming of Brenna, the more my demons grew. What was the point of even hanging on anymore? If she were dead, there was no more point of living.

I was hanging on to a thread, and it was about to break. I knew it and didn't want my mother or Nana anywhere near me like this.

And today is another visitation day. My name gets called, and I go through the motions, ready to tell Mom and Nana again they aren't to come back. But when I get to the room, Darragh is sitting at the table.

My pulse races, and I think about the last conversation I had with him and how that one mistake caused everything bad in my life—everything bad in Brenna's life.

He puts his tweed cap on the table and studies me.

I sit, sniff hard, and shift in my seat. I didn't talk to Darragh during the trial. Keiran said it was best he stay far away. He only came to the sentencing, and he wore the same hardened expression he almost always has when dealing with clan business.

Nana said he was in the car outside the prison when she and my mom came to visit because only two visitors are allowed at once.

I was fine with it. Seeing Darragh only reminds me of what a fuckup I am.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

All the anger, all the fear, all the self-pity I feel comes out. "How the fuck do you think I'm doing?"

He doesn't flinch, as if he expected me to answer as I did. "Your nana and mother are in the car. They want to see you."

"Is that why you're here? To plead their case? Well, the answer is they can stay in the warm car. I'm not changing my mind. This isn't a place for them, and you know it. I won't have them traveling six hours every month to sit in this cesspool."

Darragh keeps his same expression, tapping his fingers on the table. "After Liam, you're in line to run the clan. I expect you to act like it."

I snort. "If you haven't noticed, I'm behind bars right now."

"Yeah. And you'll do your time and get out one day."

"In twenty fucking years," I growl.

Darragh leans forward and lowers his voice. "You think you're the only O'Malley to deal with this situation?"

I stay quiet and look away, knowing Darragh did a long stint as well.

He softens his voice. "Finn."

I slowly meet his gaze.

"You can piss away the next twenty years or make it work for you and come out stronger. You can't do both."

I scowl. "The only thing I give a damn about is finding Brenna, and I can't do that in here. And you sure as hell don't seem to be interested in finding her."

"Not true. I just met with her father."

My blood runs cold. "Why would you meet with Brian?"

"He came to me. Told me he was trying to dig information up on Jack Christian but couldn't find anything. All he could find is public information from his business profile." Darragh arches his eyebrows. "I think it's time you told me what really happened."

I stare at him, keeping my mouth shut.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"Help me? I think the time to help me came and went."

His eyes turn to slits. "What does Jack Christian have to do with Brenna? If you want me to find information on him, you need to tell me the truth."

I ponder his statement then realize Darragh is more equipped to handle this than Brian. "That rich boy kidnapped her. Before she left, she said Jack was there at the hospital. He helped him take her."

"You think Jack has her?"

I breathe through all the emotions cycling through me, putting me on the verge of a breakdown. And that's one thing I can't handle in this place. "It's the only thing that makes sense to me."

Darragh nods. "Okay. We'll look into him. See if he has her. But I need you to snap out of this."

"Out of what?"

He pushes the pads of his fingertips together. "This pity party you're having. It's going to get you killed."

I don't respond.

He leans as close to the line across the middle of the table as possible. It's the farthest he can go without getting yelled at by the guards. "It's time to grow up, Finn. There are only two choices. Be the hunter or the prey."

I seethe, "Jesus, Darragh. I'm outnumbered here. Everywhere I look, I've got our enemies watching me, ready to pounce the first chance they get."

"Come closer."

I sigh and lean in as far as I can.

"Did you notice the guards changed when you got out of the infirmary?"

I nod.

"They're all on my payroll, waiting for my instructions. Right now, they're keeping you safe and those bastards an arm's length away. I can only protect you so much. You've gotta protect yourself."

"I was jumped in the dark. I don't even know how many of them there were," I admit.

He nods. "Right. And that's why you need to use this window to your advantage."

"How?"

"You aren't the only one who hates them. Find those people. Own this goddamn place, or it'll own you."

I shake my head. "I don't trust anyone in here."

"Cells 402, 406, 489. Start with them."

"Who are they?"

"Fourth and fifth cousins. O'Malley blood on their mother's side. Last names are different, but don't let that fool you."

I lower my voice to almost a whisper. "You sure? If they aren't who you think—"

"Don't question me."

I deeply exhale.

Darragh continues. "There's only one way to be king in here. Whoever runs the pit of addiction wins. There's a shipment coming in tonight. You're getting a transfer to laundry duty. Keep your nose out of the coke, just like outside, got it?"

It's the number one rule of any successful drug dealer. Don't sample the goods. I remind him, "I think you forget I'm in collections, not distribution."

"You're the highest-ranking O'Malley besides my son. In here, you're me—head of the O'Malleys. You decide which of your guys does what. You keep yourself and your team clean. Got it?"

I clench my jaw, not wanting any part of this. But I know Darragh's right. I also know it's putting another target on my back. Rory Bailey runs the drug trade in here. I confess, "There's already a king of this jail."

Darragh's lips curve up. "He can run it on the fifth floor."

"What are you talking about?"

"Right now, all the Baileys are moving to that floor. Only O'Malleys or those you form alliances with will be on the fourth. You'll also get access to all other floors but the fifth."

I stare at him like he's crazy.

"Twenty years, Finn. Build your power in here, and when you get out, you'll be ready to stand next to Liam running the clan."

"I don't care about that anymore. I just want to find Brenna." I plead, "I need you to find her. She..." I swallow the lump in my throat and grind my molars.

"We've been looking. But now that we know Jack's a possibility, I'll make sure we have a guy on him at all times," Darragh adds.

"You will?"

"Yes. But I need you to make sure you stay alive. If you die in here, I call off the search."

I scrub my face then lock eyes with Darragh. "Fine. Just find her for me."

He picks up his cap and puts it on. "Maksim's here, too. Let me go so he can see you."

Anger burns through my lungs. "No. Tell him that until he can fill me in, not to come back."

Darragh's eyes widen. "What's going on?"

"Don't know. But he left Brenna on her own, and now she's missing. So until he can come clean about why he did, I have nothing to say to him." I rise. "Tell Nana and my mom I mean it. I don't want them here."

Darragh gives me a disapproving look, but I'm not budging. I'm not having either of them waste any more time on me.

When I get back to the fourth floor, everything Darragh said is true. The Baileys were all moved. The guards even seem to look at me differently, as if in respect. I sit in my cell, thinking about everything he said and kicking myself again for not having Brian go to Darragh right away with Jack's name.

Hope fills me that, somehow, Jack has her, hasn't hurt her, and now Darragh can find her. When the doors open up for free time, I wander down to cell 402. At first, I stand just outside the door, suddenly full of nervous energy and not sure what to say.

But I don't have to worry about that for long. An average-sized man with red hair, a thick beard, and tattoos covering his arms jumps off the bunk. "Are you going to stand in the hallway or come in?"

My stomach flips, but I enter the cell, still unsure what to say.

He stretches his arm out. "Keith."

"Finn."

"Yep, we know who you are," another man says as he enters the cell. "But it's Crazy Keith, not just Keith."

I arch my eyebrows. "Why is that?"

The man pats my shoulders. "At some point, you'll see just how demented he is. I'm James."

"Great. Looking forward to it," I mumble then shake his hand.

"The rest of the crew are already in the laundry room. We should go," Crazy Keith says.

My heart pumps hard, unsure what I'm getting myself into and debating whether I should even get involved with this. The only important thing is finding Brenna.

I can't do that in here.

I have to survive if I ever want to see her again.

Maybe it's the nerves of what I'm about to do, but my fears all surface again. If I go into the laundry room and fall into my role, there's no going back. The entire way there, my mind spins.

What if she's hurt?

What if I do all this shit for the clan, piss off Rory Bailey, and put a bigger target on my back, but I never find her again?

What if she's dead?

With my heart about to leap out of my chest, I step into the laundry room, then freeze.

A firefly darts in front of me. I don't know how it got in here or even survived. It's the middle of winter in Illinois. It's not possible for it to be here.

James swats at it, and I spin on him, yanking on his collar until he rises on his toes. I bark, "Don't touch it!"

His eyes widen.

I release him and watch the firefly buzzing around. For some crazy reason, I hold my arm out. It circles my wrist then lands on my knuckle.

The fluorescent light is bright, but I see it—the greenish-yellow glob of the firefly's underbelly. I bring my hand to my face and stare at it.

And that's how I know. She's alive, and I need to do whatever I can to survive in this hellhole. I will find her and hold her again if it's the last thing I do.

The firefly glows again then moves to my shoulder. Trying not to grin, I survey the dozen men in front of me. I square my shoulders and peer at them all for several minutes. "State your name and repledge yourselves to the O'Malleys and me."

17

Brenna

VILE EYES SCAN every inch of me until it feels like hundreds of bugs are crawling under my skin. I remind myself to breathe, trying to steady my hands as I pour whiskey into crystal tumblers.

"I'll take her," declares a man who stared at my breasts, licking his chops, for the last five minutes. He's got a scar from the right side of his forehead to his chin. The thick musk from his cologne hangs in the air, making me nauseous. He reaches for the whiskey and holds my wrist, as if I'm his, and there's no getting out of it.

I wince from his fingertips biting into my skin.

"Hands off. Sullivan is coming tomorrow. He expects her intact," Mama Christian orders.

He continues squeezing my wrist. "Sullivan's due in town?"

"That's what Jack said. He's in New York and already approved her pictures," she admits, and my gut flips.

Some sick bastard has photos of every inch of my body.

I can't dwell on this. I need to figure out how to escape.

After I got dressed in my peach lingerie and cream stilettos, there was nowhere to hide the lighter and hairspray.

"I'll just fuck her mouth and tits then," he claims.

My pulse shoots through the roof.

"Fitz, you're asking for a death wish. Sullivan will slash your balls off if he finds out. And I'm not losing my big payday. Pick another girl," Mama Christian warns.

He licks his lips, reaches forward, and rips my lingerie below my breast. He twists my nipple.

I gasp, the scream stifled in my throat. I try to step backward, but I can't. His hand is too tight on my wrist, and he's pulling me toward him.

"Let her go! I don't need her bruised." Mama Christian slaps him on the back.

"Fitz, let her go," a voice booms as a new man walks into the room. He towers over everyone. His features are scarier, more dominating than the other men, which I wouldn't have thought possible a few seconds ago. He looks familiar, but I can't pinpoint why.

Fitz releases me, and I bounce into the wall.

Mama Christian walks over to him. Her tone changes. It's sweeter, almost loving, yet with her smoker's crackle. "Jack. I was wondering when you'd show up." She puts her hand over his crotch, and he studies her as if he's her everything.

Jack. It must be Jack Christian's father. My gut dives.

He traces her nipples with his fingers, and she moans. My nausea grows. She's so gross. I suppose back in the day, she was pretty, but she's not aged well. I could overlook it and see her beauty, but I know what kind of a sick person she is.

She keeps her hand on his pants and steps closer to him. "I need her intact for Sullivan tomorrow, Jack. Jackie gave her to me. He set it up, and you know how much Sullivan pays for unbroken girls. She doesn't even have any cavities."

Jack Sr. peers at me, assessing me the same way the other men did. My insides quiver in fear. A sinister smile forms on his lips, and it reminds me of his son when he stared at me in Brad's car after helping him abduct me. He commands, "Hands off the girl."

Fitz groans then grabs the neck of the brunette next to me. Her eyes widen, and I want to die. Guilt crashes through me that he's going to now hurt her instead of me. "Get your fat ass moving," he says and keeps his hold on her neck. He pushes her out of the room, and they disappear.

One by one, the men choose a woman, some of them taking two. They all disappear as if they know this house inside and out. Soon, there's only one man left.

He has an Irish accent. Gray streaks through his red hair and five-o'clock shadow, making me think he might be older, but he only looks in his late thirties. He puts his half-full glass down.

Nervously, I find my voice. "More whiskey?"

He doesn't look as scary as the rest of them, but he proves me wrong. I quickly realize he's more dangerous than any of them. He's the underrated one who doesn't give a shit who he pisses off. "Lass, I need some fresh air and a blowjob. You're going to give it to me."

I gape at him and glance toward the door, hoping someone will reiterate I'm not his to touch. Yet, no one is there. I blurt out, "You heard Jack."

He pulls a Zippo out of his pocket, lights a cigarette, then takes a deep drag. He exhales, and smoke swirls around us. Arrogance appears on his face. He calmly states, "You think Jack's in charge?" He grunts. "I don't give a shit what he or Sullivan want. Now, grab that bottle. This cheap shit is for pussies." He points to a cask-strength whiskey.

I don't move, too scared to do anything, my mind buzzing with how to get out of this. It's the wrong thing to do.

He puts his cigarette in the ashtray, leaps around the bar, then snatches the bottle off the shelf. Reaching around my head, he yanks my hair back. His face never changes from its calm demeanor, which freaks me out more. "Grab two glasses, lass. I'll let you loosen up a bit first."

My lips tremble, and he drags his knuckles that grip the fifth down my cheek. "When I say to do something, you do it. Or there are consequences."

A tear drips down my chin. I pick up two glasses, and satisfaction grows in his expression. "There. That wasn't hard, now was it?"

More tears fall, but I shake my head, unable to talk.

He steps forward, and I follow until I'm against the wall. His body towers over me, caging me in until all I smell and see is him. He kisses me on the lips gently, as if I'm someone he loves, and he's not pinning my unwilling body against his. "We're going to my car. It's snowing, so I'll give you my coat, but everything is coming off after we have a drink. Understand?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself for thinking I was safe for the night a few moments earlier.

His lips press against mine again, and he releases me. When I open my eyes, he's taking his long leather jacket off the coat hanger. He holds it open and threatens, "Don't make me get angry. I can assure you this is the side of me you want."

Scanning the bar for something to take with me to fight him off, my fear only grows. There's nothing but alcohol, glass pints, and crystal tumblers.

"Last warning, lass."

I straighten my shoulders and put the whiskey glasses on the end table near him. Then I slip into his coat. He pulls the sides tight. "It's blizzard conditions out there. Hold this closed." I cross my arms over my waist, and he hands me the glasses. I take them, and he leads me out of the room, down the hall, and toward the front door.

Bo stands at the entrance, his arms folded over his chest. His scowl becomes nervous as he realizes we're going outside.

"Mr. Bailey." He nods, then his eyes dart to mine.

"Told you to call me Donny."

Apprehension fills his face. "Donny. Sorry. Umm... Mama Christian instructed me the girl isn't to leave with anyone but Sullivan."

Donny tightens his arm around my waist and smooths Bo's T-shirt collar as if it's out of place.

Bo holds his breath, not blinking.

Donny's composure stays calm, totally in control, and authoritative. "Bo, who's in charge? Mama Christian, or me?"

Bo clears his throat. "You, sir."

"That's right. Now open the door, then get the fuck out of my way before I stab you," he says with an eerie smile on his face, as if he just asked him if he wanted to go grab a pint.

Bo opens the door, and a gust of wind blows snow at us. Donny takes a step forward then stops. He turns back to Bo. "No one better disturb me. I'll bring her back when I'm good and ready."

My insides quiver harder, but I turn my head toward Donny's shoulder since snow is slapping my face.

"Yes, sir," Bo states.

Donny shuffles me to a private car and opens the back door. He orders, "Get in," while pushing me.

He follows me inside and rolls a divider window down. The back of a man's head appears, and eyes glance at us in the rearview mirror. Donny demands, "Fuck off, and don't come back until I bring her back inside. Leave the car on," he tells the driver.

"Yes, sir," the driver replies, gets out, and the door slams.

Bile climbs up my throat. I grip the sides of his coat tighter and stare at my lap, trying to figure out how to escape.

His hand slips between the leather, dipping between my thighs. Scared, I shudder, gasping in tiny breaths for air. Donny leans to my ear, licking my lobe, and I want to die.

Finn's voice fills my head. Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart so I can think. I blurt out, "Please. Can we have the drink first?"

He retreats, his lips curving up as if he's won. I try not to squirm as his palm slips around the bottom of my thigh, his thumb caressing me, inching closer to my sex.

"Yes. Have a drink, lass. But take this coat off and sit across from me. Spread these thighs." He squeezes my leg, and I wince. A soft chuckle fills the car. He removes his hand and points.

I move across from him, still clutching the glasses. I set one down, trying to buy time. My voice shakes. "Let me make you a drink."

His lips curl. He unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pulls his cock out, fisting it. "Take my jacket off."

I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on his face and not his dick, then obey.

"Good, lass." He hands me the fifth.

It's a new bottle. I'm so scared, and my hands tremble so badly, I can't figure out how to get it open.

He leans forward, puts his hand over mine, and pulls the tab, then pops the cork. He lowers his hands and pushes my knees wider.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop, Finn's voice orders.

Pull it together, I reprimand myself again.

"L-let's have a drink," I manage to get out.

He stares at my panties so long, heat scorches my face. His green eyes trail up my body as if he's dragging them along my skin. When his gaze meets mine, I force myself to smile. Somehow, my confidence reappears. "Let me pour you a drink."

Smugness lights up in his eyes. He waits and continues studying me as I pour a few fingers of whiskey and hand it to him.

He takes it, sits back in his seat, returning to fisting his cock while he takes a large mouthful.

Frozen, I don't move.

He motions to the other glass. "Have a drink, lass."

I obey, filling mine like his.

"More. Pour yourself a few more fingers," he instructs.

I do it then awkwardly hold the bottle and my drink.

"Pour some over your tits."

"Wh-what?"

He arches his eyebrow then takes another drink. The tension builds, and my chest tightens. After swallowing, he reiterates, "I said, pour some over your tits. Do it while you take a sip."

My mouth turns dry, but I do what he says. I take a sip and pour the whiskey over me. Warmth soaks the barely-there lace covering my nipples. The whiskey burns as it travels down my throat, creating fire in my belly, making me think of flames.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

Fire. Whiskey.

Whiskey isn't super flammable.

Cask whiskey is.

"Rub the bottle on your tit," he demands, fisting his erection in the same slow pattern.

I do it, trying to figure out how to get possession of his Zippo.

"Moan."

Swallowing my shame, I take a deep breath and moan like I'm enjoying this.

"That's it, lass. Drink some more while moaning, and this time, arch your ass off the seat and pour it on your pussy."

Deciding I need to be bold, I lock eyes with him. "If I'm a good girl, will you let me have a cigarette?"

He arches his eyebrows. "You smoke? You seem too naive for that."

I've never smoked. I hate the smell of it and know all about how it destroys your lungs. I debate for a moment then smile. "I haven't before. But I haven't done this, either. Maybe..." I blow out a calculated breath of air. "Maybe you can be my first for lots of things? This...this is turning me on. You're turning me on." I bite my lip, widening my eyes.

A deep groan flies out of his mouth. Red creeps into his face, and he unbuttons his shirt, watching me. "Give me a good show, and I'll give you more than a cigarette."

I lick my lips. "Yes, sir."

Heated eyes dive into mine, flaming with sin. He nods.

I smirk, keep my eyes on his, and drink several mouthfuls while arching my hips toward the roof and dribbling the whiskey over my slit.

"Fuuuuck," he mumbles.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

I push all my nerves, fear, and embarrassment to the back of my mind. I lower the bottle and my ass then refill my glass close to the top.

He curls his finger in the air then pats his thighs.

My flutters explode. The bugs crawl under my skin, almost paralyzing me. But I struggle through it, hearing Finn's voice over and over. I hand him the fifth of whiskey, and he caps it. Very carefully, I move toward him. Instead of straddling him, I sit my ass on his legs. I lean into his ear and coo, "Have I been good?"

His fingers slide over my hips, under the thin strip of my panties. An urge to push him away grows, but I resist. He replies, "You have."

I stroke the side of his head, my fingers itching to scratch him until he bleeds. "Then can I have a cigarette?"

"Yeah, lass. You can have one."

He pulls his pack out of his pocket then puts one to my lips. He holds the Zippo out.

Shit. I have whiskey all over me.

"Wait!"

He pauses, his jaw clenching.

"I want to light it myself."

His eyes turn to slits, and his body stiffens.

I quickly add, "Naked. Straddling you." My heart beats faster, knowing I'm creating a dangerous situation where my chances of winning are already low.

Then it gets more menacing.

He opens a pocketknife and holds it in front of my face. "Straddle me."

I take a drink, the burn travels to my stomach, and I reposition my body so my ass is on his knees, away from his erection.

Blood pounds between my ears. He takes the knife and slits the material at my cleavage. My bra opens wide, exposing my breasts. He sucks on my tit, and I force myself not to cry. Circling his arms around me, the flat blade of his knife presses against my spine. "Whiskey tastes better on you, lass," he mumbles then moves his mouth to my other breast.

I say the only thing I can to make it stop. "Cut off my panties and let me light my cigarette."

His face moves in front of mine, challenging me. "You want to smoke while you take my cock?"

Panic seizes me. I shake my head, trying to think of anything I can to stop him from shoving me on him.

"No? Are you just a tease?" he says, a hint of anger appearing in his voice. It's the first time I've heard it all night.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

I blurt out, "No. I want to play with myself, smoking your cigarette, and drinking whiskey while you watch me."

His lips curl up, appeased with my response. He chuckles then takes his knife. "Lift your ass."

Holding my breath, I press my knees into the leather seat. He grabs the middle of my panties and slashes the knife through them. They split, hanging around my hips.

"The entire thing. I want every piece of my lingerie off me," I say, wanting it far away from me when I strike the zippo.

He sniffs hard, licking his lips. "No. You're keeping them as they are."

My stomach somersaults. He pushes me back on his legs, sets the open blade on the seat, and holds the cigarette and Zippo in front of me.

I take them in one hand, push his shirt off his shoulders with the bottom of the glass, then set it on his bare shoulder. I lean an inch from his mouth, our breaths merging. "I want to take a final sip, pour this on you, and watch it slide down your skin while I smoke and finger myself."

Green flames burn in his orbs. He murmurs, "Then what?"

I slide the edge of the crystal down his chest while saying, "Lick every drop off you until I get to this." I stop the glass next to his cock.

His lips twitch. "Fair enough, lass."

I go to move back, and he fists my hair.

I gasp, afraid I've messed up and I'm going to get raped any second.

"I'm going to come all over you. These lips and your fucking big tits. When I'm finished, we're having another drink before I bend you over that seat and take your ass."

The air is so thick, I almost choke on it.

He releases me, sits back, and stretches his arms across the seat, waiting for me to make my move.

I slowly tilt the whiskey over his shoulder, towing the tumbler across his chest to the other side. The whiskey runs down his body, pooling at the base of his erection.

I take the rest of the alcohol and hold it over his cock. "Wouldn't want to forget about licking it off this."

He smirks, and I pour the rest of it on his twitching dick, make sure my body doesn't touch it, and then I toss the glass on the seat. I lean away from him, then stretch my arm with the lighter and Zippo to the ceiling. I drop the cigarette so it falls on the floor.

"Oops," I giggle. I slide off him, get on my knees, then pick up the cigarette. I put it to my mouth, so it's between his knees, then rub my hand on his thigh. In a quick move, I flip the Zippo then shove it at his crotch.

His dick and balls go up in flames. His legs and arms flail as it travels up his body while he screams. I move away from him, grab the knife, and jab it into the side of his body, over and over.

The flames eventually die, but by the time they do, he's not moving. The scent of blood and seared skin wafts into my nose. A thick cloud of black smoke hangs in the air. Time passes as I stare at him, my hand stained red, choking on the putrid smell.

Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

Finn's voice snaps me out of it. I open the door and find the strength to drag his body out of the car. I take deep breaths of the cold, snowy air. I reach for his coat, put it on me, and am about to get into the car when I stop.

I bend down and pull his wallet out of his pocket. I wipe the knife in the snow to clean it as best as I can. Then I shut it and toss it in the front seat. I roll the divider window up to try and contain the smell and lower the backseat windows. I put the car in reverse and drive.

I don't know where I'm going. My insides are still quivering as I steer through the city. The racing thoughts I have in my head never slow down, so I turn on the radio.

Eminem blares through the speakers, and I start to sob, thinking about Finn's smiling face, singing at the concert. I keep driving through my tears, the windshield blurry from snow and my emotions.

I'm still not calm when I approach an expressway.

The sign reads New York City. 96 miles.

I turn and step on the gas, unsure where I'm going but knowing I need to get as far away from here as possible.

18

Finn

5 Years Later

"WE'VE BEEN LEANING on the district attorney, but it's not going so well. The judge will use Liam to send a message," Darragh relays, his eyes hardened.

Chills run down my spine. It's bad enough I'm in this cesspool of everything evil. Liam's the same age I was when I got sentenced. And knowing him, he's not going to deal with it any easier. Plus, Darragh just told me he shot the Bailey prick who killed Sean's father. It's a lot to process all at once.

"The Baileys will be out for his blood. They'll all know he's my son and killed one of theirs." Darragh grinds his molars.

"He's going to need to shut his mouth," I state.

Darragh nods. Understanding that a man gets only from experience passes in his expression. "I've already spoken with him. Told him to listen to you."

I sigh. "Shit. What was he thinking going into a bar like that? He knows better."

Darragh shifts in his seat, staying silent.

"How's Auntie Ruth holding up?"

"She's a mess."

I nod. "How's my mom?"

"She wants to see you. It's been five years. The next visitation, I'm bringing her and your nana," Darragh insists.

I tell him the same thing I always do. "No."

He scratches his chin. "You owe them at least one visit."

"I don't owe anyone anything," I growl.

He arches his eyebrows. "Your mother raised you on her own since you were five. You grew up at the pub with your nana. You don't think they deserve an hour of your time?"

"It's not about that," I declare.

"Tough shit. Deal with it. They're coming next visitation. I haven't pushed you on this, but I am now. It's not a request."

Frustrated and pissed, I scrub my hands over my face. It's not a new feeling, but I have to pick my battles, and Darragh is still the boss. Past this room, I'm king everywhere but floor five. All the gangs, all the other crime families, except the Baileys, deal under my law. But in our family and everywhere else, Darragh is the true ruler. "Fine. Anything new on Brenna?"

His face falls. It's the same look I get every time he visits. He states, "Nothing."

"I know that bastard took her," I claim.

"We've searched all his properties. Our guys are still on him and the judge. I wish I had something different to report."

"How can she just disappear? It's been five years."

Darragh's blank stare is always the same. He thinks she's dead. But I know she's alive. Whenever I start thinking that maybe she's gone, I dream of her.

Lately, she has black hair. At first, it freaked me out. Then I dreamed she was dying it herself in a public bathroom. It was so vivid, I knew it was true. She had a backpack, and that was it. So the only conclusion I have is she's on the run. But I don't know who from or why. If she wasn't, I know she would have returned to my family by now, searching for me.

"Don't stop looking. She's out there," I insist.

He nods. "We'll keep looking."

I lean closer. "Leppy tells me there are new guards on the fifth floor. Who are they?"

Darragh's eyes turn to slits. "When did this happen?"

The hairs on my arms rise. "Two days ago. They aren't on your payroll?"

"No. My informant didn't tell me about any changes, either."

I sit back and cross my arms. It's not the first time the guards have changed without Darragh knowing. The last time it happened was two years ago. There was an all-out battle between the Baileys and O'Malleys. The prison went into lockdown, and we lost three of our men. Not one Bailey died. Unlike us, they were prepared for the attack. I cringe thinking of those two days. It was like being in the middle of a warzone with no real armor. My torso got slashed with a knife. I have a four-inch scar to remind me of it. "You need to find out. It's a bit convenient if Liam is here soon, don't you think?"

He sniffs hard, tapping his hands on the table.

I continue, "When's Liam's sentencing?"

"Tomorrow."

I grimace inside, knowing what's in store for Liam and the adjustment he will have to make.

"I've told him you call the shots in here. He's not to make any moves without discussing it with you first. He's pissed, acting without thinking, and not ready to lead," Darragh states.

I want to tell him that Liam acting without thinking isn't new. He's always been the kid in line for the throne. And Darragh's always bailed him out of his shit.

Until now.

Fuck.

"The power transfers to him. Our boys will be looking at him for instructions. You know this," I warn Darragh.

He gives me his knowing look. "What others think and what's reality are two different things."

I shake my head. "I'm not looking for a power struggle with Liam. It's his birthright."

"Yeah. And I'm counting on you to make sure he doesn't fuck things up in here."

I stare at the ceiling, not happy with this situation. Mainly that Liam walked right into a public bar and shot a Bailey to avenge our uncle's death. He must have been under some severe duress. I know he and our uncle were super tight, but I would never have guessed him to do something this stupid.

And now his stupidity is going to make my life harder.

The alarm rings. Darragh rises and puts on his tweed cap. "Take care."

Before I got locked up, I never thought I'd be sad to see Darragh leave. I nod. "You, too. Figure out those guards."

We part, and I head back to the common area, wondering how this will work with Liam.

Leppy and Crazy Keith sit at the table playing a hand of cards. It's not allowed in the prison, but since Darragh has the guards in his pocket, we don't even hide it anymore.

I sit.

Leppy arches his eyebrows. "What did Darragh say?" He's another O'Malley cousin who came inside six months ago. He's a lucky bastard though. He only has to serve two years. Then he's out.

A claw scrapes at my gut. "Bad news. Liam took out a Bailey. His sentencing is tomorrow. Rory's going to want his head on a platter."

They gape at me.

I lean closer. "Darragh isn't sure who these new guards on the fifth floor are. Keep your eyes and ears open. Spread the word."

I leave and go into my cell, needing to get away from everyone looking at me. My role is going to shift, and they know it. And I see the doubt in their eyes that Liam will be able to handle all this.

Even I don't know if he's capable yet. And I know him better than anyone else here.

Fucking Darragh, putting me in this situation.

I should step completely back when Liam arrives, yet Darragh's instructions make it impossible. How am I supposed to run things and make it look like Liam is in charge?

I lie on my bed and close my eyes.

Another month with no news of my firefly.

Five years. Where is she? Who is she with? Why hasn't she gone to my family to find me?

Every visiting day I get a false sense of hope. I wake up and think Darragh is going to tell me he found her today. But it's always the same thing. No clues. She might as well have vanished into thin air.

I struggle all day, just like after every visit with Darragh. The stale prison air I'm used to by now. All the routine daily tasks are second nature. But all day long, I feel off-balance, wondering where she could have gone and if I'm ever going to see her again, pushing the notion that she's dead out of my head.

Running the business gives me sanity. It keeps me from obsessing about Brenna every waking second. I do enough of that at night when the cell door closes and the lights go out. During the day, I'm dealing with supply and delivery issues and taking care of the rest of the O'Malley problems.

Once you're part of the clan, the clan always takes care of you. And I'm the guy they come to in order to solve their problems.

When the lights go out, I try to dream of her, to feel her in my arms, but I can barely sleep. The ache is too much. I get up and start doing push-ups to stop myself from losing it. I'm on the brink of every emotion climbing up my throat and suffocating me.

It's been too long.

Where is she? I keep asking myself as I raise and lower myself on the ground.

When morning comes, I'm no less anxious. The routine starts all over again. There are meetings in the laundry room. Two new inmates pledge themselves to the O'Malleys and me.

After the initiation, Leppy pulls me aside. "We've got a problem."

"What's that?"

"Guard switch. Ramos told me they pulled Drake from the night shift."

My stomach curls. "Who's replacing him?"

"A new guy named Mathis."

"What block is he on?"

"Eighteen."

"Shit," I mumble.

Leppy gives me a knowing look. "The next bed to be filled."

"See if Ramos knows where they'll put Liam," I say, but I already know he's going in eighteen.

Leppy nods.

All day, I wait to hear if Liam's arrived. There's no doubt they'll send him here. Being Darragh's son, he'll get put on our floor. But cellblock eighteen isn't safe until we know more about this new guard.

By the time Liam arrives, it's after dinner. Everyone is in their cell before the final headcount. The alarm rings, signaling the doors are closing.

Once the cells are locked, the door opens. Liam's is unlike my procession down the aisle. When I came in, no one knew of me. The floor wasn't entirely our clan. Instead of men trying to intimidate him, it's a celebration—a victory for the men inside to serve him and respect for the future head of the clan. Within seconds, chants of O'Malley are so loud, they echo in my ears long after the shouting dies down. Liam keeps his head straight and held high, not looking at anyone. When he passes me, my heart squeezes.

He looks so much older than when I last saw him. His body is more filled out, no doubt from boxing. It'll be something he's going to miss terribly. I know from experience. But there are no combat sports here.

On the outside, Liam looks confident, yet I know he's scared out of his mind.

He gets taken to cellblock eighteen, and I cringe, saying a Hail Mary the guard isn't working for the Baileys. I look across my cell at Leppy, and he nods, assuring me our guards are on the lookout.

Within the hour, the lights are off. I don't sleep, waiting for something to happen. Sure enough, the faint sound of a cell door opening catches my ear. My insides flip.

Within a few minutes, the guard named Nemis lets me out. "Janitor's room." He motions to the end of the hall past cellblock eighteen. I run as he releases Leppy, Crazy Keith, and a few of our other men.

When I get to the small room, it's dark, and the Baileys aren't just beating up Liam to send him a message. Rory has a plastic bag over his head, suffocating him. Several of them are punching his stomach while he claws at Rory's hands.

I headlock Rory, punching him in the back of the skull. He releases Liam, trying to get me off him. The other O'Malleys take their punches, and Liam tugs the bag off his head.

An all-out brawl occurs. When the lights turn on, the guards from our floor threaten several times to get down, but no one does. Stun guns taser us until we fall to the floor. I turn my head and lock eyes with Liam. He blinks hard, about to lose it, and I will him not to break down.

The Baileys return to their floor. We return to ours. Nemis asks, "Who's taking solitary for this?"

Crazy Keith steps forward. "Make sure the porn is better this time."

"Fresh shipment is coming in tomorrow. You'll get first pick." I nod my gratitude toward him, standing next to Liam but not looking at him. "Who else is going?"

"I'll go. It was my fault," Liam volunteers.

"No. You're staying here. Who else?" I demand.

Leppy steps forward.

"No. I need Leppy tomorrow." I cross my arms. "Don't make me assign this. Who wants to go?"

Craig, Patrick, and a new recruit named Snake raise their hands.

"Good men. You'll have extra money in your accounts when you get out as our thank-you," I tell them.

"Just send me the porn. If I'm alone, I'm using it to jack off all day," Crazy Keith states.

"I'll send you some wipes, too," I tease, but I'm also serious.

The guards lead them away, and I tell Nemis, "Liam's in my cell from now on. Move whoever you have to."

"The warden stated you weren't to be in the same cell."

"Then don't tell him." I push Liam into my concrete shoebox. "Odhran, you're moving to cellblock eighteen. Get your shit tomorrow."

He groans but leaves quickly.

The cell doors shut, and the lights go off again. My eyes adjust, and Liam's green globes glow in the dark.

I quietly order, "Come sit down."

He puts his hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut.

Shit.

I pull him into me. His chest shakes with emotion. I hold his head and say into his ear, "Don't lose your shit right now. Everyone will hear. We can't have that. You're Liam fucking O'Malley."

He sniffles into my shoulder, and his body shakes harder. I hold him tighter, not sure what to do, pressing his head hard to my body so no one can hear.

He pulls himself together and whispers, "I'm sorry."

I nod then slap his back. "That's the only one you get. Tomorrow, we'll talk about how this is going to work. But don't ever volunteer to go to solitary again. You're the king, and you can't lead if you're in there."

He shakes his head. "I'm-I'm not. Finn, I don't—"

I cover his mouth and murmur, "You are, and I got you. Now, get your ass on the bunk and go to sleep. No one's getting to you under my watch."

He straightens up and gets in bed. I put a blanket over him and pat his cheek. "It's good to see you, cuz. I've missed you and your sorry ass."

"Sixteen years," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

I lean closer. "Go to sleep. It'll get easier."

All night, I don't sleep, and neither does Liam. The following day, we shower, eat breakfast, and I don't even bother with the laundry room. I double-check all the guards we trust are on shift and tell them to make sure no one enters or exits the floor, then instruct them to ring the alarm for a headcount.

"Hold your head high and do everything I say," I tell Liam.

He shifts, nervously running his hand through his hair. "What are you doing?"

"What needs to happen," I state.

Once everyone is standing outside their cell, I take him to the center table of the common area. I jump up on it. Liam stands next to me, with his jaw clenched.

I roar, "The future king of the O'Malleys is here! Rededicate yourself to the clan and him!"

19

Brenna

EXHAUSTION SETS in as I struggle to keep my lids open. How many days has it been since I slept?

They were so close.

She looked straight at me.

I've been on the run so long, I've lost track of time. The only reason I knew it'd been five years is from the newspaper I saw in the trash can.

Five years of running from the Baileys.

Five years homeless, cold, and scared.

Five years since Finn held me in his arms.

Five years since he died because of me.

Living on the streets in New York has turned me into a person I never thought I would be.

I steal so I can feed myself.

I fight off men and even women at times.

I'm constantly trying to hide from the Baileys. It seems I killed someone important, and they aren't letting it go. After I got to New York, the car ran out of gas. I left it on the side of the road. It's probably what tipped them off I was here. I tried to get lost in the city, but the money in Donny's wallet didn't last long after I bought one pair of clothes, three pairs of underwear, and a coat, hat, gloves, and a scarf. That day, I rented a cheap motel to clean myself up and had a bed to sleep on for a few nights.

After that, I was on the street. A few days later, I saw the first sign with a reward to find me bolted to a city lamppost. It was a picture Mama Christian had taken of me. I look scared, and you can see Renee's arm around me. I had no money, no family or friends, no one to ask for any help.

That day, I stole the contents of a box of hair dye. It was easier than shoving the entire cardboard container in my sweatshirt. I went into the bathrooms in the subway and dyed my hair black. Ever since then, it's the one thing I do religiously.

The reward signs come and go. Just when I think they've forgotten about me, they put more up.

I keep the knife I killed Donny with on me at all times. I travel lightly, with a backpack, one additional outfit, seven pairs of underwear, my toothbrush and paste, hairbrush, and whatever food and water I can find.

Sometimes, I find quiet corners to sleep on where no one disturbs me. I always have my knife in my hand, ready to attack. Too often, I've had to fight my way out of dangerous situations.

Finn's voice never leaves my head. Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop, he says. Yet, I wonder how much longer I can. And often, his voice is softer, sometimes so quiet, I barely hear it.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't recognize the woman looking back. My hair and eyebrows are dark, the total opposite of what they've been my entire life. I've lost at least twenty pounds. Dark circles are under my eyes, and the outdoor weather has harmed my skin.

I've been hiding in the bathroom stall for the last few hours, clutching my open knife. Mama Christian and Josie stepped out of a coffeehouse, and I did a double take. I was across the road, but it was them. Josie looked straight into my eyes, and I froze. The moment she glanced at Mama Christian, I bolted. I wasn't sure if they were following me or not.

I finally leave the stall, peeking past the door before fully stepping out. I put cold water over my face and stare at my reflection. I'm twenty-seven. I feel sixty.

Then it hits me. I'm two years older than Finn was when he died. All the grief I hold in that never goes away attacks me. I lose it in the middle of a crowded public bathroom. My chest heaves and I wail, drowning in tears I never allow to come out.

Women go about their business, horrified expressions on their faces. They avoid the sinks next to the one I'm gripping, scared I'm the crazy homeless lady.

I guess it's appropriate since I no longer feel anything like my old self. I am homeless and crazy. I've killed two men, injured dozens of others, including women who tried to hurt me on the streets.

Why am I still fighting?

This isn't the life I wanted.

It's never going to be anything but this.

I manage to pull myself together and go back outside, still scanning the perimeter for any signs of the Baileys. Like most days, I don't know where I'm going. I amble down the street toward Central Park, wondering how I'll get my next meal or where I'll sleep.

It's a warm fall day in October. The leaves are vibrant orange, red, and yellow hues. A pain from nostalgia hits me. It reminds me of the last dinner I ever had at Finn's mom's house.

At the entrance of Central Park, I sit on a bench with my heels on the seat. Exhaustion continues to plague me. I hug my knees, staring at the trees, as more tears escape.

"Brenna?"

I look up. No one has said my name in five years.

"Oh my God! Brenna!"

I blink, realizing that Bridget is the woman standing with her hand over her mouth, looking like she's seen a ghost.

She slides her arms around me and pulls me into her, repeating, "Oh my God!"

I cry harder, unable to stop the emotional train wreck I am, and all the grief, along with the guilt that I caused Finn's death, annihilates me for the second time today.

She hugs me for what seems like forever then cups my cheeks. "Where have you been? How did you get here?"

I stare at her, trying to decipher the timeline of events that seem to merge together. I lower my eyes, shaking my head, then freeze.

Bridget's belly is round, and when I look at her face again, I see the glow. I reach out to her stomach and put my hand on it. "Are you pregnant?"

She smiles and nods. "Yes. Five months."

"Is it—"

"Yes. It's Sean's. We're married." Her face lights up when she mentions his name, the same way it always used to.

I blink harder, happy for her, but the ache for Finn deepens.

She leans closer. Her face falls. "Brenna, why haven't you come home?"

Home. Home is where Finn is.

There is no home anymore.

"I-I didn't—" A man steps closer, watching us, and I freeze. He has a camera around his neck.

"What's wrong?" Bridget asks.

What if it's a Bailey?

What if he hurts Bridget?

He could harm her baby.

I've destroyed the O'Malleys enough by my actions.

"I have to go. Please, forget you saw me." I rise.

She follows and puts her hands on my shoulders. "Brenna, where are you going?"

"Are you visiting your father?"

"Yes. He's right over there." She points to a coffee stand, and several men are clearly guarding him.

Then I see two other men near us, in a similar stance. "Are those your guards?"

She rolls her eyes. "My father is paranoid."

"He's not. Go with them and forget you ever saw me."

"Brenna! What are you talking about?"

"Promise me you won't tell anyone you saw me. Not even Sean."

Confusion and fear fill her expression. "Brenna!"

"I have to go." I hug her one last time then run as fast as I can, not sure if the man is following me or not. I don't stop until I'm deep into Central Park at a playground. I lean over my knees, trying to catch my breath.

A blood-curdling scream fills the air then a desperate plea in a language I don't understand. I move closer, and a woman holds a little girl with olive skin and dark hair over her lap. The girl's face turns purple, and she holds her neck, choking.

"What happened?" I ask a woman holding a small child next to me.

"She swallowed something. Possibly a rock."

"Did anyone call 9-1-1?" another hysterical mother, or possibly a nanny, cries out.

My instincts take over. I rush over to the women, open my backpack, and take out my knife. "Does anyone have alcohol?" I scream.

I get stares.

"Vodka? Whiskey? Tequila? Come on! She's going to die!" I warn.

A young woman hands me a travel-size bottle of vodka. I pour it over my knife, and someone asks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm a nurse. She needs a tracheotomy. Someone give me a straw."

More blank looks as the child continues choking.

"Goddammit! Give me a straw!" I bellow, finding it hard to believe not one of these nannies or mothers have a straw.

Someone hands me one. I take the girl from the hysterical foreign-speaking woman's arms and lay her on the bench. I point to two other women. "I need the top of her body and lower body held still."

They nod and hold her.

"Hold her firmer. She can't move, or I could hurt her worse," I instruct.

They tighten their hold, and sirens fill the air. The little girl has stopped holding her throat, on the brink of dying with her eyes fluttering, her gasps getting tinier.

I cut into her neck then stick the straw in the hole.

"Come on," I mutter, watching her.

It takes a few seconds, but her choking stops, the purple fades to red, and her chest starts to rise and fall.

The lady who I assume is her mother starts rattling off words I don't understand, crying and putting her arms around my shoulders.

The EMTs come rushing up to the playground. I explain to them what happened while the little girl reaches out and squeezes my hand. They transfer her to a stretcher, and she reaches for me, gripping me again.

I'm about to leave when I see the same man from earlier, but this time, he isn't alone. Both men's eyes are focused on me as they come closer.

I walk with the EMTs and climb into the ambulance without asking, sitting next to the foreign-speaking lady who is still rather hysterical.

"Do you know what language she speaks?" an EMT asks me.

I shake my head. "No." The little girl squeezes my hand, and the door slams shut, but I don't miss the men's eyes on me. My pulse begins to decrease, and I stroke the little girl's cheek.

When we get to the hospital, I should go, but I don't. A rock is still lodged in her throat, and they have to do surgery to remove it. I stay, for some reason, needing to make sure the little girl is okay.

While she's in surgery, a man in an expensive suit, with dark hair, the same olive skin as the little girl, and eyes so dangerous they're almost black, approaches me. He studies me, and I'm suddenly afraid that maybe he isn't with the little girl and is part of the Baileys.

I step backward, and he follows me until I'm against the wall and there's nowhere to go.

"There's no reason to be scared," he states with an accent, but I'm not sure where from.

I take a shaky breath, not sure how many more surprises I can handle today.

"You saved my paperotta?"

I tilt my head. "Paperotta?"

His lips slightly curve. "It's Italian for little duck. My daughter."

"Oh. You're Italian."

Amusement fills his eyes, and he scans the length of my body. I stand straighter, suddenly scared.

His dark eyes meet mine again, void of everything but darkness. "I said not to be afraid of me."

I bite my lip, not sure what to say or do.

"You have medical training?"

Today is the first time I've thought about my previous dream in a long time. It's another memory I try not to allow myself to revisit.

"Yes?" he questions.

I clear my throat. "I was a few months shy of having my nursing degree."

His jaw tics, his stare boring into me. "And you stopped?"

Something tells me not to look away from him. He exudes power and wealth, but I feel the danger he also is capable of. I know from my past how a man like him demands respect. I reply, "Things happened."

He pauses then lowers his voice. "Things out of your control?"

I don't know what it is about today, but I can't seem to keep it together. My chest trembles with emotions and tears drip down my cheeks.

His hardened expression never changes. "Ah. I see. And..." He looks me over again. "Are you living on the streets?"

I swallow hard, ashamed of who I am, what I've become, and everything I could have been but I'm not.

"I was once on the streets," he says.

Shocked, I gape at him.

"Sir, are you Bella Abruzzo's father?" a doctor asks.

The man spins and holds out his hand. His diamond cuff links shine against the light. Worry fills his face and voice. "Giulio Abruzzo. How is she?"

The doctor smiles. "She'll be fine. We removed the rock and stitched her up. She'll be sore for a few days and might have some trouble swallowing. We'll keep her here with an IV while the wound heals. She might have a small scar where the hole was, but overall, she's extremely lucky. If her airway hadn't been opened up before the EMTs got there, we'd be having a different conversation."

Giulio nods. "Thank you. When can I see her?"

"In the next half hour. Excuse me. I have to get to my next surgery."

"Thank you again, Doctor."

The doctor leaves, and I turn to go but step backward, right into Giulio's towering frame. Jack Bailey Senior and Fitz storm toward me.

Everything from that night spirals in my mind. I can smell the smoke in the air and Fitz's musky cologne. I try to spin out of Giulio's body, but he grips my shoulders.

"She's ours, Giulio," Jack seethes when he reaches us.

Giulio's arm drops around my waist. "What claim do you have on her?"

"That's our business," Jack growls.

Giulio grunts. "Seems like she's in my possession now."

Jack steps closer. "She killed one of ours. She was already sold to Sullivan."

My entire body trembles, pinned to Giulio's hard frame and Jack's violent energy seeping into my pores.

"How much?" Giulio asks.

I glance up at him in horror, but he's focused on Jack.

"None of your business."

He scoffs. "I'll either buy her off you or just keep her. Decide what you want."

Maroon creeps into Jack's cheeks. "I didn't offer her to you."

"No, you didn't. Last chance before you get nothing."

"You want to piss Sullivan off?" Fitz threatens.

"What did he pay?" Giulio states again, staring them down.

Jack finally cracks. "Fifty thousand. Five years ago."

Giulio doesn't hesitate. "I'll transfer a million to Sullivan to cover the interest and death. Now fuck off."

A new fear fills me. Giulio's voice stating a million, repeats over and over in my mind.

I've been bought.

Again.

What's he going to do to me?

"Tonight. It better be transferred tonight," Jack warns.

"It will be. Now, I said fuck off," Giulio barks.

Jack and Fitz give me a final sneer then leave.

Giulio spins me into him. "The Baileys. That's why you've been running?"

I stay quiet.

"Albina," he calls over his shoulder.

The woman from the park answers him in Italian and comes running over.

He speaks to her, and she instantly explodes in tears, grabbing his bicep, but he shrugs her off, then points to the door. She won't release him, and he nods to a man.

I watch in horror as the man tears her off him and escorts her away.

He lifts my chin, his dark eyes slicing through me. "You'll be Bella's new nanny. She speaks English, but you're to learn Italian. I won't have my daughter not fluent in either language. She's to know both cultures. Do I make myself clear?"

Too shocked and exhausted to fight or ask questions, I nod.

"What's your name?"

"Brenna."

"Okay, Brenna. Fausto will watch you while I go visit Bella." He leans closer, his voice sending a chill down my spine. "And let me assure you, I have more guards, more eyes, more weapons than you'll ever be able to fight off. If you try to kill me or any of my men, or one thing happens to my daughter in your care, I'll make anything the Baileys were going to do to you look like a walk in the park."

20

Finn

Eight Years Later

"I ONLY SPOKE WITH THEM. I swear," Cinco pleads. He pledged to the O'Malleys three years ago. It's his fifth and last stint in this hellhole. He got life with no parole on his previous sentencing. When he returned, the prisoners named him Cinco since whenever the topic came up, he said the word with pride, as if he had won an award coming back to this cesspool. He lives on the eighth floor, and from day one, I didn't trust him. It was just like the previous times he had been in here.

One day, he asked to speak with Liam. After a dozen requests, we finally granted him a meeting.

He seemed sincere about dedicating his life to the clan, but my gut said it wasn't real. Liam, on the other hand, said he was letting him in. The power had shifted the last few years, as more and more guards came in who were already in the Baileys' pockets. They were building ground, both inside and outside these walls. Men would come in, already loyal to their clan. The floors shifted into mixes of new prisoners, and no one ever knows whose side they are on. The only floors you can be certain about are the fourth and fifth.

And the good old days of O'Malleys outnumbering Baileys are over. Darragh managed to get some police chief on his payroll. Nowadays, crimes for the top clan members clear up before they ever make it to the courtroom. Those lowest on the totem pole make it in now and then, but it's never for long stints. So, whenever a new prisoner arrives, we make a mad dash to vet him, decide if he's already a Bailey, or start the recruitment process.

"You talked to them about what?" Crazy Keith growls in Cinco's face, holding him up by his neck.

He shakes his head. "Nothing important."

It's bullshit. You don't speak to a Bailey. Ever. The only exception would be if you're an approved spy. And it wasn't just any Bailey he conversed with. It was the fourth in command.

Liam glances at me, his eyes hardened, his hatred for the Baileys leading his every move. We exchange unspoken words. We don't need to talk. Liam and I can read each other's minds by now.

He sniffs hard and steps forward. In a controlled voice, he states, "I allowed you into our house. You pledged to the clan and me. You studied all our rules and codes, memorizing them like the rest of us." He swipes lint off his orange jumpsuit, and Cinco shudders.

It's another thing Liam's instilled in everyone.

Fear.

But it isn't just any fear. It's calm terror. Every move Liam makes takes him deeper into the leader he'll someday be when he goes back into the real world.

In some ways, I think Liam transitioned into prison easier than I did. My guess is it's because we were together. There are very few times of the day that we aren't side by side. But even those times, he's surrounded by our top men.

"What do we do to traitors?" Liam asks.

Cinco shakes his head harder. Tears well in his eyes.

I mutter, "Shit. I knew you were a pussy."

"Please! Not that!" he begs.

Liam studies him, watching him squirm. He finally says, "What did you speak about?"

"Nothing."

Liam steps back and nods to Crazy Keith. We already know what he said. Our spy was there and told us everything he disclosed about our clan.

Crazy Keith punches Cinco's face. Blood goes flying, and Cinco screams.

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Crazy Keith has his nickname for a reason. I learned early to let him be the enforcer. He could channel his insane behavior to our enemies, and it kept him a bit more grounded.

And someone needed to be the brute besides me. Darragh made it clear when I took on the role. When Liam got inside, Darragh reinforced that we were too valuable to the clan to risk getting extra time added for bad behavior. Learning to control our rage and let others step into their roles was part of our responsibilities.

"Take him to the showers," Liam orders.

"What? No! Please!" Cinco screams.

A gag gets shoved in Cinco's mouth to stop him from calling attention from the wrong guards. Then a bag is pulled over his head. Three men, led by Crazy Keith, carry him to the bathroom.

We learned a long time ago that killing a man in the showers is the best spot in prison. The blood easily gets rinsed from the tile. Our men strip, kill the enemy while naked, then shower to erase any sign of blood. Another crew, the ones in the janitorial department, bring an oversized garbage bin on wheels. The body gets a Celtic B engraved on it, and it's dropped off on the fifth floor, so it looks like the Baileys did it.

Liam stares at our clan once Cinco is gone with the others. He studies each one then reminds them, "O'Malleys will not stand for traitors in our clan."

The room erupts in cheers.

Liam and I make our way through the prison, not speaking until we get into our cell. As soon as we're alone, he declares, "Punch me the next time I don't listen to you about recruits."

I stay quiet. Liam's hard enough on himself when he makes a mistake. I don't need to rub it in. Plus, I've made my fair share along the way.

"Finn, your attorney's here," Ramos calls out.

Liam arches his eyebrows.

Confused, I nod for the guys in cells across the aisle to keep their eye on Liam. I follow Ramos to the private room where attorneys meet with their clients and sit across from Keiran.

As soon as the door shuts, I ask, "What's going on?" There's no reason for Keiran to be here unless Darragh has a message for us. There's nothing in my case to appeal or make me hope I'll get a reduced sentence. And Judge Peterson makes sure I never get the chance at parole.

Keiran taps on a folder, but it's a nervous movement.

My gut takes a nosedive. I growl, "Spit it out, Keiran."

He looks at me with sympathy, and I want to crawl across the table and strangle him.

"What the fuck happened?" I bark before he can speak.

"One of our boys we put underground to spy on the Baileys won some photos in a bet," he states.

The hairs on my neck rise. "What kind of photos?"

Don't be dead. Don't be dead. Oh fuck, Brenna. Please don't be dead.

The last few months, I can't seem to get that feeling I used to in my dreams. I see her, but I don't feel her in my arms. Each time it happens, I wake up in a sweat. And over the last thirteen years since I last held her, there hasn't been one piece of information that popped up on her.

Keiran slides the folder to me. "They're graphic."

I sniff hard, staring at the folder, my hand on the verge of shaking. I grip the edge of the paper and turn it.

My gut dives, rage claws at my insides, and my hand turns into a fist. I study each photo in horror, her body parts on full display, her expression the most frightened I've ever seen her.

But her face. I put my hand over my mouth, breathing through the tight quiver in my chest. I trace her cheek, the hole in my heart expanding when I already thought it couldn't ache any deeper.

For thirteen years, she's only been in my memories. Seeing her rips to shreds all the self-control I struggle with daily around her being missing.

I take the photo, walk to the wall, and stand there for minutes, squeezing my eyes and finding a way to not let the emotions escape. My voice cracks. Still staring at the white concrete brick, I ask, "Where did he get these, and from whom?"

"In Detroit. Sullivan Bailey had them. He claimed he bought her, but she was never delivered. Another man had her, and he paid Sullivan for her."

Angry, I spin. The reality of what I've prayed wouldn't be her fate coming to fruition. "Who bought her?"

"He didn't say."

"Goddammit," I shout.

"That's all we know, Finn. Darragh thinks Jack Christian sold her to the Baileys."

The hatred I have for Jack only multiplies. I put the photo of Brenna's face under my shirt, tighten my drawstring on my pants, then shut the folder, sliding it back to Keiran. "Tell Darragh I want Sullivan picked up."

"He's already on it, but Sullivan is back in Ireland. Our guys over there are working on getting access to him, but they've got a lot of other issues going on. It's not going to be easy."

I slam my hand on the table. "I don't give a shit what they have going on. Pick. Him. Up."

Keiran sighs, and the sympathetic expression I despise is back. He tries to reassure me. "Darragh's working on it."

I leave, my insides in turmoil, wanting to kill every man I pass. When I get to the cell, Liam stays quiet, assessing me.

I hand him the photo.

His eyes widen. I spill the situation, my desire to kill someone growing with every word.

I need to get out of this fucking hellhole.

Where is she?

What has happened to her?

The rest of the day, I talk to no one. I don't leave my cell. All I do is stare at her face, fighting my demons, giving in to the ache that I usually save for nighttime.

When the lights-out call is made, the cell gets locked, just like every night for the last thirteen years. Everything is quiet until our next-door cellmate, our second cousin Ryan, shouts, "Shut up."

"You shut up. I'm minding my own business," Mickey slurs.

Ryan roars, "I don't give a fuck who this judge and Christian fucker are. Drop it."

I sit up, and so does Liam. Goose bumps break out on my skin. He jumps off the top bunk, and we both stand at the bars.

"I can take them down. Both of them!" Mickey shouts louder.

"Shut the fuck up," another man orders.

Mickey's voice gets louder. "I'm destroying Jack Christian's pompous ass if it's the last thing I do."

"Shut up!" Ryan screams.

"No. You shut up, Ryan. Mickey, come closer," I demand.

There's a shuffling, and he replies, "What?"

"What do you know about Jack?"

He drunkenly laughs. "How to take him down where it hurts the most."

"How?"

"Through his company. Then that prick judge loses his ass, too. They both lose everything."

Liam's eyes glow in the dark, widening. He asks, "How would you do that?"

Mickey snorts. "Easy. Through the stock market when his company goes public in the next six or seven years. It's already all planned out."

I grip the bars, feeling the roots of revenge plant themselves in my soul. "Tell us more, Mickey."

21

Brenna

Two Years Later

"GO HAVE a day at the spa. I booked you a surprise before your hair appointment," Giulio orders, then wraps my hair around his fist, tilting my head back. His hot breath merges with mine, and he says, "Brown with some highlights. The girl has been instructed what to do."

Of course she has. When isn't she?

I resist cringing and smile. I learned a long time ago that you don't show anything but appreciation when Giulio gives you a gift. I had bruises for a week the only time I ever told him it wasn't necessary. So I reply, "Thank you."

He kisses me on the lips but doesn't deepen it, which I'm grateful for.

His wife clears her throat, and my skin crawls further. Giulio spins and slips his hand to my ass. "Do you need something?"

The darts shooting from her eyes might be sharper at me than Giulio. It's the same look she always gives me. I don't blame her one bit. I'm the cliché nanny sleeping with her husband.

It's not by choice. But what Giulio wants, he takes. It started a few months after I moved into his compound on the outskirts of the city. From day one, Maura didn't like me in the house. I didn't understand why she threw venom at me every chance she got, but I eventually found out. Like me, she has no say what goes on inside his house.

Giulio provides nothing but the best for me. A luxury suite, good food, and safety—except from him. And like he threatened, his security isn't anything like Mama Christian's. His home is a protected battleship, and when physical eyes aren't on you, the cameras are.

After a few months of Giulio's protection, my weight came back, making my curves return. Except I wasn't twenty-two anymore. My body was a woman's, and Giulio liked what he saw.

It started with a personal trainer and the birth control shot. It was the first time I saw Giulio's desire for me. He bent me over his knees, pulled down my pants, and stuck the needle in my ass. I knew what he wanted, and I told myself I would fight him off and kill him just like I killed the other men if needed.

The next thing was the trip to the spa and laser treatments for my skin to reverse the damage caused by living outside. The second trip was to eliminate the hair on my legs, pubic area, and armpits. Weekly nail, hair, and eyebrow waxing appointments, along with makeup lessons, became the norm. On each trip, Giulio chose what colors and styles he wanted on me.

After every treatment, he would have new clothes delivered to my room. After my first makeover, he came into my suite unannounced. I was in nothing but my bra and underwear, getting ready for dinner.

I tried to cover myself up, but he pulled my arms away from my chest, his eyes trailing every part of my body. And that's when I knew the inevitable was going to happen, right before he tugged me into him and kissed me.

I tried not to return his affection, pushing him away, but the harder I resisted, the stronger he seemed to get until I was up against the wall and his tongue was suffocating me.

"Did you forget you're my property?" he asked, breathing hard, his menacing voice scaring me further.

"Please. Don't do this," I begged.

All he did was press closer to me, his erection stabbing my stomach, getting harder as he spoke.

"Who's responsible for everything you have?" he asked.

Tears fell down my cheeks. "You."

"That's right. You're mine."

As I stood shaking, sandwiched between him and the wall, he kissed my earlobe and clasped a diamond choker around my neck.

In my ear, he murmured, "Get ready for dinner. It's just you and me tonight."

And that was the night he took me. I didn't even fight back, wanting it just to be over, knowing there was no way to stop it. The following day, he strutted me in front of his wife with no shame.

But I felt it. Not once has it gone away. And every touch Giulio gives me makes me hate myself even more. My skin never stops crawling whenever he's around.

Most of all, I feel like I betrayed Finn. No matter how much time passes, the ache in me only grows. It doesn't get easier. When I let my mind wander, I think about what we might be doing had that day never happened and he was still alive. It only makes me fall into a depression.

And there's no depression allowed with Giulio.

For the last ten years, he visits my room several times a week. Sometimes, he calls me to his office during the day. Lately, I've become the woman on his arm whenever he goes out.

The one thing that keeps me sane is Bella. From the moment I became her nanny, I fell in love with her. Now she's eighteen. I should have moved on a long time ago from this house, but I'm owned and never leaving.

Maura gives me another disgusted glance and speaks in Italian. She's fully aware I'm fluent but still chooses to only speak in Italian around me. I think it's her way of reminding me I'm not one of them. She snaps, "Bella is not going to the spa."

Giulio squeezes my ass, tugging me closer to him. He replies in Italian, "She is."

"Not with her. She's my daughter," she seethes.

He scoffs then kisses me, deep and dominant, and I have no choice but to kiss him back. The last time I tried not to kiss him in front of his wife, he left welts on my ass from his leather belt.

He keeps his lips an inch from mine, his eyes locked on me. "Go tell Bella it's time to go. I'll have the maid put the dress out that I want you to wear tonight for the club."

I force another smile, trying to look excited. If I don't, I'll pay for it later. "The club?"

He pecks me on the lips. "Yes. Have fun." He pats my ass, and I take my cue, quickly skirting by Maura.

When I get to Bella's room, she's putting on a cashmere wrap her father bought her for her birthday. I knock, and she spins, her face lighting up when she sees me. "Did Papà say I could go? Mamma is on the warpath again." She rolls her eyes.

"Don't be disrespectful toward your mamma," I remind her.

Her face falls. "Why are you always sticking up for her? She's a total bitch to you."

"She has her reasons. Don't call her that. Are you ready to go?" I ask, trying to change the topic. Bella is fully aware of Giulio's and my sexual relationship. She doesn't know he owns me or how much her father repulses me. The last time we discussed it, she claimed that her mother should take better care of herself and make her father happy like I do. Then he wouldn't have had to go looking elsewhere.

I wanted to die during the entire conversation. I love Bella as my own, but there's a line I can't ever cross with her. Most of the time, I'm able to keep our conversations away from the topic of her parents and me.

She slings her oversized Gucci bag over her shoulder. "Ready."

I grab my purse on the way through the mansion, and we get into the car. The driver takes us to the salon, and Bella buzzes the entire time with excitement. "Papà said he has a surprise for you. I wonder what it is."

My gut twists. I'm sure it's another procedure to make me look younger. Lately, I've been injected with Botox and fillers, making sure any line that pops up disappears. I put the same smile on my face I always do whenever Bella speaks of her father. In her eyes, he does no wrong. I say, "I'm sure it'll be great."

We get to the spa, and the lady at the front desk greets us then pulls up our schedule. "Ohh! Mr. Abruzzo booked you for our new cellulite treatment!"

"Cellulite?" I ask, feeling self-conscious. Last year, I noticed a few pocks on the back of my thighs, but doesn't everyone get a little? I work out seven days a week with a trainer, and Giulio keeps me on a strict diet, so it's not from a lack of effort.

She smiles. "Yes! It's our newest machine, and you'll love the results."

Another employee comes out and takes us back to the locker room. I undress, put on my robe, then sneak a quick look at my thighs.

It's barely visible.

I go through the motions, allowing them to do whatever treatments Giulio ordered. When we get home, my hair and makeup look perfect. I go into my suite and stare at the tiny, gold club dress, along with the matching crotchless panties.

I cringe, knowing he's going to want to fuck me on the way to the club before he gets too drunk to get it up. It's been happening more and more lately. The last time he was inebriated and couldn't perform, I had bruises on my neck for a week.

The dress slides over my body, fitting me like a glove. The new designer stilettos are an inch higher than I'm used to, but I practice my walk so I don't embarrass him. I stuff wet wipes in the clutch he bought, along with perfume, lip gloss, and my phone.

Not that I have anyone's number on it, except Giulio and Bella's. I glance at the screen to check the time and freeze.

July 18th. The day Finn and I met. I shut my eyes, willing myself not to ruin my makeup. Anything but perfection isn't good enough for Giulio.

But he comes in, slinking his arms around my waist.

It makes the pain more real, more raw, more devastatingly clear. This is my life. I'm never going to have Finn back. Happiness was only a short blip in time for me.

I start to sob.

Giulio spins me, and I try to pull it together.

"I'm sorry," I cry out.

He cups my cheek, brushing my tears off them. "Brenna, what's wrong?"

I can't speak.

His gaze is a knife slicing through the air. "Did Maura say something to you?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Then what is it?"

I try to turn my face, but he holds it still.

Anger enters his expression. "You don't like my gifts?"

I say the first thing that comes to mind so I don't get beaten. "The cellulite is still there."

His expression softens. "It takes a few treatments. Did they not explain this to you?"

They did, but I claim otherwise. "No."

He pecks me on the lips. "Don't worry about this. Your legs will look perfect again after a few sessions. Now, clean up your face and we'll get going."

22

Finn

7 Years Later

SNOWFLAKES HIT my face the moment I step outside. It's something I haven't felt in years. The metal gate slams behind me, the noise echoing in the cold air.

Liam and I lock eyes, unsaid words passing between us. Killian stays quiet, which is unusual for him. His visits always made me laugh. He's the most like Sean, and they usually came together.

Sean. A moment of sadness passes, just thinking of him and how the Baileys killed him. One day he and Killian visited me in prison. The following week, Keiran was in the attorney's room telling me Sean died.

Nolan, Declan, and Killian started rotating who came with whom, but the hole was there. We all felt it. And then they told me Bridget took the kids to New York and refused to let the O'Malleys see them, claiming it was too dangerous.

It was another punch in the gut. Bridget, while a pain in my ass at times, was like a sister to me. We were always together, Sean, Bridget, Brenna, and me. I've only seen pictures of the kids, and now it's been years since they left Chicago. I'm not sure if I'll ever meet them.

The last few years inside were more challenging. The new warden made visits on each floor. He separated Liam and me, not letting us stay in the same cell. Things changed politically, which affected a lot, including Darragh's influence over certain guards. But even in different cells, I still knew Liam was there. I still saw him every day. The last few months without him felt like another loss.

I took the reins over, controlling the business again. But I didn't care the way I used to. A lot of it curled my stomach. Liam and I had a new idea of how to take the O'Malley clan into the next century, and it didn't include drugs or gambling.

Maybe it was having to live this close to junkies day in and day out. Perhaps we had just grown up and saw things differently. But profiting from the pit of addiction isn't how we see our future.

Every day that passed, inching me closer to my release, made my obsession with finding Brenna and taking down Jack and the judge grow. I'd stare at her photo, which is now worn and faded from my fingerprints, and hear her say, I chose you, Finn. You. No one else but you.

That photo is the only thing I took from my cell. The rest I left for the other clan members.

I'd often wonder, if after twenty years, if she would still feel the same about me. Would she still choose me?

I'm not naive enough not to know that prison hardened me. It took the worst parts of me and made them bloom. Besides my body parts I can see, I don't even know how I've aged. Mirrors weren't allowed in our prison. I've put on muscle, lifting any chance I got, but what does my face look like after all these years? Will she even still be attracted to me?

In my twenties, a raging lunatic existed. Now, he's still there, but he's morphed. I threw a few punches after the night Rory Bailey tried to kill Liam. Throughout the years, I learned to control my fury, but my anger has been stewing. It's a bottle of soda constantly shaken, and it's ready to explode on anyone who's hurt my firefly.

Before I arrived, I was barely a man. My only concern was about proving my worth in the clan to help Liam lead it someday and spending my life with Brenna. I only cared about money to the extent of how much I needed to pay for my necessities, giving her what she needed, and a few luxuries like my Camaro or VIP tickets to concerts. Now, I'm fully aware of what it'll take to change the future of the clan.

Billions.

And we're going to get it by taking Jack and the judge down. Then I'm going to kill them as brutally as I can to make them pay for everything they've done.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Liam finally says and opens the back door.

I arch my eyebrows. This is how much things have changed. Darragh or his advisors were the only ones who had fancy black cars with drivers. I scoff. "Trying to make me feel old?"

He grunts and pats me on the back. "Lot's changed."

"I guess."

I turn to Killian. "No present for me?"

"It's in the car."

I chuckle. "I was kidding, but okay." I slide inside, and the others follow.

Killian tosses me a small package wrapped in foil.

"You really went all out," I tease.

He shrugs. "Forgot to grab wrapping paper the other day. It's the thought that counts."

The car starts moving, and my stomach somersaults from the motion I'm no longer used to. I deeply inhale then unwrap the foil and open the box. I tug at a rope, and a bar of soap hangs in the air.

"Fuck, you're such an asshole," Liam grumbles.

Killian grins. "What? It's so he doesn't drop it and have flashbacks."

I turn to Liam. "He's still an immature cocksucker, isn't he?"

"Yep."

"More like a magnet for the cocksuckers," he boasts.

I toss the soap at him. "Maybe you should scrub your dick then."

He catches the soap and nods at the box. "There's more in there.

I lift a piece of toilet paper out of the box.

"Jesus. You need some better wrapping skills," Liam mutters.

"Tissue paper. Toilet paper. Same thing," Killian states.

"I've been in prison for twenty years, and even I know that's not true," I claim then hold up my old keychain. My chest tightens, and I peer at Killian.

"Nana never let anyone move into your old place. Nora, either. All your stuff is there. The Camaro's at the warehouse."

I close my fist around the keys. "Thanks."

"My mom wanted to throw you a big party. I told her no," Liam adds.

"Thank fuck for that," I admit. The last thing I want to do is deal with a bunch of people today.

"Yeah. I had all the O'Malleys at the house when we arrived home," he informs me.

I wince. "How bad was it?"

Liam's eyes meet mine. "Just what you think it would be like."

I nod and stare out the window. The rest of the way is light banter, Killian informing me of Liam's girlfriend issues, and learning about Hailee while trying to calm Liam down.

When we get into Chicago, Liam asks, "Where do you want to go first? My mom wants to see you."

I don't hesitate. "The pub. I want a pint of Guinness, a shot of whiskey, and some fish and chips. Tell me Nora kept Nana's recipe."

"Of course she did."

"Good. Then that's what I want. Tell Auntie Ruth I'll swing by tomorrow and see her and Darragh."

"Declan, Nolan, and Nora are already there," Killian claims.

"No Erin and Nessa?" I smirk.

Killian scowls and asks Liam, "You want to tell him, or should I?"

"What?" My eyes dart between them.

Liam's face turns dark. "Niall and Shamus were skimming off the top."

"I knew they were bad news. What did you do about it?"

He sniffs hard. "We let the clan handle it at the warehouse."

Images of what I witnessed the clan do to traitors from when I was sixteen to twenty-five burn in my mind. "Good. Those pricks deserved it. What about your sisters?"

"They're still a pain in the ass. Declan's been handling them so they get off Liam's ass about it," Killian declares.

"They don't know anything other than they're missing. I'm giving them a weekly allowance and it shuts them up." Liam pulls a phone out of his pocket. "I should show you how to use this."

We spend the final few minutes of the ride going over the basics of the phone. All the gadgets make my head spin. One thing we didn't have in prison was phones. Drugs, gambling, and porno magazines were abundant, but there was some sort of blocker the warden installed before I got there. It made it so no cell phones worked, so smuggling any in was pointless.

The car pulls into the alley, and déjà vu hits me. Even through the blizzard, everything looks the same, aside from my Camaro not being parked next to my door.

My insides quiver as I get out, full of sad happiness. We hustle inside the pub door, and I immediately notice it's different.

The paint is no longer chipping on the wall. It's the same Kelly green, but it's new. As I walk down the hall, I glance into the office and freeze.

Nora's no longer a twenty-year-old girl. She's a beautiful, pregnant woman. Her red hair is the same fire it always was, and her green eyes are the signature O'Malley ones.

The last time I saw her, she visited Liam in prison. Shortly after, he told her not to come back. The prisoners were eyeing her over, and neither of us liked it, nor did we want her subjected to anything surrounding that place.

She looks up from typing and her eyes widen, glistening with tears. She jumps up and runs over, throwing her arms around me.

I choke down my emotions, embracing her tightly. When I retreat, I put my hand on her belly and say, "You look great. Congratulations. Are you feeling okay?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'm glad you'll be here when the baby comes."

I hug her again and kiss her forehead. Another moment of nostalgia passes. Brenna and I would have had kids. I often wonder how many and if we would have had girls or boys or both. I swallow it down, reprimanding myself for being anything but happy for Nora. I admit, "Me, too."

The welcome home continues as we go into the main part of the pub and find Darcey, Declan, and Nolan.

"Wow. Everything is new," I say, glancing around the updated pub. It still has the old feel, and I tell Nora, "You did a great job. Nana would love it." And she would.

The thought of my nana, my mother, and all the other O'Malleys who have passed since I was in prison choke me up. I focus on my Guinness, and Liam takes me aside.

"I'm sorry, but I have to pick up Hailee."

"It's okay. I'm happy you found someone."

Uneasiness passes in his face.

"What's wrong?"

He stares at the others in the game room. "I feel like I might have fucked it up already."

"Then go get her back. Take it from me. If she's the one, get her back."

He nods. "She is."

"Okay then." I pat him on the back. "Get your woman. I'll see you later."

"But you're...you're okay?" he asks. And I know what he's asking. Am I okay with all these people, the stares, questions, and lack of scheduled orders?

"Yeah. Thanks for having my back on your mom's party."

"Always."

I nod toward the exit. "Get out of here."

Some of the same regulars that frequented the pub when my nana ran it are still there. They're older, many of them senior citizens, and it feels like I'm in a time warp. Everything has changed. People's lives moved forward. Yet, mine doesn't feel like it has. It feels like I'm stuck twenty years earlier. Maybe until I find Brenna, it'll always feel like that.

After a few hours of being surrounded by people, not being told what to do, or having any alarms ring, I grasp the keys in my pocket. I say my goodbyes, tell Nora, "Thanks for keeping my apartment all these years."

"You're welcome. I cleared all the dust and washed the bedding. I stocked your kitchen, but the keys to the pub are on your ring. Grab whatever you want at any time," she says.

"Thanks."

I make my way outside. The snow is so thick I can barely see. It seeps through my tennis shoes from the few steps I take. I unlock the door and step into the small corridor. It feels tinier than before. Someone patched the hole I put through the wall. I put my hand over it, remembering how my one mistake changed the course of my firefly's and my entire life.

The air becomes thicker with every step I take. When I get to the top of the landing, I flip on the lights. I stare at my old fake-leather furniture, the big-screen TV I saved up for a year to buy, and the tiny kitchen. Besides the fifth of Jameson with a red bow around it and a crystal tumbler on the counter, everything looks the same. I've gone back twenty years.

When I go into the bedroom, I lean against the door. My pulse increases. I open the closet and run my shaking hand over her favorite T-shirt then pull the soft cotton off the hanger. It smells like her.

Closing my eyes, I inhale it over and over until I can feel her arms around me and hear her voice declaring, I choose you, Finn O'Malley. You're all that matters to me.

I clutch the shirt then go into the bathroom and freeze.

My reflection stares back at me, the remnants of the young man I was nowhere in sight. Wrinkles crease the corners of my eyes. Deep lines run from my nose to the corners of my mouth. My hair has thinned out, and while I'm not bald, it's not hard to see my scalp in certain areas.

I fold her shirt, set it on the counter, then strip. I study my body, grateful I at least worked out in prison and that part of me is better. I trace the scars over my torso and my legs—wounds from previous battles in prison, wondering what she'll think of me when I find her and if she's changed or if it's only me.

I turn in the mirror, glancing over my shoulder at the tattoos on my back I haven't seen in twenty years.

When I finish, I brush my fingers over the bristles of her toothbrush, then go to the desk and open the cabinet. Her cabinet. The one she called her powder room cabinet. As I open it, her face and how it lit up when I showed her I cleaned it out for her, as if I had given her the world's best gift, flashes before me.

Torturing myself further, I touch everything—her pink hair dryer, the matching curling iron, and all of her makeup. I open the lid to her deodorant, sniffing the lavender, then spray a spritz of her perfume on my wrist.

I wrap the strands of her hair from her hairbrush around my finger, but only a few so I still have a piece of her for later.

After I put everything back where it was, I force myself to shut the door. Then I see my computer and freeze. My heart beats faster. I lift the pictures on the wall, and my cameras are still there. I glance at a corner of the ceiling at the closed shutter lens. I stand on the bed and reach for the one above the bed. Everything is the same.

But I know it's not.

My chest tightens as I turn my computer on. The lump growing in my throat expands until I feel like I'll never swallow it down. The computer takes several minutes to load, and then it's there. The last thing I saved.

Several minutes pass, but I decided I need the whiskey. I grab the fifth and don't even bother with the tumbler. I open it and take a large mouthful, feeling the burn slide past the lump in my throat, scorching as it travels to my gut. After several more sips, I finally work up the courage.

My hands won't stop shaking. I click the button, and the hourglass icon comes on the screen, flipping in circles as it loads. Then it's ready, waiting for me to press play.

I click, and her giggles fill the room. My insides quiver harder, watching every beautiful part of her—of us.

She digs her nails into my shoulders, and I can feel it. I take her pussy in my mouth, and I can taste it. We kiss with hunger, and my mouth waters.

A close-up of her face when her eyes roll and she cries out my name almost makes me lose it. Yet, I swallow the emotions, pushing them down like I always do.

All night, I drink whiskey and rewatch the video. The moment it stops, I start it over. When morning comes, snow covers all of Chicago, and nothing is open. I go to the pub and grab another fifth. I'm drunk, on the verge of losing total control, and clutching her T-shirt with her hair wrapped around my finger.

23

Finn

YANKING MATT'S HEAD BACK, I spit, "Where else could he have kept information?"

Judge Peterson's youngest son was in Ireland and photographed with the Baileys. As soon as he returned to Chicago, I picked him up. Then I called Maksim to use his garage and make him babysit me so I don't kill him too soon. I made that mistake with his father.

Now, Matt's naked, crying, and hanging with his limbs spread in the Ivanov garage.

Things with Maksim and I aren't entirely back to normal. After I got out of prison, there was no avoiding him. He finally admitted why he left Brenna and what was happening the year before I went to prison. After I learned what Zamir Petrov did to his mother, brothers, and him, I understood better. I still can't fully forgive him for leaving Brenna on her own, but a part of me has. Zamir called him that night, and after he told me what that devil put Sergey through when he didn't arrive on time, I can't hate him anymore.

And I see the regret in his eyes—the what-ifs circling us. We were young, both going through our own shit, trying to survive, and the only thing I want to do is find Brenna and move forward.

But no matter what I've done this year, everything leads to nowhere, except what I found in Philly.

After Jack's death, Obrecht's wife Selena, who was married to Jack, told us about another safe he kept in his house. It was in a floorboard in his office and took days to open. When I finally unlocked it, his birth certificate with his mother's name was on it, along with paperwork that had an address in Philly.

It gave me hope. The judge admitted she was in Philly before I snapped his neck. I thought he was lying, but maybe he wasn't. So I went to Philly and scouted out the Bailey whorehouse. At night, I used my silencer and shot the thug at the door. Then I shot every man in the place, with my gut twisting. The woman who ran the house was old. She smoked a cigarette the entire time, but her hands shook, displaying her nerves. And I knew it was her. She was Jack's mother.

When she wouldn't give me any information, I restrained her and taped her mouth shut. I locked all the women in one room then questioned them one by one. The first was a woman named Josie. Like Jack's mom, her eyes lit up when I spoke of Brenna. She knew something, but she wasn't talking, so I tied her up next to her madame.

Several more women did the same thing but not Renee. She told me how they took pictures of Brenna to sell her to Sullivan, everything about how Brenna escaped after killing Donny, and about a yellow envelope Jack instructed her to give to Brenna.

Renee led me to the bedroom closet, and my gut pitched. I looked dead in the photos, and the fake death certificate said so.

She thinks I'm dead.

If she escaped, was she really sold, or did Sullivan lie the night he lost those photos?

If she's free, why hasn't she come home?

It was the first piece of anything after Keiran gave me those photos years ago. But it's just another dead end.

Through this entire year, life continues getting brighter for everyone around me. All the Ivanovs are now married. Nora has her baby. Liam, Nolan, and Killian all got hitched. Even Declan seems to have come out smelling like roses after he kidnapped his current girlfriend, who's half his age.

It's not to say everything has been sunshine and rainbows. There have been wars with multiple crime families, including the Baileys. Rory's now dead but so is Darragh. It shook the family but Liam and me the most. Since I was five, Darragh stepped into my father's shoes. And now Liam reigns over the entire clan.

Many, including Liam himself, didn't believe he was ready. But I knew. I saw him change from a cocky, spoiled kid into a man who no longer made decisions thinking he knew everything.

And while I stayed Liam's advisor, I declined to be the underboss, passing my birthright to Declan. It's something I would never have done twenty-one years ago. But besides finishing what we started with Jack's company, the only thing I care about is Brenna. And when I find her, I'm making up for lost time, not spending my nights and days ruling the O'Malleys.

Maksim steps behind Matt and puts the flat part of his blade on his cheek. It's my reminder not to make the same mistake I did with the judge.

My insides continue to rage in dangerous territory. The control I seemed to exhibit in prison is fading. I feel it every day I don't find her or come to another dead end. If Maksim weren't stepping in, my next move might kill Matt too early.

Maksim presses the blade so the tip draws blood on his cheek. "Tell us where else your father kept information."

"Th-The lake house. It has a safe!"

"What's the code?" I snarl.

Over and over, he claims he doesn't know. The location of the safe is the only piece of information we get out of him. When it's clear there's nothing left for him to disclose, Maksim nods.

Not wanting to look at the piece-of-shit Bailey-lover, I take him out the same way I took his father out. I snap his neck.

Maksim makes us shower and calls in his guys to clean up. We go directly to the lake house. Just as Matt said, there's a safe.

It's one of the most secure safes on the planet. We transport it to my apartment. I haven't stayed in it after the first two nights, knowing if I did, the memories would haunt me, destroying my ability to find Brenna. I stay in hotels, keeping to myself as much as possible. But I can't take the safe into a hotel.

I spend all my free time punching in different eight-digit codes. I have a notebook full of combinations that didn't work, but then something hits me.

I punch in Brenna and Brad's birth dates and stare at it when the door unlocks. My heart thumps hard in my chest, and I pull everything out, tossing aside cash and everything else until I find a photo.

My chest tightens until I feel like I can't breathe. Pains shoot through my chest. It's Brenna and Bridget. Brenna has black hair and eyebrows. She's crying, and Bridget is consoling her. They're on a park bench, and Bridget either gained weight or is pregnant.

I flip the photo, and the watermark is dated five years after I went to prison.

Bridget saw her. She knew where she was.

How could she keep this from me?

Too many thoughts race toward me, mixing with the growing betrayal. I pick up my phone to book a trip to New York but stop before I find a flight.

The O'Malleys are finally allowed to see Sean's children. Killian made some deal with Bridget's father. If I go before they're ready, I might destroy their chance to reunite with the kids.

I debate all night, but I know what it's like to lose someone, know they are out there, and not be able to see them. So I discuss it with my cousins, and they agree to let me grill Bridget once we're there.

All week, my skin crawls. I stop myself several times from going back on my word. When Bridget finally walks into Arianna's father's house, it takes everything I have not to choke her to death.

When the room finally clears, it's only Bridget, Arianna's brother Dante, and me. It was the only way for me to question her without her father hanging in the room and censoring every word she said. For some reason, she and Dante have gotten close, and she trusts him.

Her cheeks are stained with tears from her breakdown when Declan hugged her. The carefree, giggling girl she used to be is nowhere. She's aged well, but there's grief on her face. All I keep seeing is Sean pinning her down on the pool table or Brenna and her on Sean's and my shoulders at the Eminem concert. I see my nana nagging her about her schoolwork while Bridget rolled her eyes and gave Sean a handjob under the table. I see her slamming whiskey shots and teasing Brenna about not being Irish enough. The memories spin as I choke down the grief over all we've missed out on. And I'll die searching for Brenna before I give up, but Sean is dead. There's nothing Bridget can do. And I wonder what hurts worse. Knowing they are out there but you can't find them, or knowing you have zero chance of ever seeing them again?

She starts, "Finn—"

"How could you keep this from me?" I ask.

She shakes her head, and more tears fall. "She begged me not to tell anyone."

"You knew I was looking for her," I growl.

She nods. "I know. I-I told Sean."

My mouth turns dry. "Don't lie to me, Bridget."

"I'm not. I told him everything. He said he'd handle it and to keep it between us."

"Sean would never have kept it from me. Never," I hurl.

She covers her hands over her face.

"Bridget! Look at me, dammit!"

Grief is etched so deep on her face, my heart stammers. She insists, "I did. I told Sean as soon as I returned to Chicago."

"Where did you see her?" Dante asks.

"In Central Park. I-I didn't think it was her at first. She was so thin. And she dyed her hair, but it was her."

"What did she say?" Dante prods.

Bridget closes her eyes. "Not a lot. She told me to forget I saw her and not to tell anyone. She was crying. I don't think she had slept. Sh-she smelled like she hadn't showered in a long time."

I cringe, knowing Brenna was religious about her hygiene. "Where was she living?"

"She didn't say, but she was dirty. I-I didn't get to ask her, but I think she was living on the streets."

Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down, asking, "Why didn't you bring her home?"

"Finn, I asked her why she hadn't come home. She started to respond, and it's like something spooked her. She made sure my father's bodyguards were with me before she left. I-I couldn't get her to stay, and I was pregnant, so I couldn't run after her."

"What spooked her?"

"I don't know."

"Stop lying to me!"

"I don't know!" Bridget screams. "Don't you think I've tried to figure it out all these years?"

"I don't know. Have you? Do you even give a shit about the O'Malleys anymore?" I snap.

"Finn," Dante quietly warns.

"Shut up, Dante. She took Sean's kids, our blood, away from us. We welcomed her into our family with open arms, and she acts like we don't even exist but won't tell us why."

Bridget's mascara streaks down her face. "I love your family. I loved Sean more than life. I still do. But it's not safe for my kids, and I won't lose them, too."

"What isn't safe, Bridget? Don't tell me it's safer in New York with all the threats Tully receives."

She turns toward the window, crying.

"Who took this photo?" I demand, shaking it in front of me.

"I don't know," she claims, her shoulders shaking.

"Of course you do."

She stays quiet, other than her soft sobbing.

I reach for her, and Dante shoves me back. "Enough. This conversation is over."

"It's over when I say it is," I seethe.

He shakes his head. "No. This is my house. She's told you what she knows, now lay off."

I scowl and realize I'm not going to get anything else tonight. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over, Bridget. I want answers."

"I told you all I know," she says, but it's weak, and I don't buy it.

The next night, I leave the mansion and go to Tully's. I question her, with Tully standing over me. But she's not emotional this time. She's prepared for my questions and gives me the same answers, only this time, there are no tears.

I leave New York, no wiser than before I got there. The itch to find Brenna only digs deeper until I feel like I'm bleeding and losing all control.

24

Brenna

One Month Later

GIULIO'S BREATH on my ear makes my skin crawl. "I think it's time I properly thank you for doing such a good job raising my paperotta."

"You have," I quietly reply, cringing inside at the thought of any of his surprises. Giulio's idea of gratitude always comes with strings attached. Plus, Maura's in the room glaring at me. Bella showed up with her husband as we were leaving for the club. She wanted to talk to all of us, so Giulio gathered us in the living room. Then she announced she was pregnant.

After we congratulated her, he insisted on having a celebration drink. He toasts them, tells everyone to sit, then pulls me onto his lap, flaunting me in Maura's face again. His hand slides between my thighs. I'm wearing the new black dress and stilettos he chose for me. When I saw it, I couldn't help thinking how everything in my life had become so ironic.

I didn't marry Brad because I didn't want to be a trophy wife. Now, I'm a trophy mistress, despising every second of it and who I've become. And since Bella is grown and left home, there's no escaping Giulio or his constant demands.

"I was going to wait until tomorrow to do this, but since Bella's here, I'll do it now." He kisses the back of my ear.

My insides quiver, wondering what Giulio's latest "surprise" will be.

He squeezes my thigh, strumming his pinky over my slit, which is another thing I hate. Everything he does to me in front of others makes me feel like a cheap whore. He makes it clear I'm his, and no boundaries exist. In a louder voice, he announces, "I'm glad you're here, for our good news, my paperotta."

Bella smiles, her face lighting up just like it always has for her father. Sometimes I wonder what she would think if she knew the truth about us. As the years have gone by, her disdain for her mother has only grown, no matter how much I tried to tell her not to let our relationship come between them. But Giulio does no wrong in her eyes, and she's so brainwashed, I'm not sure if he ever will. "What is it, Papà?"

"Brenna and I are getting married," he declares, and panic fills me. He's not once discussed this with me, never mind asked me.

The room feels like it's spinning. I grip his arm to steady myself, gaping at him.

In Italian, Maura seethes, "In what world?"

Giulio replies, "I'm divorcing you. I have paperwork for you to sign in my office."

She claims, "Giulio, you cannot do this!"

Bella shrieks, jumps off the couch, and runs over to us. Giulio rises, setting me on my feet, and Bella squeezes me as if her mother doesn't even exist.

"I've been waiting for this! Oh my God! Can I come over when Francesca comes over to make your dress?" she asks.

My pulses skyrockets and I stare at her.

"Brenna, what's wrong?" she asks.

Giulio's grip bites into my ass, pulling me out of my trance.

I avoid looking at Maura, who's sobbing, hating the homewrecker I am. I shake my head. "Nothing. I-I'm just shocked."

Giulio chuckles. "The jeweler is bringing your ring tomorrow."

Bella releases me and hugs Giulio. "Papà, what did you get her?"

"Five carats, platinum. Not saying anything else."

She claps, and my stomach dives. "Aww, Papà! I bet it's beautiful."

How do I get out of this?

I can't marry him.

I don't love him.

There's no choice.

Maura comes over to us and pulls on Giulio's arm. "Please, Giulio. Don't do this!"

He shrugs his arm. "Get off me. Tomorrow you will sign the papers. I've arranged for you to stay in the house upstate."

"Giulio, no! Please! I beg you! I have no friends or family there. What will I do?" she hysterically yells.

"It's not my problem. Now, stop your crying, or I'll leave you homeless without two pennies to rub to your name."

She stares at him in horror, tears streaming down her face. I focus on Giulio's chest, wanting to tell her how sorry I am and how much I don't want this.

"Don't ruin Papà and Brenna's happy news, Mamma," Bella reprimands.

And that's when I realize it. Bella is just as cruel as her father. It takes the little pieces of my heart that remain and crumbles them to dust.

It's another hour before Giulio and I make it out the door. In the car, he takes out his cock, fists my hair, and voices, "Show me how grateful you are to be mine." He shoves me over him and gags me with his dick the entire way there.

I suffer through it, knowing better than to do anything besides what he wants. When we get to the club, it's later than we usually get there and packed. Giulio leads me up to his VIP suite, and before we step inside, I ask, "Can I go to the restroom, please?"

His lips curl. "Maybe I should fuck you in the corner, like last time you had to go to the bathroom."

My face heats, which he always thinks is a compliment toward him, but it's not. I had asked to go to the restroom, and he literally pressed me against a wall and fucked me one night when he was drunk. The room was full of people. Since he towers over me, I hid my face in his chest, trying not to piss on him.

Lucky for me, he can't get it up so soon after what he made me do in the car. He's nearing sixty, and more often than not, he's taking a pill to stay hard.

He kisses my forehead. "Go to the restroom."

"Thank you." I rush down the hall, aware Fausto is following me. There's no escaping Giulio's eyes. He's always watching me, even when he's not.

I go into the restroom, rushing toward an empty stall. I don't need to go to the bathroom. I just need to breathe, away from Giulio and his men. I go from stall to stall, but they're full. The door to the last one opens.

My hand flies to my face, and I must look as stunned as Bridget. It's like seeing a ghost of your past.

Before I can say anything, she tugs me into the stall and shuts the door. "Oh my God! Brenna!" She throws her arms around me, and we both start crying.

She pulls back and holds my cheeks. "Where have you been?"

"Here."

"Where?"

I close my eyes, and more tears fall. She pulls me back into her. "Please tell me what's going on? I never thought I'd see you again. And then Finn found a picture. Someone took a photo of us and—"

"Finn? What are you talking about?" My heart beats so fast, I can hear it.

Bridget swallows hard. "He's out of prison. He's been looking for you."

"Wh-what do you mean? Finn's dead. I-I saw the photos and his death certificate."

She shakes her head, her eyes in slits. "No. He's not. He was in New York at Thanksgiving."

I try to comprehend what she's saying, but how is it possible?

"Is that why you never came home? You thought he was dead?" she asks.

Once I start talking, I can't stop. "I-I didn't have money to get home. I was on the street, running from the Baileys. Th-they bought me. I killed another man!"

I can see wheels turning in her head. "Another? What do you mean?"

"Brad, of course."

Her eyes widen. "Finn didn't kill him?"

My voice cracks. "No. I did."

She stays silent.

"Did Finn not tell you the truth?"

She nods, and a small smile forms on her lips. "No. But it makes sense now. He loved you."

My lips tremble, processing this information. Why didn't he tell anyone? He could have not spent all this time in prison.

"He still loves you," she firmly states.

A feeling I'm not used to explodes in my chest. It's hope. But then reality crashes back into me. "Tell him I love him. I-I..." My tears fly fast, dripping off my chin. I find the courage to say, "But tell him to stay away, or he'll get killed."

Bridget pins her eyebrows together. "Brenna. No. He won't stop until he finds you. I have to tell him."

"Please. I already ruined his life. If he's...if he's alive, then I don't want him to die because of me. The man who owns me—"

"Owns you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Brenna, tell me who's hurting you."

"It's Giulio Abruzzo. H-he bought me from the Baileys the day I ran into you."

Horror fills her expression.

"Come with me. I'll call my father, and we'll leave now," she claims.

I laugh. It's a pathetic, sad snicker that mirrors my life. "The moment I walk out this door, the bodyguards will follow me. Listen to me. There is no saving me. I'll never escape him."

"I'm not leaving you. Now that I know—"

"You aren't listening. And if you go tell Sean—"

"Sean's dead."

I gape at her, a chill running down my spine, watching her expression turn to grief-filled anguish.

"What are you talking about?"

She blinks hard, sniffles, then replies, "The Baileys killed him. I moved back to New York years ago with the kids. We live with my father."

I hug her, holding her tight, understanding a piece of her pain. All these years, I thought Finn was dead. I grieved for him daily. And I see my own anguish all over her expression.

She tightens her arms around me. "Brenna, I have to get you out of here."

"I can't. We'll both die. His guards are all over the place."

"Okay. If not tonight, then there has to be some other way," she claims.

"There isn't. Trust me. If I could have done it, I would have."

We stare at each other for several moments. She removes her phone. "Give me your number."

"Bridget, I only have his and his daughter's number. There's no one else. He will have my phone traced."

She shuffles through her evening bag and pulls another cell out. "Take this one. My daughter and I fought before we left, and I grounded her."

"Tough mom," I tease.

She winks. "I'm a bitch. She and my son both hate me right now."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you're a great mom."

"I don't know. Take the phone." She pushes it at me.

"I can't. He'll find it. I have zero privacy."

She scrubs her face in frustration then stops. "What kind of phone do you have?"

"The same one you do."

She nods then hands me her phone and purse. "Hold this for a moment." She takes out the SIM card from her daughter's phone. "Take this. You can switch it out on your phone, and I can text you."

My stomach flips. If Giulio finds it, he'll either hurt me badly or possibly kill me. I may never be allowed outside again.

"Brenna, Finn's not going to stop searching for you. And I am telling him I saw you and where you're at."

I grab her arm. "No. Listen to me. He will get killed. You don't understand the number of men Giulio has guarding his house and him."

"I won't hide this from him."

I take the SIM card. "Don't tell him yet. Promise me. I'll check this once a week. Let me think about how it could even be possible to escape."

"I can't hide—"

"Please. Give me some time. I don't want anyone to get hurt," I beg.

She says nothing for several moments then nods. "Okay. Are you here a lot?"

"Few times a month. Now I have to fix my makeup and get back, or Giulio's guy will be busting in here. You go first."

She hesitates.

"Go, Bridget. You never saw me."

She finally leaves, and I wipe my makeup off my face, then reapply my mascara. The entire time, I tell myself to pull it together.

Finn is alive. All these years, he's been alive.

Living in prison because of me.

Guilt floods me, eating me raw, mixing with the growing hope I have that I'll someday see him. I tuck the SIM card in the zippered part of my evening bag then force myself to walk tall.

I open the door, and Fausto's leering gaze meets mine.

For the first time in years, Finn's voice comes roaring at me. Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop.

I ignore Fausto and go into the VIP suite and try to sit next to Giulio, but he tugs me onto his lap. "Where have you been?"

"Long line."

He studies me, and I try not to squirm, pinning the smile on my face I've perfected over the years. When he moves his hand over my ass and turns to talk to his thug next to him, relief fills me.

The rest of the night, I hardly say anything. It's not new. I'm supposed to sit there and be quiet. I'm there for show, not my brain.

The entire time, I think of Finn, wondering if it's possible for me to ever escape Giulio and get back to him.

But then another thought hits me. Once Finn knows how I've been living the past fifteen years, will he even want me?

25

Finn

One Month Later

DECLAN'S VOICE, You don't know her reasoning. Don't do something you'll regret, constantly spins in my mind.

Yet, my love for Bridget is gone. I've gone back and forth, debating whether to confront her or not, but I don't trust a word that comes out of her mouth.

The next forty-eight hours drag by while moving at lightning speed. Declan arranges a private flight to New York. Killian insists on coming with me, claiming Arianna's father's house is the best place to stay since we may need backup. The Marinos have an arsenal of men and weapons, depending on what the situation requires. And Arianna's brothers have inside knowledge of this underground club.

I know the details of where and when they're meeting. Arianna's brother, Massimo, got us on the list. We used fake identifications since we don't know who has Brenna or if they're scanning the guests' names. If they've had any contact with the Baileys to buy Brenna from them, they aren't fans of O'Malleys.

I still don't know if the Baileys even found her to sell her to whoever bought her. All I know are pieces of information, but the puzzle isn't complete.

When we get to New York, Arianna's four brothers and her father meet with Killian and me. Dante voices his opinion several times, insisting I should talk with Bridget first.

I'm getting tired of his beliefs about Bridget. It's black and white to me. I reply, "It's not happening. She'll lie again."

"You don't know that or why she did before," he claims.

I refrain from responding to any notion that Bridget had any good reasons to hide her contact with Brenna from me. She's not the same person she was who Sean fell in love with or I considered a sister. I remind him, "This is my call."

His eyes darken, turning to slits. "We'll have more information about what we're up against once we get inside the club."

"And she could cancel her meeting with Brenna. As far as I'm concerned, Bridget's the enemy. We don't treat her any other way," I declare.

Dante's face turns red. "She's not your enemy."

"Why are you sticking your neck out for her?"

"I'm not. I just know her. She's not out to hurt you."

I snort. "Yeah, well, I thought I knew her, too. Now, are you on board with helping me get my woman back, or do I need to worry about whose side you're on, too?"

"My brother's trying to help you," Gianni adds, stepping closer to Dante. Next to one another, it's hard to tell which twin is which, except for the different colored shirts.

I address Killian. "Looks like your in-laws aren't as aligned with us as they claim."

"You better watch your mouth," Massimo growls.

"Enough! It's Finn's call on this one. If he says not to tell Bridget, keep your mouths shut," Angelo roars, pointing at the twins.

Fury claws at my chest. I cross my arms, trying to contain it, not even happy for my win. I thought I felt like I could crawl out of my skin before Declan told me about Brenna, but now that I'm so close, only a few hours away from seeing her, it's so intense, I could slip into my crazed self and ruin this chance to finally have her back.

Angelo turns to me, his dark eyes piercing through the air. "Not talking to Bridget first puts you at a disadvantage. My sons are right. We can't prepare for whatever this situation is, but it's your call. However, you're on my turf. If it's not safe to bring Brenna back here tonight without shooting up the club, then you leave her until we can put a plan together."

"I'm not leaving without her," I seethe.

Angelo steps closer. He snarls, "You will not cause a war in my backyard. We don't know who we're dealing with since you won't speak to Bridget. I won't put my entire family at undue risk."

My blood boils. "Bridget lies. I'm not taking any chances of her tipping off whoever has Brenna."

"She wouldn't keep Brenna in harm's way," Dante declares.

"She already has," I fume.

Angelo scowls at Dante. "Shut up. No more defending Bridget." He addresses me again. "I'm giving you leeway to make the call on this, but on my soil, you will obey my rules. If my sons or Killian tell you to leave without her, you follow them. Do you understand me?"

I sniff hard, grinding my molars, staring into the darkness of Angelo's eyes.

Killian breaks the tension. "Finn, let's go get ready."

I don't move, trying to fathom how I could ever walk away from Brenna after all these years, leaving her with whoever bought her.

The bile climbs up my throat as it always does, thinking of anyone paying for her as if she's their property. I fight the thoughts of what he must be doing to her, praying for a miracle that he hasn't touched her and treats her well.

But I'm not a stupid man.

Men don't pay for women to save them.

They pay to take what isn't theirs.

"One wrong move and she could get killed. No one wants that. So give me your word, Finn," Angelo demands but in a slightly softer tone.

He's right. I know he is, but it doesn't make it any easier.

"You have his word. Finn, let's go get ready," Killian repeats.

Angelo's head snaps toward Killian. I turn and leave, unable to say out loud that I would ever leave her. As I walk out the door, I hear Angelo say, "I'm holding you accountable for whatever happens, Killian."

I tear through the mansion, going directly toward my suite, too afraid to look at the employees or Arianna as I pass them by.

"Finn? Are you okay?" she calls out.

Unable to speak, hating what Angelo wants me to agree to, knowing one wrong move on my part could kill Brenna, I keep going and don't stop until I'm inside and shut the door.

When I step in the shower, I'm shaking, unable to control years of grief I've hidden from the world. I stand under a stream of cold water, going through possible scenarios of how I'll find a way to take her from whoever has her and bring her back here with me tonight. Yet, nothing I imagine feels possible. Warning flags pop up all over, and I curse the Marinos. Before I spoke with them, I was confident I would blow off anyone's head who tried to stop me. I didn't consider that I was on Angelo's turf or how this could have backlash for him. I never once thought my firefly could end up dead, but I'm not a naive man. So now, everything has a dark cloud looming over it, as if it's a sign of things to come.

I get out of the shower, no calmer than earlier, and put on my clothes. My shoes shine to perfection. The dark slacks, white designer T-shirt, and black sport coat represent everything I never was when I met Brenna.

I'm no longer a working-class, taking-orders-to-prove-my-worth young man. I'm rich and dress like it. The young men in the clan look to me for the orders. And I no longer have anything to prove to anyone—except her.

I have to prove to her I'm still worth her love.

I have to somehow find a way to earn her forgiveness for what I did that caused the last twenty-one years of pain she's gone through.

I need to figure out how to heal any scars she may have.

I pace the room, my demons in full force, then freeze and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

Will she recognize me?

There's a knock, and Killian comes into the room, shutting the door behind him. He stands next to me, concern all over his face. "Angelo is right. I need your word, Finn."

I shut my eyes, on the verge of exercising no control over any of my actions.

"She could die."

I snap, "You don't think I realize that?"

He never flinches, his green eyes locked on mine in the glass. He firmly orders, "Then tell me you agree."

I sniff hard, start walking toward the door, and reply, "Fine. I agree." I spin back. "But everyone better try their damnedest not to let me leave without her."

He nods. "We all have your back."

"Really? Do your in-laws?" I sneer, not because I don't trust the Marinos but because I've become a bitter old man who needs to lash out at someone right now.

His eyes grow cold. "Yeah. They do. Stop questioning it."

I clench my jaw, trying to find the piece of me I exercised in prison, the part that stayed calm and made smart decisions. I remind myself over and over that the last twenty-one years are my fault. I didn't think and caused it all, and I can't afford another mistake.

Dante knocks on the door. "Time to go."

We leave, along with Arianna's other three brothers. The ride into the city seems to take forever. No one says much. I stare out the window the entire time. A blurry haze of lights glow brighter as we approach the club.

My stomach somersaults, competing with my racing pulse. In all the jobs I did for Darragh before prison and all the situations I've been in since, I've never felt this physically unhinged. My core grows hotter until I feel like I'm on fire.

I'm going to see her tonight.

All these years, and I'm finally going to see her.

The car pulls up to a building. No one is outside waiting to get in. When you register, a time is assigned to avoid lines snaking around the building and drawing attention.

I go through the motions, following the Marinos as they weave through the crowd, and we go to our suite. The club is dark, neon lights casting shadows into the corners. Several floors overlook the main level.

There are bars everywhere, but it isn't only for alcohol. Both street drugs and prescriptions are available. Servers wear thongs and nothing else, their trays lined with mixed amenities. Beds strewn all around have optional restraints hanging from the ceiling and lights that can be turned on or off. Different sex scenes are taking place on all of them, and a mix of tables you can either stand or sit on are situated not far from the beds. People watch, some fondle each other, and a few get up and join those on the beds.

Women wear club dresses, lingerie, or nothing at all. Men are dressed like me, shirtless, or are already nude. The air is thick with the scent of sex and some floral aroma they're misting throughout the building.

Music pumps loud but gets quieter as we go up to the top level. Brenna's message to Bridget confirmed she would be up there. As I walk down to our suite, I peer into the three we pass, but I don't see either woman.

When we get to our destination, Tristano hands Killian and me a whiskey. I take it then step back outside, heading toward the restroom signs at the end of the hallway, continuing to search.

When I get to the center suite, my heart stammers while my stomach curls. It's her, my firefly, sitting on an older man's lap. Her hair's brown with highlights. The pink dress she has on is backless. She's as beautiful as ever but appears sad. She's staring at the wall as if lost, but none of the men or women around her seem to care. His hand strokes her naked spine, and she closes her eyes as if struggling.

I'm about to bust through the door when Dante pushes me past the suite, muttering, "He'll kill you in two seconds."

My raging insides have me seeing red. The thug with his hands on her will die tonight. I'm not leaving here until he pays for his actions. I seethe, "Who is he?"

"Giulio Abruzzo."

My stomach dives. The Abruzzos are the Marinos' main enemy. They're another Italian crime family who moved into Angelo's territory a few decades ago. Ever since, they've been at war.

We have so many O'Malley enemies, and I've been so focused on finding Brenna, I've not spent time learning anything about them. I ask, "What's his rank?"

"Underboss. And he'll have more eyes watching her than we have men here. They'll all be armed and ready to shoot."

"My Glock can take care of more than a dozen of them," I state, ready to kill, hating he's moving me farther away from my firefly.

Dante states, "We need to find Bridget."

I scoff, the anger spinning out of control inside me. "So she can lie some more?"

"Get over it, Finn. We need to know how she plans on seeing Brenna if we have any chance of getting her out of here alive tonight."

The messages Simona hacked into only said to meet in the same place. So, once again, Dante is right. We do need to know what that means.

He releases his hand from my shoulder and instructs, "Get a drink. Let me talk to Bridget."

I follow him to the door, wanting to ask why Bridget is even in a place like this. Is this what she does now? Go to underground sex clubs?

Since I can't hide my anger, I agree to let him talk to her. I'm too close to Brenna to fuck this up. And as soon as I step into the suite, Bridget's eyes meet mine and widen.

I scowl at her as Dante shakes a man's hand and declares, "Rubio. Thought you were out of town."

"Got back a few days ago."

From my peripheral vision, I see Dante motion to me, not taking my eyes off Bridget. She's already turned away from me and crosses her arms. Dante says, "This is Finn. I need to talk to Bridget. Mind if he refills at your bar?"

I give him a quick glance.

Rubio's eyes dart to my still-full drink then behind my shoulders. "Guess I'm entertaining all the Marinos tonight."

Dante saunters past him, and Killian and the other guys file in. I don't listen to the conversation. I watch Dante pull Bridget to the corner and pin her close to the wall, with his head lowered to her ear.

They look comfortable together. Too friendly, granted it's loud, even in the suite. Yet, I wonder the same thing I did at Thanksgiving. What exactly is going on between them?

Then I worry Bridget may be telling him lies. What if the lies get Brenna killed?

They talk for several minutes, then Dante keeps his body stationed where it is and glances at me. He nods for me to join them.

I mutter to Killian, "Watch to make sure Brenna doesn't leave that suite and go anywhere."

"On it," he says then plants himself in the doorway.

When I get to Dante, Bridget's eyes glisten. She reaches for his arm, and he wraps it around her waist as if to protect her from me.

And maybe he should because all my rage bubbles like a pot ready to boil over. My hands clench into fists. "If you lie, Bridget, so help me God—"

"Brenna was bought and held captive by Giulio," Dante states.

My stomach pitches. I briefly close my eyes.

Dante continues, "Bridget's going to the restroom in about five minutes. Brenna will join her. There's a bodyguard who follows her, but others will be watching. I'll send Tristano and Gianni to stay outside our suite and take them out. Killian and Massimo will stay here, clearing away whoever else comes out. There's a service elevator near the restrooms. It leads to a parking garage under the building. I'll take her guard out. You take Bridget and Brenna to the car. Don't stop. Don't look back. Go straight to my father's."

I don't ask how he knows about the service elevator or underground garage. I don't miss Bridget closing her eyes and swallowing hard. I don't forget Angelo telling us not to shoot up the place.

I know Dante isn't a man who would forget, either.

I want to ask him why he's going against his father's wishes, but all I say is, "I'll take the fall with Angelo."

He shakes his head as his nostrils flare. "No, you won't. This is my call. Now, go tell the others."

I obey, huddle his brothers and Killian, and relay the message while Dante moves Bridget to the glass, keeping his arm around her, saying something to her.

Gianni and Tristano leave. Massimo and Killian stay by my side.

And then it happens. My firefly walks past us with the guard's arm around her. She glances through the glass then locks eyes with me. The color drains from her face, and her knees give out. She stumbles, and the man grabs her, pulling her up and shouting something at her while practically dragging her.

Her body shakes, and I start to rush out after her, but Killian holds me back. "Don't blow it."

Bridget leaves, and Dante and I trail her but not too close. She steps inside the restroom, and the moment we get past Brenna's guard, two shots ring almost simultaneously through the air.

The club erupts in screams, the neon lights continue to flicker, and Dante turns and puts a bullet in the back of Brenna's guard.

He opens the door and booms, "Now!"

Bridget and Brenna step out, both of them shaking. Brenna's expression is a mix like she's seen a ghost and is confused.

I force myself not to hold her in my arms and kiss her. Instead, I circle my arms around both women and lead them to the elevator.

Dante slides a card through a reader and it opens. As soon as we step inside, I punch the parking garage button and the doors shut.

Muffled gunfire rings above us as the elevator lowers. I pull Brenna to my side, kissing her head but not looking at her face. She's trembling so hard, she can't stand on her own, and I hold her tight to my waist.

"Finn." She says it so low, I barely hear it.

I kiss her head again, not able to say a word.

The minute the elevator opens, I peer into the parking garage. The only thing I see is Angelo's SUV waiting nearby. I steer them to the car. Bridget gets in then Brenna. It's only then, I cup her cheeks and stare into her tear-filled eyes. "God, I've missed you, firefly."

She starts to sob, and I pull her into my arms. "Shh. It's okay."

But I'm wrong. Shots ring through the garage. "Brenna!" a deep voice bellows as another SUV comes toward us.

I turn to see Giulio in the passenger seat, his head out the window and gun pointed.

I jump in and slam the door, shouting, "Get down." I lower Brenna's head to her knees, and our driver takes off.

We speed through the garage, but we're several levels underground. The other SUV follows, shooting a few times but not hitting us. On a curve, I slide over the women, lower the window, and take a few shots at the driver.

I hit him. The car spins out of control and hits a pole. Steam bellows out of it. Giulio takes several more shots, and our driver continues to speed away.

"Stop," I command.

"Are you crazy," the driver says.

"No. Stop!"

"Finn! What are you doing?" Bridget yells as I reach for the door.

"Finn! No!" Brenna clasps my biceps, but I shrug her off.

I seethe, "He's dying tonight. Take them home," I order and get out.

The women's screams fill the air as the SUV speeds away. I grip my Glock, then go to find Giulio while staying close to the wall. He makes it easy as he's running toward me, but he doesn't know I'm there.

I take out both his kneecaps, and his gun flies out of his hand, skidding across the concrete. He cries out in pain, falling to the ground. Blood pools around him, and he attempts to get up but can't.

Vengeance explodes in my veins as I slowly make my way toward him. He snarls at me, his expression pained and hateful. He demands, "Who are you?"

I crouch down and yank his hair, tugging his neck so hard he yelps. "I'm her heart, you motherfucker."

His eyes widen, and I move his head forward, then use all my force, snapping his neck.

Tires screech around the corner and my chest tightens, but lights flash. The SUV pulls to a stop, and I get in, sliding next to Dante. He asks in a panicked voice, "Where are they?"

"With the driver on the way home."

He picks up his phone, double-checks his driver has them, and hangs up.

"Where are the others?" I ask.

"In another vehicle."

"All four of them?"

"Yeah."

I sigh in relief and lock eyes with him.

I see myself in those eyes.

I see the devil.

I sniff hard. "Did they kill them all?"

"Yeah. My father's going to go apeshit."

"Why did you do it?"

He grinds his molars and reaches for a bottle of scotch. "Because I hate those bastards."

We say nothing the rest of the way. The only words uttered are when Dante gets a call confirming Brenna and Bridget are with Angelo.

I barely feel the burn from the scotch as I try to contain my emotions.

I have her back.

After all these years, I finally have her back.

But what did he do to her?

26

Brenna

FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, I was in his arms, and everything felt right again. Now panic gags me, stifling my air, mixing with the earthquake-size tremor in my gut.

I hold my stomach, squeezing my eyes shut, not able to stop the tears.

Why did he have to stop the car?

Giulio will kill him.

I've witnessed too many deaths at his hands over the years. He's infallible. Prepared for any situation. Ready to kill at any time with an army of men protecting him. It's why I've never tried to run.

Bridget puts her arm around my shoulders. "Breathe, Brenna."

The soul-crushing pain of losing Finn all over again reignites. I thought the agony of grief couldn't hit me any deeper, but I was wrong.

This is crueler.

Last month, a war raged within me. All these years, I thought he was dead, but he wasn't. No matter what Bridget said, I didn't allow myself to believe it was possible to escape Giulio. Yet, it didn't stop the same thoughts from plaguing me I had when I was first bought. They were the ones I stopped giving in to because having hope I could escape was dangerous. It made everything worse, and what was I running toward?

Years ago, I resigned myself to the belief that at least at Giulio's, I had Bella to care for, and she stole my heart. If I did escape, where would I go? Finn was dead. My parents didn't want me, and how would they now, after all I had become? My mother would take one look at me, and that would be the end of it. And the O'Malleys...well, they would never forgive me for putting Finn in prison and causing his death.

So I put all my energy into Bella, burying any thoughts about attempting to escape. And every time she smiled or laughed, I found happiness in it. I told myself it wasn't all bad, that she made it bearable and gave me a purpose.

By the time she grew up, I knew my role. When she got engaged and was about to move out, the thoughts of escape resurfaced. But the night of Bella's wedding shut them down. Several Baileys were there, including Jack Sr.

Almost the entire night, Giulio kept me by his side. When Jack came up to him, his seedy eyes made me shudder. I leaned into Giulio, grateful for his protection, like the day at the hospital when we met. It's there I resigned to push any new notions of escaping out of my mind. At least with Giulio, I knew what to expect and how to act around him. If the Baileys ever captured me, I would end up like the girls at Mama Christian's, passed around, with men doing whatever sordid things they wanted to me.

So I convinced myself it was much better with Giulio.

But then Bridget pulled the curtain away, and all I've done is obsess over Finn. It made me hate myself further every time Giulio came to me this past month, and I didn't fight him, letting him take what he wanted like always.

Every night, I silently cried into my pillow. I'd have dreams of Finn, with Giulio's arms around my body. I'd have nightmares of the last time I saw Finn, when he sacrificed everything for me.

Whenever Giulio woke me up, I was crying. He would demand I tell him what I dreamed, so I told him it was about me killing Donny in the car.

But the hope grew I would see Finn again. Even though I begged Bridget not to tell him so he wouldn't get hurt, it blossomed like a flower on a warm spring day. I didn't know what to expect tonight while meeting her. I planned on reiterating to her not to tell Finn.

Giulio always wins. He maims, and kills, and destroys everything around him until he gets what he wants. I couldn't risk him hurting Finn, especially after all I already put him through.

Everything I thought was impossible just happened. I'm away from the Abruzzos. I didn't just see Finn. He held me in his arms. The arms I've craved for too many decades. The only ones I ever felt belonged around me.

Then he left to take revenge on Giulio for me, once again sacrificing himself. Only, this time, it isn't Brad he went after. He chose the one person I couldn't escape. The man I never even attempted to kill. The disgusting pig I let have me however he wanted.

Giulio is a thousand times more dangerous than Brad ever was, even the day he kidnapped me.

And I don't deserve Finn's loyalty or bravery.

After all these years, I don't deserve his love.

I turn toward Bridget. "He just ran toward an army. H-he won't survive."

She swallows hard. "You don't know that. Let's try to stay calm."

The driver's phone rings, and Bridget's body and mine stiffen as we watch him answer, then say, "Yeah, I've got the women." He hangs up.

Bridget asks, "Who was that?"

"Dante. He's in the car."

"Oh, thank God," she blurts out, and her body relaxes.

"Who is Dante?" I ask.

"He's a Marino."

The blood drains from my face, and my lips tremble harder. I shake my head as a new fear runs through my body.

The Marinos are bad. They're the archenemies of the Abruzzos. The club is the only place where they seem to co-exist, but even then, it's in separate suites.

Over the years, the Marinos have killed a lot of Abruzzos. I've heard all the brutal ways they've savagely taken out Giulio's family.

Dante Marino is a name I've heard often. He's more dangerous than Giulio from what I gathered. The Abruzzos have had many conversations about how to take him out, but he always seems to escape their wrath.

"Brenna, what's wrong?" Bridget asks as we pull to a stop.

I glance through the windshield, and a large gate opens. Even in the dark, I can see the number of men with machine guns. It's no different than Giulio's compound, but this isn't the only place I've been familiar with for the last sixteen years.

It's the Marinos.

My heart races. I clutch Bridget's arm, lean into her ear, and quietly declare, "We have to get out of here."

Her eyes widen. "What are you talking about?"

I peer at the driver, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention to us. The outline of a mansion looms several hundred feet ahead.

My dread grows. I whisper, "These aren't good people." I reach for the door, ready to jump out while the car is moving. Now that I've seen Finn and gotten out of Giulio's grasp, the fight in me returns. I even hear him saying, "Fight, firefly. Fight and don't stop."

Bridget grabs my arm. "What are you doing?"

The white part of the driver's eyes meets mine in the rearview mirror. I can't breathe again.

Why doesn't Bridget know how horrible these men are?

Why are we even with them?

Then another notion takes hold.

What if they're going to sell me, too?

The SUV stops in front of the entrance. A man attempts to open the door, but I push the lock down before he can. The sound of the handle hits my ears several times. I lower my head between my knees as sharp pain shoots through my heart.

The door opens, and I scream, scooting closer to Bridget.

"Brenna, it's okay. You're safe."

"Please don't let them take me," I cry out.

"Ma'am, we're not—"

"Shut the door!" Bridget demands.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Shut the door," Bridget repeats in a firmer voice.

Everything spins, including my stomach. I swallow the bile trying to work its way out. I barely hear the door shutting or feel the vibration of it.

Bridget rubs my back, and in a soft tone, says, "We're safe here."

I force myself to fight against the sharp pain in my chest, sitting upright. "Why are you with the Marinos?"

Her eyes widen. "I've known them forever. My family has an alliance with them."

"Y-your family?"

She nods. "Yes. You know my family also has an alliance with the O'Malleys, correct?"

I'm so confused. "What do you mean alliance?"

Bridget arches an eyebrow. "Brenna, did you not know my family is a crime family, like the O'Malleys?"

What is she talking about? Her father is a wealthy businessman.

I must stare at her too long.

"It's true. My father heads our clan. And Killian married Arianna Marino. All our families are aligned," she informs me.

I swallow hard, continuing to shake my head. Then something else occurs to me, which scares me even more. But I still ask her.

"W-were those men in the park your father's men? Was he trying to find me, too?"

"My father's bodyguards?"

"The ones taking the photos."

The color in her face drains. "You saw them?"

I scoot closer to the door and wipe my tears. "You knew about them?"

"No! Only because Finn showed me the photo. It's how he knew I had seen you in Central Park. Is that why you ran from me?"

"You swear on your children's lives you didn't know about them?"

"Brenna, I had no idea what made you run. I didn't see any men taking photos. If you had told me, my father and his men would have protected you," she claims.

Headlights fill the inside of the vehicle. It makes me feel like I'm going to fall apart and nothing will be left. I'm unsure if I should try to run or if this is safe.

I push the lock back down. "Don't let them take me. Please. I-I can't handle it anymore."

The muffled sound of doors shutting fills the air.

Bridget slides across the seat and places her arm around my shoulder. "No one's hurting you or taking you anywhere. I promise you it's safe here."

"I can't—"

Someone pulls the handle next to me, and I jump, cowering against Bridget, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Bridget," a man's voice calls.

I shake harder.

"It's safe," she says again. "That's Dante and—"

The other door opens. "Brenna! What's wrong?"

I look over, and Finn's there, illuminated by the moonlight. His green eyes glow, swirling with so many things I don't deserve, the biggest one being the same love I used to see when we were young.

Relief overflows that he's alive, but I don't know how it's possible. No one takes anything from Giulio. I'm his property. And it's like seeing Finn's ghost for a second time.

Bridget squeezes me one last time, releases my shoulder, then gets out while saying, "She didn't know who my father was and is worried about the Marinos."

I tear my gaze off Finn's, trying to wrap my head around the Marinos being safe.

The car shifts from his weight and the door shuts. The scent of him wafts in my nostrils, making me remember and crave all we used to be.

But how can we ever be again after all I've put him through?

After all I've done?

The heat of his body penetrates my skin, humming in my veins, making me dizzy. My heart tears further, having him so close, his intense gaze pinned on me, knowing I've destroyed his life. I'm not looking at him, but I can feel it digging into my soul, assessing me.

The air is thick, palpable with anxious, painful tension. He cautiously palms my thigh. I squeeze my eyes tight, but the tears won't stop. And I don't know if it's his hand that's shaking or just my body, but everything is vibrating around me.

"Firefly, there's nothing to be scared of. Please look at me."

I force myself to give him what he wants. The moment I lock eyes with him, decades of anguish pour out. And then I'm in his arms again, barely noticing the new set of headlights, doors slamming, or men's voices. The world around us disappears, and only Finn exists, along with my guilt.

"I thought you were dead," I sob.

He kisses my head, just as he did all those years ago, as if nothing has changed between us.

The knowledge that everything has changed crushes me further. There's no way he could ever forgive me for all I've done. Still, my breath catches as I plead for it. "I'm sorry. So sorry!"

"Shh. There's nothing for you to be sorry about," he claims, holding me so tight to him that everything about who we used to be continues to spiral around us, making all of it more painful.

But I know the truth. All the things about me Finn doesn't know.

His voice is firm, unwavering, as relentless as I remember it. "No, firefly. Everything is my fault."

I glance up. "You did nothing wrong."

His hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing my lips, as guilt and remorse sear in his expression. "I did everything wrong. If I hadn't gone to the country club the day before, it wouldn't have happened. If I had killed him the night I met him, he wouldn't have ever gotten to you. Everything that happened was my fault."

I gape at him, shocked, not able to comprehend how he could ever blame himself for what I did. All I manage to get out is, "No."

"Yes."

I turn toward him more, grasping his face. "Finn, no. I killed Brad. I should have spent years in prison, not you."

"You were mine to protect, and I failed."

"No," I insist then ask, "W-what did they charge you with?"

His eyes harden and he looks out the windshield.

More horror fills me the longer the silence lasts. "Finn? Tell me you told them I did it."

His head jerks toward me. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is I found you."

A piece of the puzzle fills in. "You...you let them think you did it? No one knows it was me? That's...that's why Bridget was shocked when I told her I killed Brad."

Finn tugs me onto his lap, and I close my eyes, the memories of him doing the same thing in the past flash in my mind. He demands, "Look at me."

I obey, staring at the eyes that haunted my dreams, the ones I never thought I'd see again.

"Do not ever admit that again."

"So everyone is supposed to think you did it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No, it doesn't. I would have gladly ended his life. Do not ever repeat it."

It seems wrong. Letting everyone think he did something I did.

"And Bridget is going to shut her mouth," he seethes.

My eyes widen. "Why do you sound so angry with Bridget?"

He sniffs hard and takes a few deep breaths, glancing toward the house.

I put my hand over his racing heart.

He tugs me closer. "I don't want to talk about Bridget right now. Why were you so scared when I got in the car?"

The panic creeps in again, crawling under my skin. "Finn, the Marinos are bad people."

His eyes turn to slits. "They aren't. They helped me rescue you."

I blurt out, "They are. They've done horrible things to Giulio's family."

Finn's body stiffens, and he holds his breath. Betrayal washes over him.

My gut lurches as I realize what I said and how it might sound. But I'm unsure how to take it back and rephrase it.

Finn doesn't let me. His expression darkens, and I shudder. I see it. The knowledge of who I was to Giulio. The awareness of the things I've let Giulio do with me.

When Finn speaks, the anguish in his voice claws at my heart. "I don't give a damn about his family. Don't ever speak his name again."

It feels like Finn just pulled the rug out from under me. I don't know what I expected. I always knew what I did with Giulio would be our final breaking point, but how does he know?

Tension fills the air, strangling us. Finn's eyes morph into disgust and hatred.

A fresh set of tears fall, full of grief for what's in front of me that I'll lose once again. I can't even blame Finn. It's my fault, just like everything else.

His nostrils flare several times. He licks his lips and asks, "Do you love him?"

The question makes me nauseous. My hands shake, but I hold his cheeks. The heel of my palm rests against his clenched jaw. "You are the only man I've ever loved. It's the only consistent part of my life."

He swallows hard, his eyes not entirely convinced. They turn colder until they're nothing but an iceberg. Another question blazes at me, hot and furious, although spoken with control. "Then you don't care I just killed him?"

He killed Giulio.

Of course he did. He wouldn't be sitting here if he didn't.

Giulio is dead.

He'll never force me to do anything again.

The relief hitting me makes me tremble harder. My tears drip off my chin, soaking my shirt.

"Jesus," Finn mutters so low, I barely hear him. He slides me off his lap and opens the door. Before I know what's happening, he jumps out of the SUV. He clenches his fists, pacing in front of the house.

I get out, ignoring the cold winter air beating into my barely clothed body. "Finn!"

He spins, his breath coming out in a fog, his green eyes blazing with so much pain, I want to crawl into a hole. He lunges toward me, pinning me between him and the SUV.

His body is different. He's more filled out than when we were young. The hard flesh cages around me with anger seeping out of it, more hostile than I ever remember.

I fight the voice in my head that says I don't know this man anymore. That too much time and too many events have caused us to become so much different than who we were. I push it away because, more than anything, I want to believe Finn is still the man I remember and there's no way he would ever hurt me. So instead of cowering as I would with Giulio, I square my shoulders and wrap my arms around him, lacing my fingers around his neck, trying to hold on to anything I can with him. He momentarily closes his eyes as if struggling. I find my voice, "I-I just told you I've only ever loved you."

"I just told you I killed him, and you cried for him."

My head jerks back. "I cried from relief. There's nothing but hatred in my heart for him."

Finn tilts his head at the sky, grinding his molars, then his gaze pierces through the darkness on me. "What did he do to you?"

Shame annihilates me. It's something I'm not ready to answer. I'll never be ready to answer it. I put my hand on Finn's chest to push him away, unable to be this close to him when he wants to know the vilest part of my past.

It's the wrong hand. He grabs it, and the monstrous diamond ring Giulio gave me, the one that feels like a noose around my neck, shines between us.

"Did you marry him?" Finn fumes.

"No. Not yet."

He forces my chin up so I can't avoid him. "Yet?"

"Do you think I had a choice?"

More time passes, the cold seeps into my bones. My shivers intensify, but it can't be from the air. It's from the place we are where I think we'll never return from.

All I see is the pain Finn wears. He blinks hard and repeats in a softer tone, "What did he do to you?"

I don't answer, not even knowing where to start, my tears continuing to fall.

"Brenna, tell me," he insists.

So I say the only thing I can before I start sobbing again. "Everything."

27

Finn

SELF-LOATHING ISN'T anything new for me. The moment I got arrested, it planted its seed and took root, growing until it sustained my existence. I thought it couldn't get any bigger, but it does.

I'm not a naive man. I know what men who think they can buy women do to them. I made her reiterate she has only ever loved me. I already knew what I pressed her to tell me, but it's not all the details. And something within me wants her to tell me every second of what happened when we were apart, even though it's not going to erase it. It won't change whatever happened to her.

The wind whips around us, and I tug my sobbing firefly into my arms, reprimanding myself for where we are in this moment. Her body convulses from emotion and cold, and it hits me what a selfish bastard I am. It's freezing, and she's barely wearing any clothes.

"We need to go inside," I tell her, guiding her toward her house.

She hesitates.

"Brenna, you can't stay out here."

"I-I don't want to go in there."

Wrapping my head around why she'd be scared of the Marinos isn't easy. I remind myself it's all she's known for however long the Abruzzos had her.

I don't even know that detail yet. How many years did Giulio have her?

"The Marinos won't hurt you. Let's go inside. You don't have to talk to anyone. We'll go right upstairs," I reply.

She squeezes her eyes shut and nods, so I take her in the house, shielding her from the guards, and past Angelo's office where he's reaming out the others.

"Goddammit, Killian! This isn't the time for your jokes," Angelo barks.

"'You weren't there. We made a call. At least those Abruzzo bastards are dead," Gianni claims.

"In the one spot all the families in New York agreed was neutral. Do you know what you've done?" Angelo roars.

Brenna shakes harder, and I tighten my arm around her.

We turn the corner, and Dante has Bridget against the wall. He seethes, "You told me you'd stay away from all of it."

"I can explain," she pleads.

"You better," he threatens, his face red with anger.

I ignore them. I'm not through with Bridget. Her only explanation won't be to Dante, and this time, she's telling me everything. There's no more hiding behind whatever made her make these decisions.

As soon as we get up the stairs, I lead Brenna into my suite and lock the door. She glances around the room, staring at the bed. Then she twists a lock of her hair around her finger with her face angled toward the ground.

She's taken good care of herself. The tiny club dress she's wearing showcases her toned legs and arms. There's a feminine definition in both, as if she works out. Her hair's no longer the strawberry blonde it used to be. She's a brunette with highlights around her face that make her blue eyes pop. Unlike mine, her face doesn't have any wrinkles. Her skin glows as if it only got better over time. And her makeup, which is something she hardly wore before, is flawless. Even her nails are perfectly manicured, which isn't something she ever cared about in the past.

Flutters erupt in my belly and shoot straight to my chest. I want to kiss her. No matter how much shit has gone on that we need to iron out, I want her lips on mine. I step forward and tilt her chin up. "You're still so beautiful. It's like you haven't aged."

Shame fills her face, and I don't understand why. She closes her eyes and bites on her lip.

I drag my thumb over her mouth. "Did I say something wrong?"

Disgust fills her expression. "I spend the majority of my time working out or in the spa getting injections or treatments to look like this."

My chest tightens. I don't know anything about what she's talking about. "Did it hurt?"

She shrugs. "Barely. It was tolerable."

"I guess it could be worse, and you could have aged like me." I wink, but my insecurity hasn't gone away since seeing her.

She hesitates then brushes her hand over my shoulders and caresses the tattoo on my neck. Her other fingers trace the lines near my eyes. Her touch is electric, a volt of energy zapping my core. I had forgotten what it felt like to be near her, never mind have her touch me. She claims, "Men get sexier with age. You're no exception, Finn O'Malley."

It's all I need. Years of pent-up desire fuel me, and I fist her hair until I hover over her lips. She gasps, and it's everything I remember. The sound. The way her lips part. The heavy need in her eyes.

As I dip my lips to hers, the fire ignites, erupting into flames all around us. I move, one foot at a time, until she's against the wall. Her hands lace in my hair, holding me as close to her as possible. I cage my body around hers, flicking my tongue in tandem with her, in perfect sync, perfect rhythm, perfect everything that could ever be in a kiss.

She moans, and my dick turns so hard, I could come on the spot. Then all the years of waiting, and wondering, and dreaming of this moment spin out of control. Everything about us is different yet seems the same.

I unzip her dress while I'm kissing her, shoving the strapless number over her hips. She shudders, her bare breasts heaving into my chest.

I trail my lips to her neck, sliding my fingers over a nipple until it puckers. I kiss her harder, dipping my hand lower into her panties, gliding into her heat.

She whimpers, a sound I've missed so much it almost pains me. I thrust two fingers in her and butt my palm to her clit, working her like it hasn't been twenty-one years since I last touched her. Like it's second nature and I've not had any time away from her body.

I lose all sense of my surroundings. The only things that exist are my firefly and me. And after all these years, nothing has burned out between us. We've been a flame, struggling to stay lit, and now there's oxygen feeding it.

"Oh God," she breathes.

I suck on her lobe then murmur, "I missed you, firefly."

Her hot breath hits my neck, sending tingles down my spine. "So much."

The man who's been lying dormant inside me, the one who hasn't felt alive since I last touched Brenna, awakens. Every ounce of testosterone I have charges into my cells. I drag my teeth over her collarbone then declare, "I'm going to lick your pussy all night between taking you every way possible."

Her body stiffens. "I need to shower."

I deeply inhale her and kiss her on the lips. "You smell like you, firefly. Sunshine on a rainy day." I slip my tongue back into her mouth and curl my fingers inside her.

She pushes my chest and turns her head. "No. I need a shower."

My gut dives, as if it's jumping into the deep sea with an anchor and it's only going to sink lower. I pull my hand out of her pants and drag her chin in front of me. Her eyes are full of tears again, and her lips are trembling. I cringe inside, asking her, "Am I going too fast?"

She squeezes her eyes, swallowing hard. She whispers, "Finn."

I force myself to take a step back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed—"

"He's all over me," she blurts out, her blue eyes piercing into my soul.

Silent tension builds like the rage I can't escape. Images of her sitting on his lap at the club earlier tonight flash before me. I inhale again, but I don't smell men's cologne or anything but her. "No, firefly. He's not."

Her eyebrows pin together. "You don't understand."

I close the distance between us, stroking her cheek. "He's dead. There's no part of him left. It's just you and me."

"Finn—"

"He's gone, Brenna."

"He's not," she claims.

"He is," I insist.

"He fucked me before we got to the club," she cries out.

It hits me like a bullet to the spleen. It shouldn't. I've been trying to prepare myself since I found out Giulio bought her. Yet, the thought of him inside her, only a few hours ago, seems to make it even more real.

My inner turmoil spins into a tornado out of control. I turn away and stand in front of the window, afraid of what I might say or do.

Why am I mad at her?

It's not her fault.

I'm not. I'm mad at him.

Then why can't I look at her right now?

The blackness of the night is as dark as I feel. He's already dead, but it doesn't seem like it's enough. I curse myself for killing him on the spot and not dragging him to Angelo's dungeon, where I could have caused him more pain.

The door shuts, and muffled sounds of water hitting the tile reach my ears. I spin, but the room is empty. Like the last two decades of my life, I'm all alone.

Why is this so hard?

She said she still loves me. Nothing she did was her fault. So why am I letting this get between us?

Rationally, everything makes sense. Implementation is a different thing.

I charge into the bathroom then freeze. Brenna's hands are over her face. Her shoulders tremble. Her wails compete with the water.

My heart breaks in two all over again, and I wonder how many times a heart can break.

What am I doing?

I take off my clothes, open the glass door, and pull her into my arms.

"I'm sorry," she sobs into my chest.

"Shh. I already told you there's nothing to be sorry for."

"What I've done...oh God!"

"Shh," I keep repeating, but she can't seem to calm.

"I didn't fight," she bawls.

My stomach flips. Visions of what he put her through take hold. I tighten my arms around her and push the bile rising up my throat, back down. "You did the right thing."

"I didn't," she claims.

I tug on her hair, leaning my face over hers. "You survived. You're here. You did the right thing."

The knife digs deeper into my heart. She doesn't believe me. I wonder if she ever will. The pain and self-loathing on her face are something I know too well. It has her in a labyrinth, and once you're in, it's almost impossible to find your way out.

So I make a decision. No matter what, I won't waver again. I'll lead her through the maze until we get to the end, and anytime she doubts her worth or my love for her, I'll show her.

"You said you still love me. Is that true?" I ask, already knowing it is.

More tears well in her blues. She chokes, "I never stopped."

"Neither did I. Through all the shit and all the misery, not a day went by I didn't think of you. For twenty-one years, I've dreamed of you. At times, I could feel you. I'd hear you say, "Whatever happens, I'm walking out that door with you. Always. Forever."

She closes her eyes as her face crumples further.

"Look at me," I demand.

She obeys.

"No matter what happens, firefly, I'm walking out that door with you. Always. Forever. And if I have to tell you a hundred times a day that nothing was your fault and how much I love you, then I will."

The pain doesn't disappear from her expression. So, I do the only thing I can think to try and show her I'm not bluffing.

I put my lips so close to hers they touch when I speak. "No one will ever harm you again. And he won't come between us. Not tomorrow, not tonight. All I've wanted is you. Nothing you tell me is going to change my mind. Do you understand me?"

She takes a shaky breath and nods.

It's the only thing I need to remind her who we are and why we won't let anything ever again ruin us. I kiss her like my life depends on it, because it does. I take every doubtful thought of hers, and I let it flow down the drain where it belongs.

My kisses are savage then gentle at times. They're a concoction of every way I know how to kiss; full of dominance, possession, control. And I don't stop until she's grasping my shoulders and her knees go weak.

I force her to the tile wall, picking her up by her thighs. Just like all those years ago, her legs mold around me, but then she pushes her face to my neck. "Finn. We should wait until tomorrow. Until he's at least all out of me."

I suck on her ear. "No. He doesn't get any more of you. And I'll fuck every inch of him out of you until you can't feel him anymore."

She shudders, and I pause with the tip of my cock, ready to push through her entrance.

"Tell me yes," I order, needing her permission after everything she's been through.

She pushes her forehead to mine.

"Tell me," I repeat.

"Yes," she breathes.

Her moan echoes against the tiles, competing with my groan as I enter her. Sweet tension expands in my shoulders where she digs her nails. Heat annihilates my veins, spiraling in every cell.

She matches every thrust, taking me deeper. And I thought I remembered how she felt, but I was wrong.

The zings exploding in me are a thousand times more potent. The way our bodies fit together is better than I remember. We're two missing pieces of the puzzle lost for years and finally joined, locking together, making everything whole.

I fuck her with my tongue at the same pace as my cock. She submits to me, letting me take control, perfectly returning all the affection I give her.

I'm at the edge, wanting to erupt. I'm out of practice, my senses too overwhelmed, the decades of waiting for this moment catching up to me.

I slide my hand over her clit, working her higher up the cliff, then pounding harder into her.

She cries out my name, her body clutching my shoulders, my waist, my cock. Steam swirls around us, and her blue eyes have never looked so beautiful. They roll, and I thrust through her channel as it spasms harder while her body trembles.

"Firefly," I groan, pistoning my seed deep inside her, marking her as mine once more. I bury my head into the curve of her neck, my heart thumping in my chest, trying to regain my breath.

Her hands caress the back of my head. Her hot breath hits my ear. Her breasts heave into my pecs.

She releases her legs from my waist. I murmur in her ear, "I meant what I said about eating your pussy all night." I dip down, taking her breast in my mouth, sucking her nipple as she arches her back into me. I do the same to the other then fall to my knees, throwing her thighs over my shoulders.

I pause for a moment, studying her pussy, breathing in her scent. I glance up at her, taking every part of her in, watching her breasts heave with anticipation.

And then I see it—the light in my firefly's eyes—the need and hunger mixed with burning desire.

I kiss her clit while watching her, loving how the heaviness in her expression grows. "Tell me," I demand, wanting her to say it, needing to hear her say out loud what I've dreamed too many times to count.

She doesn't hesitate. It comes out raspy and desperate, making my cock twitch. "Please."

A groan escapes my chest. I want to savor her and edge her all night, but I don't. Not now. I use my tongue, lips, and teeth, and I eat her out like the starving man I am until she's screamed my name and can't form words anymore. Her body convulses so hard, my cock hardens again.

When the water runs cold, I slide up her body, kissing her with a renewed hunger. "Let's dry off, firefly. Then I'm having you all night in bed."

28

Brenna

"MMM," I moan in my sleep, gripping Finn's head. His tongue laps at my clit, hot, wet, lazy, as if we have all day. Sweet friction glides against my inner walls. When his fingers are deep within me, he V's them in scissor motions, stretching me. I whimper, "Oh God!"

His mumbled voice makes me smile. "Fuck, firefly. I might eat you like this all morning."

"I miss you. Everything about you," I whisper then rub his ears between my fingers.

He teases my clit faster, sucking me between flicks. "It's a good thing I'm here then."

My eyelids flutter open, and I glance down. The events from last night flash before me—Finn saving me at the club then everything after, including all the sex we had. "I'm not dreaming?"

He keeps his fingers moving in and out of me, and his lips curve against my pussy. Tiny lines crease at the corners of his green eyes, liquifying my insides. Everything about him is sexier than I remember. I wasn't lying when I said men get sexier with age, but Finn takes it to a different level. I never thought a man could be any hotter than he was in his twenties.

I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

He declares, "If it's a dream, don't wake me up. I'll just stay asleep in your pussyland for the rest of my life." He takes his tongue and slides it against my inner lips.

"Oh," I breathe, closing my eyes again.

He chuckles then drags his tongue on the other side. "You know what I missed?" He gently kisses my clit.

"Hmm?" I slowly grind my hips, desperate to keep his mouth on my body.

He blows on me, and my toes curl. The tip of his tongue shoots forward. He furiously flicks it, sending an instant blast of adrenaline right to my brain.

"Finn! Oh God!" I cry out.

His deep grunt makes me clench my core. He adds another finger, pumping faster, swiping the spot that drives me insane. I almost come again, but he backs off.

"No. Oh God, please! Don't stop!" I beg, digging my nails into his skull.

His groan expands in the air. His green eyes blaze up at me. "This, firefly. I miss your desperate, throbbing cunt making your cheeks blush and voice raspy."

More heat floods my face, but he's right. I'm desperate and throbbing, and I can't stop pulling his face back to my body.

He yanks me down the mattress, and I yelp. His feet hit the floor. My one leg dangles over the bed. The other he raises so my foot is against his chest. He kisses my toes then thrusts into me in one fluid motion.

I arch my back, crying out his name.

He stills inside me, running his hand down my thigh. Tingles zing out of control. He reaches for my clit and presses his thumb on it. Then he instructs, "Lie on your elbow. Put your hands on your tits."

I obey, circle my puckered nipples until they're hard marbles.

He studies me, inching in and out of my channel and rubbing my bundle of nerves. He leans forward, sucking and nipping at my breast, and all my senses go into overdrive.

I arch into him, closing my eyes and moaning.

"Look at me," he orders.

I open my eyes, my lips quivering from the pools of pleasure I haven't felt in years.

He pecks me on the lips, his hot breath full of my orgasm, his eyes full of fire. "Morning, my beautiful firefly."

I smile, so full of happiness and endorphins, I feel like I might explode. "Morning."

"Don't close your eyes. I want you to watch my cock sliding in your sexy, wet pussy. Understand?"

My lips twitch. He's the same Finn I fell in love with. Commanding. Filthy. Not shy or hesitant about how he wants me and what will turn me on further.

My pulse races in excitement. I nod.

"Do you remember how much you loved to watch me penetrate you?" he asks.

My chest heaves as I try to breathe. Butterflies spread their wings, fluttering at top speed. I manage to admit, "Yes."

He smirks, backs away, and slows down his thrusts, along with his thumb circles. "In prison, I used to think about your face while you watched, or came, or begged me."

I stare at his girth, stretching my entrance, equally amazed now as I was years ago that he fits. When he backs his slick shaft, coated in my arousal, out of me, it makes my mouth water. I tug at my nipples then gaze at the rest of him.

His ink is beautiful, slightly faded in spots, taut over his flesh. Muscles flex, his hand with the snake caresses my thigh, looking ready to attack. Eagles fly over his torso, and the O'Malley name rises and falls with each breath. Right over his heart is inked Brenna, with a firefly behind it. I saw it last night, and he told me he got it a year ago when he got out of prison.

He locks his smoldering gaze to mine, melting my loins into lava flowing down a volcano.

"Harder," I demand, my walls needing more friction, gripping his cock with every thrust.

An inferno blazes in his expression, challenging me, and I know the game we're about to play. He slows his cock down, teasing me while speeding up his fingers and inflicting havoc in my veins.

"Yes! Oh God! More!" I cry out, flying over the edge, falling into the abyss of pleasure.

His erection eases in and out of me, painfully slow, while his hand keeps shooting me with adrenaline.

"Finn! Please! Faster," I plead, shifting my hips toward him, shameless in my desire for him to pound into me balls deep until I feel that ache inside—the ache of sinful, carnal gratification and the place where no one's ever touched but him.

He keeps his pace, taunting the spot, giving me only a tiny taste of what I know is there. It's right under the surface, ready to burst, but until Finn decides I get it, I won't.

"Do you remember when I ate your pussy on the Camaro?"

I moan, leaning my head back into my arch, writhing to get more of him. I admit, "I've dreamed of it."

"Do you know what I regret?"

I force myself to look at him, shaking my head. Another wave of heat assaults me, and my skin explodes in sweat. An earthquake erupts from my clit. "Oh God!"

He rides me through it, staying in control, using his cock as a weapon. My walls try to grip his shaft as he plows in and out of me like a steady workhorse.

"Finn! Please," I implore.

"Ask me what I regret, firefly."

I whimper then ask, "What? What do you regret?" My channel spasms in a slow burn of ecstasy. "Fuck! Finn!"

"I never fucked you on the bar."

"Fuck me harder, and I'll let you," I cry out.

He drops my leg so it's bent with my foot on the bed near my ass. Then he moves both my hands over my head, pinning them to the mattress, gripping both wrists with one hand.

I gasp.

His body cages mine. A fire smolders in his eyes, burning right to my core. His free hand holds my chin. "You want me to pound your tight pussy?"

"Yes!"

He whips his tongue out, inches away from my lips. I meet him halfway, lifting my head, greedy for his taste, desperate for him to control my mouth.

Arrogance fills his expression. My heart swells. I've missed it so much. Knowing that Finn knows he has me—knows he owns and can manipulate me anyway he wants. I'm his putty to mold and play with how he decides, and he always knows exactly what I crave.

His mouth moves to my ear. His deep voice makes me shudder. "See, I think you'd let me fuck you on the bar no matter what. Am I right?" His wet mouth sucks on my lobe, making me writhe under him. He increases his thrusts but still not to where I want them.

"Ohhhh," I pant.

"Tell me, firefly, would you still let me get you off in a pub full of people?"

I don't need to think. I hated every moment Giulio put me on display or fucked me at the club, but I'd love every minute of Finn touching me however he wanted, wherever he wanted, in front of whoever he wanted. "Yes. God...yes! Whatever you want."

His cock twitches inside me. His hot breath alone, hitting my ear, makes me squirm under his hard flesh. "I'm going to pour whiskey all over you and lick"—his tongue flicks on my lobe—"and suck"—he sucks my neck so hard, I might have a mark—"and shove my tongue in you, coating your pussy in it."

I close my eyes, the vision of me killing Donny with whiskey all over us flashes before me.

Finn's voice pulls me away from the memory, and I remind myself it's him, not Donny, so I push it away, turning toward him as he murmurs near my lips, "You taste so good, firefly. So fucking good. Every time I drink whiskey after, I'm going to crave the taste of you with it."

"Oh God," I whisper. "Please."

His tongue slides in my mouth, and I follow his lead, buzzing with the scent of his skin consuming me.

I grasp for something, but he still has my hands pinned with my palms toward the ceiling. I thrust back at him like a dog in heat, growing more desperate to receive the power I know he holds over me.

He groans. "Greedy girl. Tell me who you belong to."

"You. Only you!"

He gives me a chaste kiss then retreats, intensely gazing at me. "That's right. And why only me?"

"Because I love you. So much," I say, suddenly getting emotional as tears prick my eyes.

He kisses away one that escapes and commands, "I love you. Now tell me what you want."

"Harder."

In a quick move, he flips me over on my knees, stands, and slides his arm around my waist, lifting my ass in the air. He slams into me, and I cry out.

"This what you want? What you need?"

"Y-yes! Oh fuck!" I scream as he hits the spot I was jonesing for him to pound into.

Pleasure crashes through my body, coursing through my veins like a car speeding out of control. I reach behind me, digging my nails into his thighs. White stars flood my vision, and he continues thrusting so deep, it feels like his cock's in my stomach.

And I love it. I love every second of his body, filling and stretching me past the point I think is possible. I love his arm holding me up, the way his grunts mix with the sound of his balls slapping my skin, and how my entire being feels alive and lit up.

It's everything I remember and more. It's the old us. It's the new us. It's heaven on Earth when we've only been living in hell.

Giulio said dirty things to me, and I despised them all. But it's different with Finn. Every utterance and proclamation, I sink into, wanting to hear more, needing to listen to it all.

At the very last moment, I turn my head, barely able to focus, my body in convulsions. His cock pistons into me like a cannon, offloading his seed to the depths of my soul.

We cry out together, eyes united, bodies merged, sweat coating our skin. When we come down, he pulls me into his arms and the blankets over us.

He kisses me like there's no tomorrow, but for the first time in years, we have one. It doesn't seem real, yet here we are. Still, I kiss him back, eager as ever, never wanting to be anywhere but with him and wondering how this is possible. How, after all these years, did we finally make it back to each other?

"Is this real?" I ask.

His index finger strokes my cheek. "Yeah. It is."

I get emotional again and try to look away.

He pulls my chin back to him. "Don't hide from me, Brenna."

"Sorry. I just... I don't want this to be some crazy dream, and I wake up without you."

He nods as if he understands. "I promise you it's not."

"I-I thought you were dead. Until a month ago. I-I never thought I would see you again and then Bridget told me you were alive. I didn't think it would be possible to escape."

At the mention of Bridget's name, his face hardens. Or maybe it's the thought of Giulio.

Either way, I ask, "Finn, why are you upset with Bridget?"

He sniffs hard. "She's not the same person she was. I don't trust her."

"Why? If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here. She insisted I take her daughter's phone chip when she ran into me at the club a month ago," I state.

He studies me, and I can see his mind working.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You weren't in contact with her all these years?"

I jerk my head back. "God no! Is that what you thought?"

He licks his lips, struggling with his anger. It's the same thing I used to see whenever he was upset about something. He replies, "I don't know what to think. Bridget took the kids away from my family. After Sean's death, she moved to New York and claimed it wasn't safe for her to be in Chicago. But her father has just as many threats as we do, if not more. She even changed Fiona and Sean Jr.'s last names. She tried to erase us and their heritage. It's only been a few months since we got to see them again, and it's because Killian made a deal with her father."

Shock fills me, and a chill runs down my spine. I try to process it all.

"I know it's hard to think Bridget would do that, but she did. She isn't the person we thought she is," Finn states.

I blurt out, "There has to be more. I don't think she would do that if there wasn't something else causing her to make that decision."

He shakes his head. "She didn't tell us she saw you in the park. The only way I knew was because of the photo."

I trace the brushed ink on his neck. "Where did you find it?"

A moment of cold silence follows. Finn's body stiffens, and it's as if a dark cloud has rolled over him. "Jack Christian's safe."

My blood turns to ice.

Finn rolls to his side, facing me. His palm slides over my cheek. "You haven't told me what happened after Maksim dropped you off at your apartment that night."

I bite my lip, breathing through the emotions that claw at me. I've never spoken the words, but, somehow, I find the strength to tell Finn. Each truth I unveil creates a new question from him, and before I know it, I've told him everything about my abduction, Mama Christian's, the day I saw Bridget, and how Giulio bought me from the Baileys.

I don't know who it's more painful for, Finn visualizing each event or me remembering them.

"Then, I never saw Bridget again until a month ago," I repeat.

He sniffs hard then focuses on the window.

I move his chin so he can't avoid me. "Finn, she didn't lie."

"She never told me she saw you last month."

"I begged her not to. I thought you'd get killed. I didn't see any way out," I confess.

Rage burns in his eyes. "You thought I wouldn't save you? That it would be better to let me continue searching for you?"

Panic annihilates me. I throw my arms around his shoulders, gripping him tight. "No! That's not it! H-he had an army around him. I didn't want you to die! It was already my fault you went to prison. Bridget said she would tell you. I begged her. She agreed to wait until she could think of a plan, but even then, I-I didn't see how it was possible. I haven't been left alone without eyes on me for sixteen years!"

He says nothing.

"Finn. Please. You have to believe me!"

He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths.

My voice shakes. "Finn."

He opens his eyes. "Don't ever try to keep something from me again, Brenna."

"It wasn't like that," I claim.

"Just tell me you won't."

I inch closer to him. "I won't. I promise."

He sighs. My stomach growls, and his lips curve. He gives me a peck on the lips. "Let's get dressed and go eat."

A brick of fear about the Marinos slams into me. "Can we leave?"

He shakes his head. "This is the safest place to be right now. Until I clean up all the loose ends, you aren't stepping foot outside of this house."

"Loose ends? What do you mean?"

His eyes turn to slits. "Anyone who would possibly come after you needs to die. The Marinos will find out who died last night and if there's anyone else we need to take out."

I grasp him tighter. "Don't leave me."

"I don't have any plans to, but if I need to finish this, I will," he vows.

"Please. Don't—"

"I won't take any chances with your safety. I made mistakes. I won't make them again, firefly," he asserts.

I turn away from him, blinking hard.

He spins me back. "Nothing is going to destroy our future again."

"You could die!"

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

Silence momentarily fills the air around us, slicing my heart all over again.

"Brenna, we might have taken them all out. Let's not worry about this until we have facts."

I deeply exhale then agree. All I can do is hope for the best.

"Let's get ready and have breakfast."

I shake my head. "It's okay. I don't need to eat. Let's stay here."

He tilts his head, studying me, then finally asks, "Are you still afraid of the Marinos?"

I bite my lip and a tear falls down my cheek.

He swipes at it with his thumb, adamantly declaring, "Brenna, the Marinos are not going to hurt you."

I try to wrap my head around it, but I can't.

He firmly holds my chin. "Do you think I would ever put you in any harmful situation? Especially after all I caused in our lives?"

"I already told you, what happened was my fault, not yours."

He shakes his head, and the self-hatred is written all over him. It crushes me, digging deep into my soul. He replies, "You'll never convince me otherwise, firefly. Now, tell me you trust me about the Marinos."

I squeeze my eyes. "Why is this so hard for me?"

"It's all you've known. He brainwashed you," Finn seethes.

Brainwashed me. Is that what I was? Brainwashed? I open my eyes, determined not to give in to my fear that Giulio created. "Will you stay by me the entire time?"

He nods. "Yeah, firefly. I won't leave you."

I force a smile. "Okay. Umm... I only have my dress from last night."

He gives me a chaste kiss then rises and picks his pants up off the floor. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, hits a button, then puts it to his ear while holding up a finger. A few seconds pass, and he says, "Arianna, can you bring some clothes to my suite for Brenna?"

Arianna. He said that was Killian's wife.

She's a Marino.

I need to stop these thoughts. I trust Finn.

"Thanks." He hangs up and tosses his phone on the bed. "Arianna will bring some clothes. Why don't you jump in the shower? She said toiletries are in the cabinet."

"Okay." I shower, brush my teeth and hair, and find yoga pants and several tops on the couch when I come out. Finn showers, and I change.

He comes out in a towel, his body glistening from the shower, and I smile. "You aged well, Finn O'Malley."

He arches an eyebrow. "Glad you think so. I was worried."

His admission surprises me. He's a beautiful specimen of what a man can only aspire to attain. I put my arms around his neck. "Maybe we should forget about food," I suggest, but my stomach growls louder.

He chuckles, and a mischievous grin forms. It reminds me of him when we were younger. "Food, firefly. Then, I think I'm going to give you a tour of the house."

My insides clench, and I laugh.

His face turns serious. "Let me get changed. I'll introduce you to the Marinos, and you'll see you have nothing to fear."

I agree, but my stomach quivers the entire way through the mansion.

29

Finn

BRENNA PUTS ON A BRAVE FACE, but I feel the tension in her body as I lead her into the dining room. I spoke with Killian and Arianna when they brought clothes to our room. I discussed what Giulio ingrained in her all these years and told them to tell the others to be friendly but stay back a bit until she warms up.

Before we turn the corner and go into the room, I spin her against the wall.

My firefly gasps, the light in her glowing, her blues turning heavy with desire, the way they always have for me. She swallows hard, her gaze darting to my lips.

I position my forearms on the wall, caging my body around her. I press against her, turning hard, still unable to fully release all the pent-up sexual energy I have from the last two decades. I lost track of how many times I took her throughout the night. We should be exhausted from a lack of sleep, but neither of us has red in our eyes.

Her hot breath against my lips makes my skin hum. The way her lips part, ready for me, makes my cock twitch. Her short breaths and breasts rising and falling almost make me take her back to the room. "I forgot to tell you something when you got out of the shower."

Her eyebrows arch. "Oh?"

"I love you."

Her sweet smile erupts on her lips. Electricity shoots through me as she slides her palms over my pecs and right over my thumping heart. "I love you, too." She tugs my head the final distance to hers and gives me the most tender kiss. My head spins, still not believing she's here and how easy it was to fall back into us. It's like we haven't been apart. All my worrying she may not want me anymore was in vain. Nothing died between us.

Her stomach growls again, and I ask, "When did you eat last?"

"Two days ago."

Anger strikes me. "He didn't let you eat?"

She shakes her head. "No, I was too nervous."

"He didn't notice?"

"I told him I gained a pound and was watching my calories."

My stomach somersaults so fast, I want to kill Giulio all over again.

Is this how she lived all these years?

Did he see her as nothing but a perfect trophy on his arm?

I already know the answers to my questions, and heat sears up my neck until I'm scorching with fury.

Brenna sees it. She glides her fingers over the side of my head. "It's in the past. Don't let him ruin our day. Please."

I breathe through the wrath then nod. "All right. But from now on, you're going back to eating every day."

She smiles and pecks my lips. "Okay. Feed me then."

I step back, slide my hand over her waist, and guide her through the dining room.

She freezes. All the Marinos are there, including Angelo.

Killian rises and tugs her into his arms. "Don't worry. I made Arianna let me have my Irish butter."

A tiny laugh escapes Brenna. "Do I want to know why you're talking about butter?"

He pulls back, his green globes giving her a look that everything will be okay. "Nope. Now, come meet my wife and her family. But I told them you get to sit by me." He winks.

It's the first time in a long time I've appreciated Killian's humor. Over the last year, I've struggled to find anything funny. Right now, I remember why I loved his personality so much before I went to prison.

It reminds me of Sean.

That thought sends pain through my heart. Then Bridget's face reappears. I remind myself I need to keep Brenna calm and show her the Marinos aren't to be feared, so I push the nasty feelings clawing at my gut aside.

Killian proudly tugs Arianna into him. "This is my wife, Arianna."

Her friendly smile grows. She's always so kind, and I've liked her since the moment I met her.

"Thanks for the clothes," my firefly says.

"Sure. You can check out what I have here if you want. Help yourself to whatever you need, okay?" Arianna states.

"Thank you. That's very sweet of you."

Arianna doesn't hesitate and embraces Brenna.

One by one, Brenna gets introduced to the twins, Dante and Gianni, then Massimo and Tristano. Angelo hangs back.

One thing I have to do is give Angelo credit. He often seems to know when to push and when not to. When he finally steps forward, Arianna helps by softly saying, "This is my papà."

He carefully kisses Brenna's cheek then takes her hands, stepping back. "I'm happy to have you here. Please make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything."

Brenna releases a nervous breath. "Thank you."

He squeezes her hands and motions toward the table. "Please, have a seat and eat."

I pull out a chair for her, and she sits between Killian and me. Her anxiety dwindles throughout the meal, and her laugh is genuine. Killian is on a roll and banters with Arianna and her family with ease, which I give him credit for again.

By the time breakfast is over, I'm no longer worried about Brenna. I lean into her ear. "Are you okay to hang with Arianna a bit? I need to speak with Angelo and the others."

Her eyes darken with concern. "About loose ends?"

"Yeah. And I'm not changing my mind, but stop worrying." I kiss her on the forehead. "Will you be all right?"

She sighs. "Yeah."

I keep her close to my chest and say, "Angelo, can we go in your office and talk?"

He nods.

I turn to Arianna. "Can you keep Brenna company?"

She smiles. "Sure. Do you want to go to our gym? I thought I'd do some yoga this morning. I can give you some clothes."

Brenna's face lights up. "Sure. That would be great."

We rise, and I escort her to the staircase, kiss her on the head, then pat her ass. "I'll see you later."

I watch her follow Arianna up the stairs until I can't see her anymore then go into the office.

Angelo questions, "She doing okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks for making her feel welcome."

"Of course."

I get to the point. "Did you get a list of who was at the club?"

"I got it last night," Massimo says.

"How?" I ask, surprised.

A look of arrogance washes over his face. "I have my ways."

Tristano groans. "You fucked her, didn't you?"

Massimo crosses his arms and stays silent.

"Who?" I ask.

"The girl he got to put us on the list," Tristano claims.

"Don't be hating because you wanted her and didn't make your move," Massimo says.

"Shut up. I don't go for the hussies like you," Tristano claims.

"What about that one girl?" Gianni asks.

"What girl?"

"The one with the fake tits you let suck you off in our car."

"Enough," Angelo orders.

"The one he bought dinner for after?" Dante asks.

"No, that one wasn't a slut except when she was around you. Isn't that what you said?" Massimo taunts Tristano.

"Knock it off!" Angelo roars and slams his hands on the desk.

We all turn toward him.

A storm rages in his dark eyes, and his slitted gaze pierces each of us, finally resting on me. "We believe the biggest Abruzzo risks are the females."

My stomach turns into a knot. "What do you mean?"

"Giulio has an ex-wife named Maura. Rumor has it he exiled her upstate. She's always hated Brenna. He has his men watching her, but she might see this as her way to get revenge. His daughter, Bella, she'll also be looking for Brenna. She sees her as more of a mother to her than Maura. It's best if they're taken care of."

The hairs on my neck rise. "What are you suggesting?"

Angelo sits against the top of his desk and crosses his arms. "Bella is pregnant. Her husband is one of Giulio's top men. We take him out and their guards as well. Then we send them to Italy. Giuseppe Berlusconi, our ally, will make sure she has the proper care to deliver her baby. Once that happens, he will move them to the countryside. His men will watch them, but they will never step foot on American soil again. And they will never have access to the Abruzzo family, either."

Brenna told me about Maura and Bella. She feels sorry for Maura, and Bella is like a daughter to her, but she also told me how cruel she realizes she is. Still, I glance behind me to double-check the door's closed, then step closer to Angelo. I may not have been around my firefly for the last twenty-one years, but I know her heart. She would always feel guilty over this. I instruct, "If they are threats, do it. But Brenna is never to know."

Angelo nods. "Consider it done."

"Thank you. There's another issue we need to handle," I state.

"What's that?"

My hands curl into fists at my thighs. "Jack and Fitz Bailey."

"What about them?" Killian asks, the same hatred on his face that's always present whenever anyone speaks the Bailey name.

Shivers race down my spine to my toes, thinking of what they did and the truth about Jack. "The only thing I'll say about it is Jack Bailey is Jack Christian's father."

The blood drains from Killian's face. "You're fucking kidding me."

"No."

"Well, that should be easy to solve. Jack's got his house here. Fitz, too," Dante claims.

Grinding my molars, I sniff hard and focus on Angelo. "I don't want them dead. Not yet. I want them brought here."

Killian cracks his knuckles. "I'm down for some dungeon play."

"Can that be arranged?" I ask.

Angelo shifts. "It can. But when you return to Chicago, tell Liam this war you all started last night isn't going to go away. You're all going to need to watch your backs as well."

Killian snorts. "Normal day in paradise."

"When can you pick them up?" I ask.

Angelo nods to Gianni. "Go tell Silvio to contact the guys watching those bastards."

"You already have surveillance on them?"

Angelo clenches his jaw. "We have surveillance on all the top members of their clan. My bambina is married to an O'Malley. Your enemies are ours."

Massimo cracks his neck. "Our guys took out anyone who was left guarding Giulio's compound last night. Once we take care of his ex and daughter, as stated, there won't be anyone else left unless we take out his brothers."

"No. We aren't doing that. I already made it clear this morning," Angelo seethes.

"I say we're ahead, and we slaughter them all," Tristano adds.

Angelo shakes his head and points to them. "You two have a lot to learn. No one makes any more moves. You did enough last night."

I could tell Angelo I'm sorry I started a war on his turf, but it would be a lie. I would do the entire thing all over again. No matter what I promised, there's no way I would have left my firefly last night.

"Then we're done here?" Dante asks.

Angelo pauses. "They are. You aren't."

Dante shifts on his feet. "I know what you're going to say. Save your breath."

"Do not disrespect me," Angelo growls.

Killian pats me on the back. "Time to go."

"Good luck, bro," Massimo mutters as he passes Dante.

Tristano adds, "He made the right call."

"Stay out of this," Angelo seethes.

They all leave, but I don't. When the last one steps through the door, I offer, "This is on me, Angelo."

He snorts. "I realize you aren't innocent. And your family will be in this war with us. But I also know my son. Best if you leave right now."

I hesitate, acknowledging, "If he didn't make the call he did, it wouldn't have ended in our favor. I would have shot up the place, and one or more of ours would have gotten hurt. He assessed the situation, put a plan together, and implemented it. It's because of him all your sons are safe and back in this house."

Angelo's nostrils flare. "You have anything else to say?"

"Only that I'll forever be grateful to him and always have his back," I say then meet Dante's cold eyes.

"Noted. Now get the fuck out," Angelo demands.

I nod at Dante and leave, wishing he weren't under Angelo's hot seat. I shut the door, and Killian is waiting for me.

"Daddy's pissed. Dante's going to get his ass reamed," Killian states, and we stroll toward the gym.

"Didn't he do it last night?"

Killian lowers his voice. "No. He disappeared with Bridget." His eyes meet mine, and I'm not sure how to take it.

Still, I ask, "What's going on with them?"

"He says they're only friends."

"What do you think?"

Killian sighs. "I don't know. I don't want to keep hating Bridget. It's not good for the kids."

I grunt. "She doesn't make it easy for herself."

"Yeah, I know. Dante said she swears she only ran into Brenna a month ago. Claimed Brenna made her promise not to tell you," he states.

I fight the rage burning in my gut. "That's what Brenna told me."

Killian nods to two housekeepers and waits until we're out of earshot. "It's time Bridget told us the full truth."

"She's a liar."

"How? Brenna confirmed she wasn't lying."

"She took the kids away," I remind him.

"Yeah, she did. It was shitty. But why?"

"And you just forgot about her lying about it being safer in New York?" I ask.

He stops and scrubs his hand over his face. "Sean keeps talking to me. Nolan and Declan, too. He keeps telling every single one of us that he still loves her."

I groan. "You know I don't believe in that shit."

"Yeah, well, Declan didn't either until the night we saw her again when Sean talked to him."

"What do you want me to do, Killian? Give her a pass for all the fucked-up shit she's done? She didn't tell me she saw Brenna all those years ago or last month. I don't care what Brenna made her promise. She should have told me. And she took the kids from our family. She even changed their goddamn last name. Both those kids are struggling because of it, especially Sean Jr."

"I'm not asking you to do anything except help me get to the truth. There's more to her reasoning for moving the kids. I know there is. Something spooked her," he insists.

"If something spooked her, she should have come to us," I point out.

"Agreed, but we don't know what it is."

"You're also assuming you're right. Did you ever think maybe she just isn't the person we thought she was?"

His face hardens.

I continue walking toward the gym. He follows in silence. When we step inside, Arianna and Brenna are in child's pose.

Killian creeps behind Arianna and cages his body around hers.

"Killian!" she shrieks, laughing.

Brenna jumps then turns her head, smiling. I fight through the anger I have toward Bridget, pushing it to the back of my mind. The most important person in the world is finally in front of me. I'll be damned if I let my hardened feelings dampen my firefly's happy glow.

Bridget and I will have it out, but it won't be today.

I slide to the floor next to Brenna and grin. "What's the move you used to do?"

She blushes, biting on her lip.

I lean into her and murmur so only she can hear me. "I think you called it downward dog. Let's kick them out. I'm ready for a private session."

30

Brenna

FINN LEADS me down the hall. We just finished dinner, and I glance behind us.

"You're doing it again," he states.

"Sorry." I shut my eyes, and he tugs me closer.

"Angelo isn't watching you, and neither are his men," Finn reiterates.

I nod, but it's not easy to break old habits. There was nowhere Giulio didn't have eyes on me. He didn't hide it, either. I mumble, "I'm screwed up."

Finn stops. "No. You aren't. It's just going to take some time."

"How do you know? What if I'm paranoid for the rest of my life?"

He cups my cheeks, tilting his head. "It took me a while to adjust to life outside of prison. It's the same thing."

"Finn, it's time," Dante calls out.

Finn's face darkens. "Give me a few minutes."

"Sure. You know where to find us." Dante turns the corner.

A bad feeling creeps into my bones. "What's going on?"

Finn twists a chunk of my hair around his hand. "Stay with Arianna. I have loose ends to tie up."

My heart races. I grab his biceps. "Don't leave me!"

"I'm not leaving the house."

A new fear fills me. "Who's here?"

One of Angelo's men stroll by, and Finn pulls me into a corner. He lowers his voice. "I have the Baileys."

My gut twists. "Which ones?"

"Jack and Fitz. I would have gotten that bastard Sullivan, too, but he's already dead."

I haven't seen Fitz since the day Giulio bought me. Jack's seedy expression from Bella's wedding appears in my mind, and I put my hand over my stomach. "Where are they?"

"There you are. Arianna, stay with Brenna," Killian orders.

I turn, and Arianna has a knowing look on her face. She doesn't argue. She straightens her shoulders and smiles at me.

I glance back at Finn and repeat, "Where are they?"

His eyes dart to Killian's.

"Somewhere they can't reach you," Killian replies.

I spin and put my hand on my hip. "Don't act like I'm fragile. Where are they?" I glance between him and Finn.

Finn opens his mouth, but Arianna says, "They're in my father's dungeon. It's below the house."

"Thank you for telling me the truth," I say.

Arianna nods. "Do you play cards or pool?"

"I haven't in a long time."

"Do you want to hang out in the game room while they take care of this issue?"

"Sure. Can you give me a minute?"

"Yep."

They continue down the hall, and I turn to Finn. "You're going to kill them?"

He doesn't flinch. "Yes."

My chest tightens. "And there's no way you're in danger if you go down there?"

"No, firefly."

My stomach is a mess of nerves, but I take a deep breath. There's no stopping Finn. But even if there was, I don't want to. I keep remembering them at Mama Christian's as well as when they came storming down the hall in the hospital, trying to take me to Sullivan, claiming I was his property.

The world is a better place without them.

Still, my gut continues to flip. But I stand on my tiptoes and kiss Finn on the cheek. "Okay. You'll get me when you're through?"

His expression softens. "Always. Forever."

Another piece of my heart returns. I didn't think it was possible to mend, but every moment I spend with Finn seems to repair it.

He kisses my forehead and drops me off in the game room, then he and Killian leave.

Arianna grabs a deck of cards. "Do you know how to play rummy?"

"It's been a while. Will you refresh my memory?"

"Sure." She sits at the table, and I follow.

I like Arianna. She's sincere and kind. I've not been around any nice women since Bella, but even she showed her true colors.

I wince inside, thinking of Bella and the grief she'll have to deal with over her father's death. As much as I don't like how cruel she was to her mother, I wish I could reach out and hug her. Yet, I know I'll never be able to see her again. It's a sharp pain, similar to the grief I experienced with losing Finn, but I push it out of sight. One thing I've learned is life isn't always how you want it to be. Bella will always be an Abruzzo. She has her father in her, and nothing will ever change that.

Arianna explains the rules, we play a dummy hand, and it comes back to me. We play several more rounds. She updates me on the O'Malleys and Ivanovs. I knew Maksim better than his brothers, but it's interesting to hear about how their lives have changed. I'm also curious about their wives. She tells me how nice all the women are and claims I'll fit in with them just fine.

I'm unsure about any of it. I've not had friends in over twenty years. It sounds nice in theory. Only time will tell if I really can have normal things in my life again.

Several hours pass. Angelo comes into the room and offers us a glass of wine. Then he sits down and plays with us.

It shocks me. It's nothing Giulio would ever have done with Bella. He would shower her with gifts and check up on her, but it would have been beneath him to play cards or any other game. He had help for that.

He had me.

Emotions creep up on me. It's another example of how Finn is right. The Marinos are good people. They're a crime family, so I won't question their morals, but beneath the violence are good hearts. It's the opposite of everything I experienced at the Abruzzo compound. And I have to believe the choices the Marinos make about who lives and dies are no different than what I accept with Finn.

I'm no different.

Time may have passed, but I killed two men and haven't once felt guilty about it. The only thing I regret is leaving that night and Finn spending twenty years in prison for a crime I committed. But if I thought I could have escaped Giulio's alive, I would have cut out his heart.

I excuse myself and go to the restroom, needing a moment to clear my racing mind. As soon as the door shuts, I clutch the caramel-colored granite and stare at myself in the mirror. The clothes I wear are casual. I have no makeup on, and my uncurled hair is in natural waves. I would have gotten smacked around if I were still at Giulio's.

But I'm not, I remind myself.

Maybe it's too many comparisons, too many memories, too many what-ifs, but my lungs tighten, and my eyes fill with tears.

After a few minutes, I splash cold water on my face and glance at the ceiling, double-checking there aren't any cameras, then I reprimand myself. I have to stop looking all the time. I return to the table and finish a few more games.

It's after midnight when the men finish. Finn is the first to enter the room. He's freshly showered, and he doesn't say much. We excuse ourselves and go to our suite. When we get there, I freeze.

His swollen knuckles and bruised hand make me cringe.

"Are you okay?" I ask, picking his hand up and kissing it.

"Yes."

"You're hurt!"

"I'm not. You know how I get, firefly." His eyes sear into mine.

Images appear of the first night I met Finn, where he beat the crap out of the guys who jumped Maksim on the dance floor.

I trace his clenched jaw. "Are all the loose ends cleared up now?"

"Yeah."

My eyes well with tears again. Relief assaults me, and I didn't expect it. I can't find any words.

He pulls me onto his lap, tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, and kisses my forehead. "Are you ready to go home, firefly?"

Home. I swallow hard. Besides Finn, all I've craved was to return to Chicago. I miss everything about it, but how much has changed?

There's only one way to find out.

"Yes. Let's go home."

WE LEAVE THE FOLLOWING DAY. When we get to the tarmac, I stare at the private jet.

"You all right?" Finn asks.

I manage a smile and a "Yes." I climb up the stairs and freeze when I'm inside.

It's not the first time I've been on this caliber of an aircraft. Giulio's transportation was always the best of the best.

This looks brand new.

Why are the O'Malleys traveling in this super-luxurious plane?

Maybe it's Angelo's, and we get to use it because of Arianna?

"Firefly?" Finn murmurs in my ear.

I nod to the flight attendant smiling at me and sit in the seat across from Killian and Arianna. When Finn sits down, I whisper, "Is this Angelo's jet?"

Something passes in his eyes. He hesitates.

"Why aren't you answering me?" I question.

He picks up my hand and kisses it. "This is ours."

I gape at him, then I get embarrassed. It's been over two decades since I last saw the O'Malleys. And I don't know what kind of wealth their clan has. I blurt out, "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I have a lot to tell you."

My pulse increases. "Like?"

"We're rich," Killian booms.

"Killian!" Arianna elbows him.

"Oww! What was that for?"

"You can't go screaming that!"

He laughs. "It's just us. Plus, it's true."

I stare at Finn, unsure why I feel weird about the O'Malleys having money. I shouldn't. And I'm not unhappy about their success, but this is beyond doing well in life.

Maybe I feel strange because the wealth I experienced was with Brad and Giulio. Neither of those situations made me happy. Finn never cared about money before. Does he now?

Finn slips his arm around me. He quietly says, "You look freaked out."

I furrow my eyebrows. "It's...strange."

Understanding passes in his expression. "Yeah, it is. When we land, do you want to go to my five-star hotel room or the apartment?"

My heart skips a beat. "You still have the apartment?"

He licks his lips. "My nana never let anyone move in. When she passed, Nora inherited it. She kept it the same. Everything is still there."

My stomach flutters. "My powder room cabinet is still full?"

His lips turn up. "Yep."

"What about your T-shirt I wore all the time?"

"In the closet."

"I call dibs!"

His grin widens. His lips hit my ear. "I have a video to show you as well."

My breath hitches. All these years, I've waited, wondering what it looked like and where in the universe it might be. This entire time, it's been in the same spot. "You edited it?"

His hand strokes my thigh. His face falls. "I finished it the morning that everything happened."

A wave of sadness passes through me. We were so close to having everything together until that one moment in time destroyed it all.

"What's it going to be, firefly? The hotel or apartment?" he asks.

My anxiety creeps in. What will it be like to be back there? Will it make us sad to see everything we were that we lost?

Finn patiently waits, but I see what he wants. No matter how nervous I am, deep down, I know it's what I want, too. I reply, "Apartment."

So that's what we do. We get off the plane in Chicago, drop Killian and Arianna off at home, then go directly to the pub. The car pulls to the front, and Finn rolls down the window. "Let us out in the alley."

When the car stops, my butterflies spread their wings. Snow covers the road and buildings. It's a thick, never-ending blanket. Finn's eyes appear nervous. I'm not used to him being anything but confident. He asks, "Do you want to go to the pub and get a drink first?"

I shake my head.

"Okay." He steps out of the car and helps me out. He slings his bag over his shoulder and unlocks the apartment. He motions for me to go through.

The entryway is small, but it somehow seems tinier than before. The green wall leading up the staircase looks like it has fresh paint, but then I get to the top landing.

It's like I'm in a time machine and went back twenty years. Everything is the same. Untouched. Unscathed. Unmarked by the decades of destruction we've gone through.

It's a safe cocoon to shield us from the rest of the world.

Finn's arm circles my waist. I lean against his warm, hard frame, taking it all in. Then I glance up at him. "Can we stay here?"

He pecks my lips, his green eyes twinkling. "I thought you'd never ask."

31

Finn

SNOW CONTINUES TO FALL, and the heat is barely on, so I turn it up. I watch Brenna taking everything in. I suppose it's how I was the night I got released from prison. She runs her hands over the fabric of our clothes then pulls my T-shirt she always wore off the hanger, pressing it to her face and inhaling. Her eyes close, and several moments pass where she breathes in the soft cotton.

She peeks into the bathroom and laughs.

My heart swells. She hasn't laughed like this since we reunited. I ask, "What's so funny?"

"I forgot how small the bathroom is."

"Shower fun is over for a while," I tease.

Her lips curve and she arches her eyebrow. "There was that one time you pushed me down on the counter."

I grin at the memory and how she looked in the mirror...how we both looked.

She opens her powder room cabinet, takes out the perfume bottle, and spritzes it on her wrist, then dabs it on her neck. "The last sixteen years, I've only worn designer fragrances. This is cheap, yet it's still my favorite."

"Mine, too," I admit then step behind her. I slide my arm around her waist and bury my face in the curve of her neck, letting the floral smell invade all of me, getting déjà vu.

She puts her hand over mine and leans into me. Her head turns, and I press my lips to hers, intending it to be a quick kiss, but the moment our mouths meet, there's nothing fast, except for our tongues growing hungrier with each flick.

She murmurs, "I want to see the tape."

I retreat and confess, "I want to record you watching it."

Blue flames erupt in her orbs. She moves to the wall and lifts the picture then hits the on button.

I step on the mattress and open the shutter on the ceiling then open the desk cabinet. She turns on the other camera on the opposite wall.

For a moment, there's nothing but sexual tension as we stand a foot from the other, our breaths shortening. The air crackles, so electric, you can practically hear it.

"Show it to me, Finn."

My pulse increases as I sit at the computer and turn it on. I pat my thigh, and she sits in my lap, saying nothing as the old monitor goes through the process of loading the video. And then it's there, ready for me to hit play.

My hands shake as I click the mouse. Brenna shifts on my lap, and the screen lights up with her image from years ago.

"Do you trust me?" my younger self says.

"Yes. Do you trust me?" her younger self asks.

"Just do what I say, firefly."

She nervously inhales and the screen flashes to my fingers, zoomed in on her pussy, scissoring her as she whimpers.

"We were so young," Brenna whispers.

I pull the collar of her shirt to the side and kiss her shoulder. "Yeah." I refocus on the video but keep my lips on her bare skin.

The younger me asks, "Have you thought about my mouth on it? Eating you? Sucking you? Fucking these tight walls with my tongue?"

Brenna squirms on my lap then moves my hand from her thigh to her pussy.

"Oh God," she breathes on the screen.

I cup her hot cunt, teasing her slit with my middle finger, watching her breasts rise higher. Her back arches slightly, and she whimpers at the same time a similar sound comes through the speakers.

"Finn!" she cries out, writhing on the mattress.

"Look at me," I growl.

The camera zooms in on her hands, gripping the headboard, as I demand, "Don't move. Keep your eyes open." There's another close-up of Brenna's flushed cheeks, just as her eyes roll.

"You were so beautiful. You're still so beautiful," I mumble into her ear, sliding my hand in her pants and gliding through her wet heat.

"Make me into your porn star," she bravely orders, her eyes full of nerves and desire.

The camera stays on her face as I admit, "I don't want you to be a porn star. I want you to be you. Nothing fake. Just the real you, Brenna."

"Oh God," my firefly whispers, circling her hips on my hand, her eyes never moving from the screen.

I scissor my two fingers in her and swipe my thumb over her pulsing clit. Red crawls up her neck and into her cheeks, and her nails dig into my thighs.

The video zooms to me eating her pussy.

I focus on the real-life version of my firefly. I rub harder and curl my fingers inside her, studying her as she comes on my lap while watching the younger version of herself orgasming in my mouth.

My cock is hard as a rock, digging into her thigh. Her body convulses, and I groan, inhaling her floral scent.

The movie continues, and our younger selves are fucking in every position.

My eyes dart between the screen and Brenna the entire time. I've seen it so many times, I have it memorized. I continue manipulating her pussy, making her orgasm over and over.

When the film ends, I wait for her to speak, but all she does is reach for the mouse and hit replay.

It starts all over. My firefly remains mesmerized, whimpering in my arms, her skin glistening from sweat.

I undress her, remove my shirt, and lift my hips with her still on me, sliding my pants to my knees. I straddle her backward over my lap, and she sinks on my cock.

"Finn! Oh God!" she moans.

I blow air on her neck, letting her body sheath itself around mine. She shudders and I order, "Play with yourself and ride me."

She sticks her fingers in my mouth and I suck them, then she obeys, rubbing herself and setting the pace of our thrusts. Her attention stays focused on the monitor.

My palms cup her breasts, my thumbs rolling on her puckered nipples. They itch to grab her hips and thrust harder, but I refrain. I suck her lobe and state, "Your cheeks look like that right now."

She breaks her gaze from the screen, locking her heavy eyes with mine. Her voice shakes, "Fuck me like that, Finn. Just like that."

I press my feet to the floor and roll the chair back. I maneuver her to the bed and recreate everything.

The sounds from the movie ring in the air until there's no more of our twenty-year-old selves on the screen. It's only my firefly and me, in our forties, full of years we regret and a desperation for the other, greater than when we were younger.

When I'm through fucking her, and I've come harder than ever before, I slide down her body, eating her, sucking her, fucking her tight walls with my tongue just like in the video.

Our sweat-coated bodies only burn hotter. The small room smells like the past, with her perfume and our arousal creating a thick blanket in the air.

Brenna's cries, her body writhing, and her hands grasping my head are everything it was before and more. On her last orgasm, emotions lodge in my chest. I blink hard as a wave of peace fills me.

I'm finally home.

32

Brenna

THE DIGITAL ALARM clock shows it's past midnight. Finn drags his knuckles over my cheek then asks, "Are you hungry?"

I admit, "Food sounds good."

"Want to go down to the pub?"

I nod. "Does it look the same?"

"Yes and no. Nora remodeled right before I got out of prison. She did a good job keeping the authenticity."

I roll off the bed and step in front of the closet. I glance back. "Do you think I'll still fit in these clothes?"

He scans my naked frame, and my insides clench. We've been screwing for the last eight hours, yet I'm still not satiated. His deep voice and smoldering eyes liquefy everything in me. "You're curvier with more muscle, but I'd bet money they still fit."

"I'd wear only your T-shirt, but I think I'd freeze and scare the customers away." I pull out a pair of jeans and an oversized blue sweater. It was my favorite outfit, and while the jeans are a bit snug in the ass, they slide on and button. I tug the top over my head then watch Finn throw his clothes on.

His eyes devour me, and another wave of nostalgia crashes over me. He tugs me into him. "How does it feel?"

"Strange. Like we're back in time," I confess.

"Yeah." He pecks me on the lips then takes my hand and leads me down the stairs.

The snow stopped falling, but there's a foot of it on the ground. Finn backs me up on the steps and pats his shoulders. "Hop on. Your feet will be frozen if you step in that."

I obey, and he gives me a piggyback ride into the pub hallway. Before we get to the end of the hall, I slide off him. He turns and opens his mouth, but a woman's voice gasps, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

Finn protectively glides his arm around my waist and spins.

Darcey gapes at me then makes the sign of the cross. "Is it really you?"

Finn tightens his hold on me. "Yeah, it's her. Stop staring so she doesn't run away from you and back into the freezing snow."

I elbow him while laughing. He and Darcey have always had a sister-brother-type relationship.

"Where have you been all these years?" Darcey asks.

My smile falls. What do I say to that?

"Darcey, give Brenna a hug and save the questions for later. And I know the kitchen is closed, but we're starving," Finn says.

Darcey obeys and embraces me then steps back, staring at me with glistening eyes. "It's really good to see you."

I wipe a tear. "You, too."

"I can whip up some fish and chips if you still like that?"

"That would be great. Thanks," I say, and Finn leads me past her.

I freeze when I get into the main area. "Wow. This is beautiful." It's a collection of old and new. The wooden bar and layout are the same. The booths are new, and only a handful of people are here, probably due to the snow.

Finn leads me to the booth where we used to always sit, and I slide in. He sits next to me with his arm around my shoulder.

Darcey comes over. "Whiskey, Finn?"

"Yeah."

"What about you, Brenna?"

"Same, thanks."

"Sure." Darcey hesitates a few moments, studying me until Finn clears his throat.

She jumps, and Finn arches his eyebrows.

"What? It's like seeing a ghost. You can't expect me not to stare. Sorry, Brenna," she adds.

"It's okay," I say then wonder if everyone will be like this.

Finn nods to the bar, and Darcey huffs but takes the hint and leaves. His lips twitch. "You drink whiskey now?"

My cheeks heat.

He traces my cheekbone. "Why do you look embarrassed?"

I confess, "Drinking it made me feel close to you." I don't add it also numbed the pain when Giulio would come into my bedroom.

The sadness in Finn's eyes makes me think he somehow knows, but I don't dive into it. I lean into him and ask something I've often wondered. "Do you know if my parents are still alive?" They wouldn't be that old, only in their mid-to-late sixties, but life has taught me nothing is permanent.

Finn's chest fills with air. He swallows hard. "I'm sorry, firefly. Your mom passed about ten years ago. She had a stroke."

I gasp, not prepared for the truth. My eyes dart to the table, filling with unexpected tears.

My mother was horrible to me the last time I saw her. She was awful to Finn. I often wondered if she hadn't kept in contact with Brad, giving him false hope, would that day have ever happened?

Decades have passed, but the most important thing hasn't changed. I chose Finn. Always. Forever. And now that he has money, my mother might have approved, but I wasn't looking for her acceptance of us. I didn't think we would rekindle our relationship or even know if I would want to try, but her death shocks me. It makes one more thing of the past final.

"Firefly, are you okay?" Finn asks.

Maybe too much has happened for me to feel more than a brief flash of sympathy for her. A daughter should be sad about her mother's death, but it only makes me feel empty. I take a deep breath and nod. "What about my father?"

"He's alive. He'll want to see you."

Relief fills me. "How do you know?"

Darcey sets down drinks and a stack of photo albums. It was Nana's tradition to keep family albums of times at the pub behind the bar. Nora must not have changed that, either. Darcey says, "I thought you might want to look at these."

Finn nods for her to go.

I put my hand on his thigh, trying to remind him to be nice. "Thanks, Darcey."

"Sure." She gives Finn a little glare and leaves.

"You should be nicer to her."

He grunts. "I am nice to her." He takes a mouthful of whiskey and taps his fingers on the crystal tumbler. "Your father visited me in jail—before I got sentenced. He tried to find you. He's never stopped, and I know he wants to see you."

My stomach flips. "You've seen him?"

Finn nods. "Only once, right after I got out. I told him I wouldn't come back until I found you."

My hand shakes as I pick up my whiskey. I take a sip and swallow. The burn travels down my throat, mixing with the nerves in my stomach.

"We'll go tomorrow, firefly," Finn states.

Years of anger and hurt explode. I snap my face toward him. "He didn't stick up for me. That day, he should have followed me out to the car. He should have told me she was wrong and he accepted you."

"Your father was doing the best he could."

"How can you say that? He didn't welcome you with open arms."

"No. But he did agree to deal with me."

"To deal with you?" I hurl.

"Yeah. And I was okay with that. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was a step forward."

More rage fills me. Finn deserved a fair shot. They never gave him one. "That's no better than my mom." I take another drink.

Finn cups my cheek. "If I was your father, and you were my daughter, I wouldn't have welcomed me with open arms, either."

"What does that mean?"

He sighs. "Your father loves you. He never stopped. And that day, he didn't want to lose you. Everything happened too fast. You don't know what would have happened if..." He turns away.

"If I hadn't killed Brad."

He jerks his head toward me, seething. "I told you to never speak about that again. I mean it, Brenna. Don't ever admit that again."

I focus on my whiskey, feeling conflicted about so many things. My father, my mother's death and my lack of emotion regarding it, and Finn's insistence he continues to let everyone think he murdered Brad.

Finn softens his tone. "We're going tomorrow. Yell at him if you want, get whatever off your chest you need to, but as soon as we wake up, we're going to your dad's."

"No. Let's go see your mom instead. At least she accepted both of us."

Grief floods his expression and he turns and sniffs hard.

"Finn?" I quietly ask.

He meets my eyes. In a deadpan voice, he says, "She died while I was in jail."

My grief finally hits me. I loved his mother. She was fun, welcoming, and over the years, as I sat through Giulio's Sunday dinners, I thought of the ones Finn and I had every week with her. Tears escape, and I wipe them. "I'm sorry. So sorry."

He tugs me tighter to him. "It is what it is. But your dad is alive. No matter what happened in the past, he loves you and will want to see you. We're going tomorrow."

I sniffle. "What if it's the same thing? What if he still doesn't fully accept you?"

Finn's eyes harden. "Then, we'll deal with it then."

Darcey sets two plates of fish and chips on the table. "Everything okay?"

"We're fine. Thanks, Darcey," Finn firmly replies, but I don't look at her.

She leaves, and he kisses my forehead. "Eat before it gets cold."

I obey, hungrier than I realized, and don't talk again until almost everything is gone and I'm full.

Darcey takes the plates away and pushes the photo albums toward us. "Take a peek. You're both in there."

I open one of the albums and start thumbing through it. Pictures of all the O'Malleys, including a lot I've never met, fill the books.

I laugh when I see the picture of his nana waving her finger at Sean and Bridget. Bridget's school books are on the table, but Sean has his tongue down her throat. "They were so perfect together."

Finn grunts. "Too bad Bridget isn't that same girl anymore."

The nagging feeling that Bridget has her reasons and the O'Malleys don't know whatever it is she's hiding won't go away. "I think you need to talk to her again."

"Oh, I'm going to talk to her, all right," he spouts.

I sigh and turn the page then freeze. My blood turns cold, draining down my body. I peer closer.

It can't be them.

Am I seeing things?

"What's wrong?" Finn asks.

I point to the picture. "Who are these two men?"

Finn shifts in his seat. He lowers his voice. "Niall and Shamus. Erin and Nessa's husbands."

"S-sorry. Who are Erin and Nessa?"

"You only met them once. They're the twins. You know, Declan, Nolan, Killian, and Nora's sisters. They don't come around much."

My entire body trembles even though Finn's arm is warm around me.

"Firefly, what's wrong?"

My stomach dives. Not taking my eyes off the photo, I whisper, "It's them. I know it is."

"Who?"

I point to Niall and Shamus.

Finn makes me look at him. "Why are you scared right now?"

"They're the men who took Bridget's and my photo in Central Park. They even chased after me." I try to push out of the booth, but Finn doesn't budge. "Please move. I have to get out of here."

He pins me against the wall and leans into my ear. "You don't need to run. They're dead."

My mouth turns dry.

His green eyes meet mine, swirling with so much rage, it scares me. "You're sure it's them? Those are the men who took that photo of you and Bridget?"

"Yes."

His nostrils flare. "After we see your father tomorrow, we're flying back to New York."

"Why?"

He scowls. "Bridget needs to start talking."

33

Brenna

FINN PULLS the SUV in the driveway, and I get nauseous. The house looks like I remember it, except a bit rundown. The yellow, two-story bungalow has spots where the paint is peeling. The porch is empty, clear of the rocking chairs that sit on it in warmer months. I stare at the window, wondering if my father is even home, half expecting my mother to come running out, even though Finn said she's dead.

The bad memory of the last time I was here, when my mother told me she met with Brad behind my back and to have a nice life, comes flying back. My father's face when I left has been burned in my mind forever. I knew my mother would have a hard time with Finn, but I expected more from my father.

He didn't stop me from leaving.

That conversation led Finn to go to the country club and tell Brad to stop stalking me. It's why Finn blames himself for what happened.

But it wasn't Finn's fault. None of it was his fault. The only person I can blame for anything was my mother for continuing to give Brad hope.

Then why am I so mad at my dad?

He always let my mother get away with everything.

It hurt then, and the memory hurts now.

Finn picks up my hand. "Firefly, are you all right?"

Something about walking back into that house panics me. It's not the apartment or pub. It's a step back in time I don't want to revisit. I blurt out, "I don't think we should do this."

Finn kisses my hand, turns off the car, and gets out. He comes around to my side and opens the door. He leans over, unbuckles my seat belt, and holds my face gently between his palms. "This is the only time I'll make you come here. After today, it'll be your choice. But I know you, firefly. You need to clear the air with your father. And no matter what you think, he loves you."

Tears fall down my cheeks. "Then why didn't he protect me from her?"

Finn's loving expression never falters. He strokes my hairline. "Ask him."

My lips tremble, and the real truth of it comes out. "What if you're wrong, and he doesn't want to see me?"

His voice turns stern with no room to argue. "I promise you, he wants to see you." He wipes my tears, gives me a chaste kiss, then tugs me out of the car. A gust of wind blows, and snow drifts off the house and spreads through the air.

He leads me up the stairs and holds me tight to his body then presses the bell.

Time seems to move slowly. I want to bolt down the steps. What do I say about where I've been all these years? I try to spin, repeating, "I'm not ready for this."

Finn doesn't let me run away. He voices, "You aren't a coward. There's nothing weak about you, Brenna. Stop trying to run." He pounds on the door, calling out, "Brian!"

The curtain moves, and the door whips open. The man standing in front of me is a shell of who I once knew. His hair is gray with a bald spot on top. I think he shrunk an inch or so. Lines fill his face, and he's lost weight. His broad shoulders aren't so wide or strong-looking anymore.

But his blue eyes drill into mine, filling with tears before they fall at a rapid speed. He clutches the side of the door as if to make sure he doesn't fall. His voice cracks, "Brenna? Tell me it's you and I'm not seeing things."

"Daddy," I cry out. Any self-control or lack of emotion is gone. All the bad feelings I was harboring disappear. Maybe it no longer matters. Perhaps it's just a passing moment, and they'll take root again. But right now, I'm a little girl who missed her daddy, even if there's bad blood. My sobs overpower my body. Finn pushes me through the door, and I'm in the house I grew up in, hugging my father for dear life.

I don't know how long we stand in the foyer, crying on each other's shoulders. When we finally part, my father holds my cheeks. "Are you okay?"

I nod.

"Where have you been?"

I start to cry all over again.

"Brian, let's go sit down," Finn suggests.

Somehow, we end up in the living room, on the same white leather furniture my mother wanted for her birthday. My father worked extra shifts on Sunday to buy it for her. But she's not here. I keep expecting her to walk in, but she never does, and that's when the grief hits me.

"Mom's dead?" I ask, but it's choked with emotion.

Dad nods. "She regretted it. Everything she said that day, she regretted."

It may only be words, but it's almost more than I can bear. My hands shake over my lips. I close my eyes, attempting to keep it together longer than five seconds.

Dad asks again, "Where have you been all these years?"

I can't speak. Shame, regret, guilt, and pain all attack me at once. Through more tears, I squeeze Finn's hand.

He takes over. He tells my father enough for him to understand but not more than I would want him to know. I'm unsure how Finn does it, but he does. The entire time, I lean into him, into his strength, into his undying love and devotion.

We talk for hours. My father apologizes so many times, I lose track. We shed so many tears, there aren't any tissues left. And at the end of it all, when I hug my father goodbye and promise to see him again when we return from New York, he holds out his hand to Finn. Gratitude and respect fill his voice. "Thank you. For finding her."

It's that moment I realize that I can't live in Finn's lie. There's one person who needs to know the truth, not because Finn wants him to but because I do.

"Dad, I need to tell you something before we go."

"What is it?"

My insides quiver, but I force it out. "Finn didn't kill Brad. I did. Finn got there and told me to give him the gun, but I didn't. I couldn't. I-I needed to stop him. From..." I squeeze my eyes shut.

Finn's body stiffens. The room stays silent, filled with tension.

I force myself to look at Finn. "I'm sorry. He needs to know the truth."

"No one else, firefly. Promise me right now," he demands.

I nod, biting my lip. If Finn wants to take our secret to his grave, then I'll let him. But I won't allow my father to stay in the dark.

Since we met, everything Finn's ever done has been for me. I won't let there be any doubt in my father's mind what kind of man Finn is.

The expression on my dad's face is one of shock. I guess it's an acceptable reaction. He and Finn lock eyes, and there's an understanding between them. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but my father pats Finn on the back.

Finn nods then guides me out of the house in silence. The cold air blasts into us, trying to keep us from moving forward, but Finn stays strong, not stopping until I'm safe in the SUV.

And that's what Finn is. He's my strength. My rock among the chaos. The one person who will sacrifice everything and put me before himself.

We travel in silence a few blocks until he says, "You didn't say you promise. I need you to give me your word you aren't telling anyone else, Brenna."

I point to a parking garage. "Pull in there and find a spot."

"Why?"

"If you want me to promise, just do it."

He sighs as if frustrated with me. It's the middle of the workday, and the spaces are all full. He finally finds an empty one on the fourth floor. He parks then turns toward me. "Give me your word, Brenna."

I unbuckle my seat belt and climb over the stick shift, straddling him.

"I promise I won't tell anyone else. As much as it bothers me, I'll keep it between us." I reach down and unbuckle his belt then free his hardening cock.

He licks his lips, clenching his jaw.

I kiss it then murmur in his ear, "I prefer the Camaro, but maybe I should make it up to you in your big, bad SUV."

His lips twitch. "It's the middle of the day. Someone might see us."

I softly laugh. "Then I guess it's a good thing I've never cared about that when I'm with you."

He kisses me but pulls away when I try to slide my tongue in his mouth. His hands shimmy over my ass. "Lift your sexy little pussy and hold still."

I obey, smirking at him. "Now what?"

He takes out his pocket knife. "Don't move." He cuts my leggings and panties down the middle in the front and back, completely splitting them, then tosses his knife on the passenger seat.

I gasp, and my breath hitches with anticipation. I circle my arms around his shoulders, eliminating the distance between us. His cock pulses against my stomach.

Finn's eyes twinkle. He lowers the seat so it's almost flat. "If you're going to make it up to me, you better get started. We have a plane to catch." He slides one hand through my hair, palming the back of my head and grips my hip with his other hand, slamming me over him.

"Oh God," I cry out as he groans, his hot breath merging into mine.

His thumb caresses behind my ear, sending tingles down my spine. He studies me, his green eyes glowing with intensity. A car beeps in the distance, and a group of people's muffled voices passes the vehicle. Finn sets the pace, fast, hard, semi-frantic. Then he scolds, "Don't ever do it again, firefly. I mean it."

I speak with my lips against his, already panting, the sweet friction of his girth lighting me up. I admit, "I hate it," then force him to kiss me, sliding my tongue past his lips the moment he opens his mouth to speak.

The world could end and I would die happy with our limbs wrapped around each other, tongues dancing in sync, and Finn's cock thrusting into me like an out-of-control piston while I inhale his sandalwood and sugar scent.

"Let it go," he demands then breathes more fire in me.

I whimper and briefly glance up to see a group of people conversing behind our vehicle.

Finn covers my mouth and keeps our pace. His lips murmur in my ear, "When we get in the plane, you're going to ride my face. I'm going to suck your pussy until the pilot hears you."

I moan, shutting my eyes. Adrenaline pools in my cells, ready to explode. My insides quiver faster, walls spasm, and Finn increases our pace, making the noises fly out of me louder.

"Fuuuck, you better come, firefly. Your greedy little cunt's driving me crazy." He sucks on the curve of my neck and savagely thrusts into me.

The tip of his cock hits my sweet spot, and I explode into a million pieces, screaming against his hand.

He keeps me riding him, grunting, and when I start to come down, he violently comes inside me, stretching my walls farther, pumping so deep within me, I lose it again.

I bury my face in his neck, trying to regain control of my ragged breath, while Finn slides his hands up my shirt, stroking my back.

He finally tugs my hair, forcing me to look at him. "I don't want anyone to know our truth. Your father isn't going to say anything, but I need to trust you regarding this, Brenna."

My chest tightens. "I won't tell anyone else."

His eyes turn to slits. "You should never have told Bridget, either." His face hardens with the hatred he always has lately whenever Bridget comes up.

I wish it weren't there. I want things to be like they used to between Bridget and us. I reply, "I'm sorry. I was shocked you were alive. It came out."

He sniffs hard then briefly closes his eyes.

I stroke his cheek. "Are you mad at me?"

He sighs. "No, firefly. But promise me you won't ever tell anyone else. If I lose you again, I won't survive."

"I wouldn't, either. I promise," I vow then seal it with another kiss. And I won't. As much as I hate people thinking Finn murdered Brad when I'm the guilty party, I'll respect his wishes.

"All that matters is we're together again," he reiterates.

"I know."

It's true. Nothing else is more important. I just always have to keep that at the front of my mind.

34

Finn

WE ARRIVE in New York and go straight to Bridget's father's house. I don't call, not wanting to give Bridget any reason to avoid me. When the car pulls up to his gates, it takes a few minutes to pass security.

Tully greets Brenna and me at the front door. He cautiously says, "Finn, didn't expect to see you."

"We need to speak with Bridget."

"About what?"

"Are you going to let Brenna and me inside, or should I plow through you like a crazy man?" I threaten.

He scowls. "Watch your mouth. This is my—"

"Uncle Finn?" Sean Jr. calls out.

I'm not technically the kids' uncle, but they call Liam and me it.

Tully clenches his jaw and steps back. He opens the door. "Come on in."

Sean grins. "What are you doing here?"

I step forward and hug him. "I need to talk to your mom. Is she home?"

"Yeah. She's in the den."

"Great. I also wanted you and Fiona to meet Brenna." I glance at my beautiful firefly. "This is Sean Jr."

Brenna hugs Sean. "You look just like your dad."

His eyes light up. "You knew my dad?"

Brenna nods. "Yeah. A long time ago."

Sean smiles. "That's cool," he says to her, then he addresses me. "Do you want me to get Fiona?"

"Why don't you tell her we're here, but we need to speak with your mom first."

"Okay." He leaves the room, and when he's out of earshot, I turn back to Tully.

"What do you want from Bridget?" he asks.

"It's between the three of us. Stay out of this, Tully." I guide Brenna past him, down the hall, and into the den. The door is open so I shut it behind us.

Bridget is standing near the window, staring out of the glass into the backyard as if lost.

"Bridget, we need to talk," I say.

Brenna squeezes my arm, and I know what she wants. She wants me to be nice to Bridget and stay calm, but I don't know if I can. I'm sick of the lies and all the decisions she's made where O'Malleys are concerned.

Bridget spins, furrowing her eyebrows. "Finn. Brenna. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the truth."

"About what?"

"Everything."

She crosses her arms. "What does that mean? I keep telling you I haven't lied to you." She glances at Brenna. "You begged me not to tell him we ran into each other even though I said I wouldn't keep it from him. You made me promise not to say anything until we could figure out a plan so he didn't get killed. Did you not tell him?"

"Of course I did!" Brenna exclaims.

"Don't put this on Brenna," I warn.

Bridget huffs out an exasperated breath. "Just tell me what you want from me, Finn."

Anger claws at my gut. I step closer. "Why didn't you tell me Niall and Shamus were the ones who took the photo of you and Brenna?"

Her eyes widen. "Niall and Shamus?"

"Don't play stupid, Bridget."

"I'm not! I didn't know they were ever in New York when I was, and I didn't know they took our photo. Why don't you ask them if you don't believe me?"

"I can't."

"Why not?" she demands.

"They're missing."

"Missing?"

I don't respond and don't blink.

The color drains from her cheeks. Bridget's shaking hand covers her mouth. "They're dead?"

The tense silence is so thick, you'd struggle to cut it with a knife.

Her lips quiver and she stares at the floor, taking deep breaths. She reaches for the desk and grabs it as if she needs to steady herself. I wait for her to say something, but tears plop on the wood next to her fingers.

Rage expands in my belly. I bark, "You're crying over those two? You never even liked them!"

Her grief-stricken expression meets mine. But there's something else in it I can't figure out. She chokes, "Wh-when did they die?"

No one is supposed to know they're dead, and I still don't trust Bridget. Niall and Shamus's remains became fish food, scattered in Lake Michigan. I only reply, "They went missing a few weeks before I got out of prison."

Her knees give out, and she sits on the couch.

"Bridget, if you don't start talking—"

"Finn! Cool it!" Brenna scolds. She sits next to Bridget and takes her hand, softly asking, "What do you know about them?"

Bridget pins her glistening eyes on Brenna. "I need to know they're dead first." She shakes her head, closing her eyes. "I-I won't speak unless they are."

"They are." Brenna meets my eye. "Tell her, Finn. And sit down. You're making me nervous."

I wait a few moments, not moving, studying Bridget. Brenna pleads with her eyes and motions to the armchair. I cave, sit, and lower my voice. "It's not to be repeated, but they're dead."

A wail comes out of Bridget, full of pain and something else.

It appears to be relief.

I don't understand it.

Brenna puts her arm around Bridget and holds her head to her chest, staring at me in horror. For several moments, Bridget's entire body shakes as she cries.

When she seems to quiet, I calmly repeat, "What do you know about them?"

A deep anguish crosses her face, and the hairs on my arms rise.

My heart races and the air in my lungs turns thick. I stay quiet, waiting, wanting to know, but a small part of me desires to remain in the dark. I've never seen Bridget so distraught.

Her swollen orbs meet mine. "I swear to you, I told Sean about the day I ran into Brenna in Central Park. As soon as I returned to Chicago, I told him."

"He would have told someone," I insist, but my tone is softer than before.

Bridget doesn't take her eyes off mine. "I swear to you, I told Sean."

I let out a long breath. "Okay. Say I believe you. What do you know about Niall and Shamus?"

Her face turns green, but she replies, "Darragh had Sean, Niall, and Shamus working together."

"Doing what?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know everything. It had to do with the Rossis. I overheard them talking one night. I asked Sean about it, but he wouldn't tell me. He said it was clan business and to forget I heard anything."

"What did you hear?"

"Not a lot. Niall and Shamus were at the house. Fiona was struggling to sleep, and I just got her down. I went out to the kitchen, and I heard the name Rossi. Sean told me to go to bed." She focuses on her feet, her face twisted in pain.

Brenna squeezes her hand, softly asking, "Then what happened?"

"A few weeks passed. Sean was gone a lot at night, but it wasn't anything new. There were always times he'd be out late. H-he came home with a new dress and told me to put it on. Said he made a reservation and arranged for your mom to watch the kids for the night." Tears stain her clothes, falling quickly down her cheeks. "We were at dinner, and I kept asking him if everything was okay. He seemed...distant. He wasn't himself."

More pain flies into her expression. It hurts to see it. No matter what she's done, as much as I want to believe I don't care about her anymore, I do.

She shifts in her seat, staring at the floor. "We were in the car on the way home. His beeper went off, and I got a horrible feeling. He turned it off and pulled the car over." She wipes her face. "He told me if anything happened to him, I was to come to my father's with the kids. He said I wasn't to stay in Chicago."

Chills run down my spine. "Why?"

She cries harder. "He wouldn't tell me. I begged. He made me promise. Then he drove to an abandoned warehouse and said to pick up the kids and go straight home."

I clench my fists. "Who else was there?"

Bridget nods, scrunching her face. "No one. I didn't see anyone and tried to stop him. But he yelled at me to go. So I did, but I didn't get very far."

"Why? What happened?"

She twists her fingers in her lap. "I thought I was going to get sick. I-I knew I shouldn't be leaving him. So I turned around and went back. When I pulled in, Shamus and Niall were there. They had guns pointed at Sean, b-but they weren't alone."

My stomach pitches, and I swallow down bile. "Who was with them?"

Her blue orbs swirling with grief meet mine. It makes me want to crawl in a hole and never come out. "Three other men. I recognized Lorenzo Rossi."

My mouth turns dry. I grind my molars, trying to stay calm. There would never be a reason for anyone in the O'Malley clan to be associating with the Rossis.

Unless they're a traitor.

"What did you do?" I question.

Her voice shakes. "One of the men shot my tire. They dragged me out of the car. Sean was screaming for them to let me go. They..." She turns her head, and her body collapses in convulsions.

Brenna pulls her to her, trying to calm her, her own tears falling down her cheeks.

Bridget chokes, "They raped me. All of them, while they made Sean watch. They had him tied to the hood of a car. The lights were on and pointed at me. I-I still hear Sean screaming. I kept blacking out. Th-they kept asking me if I liked Bailey or Rossi dick better." She breaks down again.

My heart cracks. I imagine Bridget, a decade younger, a mother of two, and an adoring wife. Then I see faceless thugs and what they must have done to her. I hear Sean's voice filled with rage, trying to get them to stop. I move to the couch and pull her into my arms.

"I'm so sorry," I manage to say.

She meets my gaze. "I don't know how long it lasted or how many hours I was out of it. At some point, I woke up, but I was in my house. Niall and Shamus were there. They said I was to get my kids from your mom's and not say a word to anyone about last night, or they would kill them."

My insides shake with rage and anguish, and all I want to do is rip Niall and Shamus's heads off. But I can't. They're already dead. So is Lorenzo.

"Do you know who else besides them and Lorenzo was there?"

"No." Her body continues to shake. "I kept asking for Sean, but they wouldn't tell me where he was. I-I already knew he was dead, but I didn't want to believe it."

I hold her tighter to me. "Then what happened?"

She sniffles, and her breath stutters. "They threw me in my shower. They tossed clothes at me and told me to get my kids or they would." She squeezes her eyes shut. "They followed me. When I got back home, they made the kids go into the backyard and play. They drank beer on my deck while they told me the new rules."

"The rules?" I question.

"As soon as the funeral passed, I was to leave town. The kids and I were no longer to be O'Malleys. I was to have no contact with anyone. If I uttered a word before I left or after about what happened, the Baileys and Rossis wouldn't just come after me but the kids, too." She takes a few broken breaths. "They said they would sell the kids in an auction. I would go to one of their whorehouses. And they warned me not to go to Darragh. There were more Baileys in the O'Malley clan than just them, they said."

I gently ask, "Did you tell Tully?"

Her eyes widen. "No. And you can't tell him! Now you see why the kids can't go to Chicago to visit. It's still not safe for any of you to even be here."

"Niall, Shamus, and Lorenzo are all dead. Most of the Baileys and Rossis, too," I inform her.

"You don't know that."

"I do. And I know it because we killed them."

She shakes her head. "They told me there are Baileys in my father's clan. If I tell him, they'll find out."

"Bridget, in the last year, your father eliminated over a dozen Baileys from his clan. Liam told me. You have to tell him."

"I-I can't. I don't want him to know what..." She turns, covering her face. "My kids are all I have left. They hate me right now. I don't blame them. But please. Nothing can happen to them."

Several moments pass. I hate what happened to her and Sean. I hate how she's kept all this to herself, dealing with her grief and fear. I hate how I wasn't there to prevent any of it or help her in any way.

I do the only thing I can to make all this better. I rise. "We will no longer let the Baileys or Rossis or any other family destroy our lives. This needs to end, Bridget. Your father needs to know."

"Finn, please. I can't… I can't look at my father and tell him..." Her shaking hands cover her face again.

"I'm sorry, but I promise you, it's the right thing to do. Both of you stay here," I order then leave the room, find Tully in his office, and shut the door.

He looks up. "Are you going to tell me why you're in New York?"

"Yeah. But let me make you a stiff drink first."

35

Finn

Two Months Later

"HAVE FUN WITH THE GIRLS." I peck Brenna on the lips and squeeze her ass. "I'll pick you up at three."

She glances around the apartment. "I'm going to miss this place."

"We can always come back to visit," I assure her, wiggling my eyebrows.

She caresses the side of my head. "It will be nice to have a bigger shower though."

I lean into her ear. "I might have installed a few cameras in the bathroom."

She softly laughs. "Have plans, Mr. O'Malley?"

I grin then peck her again. "You better get going." I grab her yoga mat, lead her down the stairs and out into the alley, then into the pub. Arianna, Simona, Gemma, and Hailee are waiting. Liam's driver is taking them to meet with the Ivanov women for yoga and a late brunch.

It didn't take long for Brenna to fit right in with the women. She doesn't look over her shoulder as much anymore. We're rarely apart, but the last month, she started meeting with the girls on the weekends. While I hate her being anywhere I can't see her, I know there are so many security details between all the women that she's safe.

The last few months haven't been easy. In some ways, I think Bridget's confession made her relive that night again. But slowly, she's come to realize we're all here to protect her and the kids. Tully and Liam have both done full sweeps of our clans just in case we have any traitors left, but everything seems good right now. We'll never be able to fully relax, but we've all agreed we have to start living again.

We have to be a family again.

The kids are getting along better with Bridget. She, Tully, and Killian sat them down. Killian told them we now know why Bridget did what she did. His brothers and Nora, Liam, and I all understand and forgive her for her choices. She did what she thought was best to protect them. And while they didn't tell the kids what happened that night, they made it clear that things would be different from now on.

Bridget changed Fiona and Sean Jr.'s last names back to O'Malley. She brought them to Chicago last month, and two weeks ago, we all went to New York and stayed at Tully's. She video chats with the family as much as the kids, and in some ways, it feels like she's back.

Except for Sean. He's the hole we'll never fill. From time to time, someone will bring up a memory. Many of them have us in tears from laughing, yet there's always a sadness afterward. You can always see it hurt the most on Bridget's face. And I wonder if she'll ever not feel the grief.

We did go to a party at Arianna's father's place. Before the event, we had a workout session with Sean Jr. to see all the new skills he learned during his and Dante's training. Bridget allowed him to register to fight even though she's nervous about it. She was pretty adamant she wouldn't let him. She's worried about him getting a concussion, but Dante somehow managed to convince her.

"Where are Bridget and the kids?" I ask. The kids were supposed to be here by now, so I'm anxious. I have a few surprises today for Brenna later on, and I wanted to surprise Sean Jr. as well.

Killian states, "Flight just landed late. Tully dropped Bridget and Fiona off at Nora's, and he'll be here with Sean Jr. any minute."

"Okay, great." I walk my firefly out to the SUV. As soon as I shut the door, our driver pulls up with Tully and Sean Jr. They get out, and I shake Tully's hand and hug Sean Jr. "I'm going to steal you for a few hours if that's okay?"

A mischievous grin forms on the boy's face, reminding me of Sean. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see. Go say hi to everyone, and we'll go," I instruct.

He races inside, and Tully stays back.

"How are they doing?" I ask.

He nods. "Good. We're almost back to how things were. It's just typical teenage angst now."

I grunt. "And Bridget? Did she find a therapist yet?"

Tully's face darkens. "Yeah. Still can't believe she never told me."

I ask him a question I've been wondering. "If she had told you earlier, would you have confided in anyone you discovered was really a Bailey?"

He grinds his molar and guilt riddles his face. "Yeah. You know we discovered two of my top guys were traitors. I would have told them to hunt down whoever was part of that night."

I sigh. "I hate to say it, but she did the right thing. I feel horrible she had to deal with this all on her own, but she probably saved the kids' lives."

He shifts on his feet. "Yeah. So, how's the house coming?"

"They just finished. The furniture got delivered yesterday. We're going to stay there tonight."

He glances up to the apartment. "What are you doing with the old place?"

"Nothing. Keeping it."

"Well, be prepared. Sean Jr.'s looking at colleges here and told Bridget he wants to live above the pub," Tully informs me.

It surprises me he'd want to live in my tiny little place, but maybe I shouldn't be. He's his father through and through, an O'Malley, and dying to be part of his roots. "I'll talk to Brenna. I think she might like that idea."

"You've got a few years to decide. Just don't tell him he can quit his private school and transfer out here."

"I would never do that. We're all in agreement the kids need to finish high school in New York," I state.

Tully's face relaxes. "Thanks. I'm hungry. Are the fish and chips on?"

"Darcey was turning the fryer on when I passed the kitchen."

He nods and goes inside.

Sean Jr. comes out. We get in my SUV, and he asks, "Where are we going?"

"You get your license yet?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I have a few pit stops to make, then I'm going to teach you how to really drive."

"What does that mean?"

I chuckle. "You'll see."

"Okay. Where are we going first?" he asks.

"To Brenna's dad's house."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to ask him to give us his blessing."

"For what?"

I glance at him. "Tell me kids your age aren't that out of touch?"

He snorts. "I know what you meant. But I don't understand why you'd ask someone's old man for permission to marry their daughter when you're fifty."

I smack his head. "I am not fifty."

He smirks. "You're kind of close."

"Shut up," I bark.

He laughs. "Seriously, why would you do that?"

"It's called respect."

He shifts in his seat. "What if he says no? Are you still going to ask her?"

"Yeah."

"Then what's the point?"

"It's called being a man," I insist.

"I think you're just old-fashioned."

I shrug. "Maybe so, but you're an O'Malley. We have traditions."

"Yeah, well, I'm never getting married."

I grunt.

"What's that for?"

"Your dad said the same thing. The minute he laid eyes on your mom, he said he was going to marry her." I glance over my shoulder and turn down Brenna's dad's street. My stomach flips.

"I wish I remembered more about my dad," he admits.

I pull into Brian's driveway and shut off the engine. I turn toward Sean Jr. "Just look at yourself. You're just like him."

"You all keep saying that."

"It's true. Your left hook's a bit better though. Let's go." I open the door and get out. When we're climbing the steps, I say, "When I nod, you excuse yourself to the bathroom."

"Why?"

"I'm not asking him in front of you."

He arches his eyebrows. "Why not? Afraid he'll not give you his blessing?"

My stomach dives, and the memory flashes of him telling me he wouldn't give it to me.

I shake my head and mutter, "I hope I'm alive when you have to do this someday."

"You didn't listen to me in the car, did you?" he says.

I elbow him, and the door opens. Brian grins. "Finn. What are you doing here?" He glances at Sean Jr. then behind me. "Where's Brenna?"

"She's with the girls at yoga and brunch. This is my nephew, Sean Jr. He just flew in from New York."

Sean Jr. sticks his hand out, which makes me proud. At least he has manners.

Brian shakes it, and they exchange formalities.

My stomach continues to flip, and I decide there's no point in small talk. "You mind if we come in? Sean Jr. needs to use the bathroom."

"Oh. Of course." He steps back and opens the door. "It's down the hall to the left. You want something to drink? Beer? Water?"

My mouth is suddenly dry, so I reply, "I'll have a water."

Sean Jr. gives me a cocky look and I want to slap it off him, but I also stifle a laugh. He really is just like his father.

Brian leads me to the kitchen and pulls two bottles out. I lean against the counter, and as soon as he hands it to me, I blurt out, "I'm going to ask Brenna to marry me tonight."

He freezes, bottle midair between us, his eyebrows arched.

"I know you said you wouldn't give me your blessing, but I'm hoping you'll reconsider."

Okay, maybe not as smooth as I practiced, but at least it's out there, I tell myself, as the clock on the wall seems to get louder every second it ticks. I grab the water and set it on the counter behind me.

He points to the table. "Sit down."

I pick the water back up and take a big swig, suddenly afraid I might start sweating. My heart thumps louder, and all I hear is it and that damn clock.

We both sit, and Brian clears his throat. "I, umm..."

My palms turn clammy. I wipe them on my jeans.

"If I could rewind to that day, I would."

"We all would," I assure him, pinning my gaze on his blues.

He takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat. "Would you rather have a beer?"

It's ten a.m., but I suddenly think that's a great idea. "Sure."

He gets up, opens two bottles of Budweiser, and hands me one.

I don't usually drink anything but Guinness, but it goes down smooth. The cold liquid feels good on my parched throat.

"I should have given you a chance that day," he states.

"I understand why you didn't."

He shakes his head. "No. I should have listened to my daughter and been fair to you."

"But I understand why you didn't," I reiterate.

He sighs, takes a long sip of beer, then studies me. "Son, ask me your question again."

I sit up straighter. "Will you give me your blessing to marry your daughter?"

He nods and smiles. "Yes. You have my blessing. I'd be proud to have you as my son-in-law."

A gush of sentimental emotion sears through me. I focus on the table, taking a minute to steady myself. I meet his gaze and say, "Thank you," right as Sean Jr. walks in.

Jeez, this kid needs to learn what go to the bathroom means.

I rise. "I don't mean to be rude, but we've got a full day of things we need to get done before I pick Brenna up."

"No problem."

I push the chair under the table. "We're staying at the house tonight. Do you want to come over and have Sunday dinner with us tomorrow night?"

Brian smiles. "I'd love to."

"Perfect." I rise and hold out my hand.

Brian takes it then gives me a half hug. It's strange to think how far we've come, but it feels good. Brenna sees her dad several times a week. It's what I wanted for her, and now I have his blessing.

Sean Jr. and I leave, and when we get in the car, he says, "I assume he said yes?"

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you're grinning like a moron."

I back out and chuckle, feeling happy and relieved.

"Where are we going?"

"To pick up her ring."

We go to the jeweler's. When he shows it to me, I hold my breath.

Brenna's never been into multi-carat diamonds. She had to wear one with Giulio, and she said it felt like a noose around her neck. I had the jeweler design something I had floating around in my mind. I sketched it out, but it wasn't any masterpiece.

The jeweler turned it into one.

A perfect round solitaire sits between two Celtic trinity knots. Two twisted platinum bands have leaves weaving off them in platinum as well as yellow and rose gold. Beneath one trinity knot I had, Firefly, engraved. On the other I had, Always. Forever.

It's stunning, and even Sean Jr. is in awe. He says, "That's really cool. Why did you choose leaves?"

"They symbolize hope, renewal, and revival. It's us."

He gives me a funny look, but I don't care. He's young, but Brenna will get it. She'll know without me telling her why I chose it.

I put the box in my pocket, thank the jeweler, and we get in the car. "Are you ready for the fun part of today?"

He smirks, "Are we going to taste wedding cakes and pick out your tux?"

I chuckle. "Jesus. You're a wiseass."

Pride sweeps across him, and I shake my head. He's so much like his father, it's uncanny.

I head to the warehouse and go into the storage garage. I head to the third row, and my pulse increases. I haven't dared to look at it since I got out of prison. I told myself I would only let myself indulge in it when I had Brenna back. This week has finally been warm, and the snow melted. The roads are dry, and it's a perfect time to see how my baby still runs.

I tug the white cloth off it and time seems to stand still.

My Camaro looks just like I remember it. It's sleek and sexy, and I suddenly feel like a kid again.

"Wow! Do I get to drive this?" Sean Jr. asks.

I grunt. "Get in the passenger seat. You need to learn to drive a stick first."

"A stick?"

I groan. "Yes, rich boy. A stick. Real men know how to drive a stick shift. Now, get in." I open the door and slide in the seat, inhaling the leather.

"Dude, this is seriously sweet," he says.

"You have no idea." I start the engine and rev it a few times. Adrenaline shoots through my veins. I turn to Sean Jr. "Put your seat belt on."

He obeys, and I pull out of the warehouse. At first, I go slow, get a feel for it, and make sure everything is running correctly. Liam assured me they had the mechanic service it regularly, but I'm not taking any chances with Sean Jr. in the car.

Once I know it's good, I start weaving in and out of traffic.

Sean Jr. reaches forward and hits the play button. Eminem fills the car, and I start singing.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"You don't know this song?"

"No. Should I?"

"Yeah. Your mom and dad, Brenna, and I had VIP tickets to his concert."

"Who is it?"

I shift the gear and head onto the expressway ramp. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope."

"Jesus. It's Eminem," I state.

"Huh." He sits back and taps his fingers on the door.

I drive several exits then wiggle my eyebrows at him. "Ready to see what this bad boy can do?"

"Bring it."

"Don't tell your mother how fast I'm about to go."

He groans. "You don't have to worry about that."

I shift the gear and step on the accelerator. We zip through traffic, and I hit 120 mph. I don't stay there long before I slow it down and cruise at 80.

"That was awesome!" he booms.

I shift the gear down, veer off the expressway, and pull into a large parking lot.

"Why are we here?" he asks.

I park and get out, walking to his side of the car. I open the door. "Get out."

"Why?"

"Are you going to stay a luxury vehicle pussy or learn to drive a stick?"

His eyes widen. "You're going to let me drive it?"

I toss him the keys. "Yeah. But don't kill my gears!"

"Yes!" He pumps his fist in the air and runs over to the other side of the car.

For the next half hour, I show him how to switch gears, cringing at first, but he soon has it down. I let him go out on the expressway. Once the speedometer reaches 90 mph, I make him return to the speed limit. Then I drop him off at the pub and head over to the restaurant to pick up Brenna.

I pull up to the valet and hand him the keys. Déjà vu hits me about the last time I used valet with the Camaro. I shake it off, not wanting to think about that day or anything other than how happy I am now.

"I won't be long. I'm picking up my fiancée, then we're leaving," I tell him, liking how it sounds. I walk into the restaurant, and the hostess says the women are in one of the small private rooms.

It's not hard to find them. There are a slew of Ivanov and O'Malley bodyguards. I nod to them and slide in behind Brenna. "Did you miss me?"

She leans her head back, and her smile lights up the room. "Always."

I give her a peck on the lips then say, "Are you ready?"

"Yep."

I glance around the room. "Ladies."

We exchange pleasantries. I kiss all the Ivanov women's cheeks. I give Fiona and then Bridget a big hug. "Good to see you. How are you doing?"

Bridget smiles, but her eyes still aren't how they were when Sean was alive. I wonder if they ever will be. There's always a hint of sadness in them. "Good. What did you all do with Sean Jr. today?"

"He spent most of the day with just me."

She arches her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I'll let him tell you about it."

"Okay."

I take a final glance around the room. Almost all the women but Aspen, Arianna, and Gemma are pregnant, and you can see the extra glow. Skylar already had her baby, and her little boy is in her arms, asleep. Kora's about to pop any day with twins. Even Nora is pregnant again. My heart hurts a little that Brenna and I never got that. She would have been a wonderful mother, but the past is the past. There's no point lingering on it and today is about our future.

I grab her yoga mat, escort her out of the restaurant, and the Camaro is sitting a few feet past the valet stand. She's telling me about her day and freezes. Her eyes lock on the Camaro. "Is that..."

I tug her tighter to me. "Yep. Thought it was time to take it out of storage."

Her eyes light up. She runs over to it and glides her hand over the roof. "It looks like it's in perfect condition."

"Drives the same, too."

The valet comes over and hands me the keys. I give him a tip and open the passenger door. "Get in, firefly."

She slides in, and I get in the driver's seat. When I start the engine, I rev it just for old times' sake. She claps, laughing, and I love everything about this moment.

Her excitement and the glow on her face are priceless. I lean over and buckle her seat belt then give her a chaste kiss.

She presses play on the CD player, and Eminem blares through the speakers.

We sing as we roll through the city. I'm just as cautious as I was with Sean Jr., weaving through traffic, not being as reckless as when I was twenty-five. Then I hit the expressway and step on the pedals, shifting the gears until we're flying past everyone. We drive for hours, I get more gas, and then we drive some more.

When it's dark out, I pull into the alley behind the pub and turn down the music.

"What are we doing here? I thought we were going to the new place?" Brenna asks.

"We are. This is a pit stop." I pull into my old space, and it feels right. I turn off the car.

"Are we going into the pub?"

"Not unless you want to." I drag my eyes down her body. By the time they get back to her orbs, her cheeks are flushed, and her lips twitch. I release her seat belt, challenging her, "Is that what you want to do? Go get a drink?"

She smirks then shimmies out of her pants. She crawls over the stick shift and straddles me. Her lips are so close to mine, I can taste her breath.

My mouth waters. I slide one hand over her ass cheek and one up her shirt, stroking her spine.

She takes a shaky breath, and my dick twitches. I love that no matter how many times I touch her, she always responds.

She always wants me.

She coyly glances around. "We're not as hidden as we were in the SUV."

"Nope."

She smirks. "Someone might come out here to smoke."

"Maybe," I state, but she's already unzipping my pants.

I'm grinning so damn hard, my cheeks hurt. It happens a lot lately. It's like the anger has started to fade, and I'm that twenty-five-year-old again. I move my hand through the neck of her yoga top and palm her head, holding it firm as I kiss her. The moment her lips touch mine, an electrical storm begins, lighting up every part of me I once thought had died.

She frees my cock and slides on me, her wet heat covering me like a blanket of pleasure. I groan as she whimpers in my mouth, caressing her back and letting her body adjust to mine.

Her blue flames lock on mine, filled with a look she only gives me, raw, hungry, needy for me and me alone. I love everything about her and this moment. The way her chest presses against my pecs, her nipples hardening through her shirt. Her tongue falling in sync with mine, with the same sense of greed I always feel with her. And I'll never get enough of the flush on her cheeks and the fire in her eyes.

Her arms tighten around me, her nails lightly scraping my scalp, driving me crazy like she always does. She begins moving her hips, and nothing has ever felt better. It's a pleasure of relief. Maybe it's the testosterone flaring in me from driving the Camaro. Perhaps it's because we're in it and back in the alley. But my guess is it's a combination of those things, along with the nerves I've had creeping into my gut all day whenever I touched the ring in my pocket to make sure it's still there.

Her eyes briefly close. She whispers, "Jesus, Finn."

"I know," I reply, thrusting slowly in her, the opposite of the last time we had sex in a car. I want to savor every part of this moment—of her.

Noises from intoxicated bar patrons ring in my ears. "Oh shit, is that Finn?" a voice shouts. I recognize it as one of my second cousins.

"He's still got his Camaro."

"Dude. Are they getting it on?"

"Damn! Get back inside before he kills us."

I don't turn to look at them, nor do I let Brenna. I hold her head, and her pussy clenches my cock. A tiny smile plays on her lips.

"You're so fucking dirty," I mumble, fully aware she loves the fact we just got caught.

"Only with you," she breathes, then her mouth forms a gorgeous O.

"I love you, firefly. So fucking much."

She nods. "I know." She kisses me, sweet, tender, then with more urgency as she tries to move faster on me.

I don't let her.

"Oh God! Please," she begs, and my cock has a field day pulsing against her clenched walls.

"Marry me," I blurt out.

She freezes, except for the tiny spasms around my erection.

A butterfly spreads its wings so wide in my stomach, I swallow hard. I slip the ring out of my pocket and as far on my finger as it'll go, holding it against her back. "I've wanted to marry you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew that very second you were it, that no one else would ever compare. And I'll love you always. Forever."

Tears fill her eyes, and she doesn't say anything.

A part of me panics, but I force myself to continue. "Firefly? Will you marry me?"

Tears fall, and she nods, pressing her lips back to mine. I faintly hear a yes, but it's good enough for me. The deeper she kisses me, the harder she rides me, and she's soon rolling her eyes, screaming my name.

I extend it as long as I can, and when I finally mark her deep with my seed, the adrenaline shooting through me feels like ten times the high.

She's mine. I finally have everything I've ever wanted because all I've ever wanted is her.

After several minutes pass, I murmur in her ear, "Do you want to see your ring?" My butterflies reappear with the anxiety of her reaction.

She pulls away and smiles. I hold it up, and she gapes. "How... I've never seen anything so beautiful...or anything like this!"

I hold her hand and slide it on her finger. Relief hits me when it fits perfectly. "That's because I designed it. Well, I had a crappy sketch the jeweler made come to life."

She traces the Celtic knot and leaves, then more tears drip off her cheeks. She pins her gaze on mine. "I love it. It's perfect. You're perfect. I love you."

I smile. "I know you do."

And I do. I know without a doubt in my soul that she loves me.

I kiss her again. "Should we take the Camaro back?"

"Where to?"

"The warehouse." Most of the O'Malley women don't know where the warehouse is or haven't been there. Brenna knows everything. I even told her where the Marinos sent Bella and her mother.

We made a vow not to have any secrets between us, so as hard as it was, I told her. She was upset, and we went around and around about it. I finally made her understand it was the only way to let them live unharmed, because there was no way I was allowing anyone to possibly harm her. I didn't trust Giulio's offspring. Eventually, Brenna admitted she didn't put it past Bella to find her or hurt her if she knew we were together.

She gives me a chaste kiss and rolls onto her seat. I hand her the wet wipes I got earlier out of the glove compartment, and we clean up. She puts on her pants, then I turn the engine on. And because I can't help it, I rev it a few times.

I grin like a stupid schoolboy. "Why does that feel so good?"

She laughs then turns Eminem back on. "I don't know, but I like it when you do it."

I rev it again then pull out of the alley. "Hey, Tully told me Sean Jr. plans on asking if he can live in the apartment once he graduates. He's looking at colleges here."

She turns the volume down. "He doesn't want to live on campus?"

"Not according to Tully. He has a few years to change his mind though." I pull onto the main road.

"Are you going to let him?" she asks.

"I wanted to see what you thought."

She ponders it then replies, "I'm okay with it. I think Sean would have liked the thought of him living there. What do you think?"

I grunt. "Sean, yes. Bridget, not so sure."

"That's true. I'm sure she'll want him on campus."

"I guess I'll talk to her and see what she thinks. That way, I'm prepared if he asks." I shift the gear and step on the accelerator. "Bridget seem okay today?"

"Yeah. We had fun. Fiona has a new boyfriend though."

I groan. "Hope he's better than the last douchebag."

"Oh, I heard about that."

I weave through the Chicago nighttime traffic, the darkness filled with the blinking lights of the city, and my heart so full, it might just explode.

"When can we get married?" Brenna asks.

I smile. "As soon as you want. Oh, I invited your dad over for Sunday dinner tomorrow."

She arches her eyebrow. "You saw him?"

"Yeah. I asked him for his blessing." I tear my eyes off hers and look back to the road.

"And?"

I glance back at her. "He gave it to me."

She smiles, nodding, and grabs my hand. She stares out the window, and we don't talk the rest of the way to the warehouse.

After the Camaro is covered, we get in the SUV.

"Back to adulting," she chirps.

I chuckle. "Guess so. We'll be old and boring before we know it."

She slides her hand on my thigh. "Old is okay. But nothing about you will ever be boring, Finn O'Malley."

I pick up her hand and kiss it right near her ring. The surge of happiness I can't seem to escape washes through me until I feel giddy.

We park in the garage of our new home. When Brenna gets out, I pick her up and sling her over my shoulder.

She yelps, laughing, then slaps my ass. "Finn!"

I carry her through the house then set her on the counter. She's still laughing, and I place both my hands on the quartz near her hips. "I'm hungry and ready for my appetizer."

36

Brenna

One Month Later

MY FATHER BLINKS through his tears, smiling at me. "You look beautiful, Brenna." He kisses my cheek.

One of my tears escape, and I wipe it. The last forty-eight hours have been a whirlwind between the rehearsal dinner and the girls showering me with crazy gifts. I've never laughed as much as in the last few hours.

Dad pulls an envelope out of his pocket. "Finn said to give you this. I'll be in the hall."

I take the envelope and wait until Dad closes the door then lift the flap. A simple piece of paper is inside. I open it.

FIREFLY,

I woke up this morning, and you weren't in my arms. A moment of panic shot through me. Then I had too many crazy thoughts.

What if you weren't okay?

What if something happened to you last night?

What if one night away from me made you come to your senses and realize that you've always been way too good for me?

What if you didn't show up today?

I called your bodyguards. I texted Nora to reconfirm their message that you were safe and sound. I went to the gym with my cousins, the Ivanovs, and the Marinos, but I barely heard all their banter. I couldn't shake the itch under my skin.

It's the same itch I feel whenever you aren't by my side, but today, it's worse.

Way worse.

You're my drug of choice, and I'm a junkie feening for any hit you'll give me.

After my workout, I needed to see you. My obsession only grew, so I watched one of our tapes when I got to our house. It wasn't to get off. It was because I had to see your face. I had to hear your voice.

It was the nurse video—the one where you ask me how filthy I want it. Just like all the other videos of us, it made me hard as a rock.

But I didn't allow myself to go over the edge. I'm saving every ounce of it for you. So, all day, I've ached, waiting for you, praying you stay a fool in love with me and show up.

I wonder what your dress looks like, how you'll wear your hair, and what you have on underneath it. I wonder if it's possible for you to be any more beautiful than you always are. Somehow, I already know the answer to this question.

The answer is no.

Every day, you stun me with your beauty. Most mornings, I wake up and stare at you for hours, not believing you're finally mine. Whatever you put on drives me wild with burning lust I can't seem to shake.

I love you with or without makeup, waking up when you're still half asleep or fully aware. I love your yoga pants as much as your dresses, your jeans, or those tiny cut-off shorts you tried on the other day to see if they still fit.

No matter what you put on or how you fix yourself up, you steal my breath until I can hardly breathe.

And I finally realized why I can't escape the itch today. Deep down, I know you'll show up. I know you'll love me until the day I die and never come to your senses. The reason I can't escape the itch is that every morning, I challenge myself to beat my record from the day before and get you to smile to the point your face lights up.

I didn't get to do that today.

It's not the clothes you wear, or the way you do your hair, or whether you have on makeup or not. It's the person you are, the woman who stole my heart the moment I met her, the one who chose me and never let me go, even when you fully realized who I was and all I represented.

Even when you thought I was dead, you still kept loving me. I felt it, and there were days it was that feeling that was the only thing keeping me alive.

I know we said we were keeping our vows simple, but if I was going to shout it to the world, this is what I would tell everyone. There's no one else on Earth like you. You're a rare gem, a firefly glowing in the dark, and somehow, through every impossible moment, you still kept your luminance. You never faded, and no matter how many wrinkles or gray hairs you get, I'm going to love and cherish you until I take my last breath.

No woman will ever outshine you.

Thank you for being mine.

I love you.

Forever.

Always.

Finn

MY TEARS DRIP all over the letter, blurring the blue ink. I reread it several times then wave the paper, trying to dry it. I attempt to fix my face and say a silent thank-you to my makeup artist who used waterproof mascara and a spray foundation she said would hold up better. When I finish, I fold the paper, put it back in the envelope, and stick it in my travel bag.

I take a deep breath and stare at myself in the full-length mirror.

My dress is simple white silk ruched over my torso, sleeveless with spaghetti straps, and a short, sweeping train. The back is almost completely open down to my ass. It's not a designer dress. It didn't take months to make. I found it in New York with Bridget and knew it was the one.

I opted for no veil, and my hair hangs long in soft curls. It's back to its original strawberry-blonde color. The only jewelry I wear is my engagement ring, a simple pair of diamond studs Finn gave me last night, and his nana's necklace Hailee let me borrow. I take a deep breath then meet my father in the hall.

He smiles and gets teary again. "Are you ready?"

"I am."

He escorts me through the church, and there's only one person waiting.

Bridget stands in a black tea-length cocktail dress. It, too, is silk and has spaghetti straps. She holds two bouquets, mine and hers. They are white hydrangea roses, simple yet elegant. Her face lights up when she sees my father and me.

She hugs me tightly then hands me the flowers, and the music starts. The doors open. She steps around the corner and through them.

My butterflies spread their wings, and I pinch myself to double-check this is real and I'm not dreaming. That all these years of craving to be Finn's have really come true.

The music changes to Here Comes the Bride. My father guides me to the door, and I see Finn. My heart swoons, and my breath hitches.

He stands in front of the altar in his black tux and bowtie, looking like a demigod. The material stretches over his ripped flesh just right, and he somehow looks taller. His brushstroke tattoo peeks through his collar, stretching up his neck. The inked snake weaved through skeleton bones rests on his stomach. Those green globes of fire glisten, intensely drilling into me, as if he can see my soul. His jaw clenches, and I know he's just as emotional as I feel but holding it together better than I am.

My tears flow freely, as I'm unable to control them. Everything I've ever wanted is a hundred feet away. The church is only half full, with only the O'Malleys we're closest to, the Ivanovs, and the Marinos, yet everyone is nonexistent except for him. He's the goalpost and I'm at the ten-yard line. My future I thought I would never have is so close, I can taste it.

It seems to take forever to get to him. My father hugs me, kisses me, and with a shaky voice, says, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad," I choke out, pushing the thought that this almost wasn't possible out of my mind.

Before he hands me over to Finn, he hugs him and says something in his ear.

Finn grins and softly chuckles. My dad pats him on the back and winks at me then goes to the front pew next to Auntie Ruth.

Finn wipes my tears with both thumbs then takes my shaking hands. His eyes lock on mine, and everything about this moment is more than I ever imagined.

When it comes time for our vows, we repeat everything the priest says, but both end it with, "Always. Forever."

And suddenly, I'm Mrs. Finn O'Malley, and everything I've ever dreamed has finally come true.

EPILOGUE

Finn

7 Years Later

SEAN LANDS a punch so hard on his opponent's cheek, he knocks him out. The O'Malley gym erupts in cheers. The Marinos flew into town with their wives, and the Ivanovs are here, too.

Sean moved to Chicago for college and never left. We often joke Chicago must be in his roots because he claims he loves everything about it. He did ask to move into the apartment, but I had already spoken with Bridget. She wanted him to concentrate on his studies and have a normal college life. I didn't blame her and told her I had her back.

So Brenna and I spoke, then I made a deal with Sean when he asked me. I told him if he got good grades, graduated, and stayed out of trouble, I'd give him the apartment.

He went to the same college Simona did and graduated as the valedictorian. He's working with Declan, Simona, Nolan, and Gemma in our tech firm. They've grown it substantially, and O'Malley Cybersecurity is becoming a worldwide name. Simona just rolled out a new patent, and they've gotten ridiculous offers from other companies wanting to buy it. But we've refused all of them, keeping it for our own business.

The referee holds up Sean's hand in victory, and the gym gets even louder. Boris and Dante both pat Killian on the back. He's grinning with pride all over his face, but I suspect we all look like that. Since Sean moved to Chicago, Killian took over training him. And this past year, Killian and Boris finally hung up their gloves. They had one final match, but neither went down. At the end of the twelfth round, their points were even. Instead of duking it out some more, they left it at that, then went to the pub and drank whiskey and vodka all night. It was the only fight Nora went to between them in years, and even though she winced the entire time, I think she was glad she was there.

Slowly, we all filter out of the gym, heading back to O'Malley's. It's my firefly's fiftieth birthday, and even though I offered to take her somewhere different, I already knew she wouldn't want to be anywhere except the fight. But I take her for a spin in the Camaro, revving the engine and racing along the expressway, letting the others get to the pub first.

I arranged a surprise party for her. Nora closed the pub to everyone except those present at the fight and the kids who are already there with several babysitters.

I can only imagine the chaos. Between the Ivanovs and O'Malleys, there are twenty-four kids, not counting Sean and Fiona who aren't children anymore. The Marino children are also there, which adds another ten kids to the mix.

Yep, it'll be complete mayhem, and Brenna will love every minute of it. She wouldn't want a party without them, as she and Aspen seem to be the favorites with all of them. My guess is it's because neither of them has children, and they spoil the hell out of any kid who comes near them.

So much has changed over the last seven years. Liam gave Hailee a school in one of the worst parts of town. It's where she wanted it, so he made sure it's secure, with O'Malleys protecting it at all times. He funds it all, and she only accepts inner-city children.

Skylar's fashion line is insane. Her pieces are constantly in Vogue and other top magazines. Fiona is in New York, in fashion school, and as soon as she graduates next year, she's moving to Chicago to work with Skylar.

Kora sold her law practice and works for the Ivanovs, helping them with their contracts. Once she had children, she said she didn't want to keep working crazy hours and miss out on them growing up. Sergey was all for it and when he told his brothers she was available, they didn't hesitate to fire the firm they were working with.

Anna and Selena still work together. Anna's firm designs all the top projects in Chicago, and she gives a lot of the projects to Selena to handle.

Arianna's event planning company took off fast. She has a waiting list of clients and is always busy. But Killian and her kids always come first, and she somehow manages to keep a really healthy balance.

I don't do too much with the clan besides advise Liam or every now and then help get information out of some prick who's trying to harm us. Sometimes it's at the Ivanov garage. But not a day goes by where I regret stepping down as the underboss. I spend my time focusing on my firefly when she's not volunteering with Svetlana at the nursing home. Like Svetlana, she's gotten close with Aspen's dad, and I think in some way it fulfills her initial desire to be a nurse and make a difference.

Auntie Ruth still goes to church every day with her friend Mary Kelly. From time to time, she'll ask us if we want to go to confession with her. She always gets the same answer from everyone, but you gotta love her for trying. However, she did get one new recruit, which surprised all of us.

She and Brenna's dad became friends, and while it's completely platonic, she somehow got him to go to church with her almost daily as well as confession. I paid the priest to accelerate the conversion process for Brenna. Brian converted, too. No one knows why, but a man's religion is his business, so we don't press him about it. Auntie Ruth was his sponsor and, of course, it made her year. Just like anytime there's a new baptism, first communion, or holiday, we all go to church and can feel her glowing that we're there.

As much as the O'Malleys have changed, we're still the same in a lot of ways. Some things aren't easy to change. Liam's worked hard to transition our clan into the new companies we've created, in addition to the cybersecurity one. But old habits die hard and giving up a territory to allow other crime families into your backyard doesn't seem like a good option. Right now, the other crime families—the Petrovs, Baileys, Rossis, and Zielinskis—all still exist, but their powers aren't what they used to be. The Zielinskis are barely holding on, but they were never the strongest of families. The Rossis are at war with each other, as members of their family try to take over control. The Baileys are still going strong in Ireland and New York but not as much on our turf. The Petrovs, well, they're a different story. Someone once said the Russian mob was the strongest in the world and will never die. Maybe they were right. While they've been quiet lately, there's always a new influx of men waiting to take us and the Ivanovs down.

Our alliances with the O'Connors and Marinos are strong. The war Dante started with the Abruzzos the night we rescued my firefly sometimes pulls us to New York. I've spent many nights in their dungeon over the years, torturing men who watched Giulio screw Brenna at the club or knew he bought her and was abusing her. Every ounce of blood I pull from their bodies seems to heal me a bit more.

I'm fucked up, I know I am, but I'm okay with it. Most of all, my firefly is okay with it, and that's all I give a shit about in life.

Maybe someday, we won't have to watch our backs, but as of now, we do. And part of me thinks it'll be impossible to ever end our mafia wars.

When I finally pull into the back alley, Sean's Ferrari is there. I give him shit all the time about it, but I secretly love it. He bought it himself when he got hired into O'Malley Cybersecurity. It's a stick shift, too. He's got my love of fast cars, and sometimes he'll text me late at night, and we'll hit the expressway and race.

Fiona found out and ratted us out to Bridget, who didn't like it, but I ignored her on this one. His father would have sat in the car next to him, and sometimes, I think he's there guiding his son. At other times, I run a red light and think he's with me, laughing and saying, "That was close," then turning on Outkast's "Rosa Parks" and singing it at the top of his lungs.

We've never found out why Sean didn't tell any of us about Bridget seeing Brenna in Central Park. We still don't know all the details about his death, but some things will always remain a mystery. Whatever went on, we know he loved Bridget and the kids. We know he loved being an O'Malley. And we know he would want us to find peace with the situations and find laughter again.

I turn off the Camaro, get out, then open Brenna's door. I help her out and deeply kiss her, still not believing I get to wake up with her every morning and go to sleep with her in my arms every night. "Happy birthday, firefly."

Her face lights up, and the corners of her eyes crease from her smile. She never got another injection, and she's still aged gracefully, but I love her wrinkles, and I tell her that all the time. She responds by kissing me again until I'm so hard, I almost don't take her inside.

But I do, and the moment she steps past the hallway, the pub erupts in "Happy Birthday!"

Her glow gets brighter, and I tug her closer and kiss the top of her head. And just like I thought, the place is chaotic. Mad, insane, mayhem with children running and screaming all over the place.

We both love every second of it.

Hours pass, and after a lot of drinks, laughter, cake, and other food, I sneak Brenna past everyone and into the alley.

"Are we leaving?" she asks.

"Nope." I guide her to the driver's door, which is the farthest away from the pub, then push her against the car.

"What's going on?" She bites her lip, and my cock twitches.

I lean into her ear. "You're going to give me a present for your birthday."

She arches her eyebrows, and her chest rises higher. "What's that?"

I nip on her lobe. "You're going to stand here, Mrs. O'Malley. Then I'm going to drop your pants."

Her breath hitches. "Then what?"

I kiss her, but when she tries to slide her tongue in my mouth, I lean back. I lock my gaze with her blues and smirk. "Then I'm eating your pussy until you can't talk anymore."

One moment in time changed the course of our lives...

For over two decades, I vow to find her.

I'm locked up.

Full of rage.

Obsessed with remembering every detail about her.

When I get out, I scour the Earth.

Relentlessly.

Mercilessly.

I know she's out there.

I can still feel her, my firefly glowing in the dark.

I'll never stop until she's back in my arms.

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TOXIC PROLOGUE ADD - NOT EDITED ON HERE

RELENTLESS HUNTER PROLOGUE

Bridget O’Connor

24 Years Ago

"LET'S PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE!" My best friend Cara exclaims, beaming at me like it's the best idea in the world, then clinking her tumbler of whiskey against mine.

It's my sweet sixteen party. My father finally agreed to let me scoot out of the main event with the rest of my friends and promised me he'd leave us alone. It wasn't hard to convince him once our clan and the Marinos showed up. He has so many powerful men around him, along with single women fighting for his attention, that he won't lack anything in the entertainment department all night.

My mother left us years ago. She decided she couldn't handle the mafia life and tried to take my brothers and me with her, but my father stopped her. He told her if she wanted to go, she could, but we were staying with him where we belonged. She chose her freedom. Apparently, we weren't that important to her. Since then, we get a phone call every Christmas, but my brothers and I barely give her more than a minute. None of us see the point since she makes no effort to travel from California to see us. And ever since my father divorced, he has become the top bachelor to snag.

Cara smirks. "Bridget?"

A butterfly spreads its wings so large in my gut, I grab the bar counter to hold myself up. My father had his staff removed all the liquor before the party started, but it was pointless. I attend the most expensive private high school in New York City. Most of my friends, girls and guys, have Bailey's in their morning coffee and vodka for lunch. It's not a drink of choice, but it doesn't smell like whiskey or other alcohol. And the teachers might know what's going on, but they act like they don't. I suppose it's easier for them since most of my friend's parents take their word over any authority figure.

So even though my father had the alcohol removed and replaced with soda and other drinks he deemed safe, the bar is now covered in everything you can imagine.

Cara's eyes dart to the Marino twins, and my cheeks instantly flush. I've known Dante and Gianni forever. I'm a sophomore, and they're seniors. Their brother, Massimo, is a freshman, and he's across the room, too, but I barely notice him.

Dante and Gianni are a different story. They're identical twins and the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Their sculpted cheekbones are every girl's fantasy. Their intense, brooding eyes can pin you wherever you are and make it feel like time is standing still. They tower over me and both box. Dante is more serious about it than Gianni, but their muscles are just as identical as their faces.

Sometimes, I can't tell who's who until they speak. But I've had so many long conversations with Dante, it doesn't take more than a few words before I know if it's him or Gianni.

One day, Dante gave me a cell phone. My father didn’t see the need for me to have one and I didn’t care. But Dante did. He surprised me with it and showed me how to text. That night, and every night after, we spent hours sending messages until one of us fell asleep.

The twins are the most popular guys in our school, and it's not a secret they change places at times, whether it's a test or even with girls. The unsuspecting victim should be upset, but it's almost become a rite of passage at our school. If you've made out or gone all the way with the Marino twins, versus just one of them, it's an instant spot in the cool girls club. And some of the girls are the ones spreading the gossip before Dante or Gianni even have a chance.

One look at them creates flutters in my stomach that makes me dizzy. If I find out it's Gianni I'm looking at, then the flutters die. But never with Dante. With him, they only burn hotter.

It wasn't always this way, though. It only started happening this past year. I've known them my entire life. Almost every holiday and special event are at their house or ours. We've always hung out, but I never thought about it until one day, the way Dante looked at me made my heart stammer. After that, I've been crushing hard. I thought it was all one-sided, and his extra attention was me wishing for more until about a month ago.

It was a typical monthly party at his father, Angelo's, house. Dante and Gianni had turned eighteen, and Angelo gave them their own wings at the Marino compound. All of us kids went into Gianni's side of the house, which also had a brand new theater screen.

Instead of fancy theater seating, Gianni chose couches and ottomans. Angelo somehow snagged a copy of the latest action movie that was still in the theater, and we all got comfy with popcorn, alcohol, and blankets.

Dante sat next to me, and Gianni was on the other side. It wasn't out of the ordinary. Dante and I have always had a closer friendship, and the twins are never far from the other. It wasn't the first time I sat between them, but when Dante tossed a blanket over the two of us, my skin buzzed as if it knew something was going to happen. Then he stretched his long legs on the ottoman.

"Put your feet up and get comfy, Bridge," he ordered.

I did it, and he handed me a beer.

The movie had just gotten past the first scene when his knuckles slid down the side of my leg. I was wearing shorts, and his touch on my bare skin made me hold my breath.

I froze, wondering if it was a mistake, staring at the screen and not comprehending one word. Then he slid his hand between my thighs, and my insides liquefied. I swallowed hard, then keeping my head still, I peeked at him.

He tossed popcorn in his mouth, then took a swig of beer, like nothing was going on. Yet the tips of his long fingers slid under my cutoff denim.

No boy had ever gotten so close to my most intimate region, and the way my pussy ached for him to touch it surprised me. And then he did it. He slid his hand through my panties, a finger up my entrance, and rubbed my clit with this thumb.

I shuddered on the spot, and heat annihilated me.

Gianni leaned close to me and scanned my face, smirking. "You all right?"

I elbowed him and hissed, "Shut up. I'm watching the movie."

He put his hand under the blanket and touched my thigh, but I slapped it off me.

"Stop it," I whispered.

More arrogance flashed on his face until Dante leaned over my breasts while shoving his finger deeper in me and curling it. He quietly muttered, "Don't touch her."

The twins exchanged a look. I don't know what it meant, but they did. They could always have silent conversations. That one look made Gianni slide his arm around Cara and say something that made her giggle.

"Shut up," my brother Aidan barked, throwing popcorn at us before returning his attention to the movie.

Dante's thumb moved quicker, and his hot breath slid across my chest, thanks to my tank top. Tingles assaulted me everywhere, and he murmured in my ear, "Have a drink."

I turned toward him, my mouth an inch from his lips, adrenaline pooling in my cells, and my heart beating so fast I'm sure everyone in the room could hear it.

His mouth curved into so much arrogance, it caught me off guard. He pinned his dark gaze on me, and I couldn't look away. Then, everything exploded around me as if he knew what was about to happen. My eyes rolled, and I whimpered. As much as I tried not to make a sound, I did. Thankfully, besides Dante, I think only Gianni and Cara heard it because my brothers, their girlfriends, and the rest of the Marino kids never bothered to look our way.

Fire sparked in those dark eyes. He removed his hand from my body, then shoved them in his mouth, arching his eyebrows in a smirk, before returning to the movie.

I no sooner could breathe again before his fingers were crawling back up my thigh, and he was starting all over again.

I lost track of how many times he made me come. When the movie was over, he went to play pool with the others and ignored me the rest of the night.

That was a month ago. Since then, he's acted like nothing happened, having conversations with me like we always have.

Not once has he touched me or looked at me the way he did that night.

All I think about is him.

His eyes.

His cheekbones.

His cocky lips I want on mine.

The way his body towers over me as if he could make me his and protect me from the world—not that I have anyone to worry about. My father is the head of the Irish clan in New York, and even I'm not naive enough to know what that means.

No one will ever get close enough to hurt me. My father would kill anyone, and everyone knows it. But still, I like thinking about being Dante's and him protecting me.

Cara is the only person who knows what happened unless Dante told anyone. Well, I'm sure Gianni knows something went on. And Cara slept with Gianni that night, and she's been dying for a replay ever since.

Since I don't answer her, she shouts, "Who wants to play spin the bottle?"

The room turns silent, and I refrain from looking at Dante, yet I feel his eyes on me.

It's Gianni who answers, "I'm down."

"Siblings are off-limits. I'm not touching my sister," Aidan says.

"Ewe. Yuck," I state, horrified at the thought.

"Hey, you know what happened at Matt's party," he replies.

My stomach flips. This is how fucked up the kids at my school are. Matt and his sister Lana had a party last weekend. Matt spun the bottle, and when it stopped, Lana was in front of it. No one trusted them to do anything in the closet, so they pressured them to kiss in front of everyone, and instead of saying no, they gave in to the pressure and played tongue tag for the entire fifteen minutes.

"Agree. I'll go first," Dante states and grabs an unopened bottle of wine he snagged from his father's party. He sits on the floor, and everyone follows.

Flutters fill my gut, and when he spins the bottle, I pray it stops on me.

Around and around it goes, first fast, then slower and slower. I don't take my eyes off it, and the room is entirely silent, with the only sound being the glass on the carpet.

When it stops, my heart does too. My mouth turns dry, and I slowly lift my eyes to Dante.

He smirks. "Well, what are you waiting for, Bridge? Get your ass in the closet."

"Shit. Not my sister," Aidan mutters.

Gianni scoffs and challenges, "Rules are rules. You want to break them? If so, we can eliminate the sibling one too."

Aidan rises. "Whatever. I need another drink." He storms off to the bar.

Dante's expression stays neutral. He rises and holds his hand out to help me off the ground.

My pulse shoots through the ceiling. I take his hand, and he tugs me up, then leads me to the closet. The thick, eight-foot, mahogany door clicks shut, and everything turns dark.

His body heat penetrates my skin. I feel it before his hands slide over my cheeks, and he tilts my head up. His hot breath merges against mine, and every atom in my body lights up.

"Have you missed me?" he softly asks, his thumbs caressing my cheeks.

Dropping my guard, I close my eyes and admit, "Yes."

He steps closer until I'm against the wall, and his hard flesh is against mine. "Did you think about my hands on you again?"

I swallow hard. "Yes."

"Maybe we should stop pretending this is something it's not then." He kisses my forehead, then under my eyes and my nose.

I gasp and manage to ask, "What do you mean?"

"I like you. I always have. And I think you like me. So maybe I should take you on a date, away from all these cocksuckers. Just you and me, what do you say, Bridge?"

His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and I shiver. "Okay."

"Happy birthday, Bridge," he murmurs. Then his mouth is all over me. His tongue is in my mouth, flicking against mine like there's no tomorrow, and I'm his everything—the only thing that he could ever want.

My knees buckle, and he presses closer, holding me against him and the wall.

I was so wrong about what it would be like to kiss Dante Marino. I thought it would be good. I assumed he would know what he was doing, and I would like it.

I never imagined my body would hum against his, or the rest of the world would disappear, or every single touch he gave me would make me feel things I never felt before.

I didn't know I would melt into him as if my body belonged with his—as if it was his.

Before I know it, there's a knock on the door, and it flies open, reminding me we aren't alone. My eyes adjust to catch Dante's wink, then he steps back and strolls out of the closet.

My brother's voice calls out, "Don't fucking say a word about whatever you just did with my sister."

The room erupts in heckles, and I catch my breath.

He's going to take me out.

Dante Marino is finally going to take me out.

When I step out of the closet, my face and heart drop.

What is she doing here? This is my party. I didn't invite her.

Lisa, the head of the cheerleading squad and homecoming queen, is drunk and throws her arms around Dante. It's a known fact she slept with Gianni last week.

My stomach flips. I want to yell at her to get off him. I want to scream at him to push her aside.

But he doesn't.

She grabs his crotch and slurs something about a blow job.

Gianni grunts. "Your turn, bro." He nods to the side room, and I suddenly feel sick.

Don't do it. Don't go, I silently plead.

There's a brief moment of hesitation, and I think Dante isn't going to go. My hope explodes all around me, but then my heart does.

Gianni steps forward, so Lisa's squished between him and his brother. He tugs Lisa's hair back, so her chest presses into Dante, and her mouth gasps in an O. He scans her face and says, "Be a good girl and make sure you swallow for him, all right?"

Her face flushes, and she giggles. I want to die on the spot.

No, no, no! This can't be happening.

He won't do it. He won't after he just confessed he likes me and wants to take me out.

Gianni pats her ass and points toward the door. "You got ten minutes. Then Cara and I get the room."

Dante's shoulders flex, and he hesitates again.

Gianni releases Lisa and asks, "What's wrong? Why aren't you going?"

Dante glances at Lisa. "Don't waste my time if you're going to spit all over me."

She giggles again and tugs on his hand, leading him to the other room.

I think I might die. I want to crawl in a hole and never come out. When they come back into the room after ten minutes, Dante ignores me.

Still, I hold onto hope that he'll still call me. It makes me hate myself even more. Every night, I wait for his text messages like an idiot. Not once does he ever message me.

Then I get a boyfriend.

The first time I bring him to his parent's party, Dante is suddenly on top of me like a fly in honey, ignoring his girlfriend, who gets pissed along with my boyfriend. That night he texts me.

Dante: What are you doing with that loser?

Me: What are you talking about? He's not a loser.

Dante: You can do a lot better.

Me: Not really your business.

Dante: Why did you stop coming to my fights?

My chest tightens further.

Me: Why did you let Lisa suck you off after telling me you wanted to take me out?

Dante: I'm a dude. We do stupid shit. Are you going to hold it against me forever?

My heart races faster.

Dante: If it makes you feel better, I was only hard because I couldn't stop thinking about you.

I take several large breaths, not knowing how to respond and reprimanding myself that his statement gives me a twinge of happiness.

Dante: Break up with him. Come to my fight this weekend. We'll hang out after.

Several minutes pass as I contemplate whether I should do it or not.

Dante: Bridge, I miss you. I'm sorry.

Me: Okay. I'll come.

Dante: Make sure you break up with him. I mean it. He's not good enough for you.

All night I don't sleep. I do what he says, unable to stop myself from wanting him. When the weekend comes, I go to his fight.

He wins. His brothers, along with an entourage of girls, are waiting for him when he comes out of the locker room. They rush up to him, and his eyes meet mine.

"Give me a minute," he says.

My heart drops as he approaches me. I see it in his expression before he leans down and hugs me. "Thanks for coming."

I force myself to reply, "Sure. Congrats."

He smiles, and the regret is all over his face.

"We aren't hanging out, are we?" I ask.

“Something has come up. Can I take a rain check?"

I glance at the girls with his brothers, trying not to cry. I straighten my shoulders. "Sure. No problem."

"Thanks." He gives me another hug, and I feel sick.

For the next few years, I hang on to every twisted part of me that still wants him as mine. Even though he graduates, I still see him at least once a month at parties.

Nothing ever changes. He, Gianni, and Massimo always have girls hanging on them anytime I see them. From time to time, Dante will catch me gazing at him. There are always these moments, a brief encounter where he'll stare at me, giving me his smoldering look, reminding me how we used to be friends and his broken promises.

When my father insists I get a business degree, I decide the only way I'll escape Dante is to leave town. There's only one place my father will let me go, and that's Chicago because he has an alliance with the O'Malleys. He claims they'll watch over me.

I don't even care where it is as long as it's out of New York and somewhere far away from Dante.

There’s nothing I will ever get from him. Holding onto any notion we’ll ever be together is setting myself up for a lifetime of unhappiness. I need to forget everything about Dante Marino except one thing.

He's toxic.

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ALL IN BOXSET

Three page-turning, interconnected stand-alone romance novels with HEA’s!! Get ready to fall in love with the characters. Billionaires. Professional athletes. New York City. Twist, turns, and danger lurking everywhere. The only option for these couples is to go ALL IN...with a little help from their friends. EXTRA STEAM INCLUDED!

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MORE BY MAGGIE COLE

Mafia Wars New York - A Dark Mafia Series (Series Six)

Toxic

Immoral

Corrupt

Lethal

Mafia Wars - A Dark Mafia Series (Series Five)

Ruthless Stranger (Maksim’s Story) - Book One

Broken Fighter (Boris’s Story) - Book Two

Cruel Enforcer (Sergey’s Story) - Book Three

Vicious Protector (Adrian’s Story) - Book Four

Savage Tracker (Obrecht's Story) - Book Five

Unchosen Ruler (Liam's Story) - Book Six

Perfect Sinner (Nolan's Story) - Book Seven

Brutal Defender (Killian's Story) - Book Eight

Deviant Hacker (Declan's Story) - Book Nine

Relentless Hunter (Finn's Story) - Book Ten

Behind Closed Doors (Series Four - Former Military Now International Rescue Alpha Studs)

Depths of Destruction - Book One

Marks of Rebellion - Book Two

Haze of Obedience - Book Three

Cavern of Silence - Book Four

Stains of Desire - Book Five

Risks of Temptation - Book Six

Together We Stand Series (Series Three - Family Saga)

Kiss of Redemption- Book One

Sins of Justice - Book Two

Acts of Manipulation - Book Three

Web of Betrayal - Book Four

Masks of Devotion - Book Five

Roots of Vengeance - Book Six

It’s Complicated Series (Series Two - Chicago Billionaires)

Crossing the Line - Book One

Don’t Forget Me - Book Two

Committed to You - Book Three

More Than Paper - Book Four

Sins of the Father - Book Five

Wrapped In Perfection - Book Six

All In Series (Series One - New York Billionaires)

The Rule - Book One

The Secret - Book Two

The Crime - Book Three

The Lie - Book Four

The Trap - Book Five

The Gamble - Book Six

STAND ALONE NOVELLA

JUDGE ME NOT - A Billionaire Single Mom Christmas Novella

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amazon Bestselling Author

Maggie Cole is committed to bringing her readers alphalicious book boyfriends. She's been called the "literary master of steamy romance." Her books are full of raw emotion, suspense, and will always keep you wanting more. She is a masterful storyteller of contemporary romance and loves writing about broken people who rise above the ashes.

She lives in Florida near the Gulf of Mexico with her husband, son, and dog. She loves sunshine, wine, and hanging out with friends.

Her current series were written in the order below:

- All In (Stand alones with entwined characters)

- It's Complicated (Stand alones with entwined characters)

- Together We Stand (Brooks Family Saga - read in order)

- Behind Closed Doors (Read in order)

- Mafia Wars (Coming April 1st 2021)

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

TOXIC BLURB - add

TOXIC prologue ADD - not edited on here

ALL IN BOXSET

CAN I ASK YOU A HUGE FAVOR?

More by Maggie Cole

About the Author