Page 45 of Mob Star

I lean back. “If I wasn’t okay with that, you would know. I agreed to your rule when you told me about it. I didn’t object to you doing it, and I knew I could. I knew if I said stop and really wanted it over, you would accept that. I’m sorry I’ve lied. I hope you can understand why I have.”

“I do. If anyone can, I do. I already told you I know I’ll be a hypocrite. I’ll lie to you, yet I demand you be honest with me. It’s not fair. Whatever is going on, you don’t want to talk about it for your family’s sake. I, of all people, get that. But I’m here if and when you need or want me. I’ll let this go, but only for now, Thea. If anything else happens that scares me again, I will push you until you tell me the truth. I’m giving you fair warning.”

I pull one arm free and put my hand over his heart. “I don’t mean to scare you, Finn.”

“I know, little one. Let’s go throw some axes. We’ll probably both feel better.” He grins as we walk toward the door. I grab my purse, and he opens the door for me. I lock up and pray a broken window is all I come home to.

I smile at Joey, but his expression is grim. He’s looking up at my window. Maybe he saw Finn in it, and that’s how he knows which unit is mine. He walks around the car and speaks to Finn as he opens it.

“I already texted Shane. He can have someone over in the morning. I can get a couple of boards, nails, and a hammer while you’re together. If there’s time, I can swing over and do it.”

I look at Finn who’s looking down at me. He’s waiting for my answer. I look back at Joey, and I wonder what he thinks happened. He knows Finn well enough that he didn’t bother to wait for Finn to call Shane or tell Joey to text him.

“Grab what we need. I’ll do it when we get back.” Finn’s still watching me, so I nod.

I won’t turn down the help, but I think he knows it would make me uncomfortable to have strangers in my place. I slide into the car as Joey gets out his phone. He closes the door behind Finn as whoever it is— presumably Shane —answers. I reach for my seatbelt. When I twist to fasten it, Finn cups my jaw. He says nothing. He just sweeps his gaze over me as though he’s not convinced I’m all right after all. When I click the buckle, he lets go and puts on his own belt.

I don’t want to keep things a secret from him, but this is private family business. I’m not ready to tell him what’s going on. It would piss my parents off. I’m not exactly embarrassed, all things considered. But it’s not a part of my family tree I’m excited to share. If I want things to work with Finn, I must figure out how to navigate not lying to him— which feels crappy every time I do it —and not divulging crap my parents would lose their shit over. This also makes me realize I’m not a compulsive liar, but there are very few people I trust enough to tell them really important stuff. I’m used to deflecting or bending the truth a little to avoid answering.

I don’t want Finn to walk away because he thinks I’m dishonest. I see the irony, considering what he’s already told me will happen. But just because he has to protect me and others, which means lying, doesn’t mean it gives me a pass.

I’m lost in my thoughts, so I don’t notice how I cover his hand with mine where they rest between us. It’s not until he turns mine over to lace our fingers together that I realize what I did. It’s comforting.

“You were very generous to my friends and me. Thank you. We were already having a terrific time, but we felt like royalty when breakfast arrived.”

His thumb sweeps across the back of my hand. “I told you I wanted to spoil you.”

“You did.” I don’t want him to think I’m a gold digger and will expect more of this lavishness. I stretch to kiss his cheek.

As I sit back, I hear a motorcycle behind us. I hold my breath as it passes us on my side. It’s some crotch rocket, not a chopper like my uncle’s motorcycle club prefers. He has a few of the bikes made for speed, but he prefers the ones with the higher handlebars when he’s cruising and making sure the people in his neighborhood get a good, long look at him. As though any of them could forget the person extorting them for protection money every month.

I dart my gaze to Finn, and I wonder how I’m able to accept Finn being part of an organized crime family with such ease, but what Uncle Corey does makes me think he’s little more than pig shit. Am I a snob? Do I have more respect for a man who commits international crimes than someone who’s limited to the Mid-Atlantic area?

Finn’s family runs a small empire from what I can tell. They have thousands of people who must work for them. They might commit crimes— probably some really fucking heinous ones —but nothing about him makes me think he does it for the jollies. My dad’s uncle absolutely does it to feel superior to regular people who just want to live their lives in peace. He picks on people to see their fear. Finn probably terrifies most people he knows, but I think it’s likely with reason.

What the hell do I know? I barely know Finn, but nothing about him makes him even remotely on the same plane as Uncle Corey. He strikes me more like a ruthless corporate mogul than some two-bit criminal.

“How’d you find this place?”

Finn’s question breaks me out of my trance. How long have I been staring off into space? I’m being a crappy date.

“Terry— my friend who was at the roulette table with me —suggested it a while back. We had a particularly rough week, and she said it would be a great stress reliever. We never made it, but I remembered.”

“Are you into things like panic room escapes?”

If I say no, then I’m lying again. If I say yes, will he think I want to go to one with him? Is that like work for him?

“Cailín, it’s not a trick question. I think they’re cool. I enjoy solving puzzles like that.”

Survival training?

“Thea, I can practically hear the gears grinding in your head. No, I don’t use them as practice. No, it isn’t like work. No, it won’t bother me if you say you like them, too.”

Our gazes meet, and I wonder how he can read my thoughts so clearly when so few can. Most people say I have a resting poker face. They don’t know what I’m thinking until I’m ready to share it. I need it to break bad news to people. I have to appear calm and unfazed when I walk into a room with terrified parents.

“I haven’t been to a panic room escape before, but I’m intrigued. I think they look cool, and those are the kind of logic problems I like to figure out.” Better than diagnosing some rare condition.

“That’s why I asked. You spend your days figuring out solutions to problems, so I know you excel at it. I thought this might be something you’re good at but isn’t work.” He lifts our hands and kisses the back of mine. “I live a normal life most of the time. I don’t want you to walk on eggshells, worrying that things remind me of a part of my life I’ve never admitted to anyone. Most people have no clue. I go about my business and do regular things. I use the rumors to my advantage, but most people assume the truth is exaggeration. I only admitted things to you because I didn’t want you to walk away once I’m— we’ve been dating for a while.”

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