Page 61 of The DeLuca Crime Family: Vol. 1

“What in under fuck, Brandon?!” she shrieked, the odd turn of phrase showing a bit of her Irish roots. “You agreed to let me finish this!”

I met her gaze with a raised brow. “Did I?”

I had her there and she sputtered for a moment then snapped, “It was implied!”

“Kitten—”

“Don’t you, kitten, me, you bloody shite!” Seeing her dad and being so riled up was dredging up some of the slang she grew up around and it was so fucking cute, I had to fight a smile. “Was this your end game? Seduce me and worm your way in so you could take over and your organization would simply absorb mine?”

Any humor I felt was immediately gone. “Do not ever question or trivialize my love for you, Carly,” I growled as I stalked over to her, grabbing her arms and looking straight into her eyes. “I didn’t do it to undermine you so I could manipulate my way into being in charge. I have no problem being the man beside the woman, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything I can to protect you, and that includes your heart, mind, and soul.”

Her face softened, and I could practically feel the anger receding.

“Even now, Nic is spreading the word that you were the one to put a bullet in him and you intend to take his place. No one but you, me, and Nic will ever know it wasn’t your finger on the trigger. Is that clear?”

She nodded, took a deep breath, and slid her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest. “Thank you.” I wrapped her up in my embrace and kissed her forehead.

“Anything for you, kitten.”

I climbedout of the black Town Car and reached my hand in to help Carly. Lacing my fingers through hers, I gave her hand a squeeze. “Are you ready, kitten?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then shook her head. “No. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

By using contacts and calling in some favors, Nic and I were able to get the funeral for Carly’s father arranged in three days. It also helped that her priest, Father Gannon, was almost as happy to see Pat on a marble slab as we were.

Carly worked tirelessly and I helped with what I could, but I also had to get back to my own job. We had a couple of shipments coming in and we were still in a tense holding pattern with the O’Reilly’s until Carly took over. Which meant we needed to oversee transit with more men, and I had to attend some meetings to negotiate for new merchandise, both legal and...otherwise. They were my contacts and would only deal with me.

By the time I fell into bed, I was exhausted and I’d fallen asleep with my girl wrapped up in my arms, only to wake a couple of hours later as she got up to start her day. I was suffering from a serious case of blue balls and I couldn’t wait for this fucking day to be over. The only bright spot was knowing I’d be seeing Pat O’Reilly in a box.

We walked into the church and I was so fucking proud of my woman. She held herself like a queen, showing no weakness but for her grip on my hand, which only I was aware of. We paused briefly when we came upon Nic and his wife, Anna. He stoodand kissed Carly’s cheek, before shaking my hand. It was the first step in solidifying the backing of the DeLucas.

Sliding into the “family pew,” she leaned back and brushed some imaginary lint from her perfectly pressed black, linen pants. Her black blouse was sheer, with a silky camisole underneath. Chunky gold jewelry, her gorgeous red hair in a bun, and striking makeup all painted the perfect picture. She didn’t have to pretend to mourn, it wasn’t a secret that there was no love lost between father and daughter. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the majority of attendees were there to make sure the son of a bitch was really dead.

A wicked smile stole over my face as I pictured a Charade scenario where mourners walked up to the casket and stabbed, shot, suffocated, whatever they could think of, to prove he was truly on his way to hell.

Carly pinched my thigh and I scowled at her, rubbing the offended skin. “Behave,” she whispered. I shrugged and zoned out as Father Gannon began the service. It wasn’t long. How could it be? No one was going to stand and extoll the virtues of that evil man.

There was an “Irish wake” being held at the largest O’Reilly pub, though they skipped the tradition of laying out the body. It was mostly an excuse to get drunk. But everyone knew there was an even more important purpose. They gathered to find out if the rumors were true.

When we walked into the pub, all talking and raucous laughter ceased. Even the musicians fell silent. They waited and watched us as we made our way to the bar. The bartender pushed two shots of whiskey toward us. Carly lifted hers into the air, waiting for the rest of the room to follow suit. “Sláinte!” she called out and tossed the shot back. The sentiment, basically “to your health” was rumbled through the crowd as they repeated it before they drank.

The bartender refilled her glass and she held it up a second time. “It’s a common toast, ‘may you be in heaven two hours before the devil knows you’re dead.’ But the devil has been waiting to collect my father’s soul for some time now.” There were some snorts of laughter around the room. She waited for silence, then continued, “So rather than wish him an afterlife he cannot have, I say ‘Go maire sibh bhur saol nua,’ and ‘Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta’.” There was more laughter as she tossed back the second shot and the words echoed about the room. “Take this day to celebrate or mourn, whichever you wish, the life of Pat O’Reilly.” Her voice became deadly. “Tomorrow, is a new day and your allegiance lies with me, or the next Irish wake we attend will be yours.”

“Sláinte!” she called again and took one more swallow of whiskey. The response was wary, but they followed her example. She turned toward the bar, dismissing them and after a few minutes, the room filled with music and conversation once more.

I was so fucking turned on, I almost threw her over my shoulder and dragged her to the back to fuck her in the darkest available corner. I faced the bar to hide my condition and drank my own shot, taking the minute to try and think about anything but how fucking hot my woman was, especially when she showed her strength.

I felt my dick start to soften a little and blew out a breath of relief. Carly was staring down at her glass of amber liquid, almost studying it. I knew her better than anyone and I could see she was barely holding it together. Placing one of my hands atop of hers, I leaned in and whispered, “I’m so fucking proud of you, kitten. Remember, you’re not doing this alone.” She met my gaze and smiled, clearly feeling the intended comfort. “What were those toasts?” I asked. I only barely knew Irish tradition. “Sláinte” was definitely the extent of my knowledge.

She laughed and smiled ruefully. “May you enjoy your new life and blessings on your posterity.”

I laughed with her for a minute before leaning down and stealing a lingering kiss.

“Who the feck are you? Get your fecking lips off of my fiancée!”

Chapter Ten

CARLY

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