Page 143 of Broken Blood Ties

So selfless, in fact, she blackened a part of her own soul for the sake of me and Aoife. Our family. How do I ever repay that?

Her tears calm, and she inhales a deep breath. “I’d burn the world for you, Mr. O’Donnell. You’ve got me so utterly helpless in love. You told me that Aoife and I are your world; well, you’re mine.”

This woman. To echo Cormac’s words, how did I get so lucky?

Fate: you wickedly wonderful thing, you.

Chapter45

Summer

Six Weeks Later

The humid end-of-July air caresses my neck as I pick up the chalk Aoife left out on the patio. She’d spent all morning making Cormac trace her body and adding a drawing of a mermaid tail over her lower half. That was until Allie told her she’d take her to the park while Marco comes to the house for a meeting.

It’s been over six weeks since I’ve seen him. He upheld his end of the bargain and rid the Yakuza of Riku. There’s a new leader now, one Kieran is actually happy with. They’ve met a few times and have decided to coexist in Boston. I was shocked Kieran wants to meet Marco here, but he said he wants to thank him personally, and I guess inviting him into our home is about as personal as it gets.

Kieran’s recovery has been hard, but he’s almost fully healed, which is good because keeping him from work is painfully difficult. We’ve been rebuilding the arena after the minor damage done by the firefight.

With Aoife out of school, we’ve spent lots of time going to the park, getting ice cream, and when Kieran is available, taking the yacht out for extended weekends. Shelly is watching her nephew for the summer, so we’ve been able to have playdates with her, and it makes me eager for our visit at the end of the month with my sister and her two boys.

I was nervous to talk to her for the first time after our father died, but we cried and grieved for the father we never had together. We’ve gotten closer than we’ve ever been, and the relationship I never thought I’d have with her is thriving.

I push through the back door to the kitchen, letting Deuce trail in after me, and set the plastic box of chalk by the door. Glancing at my stained hands, I head for the sink to wash up.

But as soon as I pass the pantry?—

I yelp as a deft hand wraps around my wrist, and I’m yanked in.

Huffing out a laugh, Kieran wraps me up for a hug. His suit is scratchy on my face as he cradles my head in his chest before I pull away.

“Jeez. What are you doing? This is getting out of hand, Mr. O’Donnell.” I smile knowingly up at him. He’s pulled me into random rooms more times than I can count for the past three weeks, claiming it’s to hide for a kiss, or more.

My blood heats.

“Ye know, this is getting unfair. I think we should make ye Mrs. O’Donnell.”

I smirk, holding up the hand with my ring on it, and deadpan, “Thought that was the plan already.”

“Aye, but I’m tired of waiting.” His piercing green eyes glimmer. “How’s this weekend sound?”

I blink, and he yanks the hair tie out of my ponytail. My hair skims over my shoulders, and he tangles his fingers through it, creeping back to the base of my neck. He offers a firm but gentle squeeze.

“The weather is beautiful. Aoife is out of school. We can have it on the yacht.” He lowers his mouth to either kiss me or bribe me. It doesn’t matter because I melt into him regardless.

Just as he deepens the kiss, flicking his tongue over the seam of my mouth, I pull away, glancing around. A package of cookies is open on the narrow countertop, several crumbs spilling out onto the butcher block.

“What are you doing in here in the middle of the day?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. Well, maybe he does, but it’s not with words. He trails languid kisses up my exposed arms, hooking a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of my tank top. I gasp when his tongue swirls and nips up my neck.

“Kieran, Marco and his men are going to be here for your meeting in twenty minutes.”

“Then we better be quick, love.” His sultry tone sends a shudder through my shoulders, and he shoves me back against the pantry counter. His fingers curl around the scoop of my top and pull down, exposing me to the cold air conditioning blowing in. Two hands grip my waist, and he plops me up on the countertop, hands skimming up my thighs.

“Kieran,” I hiss. “We’re in the pantry. We should move, we?—”

I let out a moan when his fingers tease under the hem of my jean shorts.

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