Page 86 of Bartered Innocence

I shrug. “We were too busy trying out the new weapons.”

Her face pales. “Weapons? How old were you?”

“Ten, I think? We were an isolated group of kids.”

My father nods. “Ten sounds right. We got you devil knuckles and some shuriken.”

“Shuriken?”

I try to stifle my smile, knowing Isabelle is going to hate them. “Ninja stars. Cillian still prefers them.”

“Ten, Rian! Our kid—” Isabelle cuts off, blinking for a second, her eyebrows furrowing.

My father smiles. “Believe me, Elodie felt the same. But you have to understand, knowledge is power. Kids are naturally curious, and those boys were tenacious. They would have found the weapons no matter where we hid them. So you teach them first, teach them about the dangers and how to handle them properly. Most of their excitement died out in days.”

I can see she’s still uncomfortable with the idea, so I reach over and squeeze her knee. “He’s leaving out the part where they would empty the magazines from the guns and dull the edges of anything sharp.”

Leaning back in my chair, I smirk at my father. “Nah, the real issue was when Declan learned how to hack and stole millions from the Outfit, Camorra, and even the Famiglia, before anyone caught on.”

He shakes his head, rubbing his smile with his frail fingers. “The Butcher found it funny. Luca’s father not so much.”

“The Butcher?” Isabelle grimaces.

“The Outfit’s enforcer. Most of our contact ran through him at that time since he and his son resided in the states. I wonder how he’s doing now.” His tone is soft and eyes sad, almost in grief with a longing for an old friend.

My eyebrows raise. “Sebastian James crashed my wedding.”

“Should have invited him. That’s not how we treat our allies.”

“Luca refused, and plus we didn’t even know he was on the top side. No whispers of him moving across the pond,” I explain, reminding myself to mention that to Declan. Then I frown. “I didn’t know you were on such good terms with the Outfit.”

My father shrugs. “He’s not as bad as people make him out to be.”

“With a name like The Butcher, I can only imagine,” Isabelle adds dryly.

He hoots in laughter before coughing again. She stands to hand him water before returning to my side. We exchange a glance, knowing he sounds worse than before.

“Has the doc come recently?”

My father scowls. “What for? There’s nothing else that can be done. He manages my pain and that’s it.”

I sigh. “I want you to be as comfortable as you can be.”

He waves me off. “I feel fine, better than ever actually.”

Isabelle smiles. “That’s good. Maybe soon you can join us downstairs for dinner.”

With a returning grin, he stares at my wife. “I’d love that, darlin’. I still think about that pot roast you made.”

Her cheeks flush red and they settle back into talking about their subject favorite: me.

Chapter35

RIan

I’m leaningagainst the counter as Isabelle stubbornly fights the urge to vomit while cooking breakfast. Her pale green coloring suggests it’s a losing battle, and I watch amused as she pinches her nose shut.

“I think these eggs are bad,” she says with a pout.

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