Page 72 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

I don’t say any of that, though.

And he kisses my cheek once more.

He pulls out and cleans us up, then pulls my jeans up and lifts me into his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

“You can, Lucie Joy. I think you can do anything you wish.”

Callahan’s words play through my head five minutes later when there’s a knock on the wall outside the kitchen. Declan asks if it’s safe to interrupt because we’re going to be late to the basketball game.

“It’s safe.” The snap of Callahan sends me running upstairs to shower and change.

I’m not sure I can do anything I wish. Not yet. Not in the way I want. But he can have me, my body, in the meantime.

I’ll learn everything about sex and pleasure and when I’m gone, I’ll… what? Find someone as good, have nice memories for cold nights?

“Stop it,” I whisper as I finish getting ready and rush back downstairs.

Seamus is bruised and ready to go, and even Torin’s dressed for their pickup game.

Callahan looks at me, a slow smile appearing, and he hands me a duffel, kisses my head, and swings an arm around my shoulders.

“Don’t open it,” he says.

I immediately make it my mission to do just that when we get to the West Fourth Street courts.

The guys shake hands with the big bruisers already there, a mix of ethnic backgrounds. I settle to watch them on a bench.

It’s about fifteen minutes in when I realize I’m thirsty. I open the bag and recoil like it contains a snake.

What the actual fuck?

A gun?

TWENTY-ONE

callahan

The ball hits the rim,bouncing off the side, and my so-called fucking team gives me shit.

Half my brain’s still on what happened in Jamaica. The bomb might have been a warning or a piss-poor job at taking us out. I don’t know. I don’t care.

Someone planted it there, and we were sent there by one Vincent de Rosa.

If we hadn’t gotten the girl out, she’d have died.

My thoughts drift to O’Sullivan and the Osinovs. O’Sullivan’s family doesn’t play small-time games, and they sure as hell don’t do homemade bombs. But Paddy spent his formative years in Ireland. He’s been known to pull shit like that when the need arises.

But where the fuck does Lucie’s father fit in? Is he a pawn? Greedy bastard? Or somewhere in between?

Our contract’s worth shit if my brothers and I are dead.

But to pull a stunt like that would mean blowing up big opportunities with me.

All the puns intended.

My mind trips back to fucking Paddy.

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