Page 49 of Taken By the Mobster

He didn’t even turn his head, just held out his hand, gesturing for her to join him. Olivia hesitated for a second because she was half-naked, wearing one of Declan’s old T-shirts over her underwear. She had found a large blanket in the hall closet and wrapped it around herself.

“It’s warm over here,” Declan said. “That old wood-burning stove works great.” He patted the chaise lounge and moved over so she could lie down next to him. It was wide enough that both fit comfortably on it. He draped his arm over her legs and pulled her close.

“How’s Conor?” he asked.

She sighed. “He’s okay. The bullet only grazed him. Once I cleaned and disinfected it, it didn’t even need stitches. I put a nice, tight bandage on it to staunch the bleeding. He’s upstairs drinking himself to sleep.”

The bullet that grazed Conor dug a long groove into his upper arm that looked far worse than it was. Conor was an ideal patient; he sat quietly as Olivia cleaned and bandaged the wound. When she finished, he squeezed her hand and thanked her.

It surprised Olivia that Conor’s injury was the worst any of them suffered. Olivia didn’t have a mark on her, and Declan had a few cuts from flying glass. He also had a bullet hole the size of a coin in the bottom of his jacket.

“Where’s Drew?” Declan asked. His fingers drifted up and down her bare leg, which sent shivers up and down her spine.

“He’s asleep upstairs too,” Olivia replied. “I looked in on him, but he didn’t even stir.” She cupped Declan’s cheek in her hand and brushed her thumb over his lips. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

Declan scowled. “Clyde should never have been able to get you.”

Olivia silenced him with a kiss. When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his and breathed him in. They were alive, and they were together. That was all that mattered.

Declan slipped his hand into her hair and pulled her close. He kissed her, a brush of his lips over hers, enough to send tingles of desire shooting through every nerve ending. He shifted so he could drop his glass of whiskey to the floor, then he slid both arms around her and pulled her flush against his body.

A shiver raced through her, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of Declan’s touch or the frosty night air.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just a little cold,” she replied. She cupped his cheek. “Declan, I … I want to tell you something.”

Declan shook his head. “Tell me when this is over.”

A tear slipped down Olivia’s cheek. “What if I don’t get the chance?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “You will. I promise.”

Olivia closed her eyes. “I’m holding you to that promise, Declan Quinn.” She pressed her face to the side of his neck and breathed him in.

“Please don’t let anything happen to him,” she silently prayed. “Please.”

Chapter 23

Olivia

Olivia shut the bedroom door and sat on the edge of the bed. She stared at the cell phone in her hand, still unsure if she really wanted to make the call. It had been over three years since they had spoken; she wasn’t even sure Caitlin would answer.

Two days earlier, Declan had gotten everyone cell phones. Olivia shoved hers into the bottom of a bag of clothes with no intention of ever using it. She didn’t need it; she had no one to call. An hour ago, Declan sat next to her at the kitchen table and took her hand.

“Call your sister,” he whispered. He slid her phone across the table.

“Where did you find that?” Olivia mumbled.

“In the bag of clothes in the closet. Liv, look at me.”

She reluctantly lifted her head and looked into his mesmerizing green eyes. “What?”

“I know you miss your family,” Declan said.

Olivia narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I miss them. I haven’t seen them in three years. But I don’t need to call them.”

Declan leaned his head against hers. “You talk in your sleep, baby. You miss your sister. Call her. A quick phone call to tell her you’re okay.”

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