Page 77 of Vengeful Vows

“It’s been too long,” Jimmy Connor says as we approach one of our warehouses. He’s got a new shipment of both dust and guns, and he wants us to do our usual check.

“It has.” Da pulls Jimmy into a quick hug.

Jimmy beams at him.

All of my father’s men worship him like a hero, and I can’t say I’m much different.

I think about Bree, and my heart goes out to her. My father has done some things neither of us are proud of, but deep down, I know that he’s a good man. Bree cannot think the same about her father, not anymore.

I feel a little guilty for taking that blissful ignorance away from her, but it had to be done. She won’t talk about it, instead chatting about idle things, and I can understand that she needs more time to process.

We haven’t made love since that first night it went from fucking to more, and I don’t want to push her, but I’m starting to get sexually frustrated having her near naked in my bed every night.

But for her, I’ll wait as long as it takes.

I must be staring off into space because Jimmy snaps his fingers in front of my eyes.

I blink. “Shit. Sorry.”

“He was thinking about that bonny new wife of his,” Da says with a low chuckle.

“No, I wasn’t,” I blurt, although he’s caught me red-handed.

“You were,” Jimmy pipes in, laughing. “That’s fair enough. I was at the wedding, and she’s a real looker.”

My cheeks start to feel hot, and I hate it. I don’t blush or get embarrassed easily, but something about talking about Bree like she’s really my wife...

“What do you think about her?” Jimmy asks. “Is everything going okay?”

“Fine,” I mutter.

My father’s looking at me as if he has something to say. I finally roll my eyes and look at him.

“What is it, Da?”

“You have feelings for your wife.”

I scoff. “Is that so crazy?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “She’s a good girl. Bonny but also sweet, and that’s important.”

“You’re not upset?”

“That you have feelings for your own wife?” His eyes widen. “Of course not.”

“But she’s a Murphy.”

“Having Murphy blood doesn’t make you a monster,” he points out. “It’s the heart that does that, and hers is as white as his is black.”

We make our way to the crates and shipments.

Before we can crack even the first one open, my father stops me, holding up his hand to his mouth to make sure I’m quiet.

I freeze, holding the crowbar, and Jimmy does, too, looking to where my father’s gaze is, staring at the front door.

Surely, no one would try to come in the fron?—

Gunshots ring out, and I yelp and hit the deck.

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