Page 66 of Brutal Power

“Sometimes I forget how involved you are.”

She looks amused at that. “Brody’s father was always asking for my opinions on things. I think the boys saw that and just kept up the habit. Now Brody tells me most of what’s going on with the family, even if sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.”

I process that and lean forward on my elbows, speaking quietly. “Is he okay?”

Orla takes a beat to answer. “I assume you mean emotionally, since physically he’s fine.”

“I can’t read him sometimes. He calls with this story about getting ambushed, but now he’s acting like nothing happened.”

“He’s the leader of our family, hon. He can’t go to pieces just because something dangerous happened. That man in there is strong, just like his father was.”

Which is exactly what I worry about. There’s a difference between being strong and being inflexible. Sometimes people think they can get all brittle, all closed off, and pretend like that’s strength, when in reality they’re one strong kick away from shattering.

But I know Brody isn’t glass. That man’s steel. I still worry.

He comes out a little while later and brings me back into his office. He shuts the door and kisses me, and we sit on the couch together, his hand slipping into mine. I lean against him, breathing that lovely smell of his again, and kiss his chin. “I was worried,” I say.

“I know. I shouldn’t have called. I just wanted to process with someone and I trust your judgment.”

I chew my lip, thinking about what Orla told me in the kitchen. His father used to talk to his mother—and now he wants to talk to me.

“Luca Moretti, huh? I remember him from the party last night.” I give him a wry smile. “He liked me.”

“Luca’s a fucking prick. He’s the worst kind of cop.”

“Oh, you mean, a cop that works with organized crime?” I waggle my eyebrows at him. “Huh, I can’t even imagine.”

He nudges me gently. “Don’t start with that.”

“I’m just worried, that’s all. I know you have a plan but Santoro’s starting to flex a little bit, and if things go wrong—” I don’t want to imagine what it would feel like if I lost him. Whatever Orla’s going through grieving for her husband might be only a shadow of what would wash over me, losing Brody before we ever got to live a life together.

Strange how now I’m thinking of growing old with him like it’s all I want in the world.

“Trust me, baby. I’m going to thread this needle.” He seems so confident, and I wish I felt the same way.

“We don’t need to go down this road. There are probably a million other ways we can get the Waterfront job approved.”

“While also winning favor with the cops? That’s what your family needs right now, isn’t it?” He leans in closer and kisses me gently. I feel hungry for his touch and let him drag me into his lap until I’m straddling him and grinding down against him. “But none of that will matter if I manage to bring down Santoro.”

“I know that’s the plan. I just—I don’t want to lose you while trying to help my family.”

“You won’t.” He kisses me harder. “This is a good thing. He took the bait. He wants to talk. All I have to do is make it convincing.”

I lean my forehead against his. “You don’t know Santoro. He’s crafty. He’s been evading my family for years and making our lives a living hell.”

“But he doesn’t knowme.” Brody smirks and his mouth devours mine, and I want to keep arguing. I know it’s stupid, but suddenly I wish he’d drop this whole mission. That would mean my brothers would keep on fighting, that one of them might get hurt, but I don’t care. I need Brody now in a way I never imagined I would, and I hate the thought of him getting dragged into a game he can’t win, one that might end up with him dead.

There’s a knock at the door. I pull back from Brody’s kiss as Seamus comes into the room, looking pissed. He’s about to say something, but when he spots me in his brother’s lap withBrody’s hands on my ass, he rubs his face and storms over to the drink cart.

“Could you two cut it out for one second?” he says, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch. “God, you’re like fucking teenagers.”

“What can I do for you, Seamus?”

I get off Brody’s lap, feeling a little embarrassed, but at least Brody doesn’t seem to mind. Seamus swirls his drink and glares.

“We should do something about Santoro,” he says, sounding like it’s a growl.

“Here I was thinking you didn’t approve of the war.”

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