Page 29 of Mob Princess

“What do you want from me, Sean?”

“To finish lunch and figure out where we’re having dinner.”

“Why?”

“Because you told me you were free for both. And I’m certain I told you I plan to make you hungry for brunch.”

She turns her head in each direction to see who’s near before she lowers her voice. “Are we going to hate-fuck?”

“Hate-fuck?”

“Yeah. You hate my family, and my family hates yours. Are we going to fuck thinking we’re fucking over each other’s family?”

“We are going to fuck because I’ve never wanted a woman more than I do you. We are going to fuck because I can’t walk away even though this is likely to blow up in our faces. We are going to fuck because if I don’t feel your pussy wrapped around my cock within the next eight hours, I’m likely to go stark raving mad. But I’m taking you out tonight because you’ve intrigued me since the moment I saw you. I’m taking you out tonight because as fecked-up as this is, I want to get to know you better. I’m taking you out tonight because tomorrow I’m going to have to deal with you being an O’Malley, but tonight, I want a reprieve from being an O’Rourke.”

“I—”

Her phone buzzes in her purse. We hear it because the phone must be next to the chairback. She ignores it.

“I want that?—”

It buzzes again. It must have gone to voicemail, and whoever it is called back immediately. I cock an eyebrow, but she shakes her head.

“I want that, too. I want—Motherfucker.” She mumbles the last word as she twists to get her phone.

She mutes it and drops it back in her purse, but it buzzes a fourth time.

“Answer it. Whoever it is needs to speak to you.”

“Hello.”

I see her finger press the button to lower the volume. She doesn’t want me to hear who it is. Ewan or her grandfather, Jean-Peter. A combination of French and English, but both apostles. His family touts being good Catholics because they’re more Irish than Canadian when it’s convenient. He heads the mob there, after all.

“I’m busy right now… No. That’ll have to wait. I’m in the middle of lunch… Don’t worry about that… Don’t worry about it.”

Is Ewan asking who she’s with? She hasn’t looked away from me since she answered. It’s almost unnerving to be honest.

“It went fine. I’ll fill you in when I get back… No, I have plans later… I lived here for four years. I know a lot of people in the city. I will not cancel. I’ve been looking forward to this since I made the plans.”

Her body relaxes as she admits that. Knowing she’s going to be with me puts her at ease. That or she knows she’s lying, and knowing she’s not seeing me tonight makes her feel better. I could be a professional body language interpreter. It’s a skill I’ve honed since I was eleven and got in my first fight.

Juan Diaz pushed Shane, so I knocked him out. His cousin Alejandro saw it but did nothing. At least, that’s what he wanted Shane and me to think. But I saw it. The twitch of his pinky five minutes later, just before he struck. I was ready. I kicked him in the balls. Neither of them got up for half an hour.

I honed that skill working at the abandoned underground train station in the Bronx. It’s where we take care of things no one needs to know about. We did some redecorating. It has a bunkroom, kitchen, and showers. We’re often there for hours at a time. It’s where I was when I couldn’t talk to Lina for a few days. Reading people’s reactions allows me to know when to whale on them and when to let them think they’re getting a reprieve. It’s how I know when I’ve reached their limits and when I can push them to the brink.

But this isn’t torture. At least, not for Lina. I don’t know her well enough to understand all her tells. So, I’m conjuring various scenarios and how I’ll react to her acceptance or rejection. Occupational hazard of working in intelligence. I have contingency plans for ten different outcomes. My family thinks Dillan’s the one who comes up with the most backup plans. He does because he thinks of consequences and contingencies for his contingencies. I only go to the first level unless I need more. I’m more of a don’t beg for trouble where there is none. I don’t worry until there’s a reason to. Have I gotten to the worrying stage now?

“Bye.” She hangs up and drops her phone in her purse before looking back at me.

Neither of us says anything. I don’t know if I should ask, and I don’t think she knows if she should volunteer. I watch the anxiousness creep up her neck as the muscles tighten and stand out with each swallow.

“Cailín, if you want to call off to?—”

“No. Absolutely not. I—I—don’t know what we’re doing. I know it’s likely to blow up in our faces. But you still came, even though you know who I am. I think you were testing me, but I think you were also giving me a chance to tell you more about me. I didn’t know you were an O’Rourke, but I wanted—want—to know more about you.”

“Will he hurt you when he finds out?”

“Who says he’s going to find out?”

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