Page 98 of Mob Princess

In other words, is her family mob?

“They are. It’s why their arrangement worked for so long.”

“Long?”

He looks like he’d like to swallow his tongue.

“Shane, how long were they together?”

“They weren’t ‘together’ like you are with Sean. They had an arrangement for about fourteen months.”

And I’ve barely had one for four weeks.

“You said you trust her. You’re telling me he isn’t cheating. Fine. I’ll believe you about trusting her, even if I don’t. But I know he isn’t with her or any other woman. Something else is very wrong. What’re Dillan and the others doing?”

Shane looks at me blankly. I march over to him and get in his face. I’m not as tall as him, but I’m tall for a woman. I look him straight in the eyes.

“Unless they are doing something that could put them on death row, tell me, Shane.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“Same difference.”

“Hardly, and you know it. You woke me, pounding on my door to tell me he’s missing. If you didn’t want me asking questions about what’s happening, why’d you even bother waking me?”

“Because we need to leave.”

“And go where?”

“Dillan’s.”

I glance at the closet and nod. He backs out of the room and shuts the door. I dash to my cell phone and unlock it. I pull up the app that has Ewan’s, Justin’s, and Colt’s phones entered. I go through each. Their phones say they’re all in Boston. I look toward the door. My laptop is in Sean’s office. We were both in there earlier. He was working, and I was doing some online shopping for more toys. We agreed to get a swing because it’s something we both like.

I pull clothes from the closet and get dressed before snapping open the gun case that’s on the floor behind my empty roll aboard. Sean knows I have a gun and a Massachusetts permit. I’m certain he’s seen the box, but he hasn’t asked me about it. It’s got a biometric lock, and I haven’t added him as someone with access.

Shane knocks again.

“Give me one more minute. I’m almost done.”

I lift the gun out of the case, checking that it’s loaded. I know it is, but my grandfather drilled it into me to never touch a gun without checking to see if it’s loaded with the safety on. I stand and stretch onto my toes for a storage tub of purses, belts, and my thigh holster. I’m wearing a long, loose dress that won’t easily show the gun’s outline. There isn’t a chance in fuck I’m leaving without it. I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Once I’ve cinched the holster around my thigh, and the gun’s safely stowed in it, I head out to the living room.

I grab my purse and coat from near the front door and follow Shane out in silence. We ride down to the underground parking garage and step out to find a massive SUV waiting outside the elevators. The thing’s a fucking tank.

Seamus, Cormac, and Finn are standing outside it. Finn’s by the driver’s door, and Cormac’s at the front passenger’s. Seamus is next to the trunk. I glance up at Shane. He’s looking at Cormac. As we walk over, Cormac opens the rear passenger door. Seamus is going around to the other side. I’m soon sandwiched between Seamus and Shane.

Seamus, Shane, Sean. Sounds like the beginning of a tongue twister or nursery rhyme. I say nothing as I put my belt on. The engine revs as Finn puts it in gear and accelerates. I look out the window beside Seamus. The glass is thicker than normal. I also noticed it sits higher than most, even with the hydraulic step.

This is a tank. The glass is bullet proof. The raised chassis probably means there are metal plates covering it to protect it against IEDs—improvised explosive devices—and spike strips. My guess is the tires are the kind that will still roll even if punctured. Short of shredded, they’ll still work. The doors and frame are probably impact resistant, and the bumpers are battering rams.

“If I ever need to find an O’Rourke SUV in a mix, what do I look for?”

Finn glances back at me in the rearview mirror. Seamus peers down at me, and I can tell Cormac and Shane don’t want to answer.

“I haven’t been at a shootout, but I have been at events where things have gotten uncomfortable fast. The SUVs all look the same. There has to be something you customize that tells them apart. Otherwise, you’d all be getting into each other’s vehicles unless you memorize the license plates. Those aren’t always easy to see. Is it the front grill? That’s what the families do in Montreal.”

“Hub caps. I’ll point them out.” Shane sounds less than thrilled, but whatever.

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