Page 3 of His Mafia Sunshine

"Coffee," he grunts, his voice low and sleep-rough. "Black."

"Coming right up." I'm proud of how steady I sound, even as my pulse kicks into overdrive. I grab a clean mug and fill it to the brim, the rich aroma of dark roast curling around us. When I set it down in front of him, our fingers brush, a jolt of electricity arcing between us.

Liam's gaze locks with mine, something dark and fathomless swimming in those green depths. "Thanks," he murmurs, raising the mug to his sinful mouth. "Smells good."

I swallow hard, my face flushing with more than just the steam from the coffee. "Best in the city," I manage, wincing internally at the inane boast.

But Liam just quirks a brow, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile. "I'll be the judge of that, sunshine."

The nickname sends a shiver down my spine, even as a kernel of anger ignites in my chest. Who does he think he is, waltzing in here like he owns the place, turning me inside out with just a look and a touch?

As if reading my thoughts, Liam sets down his mug, his expression sobering. "About yesterday..." he starts, his voice gruff.

I cut him off with a sharp shake of my head. "I meant what I said, Liam. I won't be bullied into submission, no matter how many alpha-male tactics you throw at me."

Something flares in his eyes, hot and hungry. "That so?" he drawls, leaning forward on his elbows. "You think what happened in the kitchen was just a tactic?"

My breath catches in my throat, my body tightening with traitorous heat. "W-wasn't it?"

Liam's gaze drops to my mouth, his own lips parting slightly. "If it was, it backfired spectacularly." His voice is a low rasp, igniting sparks down my nerve endings. "Can't seem to get the taste of you out of my head, Asher Davis."

Oh sweet Lord. I grip the edge of the counter, my knees threatening to buckle. "Liam, I... we can't..."

"I know." He straightens abruptly, his expression shuttering. "Forget I said anything."

He throws a crumpled twenty on the counter and stalks out of the diner without another word, leaving me feeling bereft and off-kilter. I stare after him, my heart aching in a way I can't begin to understand.

"Hey, you okay?" Mia appears at my elbow, her brow furrowed. "What did tall, dark, and homicidal want?"

I shake my head, pasting on a bright smile. "Nothing. Just more macho posturing." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I can't bear to put words to the churning emotions inside me. Not yet.

The rest of my shift passes in a numb haze, my mind stuck in an endless loop of Liam's heated gaze, his gruff confession. By the time I finish wiping down the last table and counting out the register, my head is pounding and my nerves feel rubbed raw.

I'm so lost in my own spiraling thoughts that I don't notice the scrap of paper tucked under my windshield wiper until I'm fumbling for my keys in the dark parking lot. With a frown, I pluck it free, unfolding it with clumsy fingers.

Stay away from Liam O'Connor, it reads in bold, blocky script. Or there won't be enough of you left to fill a takeout bag.

A chill races down my spine, my breath fogging in the frigid night air. My first instinct is to crumple the note and toss it aside, refusing to be cowed by vague threats. But something in the menacing tone, the stark finality of the words, tells me this is no idle warning.

I glance around the empty lot, suddenly feeling horribly exposed. The screech of tires on asphalt makes me flinch, but it's just a passing car, its tail lights quickly swallowed by the dark.

With shaking hands, I unlock my door and slide behind the wheel, the note crumpled in my fist. My heart is a wild drumbeat in my ears, fear and adrenaline spiking through my veins.

Who would want to warn me away from Liam? His enemies in the mafia world? Someone else vying for his attention? The thought makes me feel queasy and faintly ridiculous. I'm nothing to Liam, just a temporary distraction, an itch he needs to scratch.

But even as I try to convince myself of that, I can't shake the memory of his eyes, the way they softened and heated in equal measure when he looked at me. The rough silk of his voice when he said my name, like it was something precious and fragile.

Fuck. I'm in way over my head, caught between my growing fascination with a dangerous man and the very real threats lurking in the shadows. Every instinct is screaming at me to run, to put as much distance between myself and Liam O'Connor as possible.

But a deeper, more reckless part of me rebels at the thought. Liam makes me feel alive in a way I never have before, like I'm teetering on the edge of something huge and terrifying and exhilarating. Can I really just walk away from that? From him?

I crumple the note into a tight ball and shove it into my pocket, my jaw clenched with stubborn resolve. I won't let faceless cowards dictate my choices, my feelings. If there's even a chance that what I have with Liam is real, that it could grow into something deeper and truer than just forbidden lust, I owe it to myself to find out.

No matter the risk. No matter the cost. I'm not running anymore.

With a deep breath, I turn the key in the ignition and pull out of the lot, the diner's neon sign casting a soft, rosy glow in my rear view mirror. In the distance, the jagged Chicago skyline glitters like broken glass, full of sharp edges and hidden dangers.

But for the first time in my careful, colorless life, I'm ready to bleed for something. For someone. And God help me, that someone is Liam fucking O'Connor.

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