Page 11 of His Mafia Sunshine

Red washes over my vision, my hands curling into fists on the sticky tabletop. "Watch your fucking mouth," I breathe, my voice trembling with barely leashed violence. "Asher is off-limits, Declan. I mean it. You come after him again, and we're going to have a problem."

For a long, taut moment, we stare each other down, the air between us crackling with tension. Then Declan throws his head back and laughs, the sound grating and mirthless.

"Oh, Liam," he sighs, shaking his head. "You poor, deluded bastard. You actually think this is going to end well for you? That you can play house with your pretty boy and still be the ruthless enforcer I need you to be?"

He leans forward, his eyes glittering with malice. "Let me make this very clear, little brother. Your sole loyalty is to the family. To me. Everything else - everyone else - is expendable. Including your precious fucking twink."

I rear back like he's slapped me, my heart pounding a sickening rhythm in my throat. "Declan--"

"Feelings are a weakness," he cuts me off, his voice implacable. "A liability we can't afford in this business. You want to keep your boy toy safe? Cut him loose. Push him away and don't look back. Because if you don't, if you let this fairy tale bullshit jeopardize our operation..."

He smiles, slow and vicious. "I'll put him in the ground myself. And I'll make you watch while I do it."

Bile rises hot and sharp in my throat, Declan's words hitting me like a gut-punch. I want to argue, to rail and rage and tell him to go fuck himself sideways. But a small, insidious part of me knows he's right. Knows that loving Asher, being with him, paints a glaring target on his back. Makes him vulnerable to all the vicious, venal monsters that lurk in the shadows of my life.

Monsters like the one sitting in front of me, wearing my brother's face.

"Do we understand each other, Liam?" Declan asks softly, his voice like velvet sheathing steel.

I close my eyes, hating myself, hating him, hating every twist and turn that's led me to this soul-rending moment. "Yes," I rasp, the word bitter as wormwood on my tongue.

"Good." Declan sits back, satisfaction oozing from every pore. "Glad we had this little chat. Now run along and let me enjoy my evening, hmm?"

I turn on my heel and stalk out of the bar, my pulse pounding in my temples, my hands trembling with impotent fury. The cold rain lashes my face as I step outside, but I barely feel it, numb to everything but the icy dread settling in my gut.

I have to end things with Asher. Have to push him away, make him hate me, for his own safety and sanity. The thought carves me hollow, leaves me bleeding and raw. But it's the only way. The only fucking choice.

I drive to the diner like a man headed for the gallows, my heart a leaden weight in my chest. The place is dark when I pull up, closed for the night, but I can see a light on in the back room, filtering through the blinds.

Asher. Cleaning up the mess I've made of his life, the havoc I've wreaked on his sanctuary. Guilt twists like a knife in my gut, sharp and unrelenting.

I let myself in with the key he gave me, the bell above the door chiming with mocking cheer. Asher appears in the doorway, his eyes widening, his face pale and drawn.

"Liam," he breathes, taking a half-step forward. "Are you--"

"We need to talk," I cut him off, my voice flat and lifeless to my own ears.

Something flickers in his eyes, a wary sort of understanding. He nods, wiping his hands on a dishrag, his shoulders squared like he's bracing for a blow.

"I can't do this anymore," I say, the words rasping over the raw flesh of my throat. "Can't be with you. It's too dangerous, for both of us."

Asher flinches like I've slapped him, hurt blooming stark and vivid on his face. "Liam, please," he whispers, his voice cracking. "Don't do this. We can find a way--"

"There is no way," I snap, hating myself for the harshness, the finality in my tone. "This thing between us, it was a mistake. A fucking pipe dream. I'm not the man you think I am, Asher. I'm not someone you can build a life with."

He shakes his head, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. "That's not true," he chokes out. "I know you, Liam. I see the good in you, the strength, the loyalty. You're more than what they've made you."

A jagged, humorless laugh tears from my throat. "You don't know a goddamn thing about me," I snarl. "About the things I've done, the blood on my hands. You think a few pretty words and a good fuck can erase that? Can turn me into some kind of reformed bad boy, riding off into the sunset with you?"

Asher recoils like I've gut-punched him, his face draining of color. "Liam," he whispers, broken and bewildered. "Why are you saying these things? What's happened?"

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache, the urge to go to him, to take him in my arms and beg forgiveness, nearly overwhelming. But I can't. I won't. Not if I want to keep him whole and breathing.

"Nothing's happened," I say coldly. "I've just come to my senses, is all. Remembered who and what I am. And it sure as hell isn't your knight in shining armor, sunshine."

The old endearment twists like a blade between my ribs, tainted now with the poison I'm spewing. Asher makes a soft, wounded sound, like I've reached into his chest and torn out his heart.

"So that's it then?" he asks, his voice small and lost. "You're just going to walk away? Throw away everything we have, everything we could be?"

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