Page 11 of Mob Saint

“No time!” Another teammate warns me my opponent’s too close for me to pass.

I shift to shield the ball, using my bigger body to keep whoever’s about to attack away. My ball handling’s better than most on this field since I walked on to varsity at a Division One—DI—school. I’ve played since I was four and haven’t stopped. Usually, I can keep the ball once I have it. Usually, I’m not playing against Tiera.

She comes around me and pivots. It’s too late when I realize she’s going for the slide tackle. I can’t maneuver away from her. The ball’s out from under my foot in an instant, and she’s back on her feet with a quick roll and push up straight to standing. I wait for the whistle, but nothing comes. This league’s supposed to be no slide tackles, but she executed it perfectly. There’s nothing for me to call foul on except for the strike my ego takes. I watch her as she passes the ball across three-quarters of the length of the field. A couple people try to block with their chests or heads, but it’s too high. I watch her teammate shoot but miss while she sprints—again. Even I’m breathing hard.

Her cheeks are flushed, and hair sticks to her forehead despite the headband she wears to keep it back. Her ponytail swishes with each step, and it’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I want to wrap it around my fist, hold her head in place, and devour her before she sucks me off. That’s only after I’ve made her come on my tongue at least five times. I want to taste all of her.

“You good?” She looks over at me when I catch up to her at midfield. The ref just called half time.

“Tá mé chun tú a phósadh.” I’m going to marry you.

I mumble it, and her brow furrows. Thank God. She doesn’t speak as much Gaelic as I thought she might.

“I only know a few phrases in Irish.”

“Just muttering to myself about needing to be in better shape.”

A total and complete bold-face lie. Unless she translates it, she’ll never know because I can lie like it’s a pathological condition. I do it all the time. But it’s to protect other people not my ego, which again is getting way too much attention. If we ever had a future, she’d have to get used to me lying to her. But she would know it’s a possibility. She’d know I’d do it to protect her.

“Seamus, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. Don’t lie.”

Chapter Four

Tiera

I don’t know what Seamus said, but it wasn’t about getting in better shape. First, that would be impossible. He’s the living embodiment of the perfect physique. Second, his cheeks are already flushed from exertion, but I’m certain they just darkened. He’s blushing. He doesn’t want me to know the meaning. I didn’t hear it well enough to google it later, but I can tell he made something up to deter me.

He gives me a nod. A nod. Not a translation. Not an explanation. Not an apology.

We spend a lot of time staring at each other when he refuses to speak. I’m way too used to this. I’ve had men do this to me my entire life. I’d already accepted they would until I die. But it extra sucks with Seamus. If he did it to protect me or someone else, then I wouldn’t think twice. But he’s doing it to protect himself. His ego most likely.

We walk over to the table with bottles of Gatorade that are for both teams. He sees which one I’m looking at and picks it up. He shakes it once, silently asking me if it’s what I want. I turn to nod. He twists off the cap before handing it to me. He grabs nothing for himself.

He came over here just to give me a drink?

He came over because he wants to keep talking while saying nothing?

I don’t understand. As our gazes meet, I see uncertainty. I caught a hint of it the last time we spoke, but it’s in such stark opposition to who he is in the courtroom that it’s difficult to fathom they’re the same man. But every coin has two sides, and they’re meant to be different.

“I’m sorry about court today. I’m sorry about all of it.”

“I know. You did your job for your client. We both know I shouldn’t have been on the witness stand.”

“Why’d Gareth do it?”

It’s my turn to stare. I already guessed he knew I’m connected to Gareth O’Brien and the Trenton mob. I didn’t guess he would broach it here.

“Tiera, he put you in danger. He did it on purpose. I don’t know if he put you in my line of sight because he assumes no one in my family including me would target you. I don’t know if he did it because he thought we would. Either way, he put you physically in danger by testifying on behalf of the government when it’s obvious you have mob ties. He put you in professional danger by forcing you to testify about something you weren’t well-informed on. I don’t doubt, given the chance to examine the scene properly, you would have given uncontestable testimony. Why’d he do it? Why’d you say yes?”

I continue to stare. Seamus said nothing I haven’t thought a million times since Gareth announced he wanted me on the stand. He thought I could fuck them over. All he did was make me take it up the ass—and not the way I think I’d like it.

Seamus takes a step closer. He could easily intimidate me with his imposing stature, but I know to my core, he will never hurt me physically. I could see him breaking my heart. I know the O’Rourkes’ past, and I know there isn’t a man alive in his family who sanctioned their predecessors’ shit choices to drag women into the fights that were supposed to be between the men. I know not a one of them would hurt me, order anyone to hurt me, or condone anyone hurting me. I’d feel safe with Cormac, Sean, Shane, Dillan, or Finn. I feel protected when I’m with Seamus.

I don’t know if I like it.

“Tiera, you?—”

“That’s not my name.”

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