Page 20 of Mob Saint

It makes me gun shy to get involved with someone new. It’s not that I don’t want to love and be loved. I don’t want the disappointment that could—might—probably will—come along with it.

Oh, but Seamus.

The man is temptation incarnate. If only he were half as attracted to me as I am him. He’s a nice guy, and he has honor among thieves. The opposite of what you’d expect. While I hadn’t met any O’Rourkes before walking into the courtroom that fateful day—rolling my eyes at myself—I knew of them. Who doesn’t?

It’s why I know the man is so far out of my league, we’re in different universes. And I don’t want his pity. I don’t know if that’s what he feels, but I don’t want his attention if he just feels honor bound to give it. And I can’t ignore that as nice as he’s been to me, how concerned he’s been, he’s still teased me about my weight. I’m not a little girl. His jabs are more subtle than those bitches. But they were still there. That’s probably why he stood up for me. He felt guilty for doing exactly what they had, even if no one else heard him.

Not that it matters. I haven’t heard from him since he called five days ago. My guess is he’s at their place. The one that’s off the grid, that no local police are going to look for, and one the feds can’t legally locate to get a warrant. The place where they enforce syndicate laws. An eye for an eye. Very Old Testament. We’re all Irish Catholics, after all. Can you roll your eyes so hard they fall out?

It doesn’t matter. If I tell myself that, maybe I’ll buy my own lies.

Suze

You ready? I’m downstairs.

Me

Yeah. I’m coming.

I’m over my self-imposed isolation. I needed it to lick my wounds. Now, I’m headed out with Suze. We’re going to an Off-Broadway show. I don’t know what it’s about, and I don’t mind. I want to get out of the house. I need the change of scenery now.

I grab my purse and head down the stairs of my duplex condo in East Harlem. It’s two stories, and I’m in the bedroom. It’s not too big and not too small. It’s juuust right. I’m fucking Goldilocks now.

“Hey.” I give Suze a loose one-arm hug.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing well. I needed a little downtime, but I’m excited for the show.”

Suze lives a few blocks from me, so she walked to my place. We slide into the Uber she called. I close my eyes for a moment and sigh. We chat the entire way to the theatre, and I laugh like I haven’t in ages. But my laughter dies as we get out of the car. I know that red hair. I know those broad shoulders. I know those eyes.

I don’t know who the woman on his arm is.

My gaze locks with Seamus’s, and I see the surprise register. I dart my gaze to the woman who’s speaking to him. I turn away. I don’t want to see him on a date or with his girlfriend. I feel like such a fool. I let myself daydream about something that was entirely a product of my imagination.

“I think it’s this way.” I point to a sign for our section.

“Yeah. I’m going to the restroom first. You?”

“No. I’m good.”

I watch Suze head into the restroom, and I keep my back to where I last saw Seamus. It means I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear him from behind my right shoulder.

“Tiera?”

I look back at him, but I don’t turn around.

“Hi.”

His brow furrows at my brusque greeting.

“I’m sorry I missed your call. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I figured out what was going on when you didn’t call back, but I spoke to your cousin.”

“You look beautiful.”

Is he blushing? I don’t think he meant to say that.

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