Page 60 of Mob Saint

She rests her head against my shoulder again until someone taps on the window. Fucking real life just rudely interrupted. Tiera scrambles to get off me, but I hold her in place. We can see it’s her dad, but he can’t see in.

“Little girl, no one rushes us. What do you need?”

“Another kiss and hug, then I’ll be ready.”

I’m happy to do that, but it’s over too soon. I help her off my lap before I look down at my glistening cock. Just like I’ve filled her with my cum to mark her as mine, she’s left part of her on me to remind me I’m hers. I close my eyes for a moment and sigh. Then I’m tucking myself back into my pants. My dick’s not thrilled it didn’t get off, but it’ll survive. The rest of me doesn’t feel like I missed out on something.

I drop the privacy glass again when I’m certain Tiera’s decent. “Todd, once we’re inside, pull up to a couple houses before Gareth’s. Stay out of sight, but stay close.”

“Got it, boss.”

I open my door and step out. I nod to Brant but turn back to help Tiera. She squeezes my hand as she slides out. She hugs her dad, and he kisses her on the cheek. Then she’s standing beside me again, her hand in mine. A bit of me wants to gloat.

We walk toward the house together, Brant leading the way, shielding Tiera from the front. My right shoulder is just behind her left. I don’t want her walking next to the street. It’s too dangerous. But I don’t love that this makes her easier to spot from the house. Either way, I can block her back with one step sideways, and I can wrap myself around her while pushing her to the ground if I need to.

“Brant?”

Fucking Vince. He’s young enough to be his nephew, not his brother. Their dad’s still alive and just as much a dirty old man as he was twenty-eight years ago when he knocked up some girl from Patterson—NJ has some shitty parts, and Patterson is one of the shittier—who was after his money. She blew through a stack during the first sixteen years they were married, and he still controlled his finances.

Brant is the executor of his dad’s estate now that the guy is ninety something and senile. Brant has a tight hold on the purse strings. His stepmom is on a strict allowance that barely covers her weekly Botox and collagen. I’m shocked so many needles in her face haven’t made it pop like a balloon. If only she’d fly away like one or deflate and shut up. She has the voice of a fucking goose.

“Yeah. Is Gareth home?”

“Yeah. What the fuck’s he doing here with her?”

I grit my teeth.

Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

“My daughter has a name. Use it.”

“A man’s name. I know you always wished she was a son. You made sure she has some brass ones on her. She wearing the pants, O’Rourke?”

I wait for Brant to react to Vince saying his daughter has balls. I’m waiting for him to deny Tiera has a man’s name because he wished she’d been a boy. The man says nothing. And I don’t think he’s just biting his tongue. I glance at Tiera, and she appears unfazed. Does she have that much of a poker face? Or is she just that used to hearing shite like this?

“She can wear whatever the hell she wants, Vince. She’s beautiful in everything.”

He laughs. The motherfucker laughs. Tiera squeezes my hand so hard it hurts. I nearly wince. What the fuck kind of death grip does she have? If we have kids, and she holds my hand when she’s in labor, she’ll fucking crush every bone.

That was a thought I never planned to have. It’s not the right time to have it. And I probably shouldn’t have it at all since I don’t know what the future holds, and I sure as shite don’t know if she ever wants to have children after what happened. I don’t know if she can have kids.

I curl my fingers around hers and tap them. She eases her hold when I say nothing else.

The four of us walk up the driveway together. The guys outside the house step forward when they recognize me. Or rather, they recognize the red hair and green eyes. I don’t know these guys, and I doubt they know which one I am. But they definitely know I’m an O’Rourke.

I put my gun in a small drawer under my seat when we got into the car. I hold out my suit jacket and twist so they can see my lower back. I lift each pant leg. When one of them takes a step toward me, I push back my shoulders. I don’t even need to inhale. He freezes and thinks twice about frisking me. He and the other guard know I have at least one knife. They also know the guns they have don’t scare me, so I will fight back if they try to take my knives.

“Tiernan, I need to see inside your purse, please.”

The guy on the left takes a step toward Tiera, and I step in front. I don’t believe he’s a threat, but I will make sure they know they go through me to get to her. I stick my hand out behind me, and she hands it to me. She already showed me the contents, so I know she has a pocketknife in her cosmetic bag hidden under some tampons. I pass it to the guard who scowls at me. I cock an eyebrow. He pushes shite around and gives it back to me. Good. He’s learning. I pass it back to Tiera.

As we follow Vince to the door, I keep my voice low and keep looking straight ahead. “Do they usually search your stuff?”

“No.”

Did Vince signal them somehow I couldn’t see? Did they get suspicious the moment they saw her holding an O’Rourke’s hand? Has Gareth already ordered them to search her? Would they have frisked her?

Plenty of questions and no answers. We enter the house behind Vince and Brant. We immediately hear raised voices coming from the living room. I recognize Gareth’s and Keith’s. Marvelous. Tiera recognizes them too because her nails dig into my hand. I try to ease my hand free, but she’s back to her death grip.

---