Page 89 of Offside Bride

“Oh there’s more, I’m afraid,” Siobhan continues. “I have reason to believe the COCG has something to do with it.”

“What’s the COCG?” I ask.

“The Callahan Organized Crime Group,” replies Siobhan solemnly, clicking on a search tab and reading what it says.

“It says here that they’re a major Irish organized crime syndicate with ties to important entities in multiple countries. The COCG, or otherwise known as The Callahan Cartel, is alleged to be the most powerful cartels in Ireland and one of the largest organized crime groups in the world.”

Sawyer lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Dad is certifiably unhinged.”

I snort, suddenly laughing at the absurdity of it all. Or maybe it’s the stress catching up to me.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to stifle the giggles that come over me. “But your family puts the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional, babe.”

Sawyer shoots me a playful glare. “And you thought Emily’s in-laws were out of pocket.”

“She’s got nothin’ on me,” I say. “Can’t wait for the O’Malley family Christmas party.”

“I can’t wait to spoil you with thousands of presents,” Sawyer says, brushing a thumb over my bottom lip.

“I’ll allow it,” I whisper.

Siobhan clears her throat. “Hate to interrupt the lovefest, but we need a plan. If Dad’s involved with the Callahans, we can’t trust anyone. Not even Uncle Whitey.”

I nod, sobering up. “Right, sorry. So what do we do now?”

Sawyer looks up to the ceiling, half laughing. “Honestly? I vote we order Chinese takeout and pretend none of this is happening.”

“Seconded,” I chime in. “Extra fortune cookies.”

Siobhan throws her hands up. “We really should do something.”

“I am doing something,” Sawyer says, sliding off the bed. “I drew a hot bath for my wife, and I intend to pamper her until the Door Dasher arrives. Order me the sesame beef you know I like.”

Sawyer flips the blanket off my legs, and the chilly air hits my legs. I’d almost forgotten Siobhan took my jeans off before the doctor examined my ankle. I’m a little bashful to be so exposed in nothing but my underwear, but Sawyer’s not even fazed by it. His strong, capable hands slide under my bare legs and lifts me from the mattress. I’m cradled in his arms like there’s nothing to it.

He carries me out the door and into the hallway, heading for the bathroom. Siobhan huffs, but gets off the bed, too, stopping at the threshold.

“Okay fine,” she says. “But I’m using your credit card.”

“Sweet and sour chicken for me,” I call over Sawyer’s shoulder. “And cream cheese wontons.”

Sawyer pulls me closer to his chest, his fingers tickling me where they touch my ribs. I’m giggling too much. As we turn into the bathroom, I hear Siobhan muttering under her breath about getting intel on the Italians from Otto.

We stop in front of the tub, and Sawyer looks around, turning side to side, calculating something.

“What are you doing? I think I can stand on my own.”

“It’s not that. I’m just trying to figure out how to undress you without putting you down.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” I say. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

He blinks, studying me with such a tender look in his eyes. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to take care of you.”

How does he do that? Just disarms me with sweet, sweet words and a look that holds my heart.

“You’re going to have to put me down eventually,” I tease, but secretly, I never want him to let go.

“Eventually,” he agrees with a mischievous grin. “But not yet.”

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