Page 116 of Mob Bride

“No. I just watched a woman text my cousin a marriage proposal, so she can stay out of prison and hopefully keep him out too. That cousin’s getting fingerprinted, so the feds can put him in jail for at least two days. If they game the system, they can keep him there indefinitely. I’m trying to work out how to get you out if your boss sends you there, after all. I’m a bit short on words to spare right now.”

He’s frustrated, but he’s not mean.

“Cormac, you know I didn’t propose just to keep myself out of prison, right? I’m terrified some rival will be there and shank him within five minutes of them tossing him into gen pop.”

“And he’s terrified of the same thing for you. The difference is he knows what to look for and will fight dirty. You might fight dirty, but it’ll be too late. I have to keep you out of jail, or Shane’s likely to die suicide by cop because he won’t stop until they kill him, or he gets to you.”

“Don’t say that.” With each word I rasp, I feel like Cormac knocks the air out of me.

“You’re not naïve, Carys. You know Shane well enough to consider spending your life with him.”

“We can always get a divorce if he doesn’t want to stay married to me.”

Cormac assesses me, and I feel like I’ve failed whatever silent test he gave me.

“No one in the O’Rourke family—not on either side—has gotten divorced. And it’s not because of the bullshit you’ve seen our faces, now you have to die. Couples with arranged marriages stayed together because of duty. But my parents and aunts and uncles married because they can’t fathom a day without their partner. Dillan, Finn, Sean, and Seamus married their wives for the same reason. Shane deserves that, too. He deserves a marriage meant to last with his soulmate. Not some quickie that can be undone in Reno in less time than it takes to get married.”

“And how’s he supposed to have that when someone knifes him in the back in prison? He wants you to protect me. He trusts you to. I need you to trust I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. I don’t give a shit whether you or anyone else approves. You can judge me after we keep him out of Sing Sing.”

That prison’s super-max and not somewhere most inmates ever leave alive. If they prosecute me, and I wind up convicted, I’ll be headed to Bedford Hills. It’s the maximum-security prison for women in New York State. I’m not eager for a life sentence, but I stand a better chance for survival than Shane does in Sing Sing.

Cormac watches me until he nods. Something about what I said or how I said it pacifies him.

“If he says yes, it won’t be?—”

He doesn’t finish because the door swings open. My old handler, Johnny, walks in. It shocks me to see him with a shit-eating grin. We didn’t always agree, but I thought we got along better than I got along with Steve. Steve was always nice to my face, but I knew he was an asshole behind my back. I thought what I saw was what I got with Johnny.

“I smell fresh fish.” He sniffs dramatically, and I want to punch him. I’m not some new inmate.

“Who’re you?” Cormac’s hackles are up, and it makes Johnny miss a step.

“Mr. O’Rourke, I’m Special Agent Johnny Ramirez.”

Cormac grins, and it chills me to the bone. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. How’s your dear old dad these days? Still making little rocks out of big rocks?”

My eyes widen. I didn’t know Johnny’s dad was in prison. I glance between the two, and Cormac smirks.

“Didn’t tell your agent your daddy’s in the pen for selling narcotics and insider trading? I should have recognized you the minute you walked in. You look like your dad.”

“What?” I don’t understand what’s happening.

“Oh, yeah. Johnny’s dad turned state’s witness against the Diazes about seven years ago. Maybe you can answer a question my family’s had since then. Who’ve you been sucking off to keep your job? After all the shite they found on your dad, your knees must have callouses to have kept your job.”

“Johnny, you told me your dad died. You went to his funeral.”

“He went to his sentencing. His dad narced on the Diazes. He’s only alive because he’s a little bitch and reports everything to the warden. The warden protects him, but he hasn’t alwaysdone such a good job, has he, Johnny? It’s been at least a year since he was last stabbed. That’s a long time to go without a reminder you don’t turn on your own.”

Cormac unlocks his phone and hits his contacts. He puts the call on speaker.

Oh, hell.

“Enrique, que pasa, amigo?” Enrique, what’s happening, friend?

“What the fuck do you want, Cor? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I heard. Should I be sayingfelicidadassoon?”

“I don’t need nor want your congratulations. What do you want?”

---