Page 120 of Mob Bride

It would be wonderful if you could easily sue the government for wrongful detention and harassment. It’s pathetically cliché how they’ve given themselves immunity from breaking their own laws. Yet, they think we’re the reprobates. We have our own system of laws we adhere to, and when we don’t, justice is much swifter. We’ve all seen that.

In my fucking case, the Cartel was swifter than us, and they stole my right to get back at Bartlomiej and Jacek. But that doesn’t mean we won’t still strike the Poles. This isn’t over by any stretch now I’m involved. Whoever steps into their boss’s role needs to come in understanding what’s waiting for them, and exactly the shitstorm their predecessors left them in. This will carry on for months, and depending on how they respond to their first warning, it may take years before I’m satisfied.

“My client will sign this. I want my copies in triplicate.”

“Triplicate? Mr. O’Rourke, do you think you’re going to get a carbon copy?”

“No, I think I want to send a copy to Judge Hartman to make sure he realizes he no longer has the power to persecute Ms. Pritchard according to this agreement. I’d like to keep one for my records and have one to send to whomever when I need it most. A bird in the hand, and all that.”

The agreement doesn’t force me to confess in order to keep Carrie off their radar. It’s an agreement that sets both of us free. It states there’re no charges formally filed against us, while reserving the right to pursue legal prosecution in the future. It also states Carrie’s release isn’t dependent upon her confession to any of my alleged crimes either. Since they didn’t charge uswith anything, and they aren’t holding us as witnesses, they can’t detain us.

They could hold her for professional misconduct, but they must not have the evidence they need to take it past an accusation she could flip into a case for harassment. They can’t even claim she was consorting with a known convict because no one’s been arrested as an adult. My record as a juvenile was expunged.

Grandda made certain of that right before he died. One of the few things he generously did for the other guys and me. He could have let the few charges of petty theft for pickpocketing and a couple for grand larceny since I jacked cars stick as a lesson to us. However, he didn’t. He saw down the road that having a record wouldn’t serve us when we stepped into leadership. We try to stay off of the government’s radar. Even more importantly, having a record is bad for business. It makes people wary to do deals with you when they believe you’re going to get caught.

I’m eager to see Carrie, but I maintain my calm appearance as I wait in the hallway for her. It’s a relief when I spot Sean coming out of the room next door to mine. The only reason they can tell us apart is because Seamus and Dillan had to officially put their names on the documents as our legal counsel. Otherwise, it would tempt us to let them take Sean and let me go, only for them to find out later they swooped up the wrong one of us.

Law enforcement’s questioned us before, and we’ve done the same thing, which complicates police procedurals. It forces them to admit they went after an O’Rourke—any O’Rourke—when they get the wrong one of us. They loathe explaining their mistakes to their superiors when the fingerprints don’t match. They’re one of the few things that aren’t one-hundred percent identical between the two of us. They always have to let the wrongfully detained brother off.

It royally pisses them off when we’re courteous and cooperative. They’d love to pin us with resisting, evading, or striking one of them. It definitely chaps the FBI’s arses when that happens because they’re the ones gunning for us the most. The Attorney General’s office would love nothing more than to convict any of us in the syndicate families, and there’s little we love more than fucking them over.

The weight of the world lifts from my shoulders when Carrie steps out of the interrogation room. I want to open my arms to her and hug her, but that hardly works if we’re trying to refute the claim we’re romantically involved. At least I can offer her a smile when we get to the underground parking lot, still escorted by agents.

The cars are still waiting for us, except one of them is now a limo. I’ll never get too old to have a wave of relief sweep me away when I see my dad. My mom always makes me feel emotionally safe, but my dad makes me feel physically safe, too.

Though I will say, my mom is much more apt to wage a vendetta than any of us men. My aunts are the same, so that sense of physical safety is immediate with my dad, but when I think long term, it’s my mom and aunts. They’ll make sure no one touches a hair on our heads ever again if we come back anything less than their perfect weans—children—they birthed.

When I look at Carrie as my dad walks toward us, I sense she’ll be just as protective if we last and have kids. I never imagined I’d say yes to a proposal without having said or heard I love you first.

I don’t let go of Carrie’s hand as Da hugs me. I know he feels my sigh because he squeezes tighter. Sean does the same thing, and I know my dad squeezed him, too. It’s harder for our mom to wrap her arms around both of us than it is for my dad, but they both manage. There’s never a first and second with this sort ofreunion, and neither of us ever wants to make them wait because neither of us can.

When Carrie tries to give us some space so I can wrap my arm around my dad instead of just Sean’s back, I don’t want to let go because I have an irrational fear she’ll disappear if I do. But she shakes her hand loose. Sean has an arm around Da and an arm around me. Now I do the same. She was right. This feels way better, but I turn my head to watch her.

“Sean, Nikki’s already home. I called and let her know. She’s ready to fire up her computer and bring the entire American government to its knees.”

My sister-in-law has the same national security grad degree my brother does, and it’s come in handy more than once. I know Sean feels guilty she cut her trip short by a day, but I’m certain he’s relieved to know she’s still okay. She flew on our family jet, so there weren’t any gate agents blocking her way. She didn’t go through customs like other people would. Let’s just say we have a fast-track pass for things like that.

“Thanks, Da. I’ll call her when I get in the car.”

They took our phones, but they had to give them back upon our release. Since Carrie isn’t carrying one, I’m not worried they found anything on hers. Sean made sure all of ours are so encrypted, it looks like the only thing we do with them is play Candy Crush. I don’t even understand that game.

I watch as everybody heads to all the cars but one. They’re saving a town car for Carrie and me. Thank God because I can’t last another minute. The moment the door closes, we’re on each other. Clothes go flying everywhere within the limited space. The privacy glass is always automatically up in any town car or limo. It doesn’t come down unless the passenger makes it.

The drivers can signal us, and then we can drop it. By now, anybody who drives for our family—and my guess is anybody who drives for any of the other syndicates—knows better thanto drop the glass unexpectedly on a couple in the backseat. It wouldn’t surprise me if half my generation was conceived in a town car.

I smile when I see she still doesn’t have any panties on. She had none to put back on, but it makes me happy, nonetheless.

“Daddy, this pussy is yours.”

“You’re right. It is mine. And I’ll do whatever the fuck I feel like doing to it. And right now, I’m starving. I never had breakfast.”

“Daddy, I’m just as hungry.”

I examine the surrounding space. The seat’s too short for me to lie on my back easily and let her climb over me, facing the opposite direction.

“That marvelous idea may have to wait until we’re home,cailín.”

“I know, Daddy. It doesn’t mean that’s not what I want.”

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