Page 25 of Mob Bride

“That look on his face wasn’t just surprise that anybody was there. It wasn’t just a mild observer wondering what was happening. He recognized you, Carrie. It wasn’t just me. He recognized you, too. Why is that? You don’t have to answer that question, but you know I’m thinking it. The only thing I’m going to ask of you now is that you come with me to a safe house. You cannot stay here.”

He repeats himself, and in a normal situation, I would agree with him. But how is any of this even remotely close to normal? I believe him when he says it’s about me, and it’s not just about my mom and not just a courtesy he would offer to any unprotected woman. He’s back to calling me by his pet name, and my mind quietens a decibel or two.

“There’s no way I can leave here. If I do, my handlers will know. How am I supposed to explain why I’m in some safe house they’ll either already know or can easily find out belongs to the Irish mob? I turned my tracker off the other night, but I can’t do it again. That’s not even remotely a possibility. Shane, I appreciate your offer. I appreciate you care and you want to help. But you know now I’m undercover. Leaving here isn’t an option. If I do, it’ll blow everything. My handlers will want to know why I’m at another location. Bartlomiej and Jacek will want to know why I’m not here. It opens up way more questions than just the ones you have. And not answering them is much higher stakes than anything you’re asking me.”

I watch his expression fully shutter, and it feels like a vise just tightened around my heart.

“Please, Shane, we can’t do this again. You know I want to. I think you do too. I don’t think it’s just talk. I think you mean each word you say. But it’s just not an option.”

He stares at me, but he lets go. He pulls his hands away from where they rested on my hips. His expression is full of regret. I know he’s letting me see that. He’s not being emotionally detached like he could be. He’s letting me in.

“All right, Carrie. For now, I’ll back off. Not because I want to, and not because the DEA is now involved. I’ll do it because you’re asking. But you know it can’t be as easy as me walking away. If nothing else, I’ve got to protect your parents just as much as I want to protect you.”

For some reason, that stings. And not the good kind of burn from the ache in my pussy. It stings that he would equate the protection he wants to offer to me with the same he wants to offer my parents. I guess I wanted protecting me to mean more.

That is fucked-up. That is selfish. And it’s irrational.

But it’s a visceral emotional reaction. He cups my jaw and runs his thumb against it just like he did a few moments ago.

“Carrie, I’ll protect your parents regardless of whether I want you, regardless of your job. Knowing who they are now—knowing what they mean to you—I’m doubly invested in making sure they’re safe. This isn’t just about them being Meredith and Rhys. They’re your parents, Meredith and Rhys.”

I listen to him, and I wonder if him saying they’re my parents before naming them means something significant as opposed to him naming them and tacking on they’re my parents.

Your parents, Meredith and Rhys. Not Meredith and Rhys, your parents.

I’m reading far too much into this.

And it’s like a blast of icy air when he steps away from me. It’s like he sucks every degree of heat out of me and this apartment. His expression still shows he regrets nothing can come of this. I let him see the same in my face. I know I could have an entirely blank expression just like he can. Who knows if it comes to him easily after years of training or whether it’s intuitive?

It certainly took me a lot of practice to make my face devoid of emotion. It’s a struggle now to only let it look like mild regret when what I’d really like to do is burst into tears and cling to him. But that’s not what’s going to happen.

He backs away another two steps before he turns around and walks to the door. I should stay right where I am until he closes the door behind him, then lock and bolt it. But I’m tethered to him, and I follow him like a lost little puppy, wishing he would pet me once or twice more.

His hand goes to the doorknob before he twists to look at me.

“Cailín, this isn’t over by a long shot. Not what’s going on around us and not what’s going on between us.”

He gives me a hard, fast kiss before he opens the door. I have no opportunity to ask what that means. He’s called me it more than once. We both wait in silence, both counting to twenty before he leans his head out and counts to twenty again just like I do. Then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

If ever there was something so symbolic as the door shutting in my face. We’ve said this isn’t over yet. Maybe the door will open again. I just don’t know what will be on the other side.

It’s been two days since the shootout. Two days since I’ve seen Shane face to face. But I sense him around me. I know he’s there.

If I try to look him up, it’ll ping on my computer unless I use my secure VPN again. And that’s a risk because it takes my computer offline. I have to say I shut it down and restarted it for an update or just because I felt like it got too hot.

My handlers always frown at me. They know I’m bullshitting them when I say that, but they don’t press the issue. I could ask my mom, but that would only raise every bit of suspicion shecould possibly have. It won’t help if she knows I’m here. The rest of his family probably already does. I wonder if he’s going to tell my mom or if his brothers or cousins will.

That’s been on a loop in my mind, along with a memory of the feel of his touch and the feel of touching him. The torturous bliss of it all.

But I have no choice now. I have to go to Bartlomiej. He texted me the night after the shootout. He was pissed. He wanted to know the answers, but he wanted to hear them in person. He expected me to see him the next morning. But something came up, and he said he would text me again when he was ready. He said I’d have thirty minutes to get to him; otherwise, there would be problems. I didn’t get that text until five minutes ago.

I’m walking down the street to the subway station. I can feel the eyes on me. I know Shane is somewhere nearby. It’s not paranoia when I also know Bartlomiej has men because I’ve spotted them. He doesn’t trust me anymore. He always had men follow me when we first started dating. Then he eased off and only had men as my bodyguards sometimes. He’s back to being suspicious, which tells me what kind of mood he’ll be in when I arrive. I’ve already considered what I’m going to say to handle this. I take a deep breath as I step out of the subway.

It’s no surprise Tymoteusz is waiting for me in a car. His expression tells me I’m in for Hurricane Bartek. He says nothing to me as I slide in the car. It’s not like the last time I rode with him, and we chatted about everything and anything. When we pull into the garage, he looks over at me.

“Kaja, consider everything you’re going to say. Jacek’s been in his ear ever since you ran away with Shane. One wrong word, Kaja. One wrong word.”

I nod and pull the handle open. I walk with dignity into the house, and I hear him in the living room. I’m sure Jacek is thereeven though I can’t hear his voice. There are a few other men in the kitchen. I’m certain there are men patrolling the backyard, just like there are men out front. Tymoteusz is following behind me at a discreet distance.

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