Page 85 of Mob Bride

I move back to the other side.

“Seven.”

I keep going until she gets to twenty, making sure it’s ten on each side. She’s stomping her feet and crying. I allow her to continue even though I offer her soothing sounds and rub my hand over her arse. I let her cry out everything she’s bottled up for so long. I know it goes beyond what we’re dealing with right now for her punishment. This is about everything she has no control over. All the fear and frustration she’s had that life’s forced her to bottle up to remain professional. Eventually, her tears slow, and it’s an occasional whimper rather than sob.

I help her roll over and hold her in my arms, her arse resting between my knees.

“It’s all right now,cailín. It’s all over. Everything’s back to normal. Everything’s okay between us.”

“Are you really sure, Daddy? You promise everything’s okay?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t tell you that if it weren’t. If things weren’t okay between us, then you’d know.”

“I believe that after earlier.”

She offers me a watery smile, and I kiss her temple. She curls into me, and nothing feels better than holding her. I gaze at her as she closes her eyes. She nestles closer to me, and all the tension eases from her body.

I wonder how long this sense of peace can last. My experience is peace is but a fleeting reprieve from the unrelenting deluge that’s syndicate life. I refuse to ruin this by being maudlin, but it’s impossible to overlook a lifetime of experience. Maybe I can manifest it or something.

“How long did you sleep?”

“I think I fell asleep about a half-an-hour after you went back in your office.” Shame sweeps over her face, and she looks away.

“I told you we reconciled everything.”

“Until you think about it again later.”

“Carrie, we’ve never been on a date, and suddenly, we’re living together. It’s going to take some time to get used to each other. Today’s been worse than most. Tomorrow will be better.”

What am I? Little Orphan Annie? The sun’ll come out tomorrow. My gut says fat fucking chance. But I won’t share that when Carrie’s feeling so vulnerable.

“Come, sweet one.”

She nearly tumbles out of my lap as she struggles to get up, then backs away. “Don’t call me that, please. I hate it.”

“Little one?”

“No. You said sweet one. That’s what he called me. I hate it.”

“They’re practically the same thing, and little one doesn’t bother you?”

She vehemently shakes her head. I watch her retreat into herself as her breathing suddenly becomes more labored.

“Carrie.” I pull her into my arms. “Shh. He’s not here. I am. You’re with me. I shouldn’t have called you sweet since you’re my prickly little porcupine, not a gumdrop.”

She chokes a laugh as her arms curl between us.

“Shane, are you really going to make him go away?”

“Yes.”

I am, but I won’t tell her more than that. She doesn’t need a hint of what I’ve envisioned since I met her. Jacek’s death will be even worse.

“You can make sure Jacek doesn’t get me, right?”

If I’d known one word would affect her so much, I wouldn’t have even thought it, let alone said it.

“I have shirts in my closet from high school. Do you know why?”

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