Page 43 of The Mob and his Messenger

Sitting here with Dallas is the first time I’ve seen her since she was taken to the hospital to be checked over for injuries. She looks devastatingly beautiful, her arms hugging herself, making imprints in her curvaceous flesh that even now I have to force my gaze away from, lest they ruin my impulse control and I just take her.

Now, just gone midnight, we sit in a cool huddle with an ignored bottle of wine resting on the table between us. Gabriel and Samantha happen to be sitting on the opposite side to Dallas and me, as though we are arranged against each other.

As though we’ve picked teams.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “I suppose we should talk about this.”

“Yes,” Gabriel murmurs, looking down at the table. He’s changed into a baggy suit and his hair is combed over again, but his eyes still hang tiredly. “The first thing I want to know is how you feel, Dallas. That’s the most important thing to me. No offense, Skip.”

I laugh darkly, glad that even now Gabriel feels like he can joke with me. I have to believe that’s a good sign.

“Well, when I saw that video, I was confused,” Dallas says, turning to me with her fresh, vivacious face.

Even after the mayhem, a quick shower has rendered her a messy-haired goddess, her smile causing happiness to try and explode in my chest. Her lips are wry, sassy, and so fucking kissable I could roar out in desire.

“But not as confused as I should’ve been, maybe,” she goes on. “The truth is, I really care about Dom and I think he really cares about me.”

“I do,” I growl, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly, feeling the heat and the passion of our touch firing between us.

“It might not make a lot of sense, fine, but the second we saw each other, I just felt this—I don’t even know how to explain it. Maybe when I’m like twenty years into my writing career I’ll be able to find the words. But I doubt it.”

“I felt like she was mine,” I say, fresh passion steaming in my voice. “The moment I saw her in that alleyway, I felt that claim inside of me. The time for lies has passed, so I won’t sugarcoat this. I knew the second I saw her that she was going to be the mother of my children. And getting to know her, and spending time with her, fuck, that’s just made me about a hundred times more certain. So I’m sorry, Gabriel, I really fucking am. You’re my best friend and I should’ve told you sooner. But there it is. Dallas is mine for the rest of our lives.”

I stop, my words coming out in a rush, my passion getting the better of me and making my voice warble.

In the half-light, Poppet yelps and barks gleefully, chasing a firefly around the garden.

“I was waiting for you to tell me,” Gabriel murmurs. “I saw you two, Skip, the first day we spent here. I knew something was different in you. I could tell. And then it made sense. I saw how you were smiling, both of you, and it just seemed right.”

I stare.

He grins.

“Don’t you get it, Dom, you silly old bastard? I’m glad. I know that there’s no one in this world who’d take care of Dallas better than you. I’ve known you most of my life and you’ve always proved yourself to be a damn good man.”

I feel Dallas shiver beside me. She lets out a moan of surprise and I must make a similar sound, a deep growl because we both look at each other and laugh. We revel in the moment.

All this time—and he’s happy for us.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” I whisper. “Gabriel, Jesus, I thought you were going to go nuts.”

“Look at you two,” Gabriel grins. “How could anybody be angry at that, eh?”

“Mom?” Dallas murmurs, struggling to conceal the glee from her voice.

I can hear it under her words.

We can be together. We can really fucking be together. Guilt-free.

But she can’t celebrate just yet.

Samantha might have different ideas.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” she muses. She’s changed into a glittering dress and put on earrings, as though by dressing elegantly she can erase what happened today. “At first I was shocked and disgusted, of course. And why wouldn’t I be? I’ve spent so long thinking that Domenico DeLuca is the devil. No offense.”

The whole table laughs, including me, and even Samantha herself manages to crack a grin.

“None taken,” I assure her. “I’m sure there are people who’d agree with you.”

She smiles tightly. “But I guess I’m in a little bit of a predicament here because I thought Cillian was a good man. He really convinced me that he was the one, whatever the hell that means.”

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