Page 5 of Mob Knight

I shake my head. I still don’t believe that’s all it is. At best, it’s partial dislocation like she said. But at worst, it could be far more. And I feel guilty that the only reason she’s injured is because she tried to save me and fell down the steps. An average-sized man wouldn’t have crushed her like I almost did.

“You’re being as awkward as those two boys were. Why can’t you admit you need help?”

“Because I don’t. Like I said, a doctor will just tell me it’s nursemaid’s elbow, and I need to rest. Why are you being so demanding?”

“Because I feel guilty.”

I rarely blurt things like that. And I rarely feel that emotion toward anybody who isn’t part of my family. Not even the men I command. When I make a mistake, I might regret it, but rarely do I feel guilty. It’s not that this is an emotion I’m unaccustomed to. It’s just one I don’t care for.

“I absolve you of any guilt you feel because I pushed you down the stairs, not the other way around.”

“I was part of the situation that led you to believe you needed to protect me. Or rather, the kids in the neighborhood.”

I flash her a grin that usually makes most people relax. I’ve been told it’s charming when you pair it with my baby face. I’m not the youngest in the family. That would be my cousin, Sean, who’s three minutes younger than his twin brother, Shane. Yes, Shane, Sean, and Cormac. Couldn’t get much more Irish than those names. Unless you toss in Seamus, my brother, and Finn and Dillan, my cousins. Good Irish names for good Irish mobsters.

“I protected you because it was the right thing to do.” She pauses before she smiles. “For the neighborhood.”

She shifts her gaze to the bodega Frick and Frack just went into before she looks back at me again.

“Are you going to deal with them in there?”

When she furrows her brow, I know what she assumes that means. Had she not intervened, that’s likely what would’ve already happened. She’s right about not involving people in the neighborhood. I didn’t draw my gun first, and I didn’t shoot, but I would’ve if I needed to. I believe she knows that, or at least the latter part. I don’t know if she realized I wasn’t the one who fired my weapon.

Now, cooler heads prevail. They’re off the street, and I didn’t have to fire a shot. I check the safety, even though I know it’s on, then tuck the gun into my lower back holster. She notices the rip in my sleeve when I move. Her gaze locks with mine, but only for a second, knowing it reminded me of her elbow.

“You still haven’t agreed to go to the doctor.”

“I won’t. It’s unnecessary.”

“You basically told those boys to act like men. And now you’re the one who’s being stubborn instead of being an adult. Maybe you ought to get a spanking instead of them.”

Her eyebrows shoot straight to her hairline, or at least close to it. My palm itches to do just that. I didn’t miss how soft she is in all the right places, and how she felt in my arms. She’s definitely got an athletic build, but her tits pressed against my chest were unquestionably natural. And the feel of her arse when my hand thumped against it was plush. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word before, but it’s one that best describes what filled my hand for too brief a moment.

“Do you have achanclaholstered back there? Is that your actual weapon of choice?”

I’m not sure how to answer that, but my hand seems to have an idea. I lift it and look at it before twisting my wrist toward her, then back to me.

“Do I really look like I need achancla?”

Something flashes in her eyes, and it’s not fear or revulsion. It makes me want to do wicked things to her to see if I can makeher scream my name as she comes. This isnotthe time to be fantasizing about fucking a woman who I’m trying to convince to go to the emergency room.

An SUV I recognize pulls up along the street near where we stand, cutting our conversation short. This fucknut is the last person I need to see right now since I’ll just wind up in an argument with him. When Jocelyn turns to look at the man getting out of the SUV, I watch her freeze, then her head whips back around to stare at me. She takes two steps backward as she shakes her head.

“No. You—I—I gotta go.”

Her declaration definitely isn’t something she’s willing to compromise on. I’m certain she just figured out who I am since she recognized Pablo Diaz. She shifts so Pablo can’t see her since I block his view of her. She’s not just avoiding him; she’s hiding from him. What the fuck did that motherfucker do to make a woman who’s just gone toe-to-toe with me hide? I want answers now, but if I demand them from her, Pablo will see me talking and wonder who I’m speaking to. If I go to him and ask, then I just expose her. I keep my voice low, my lips barely moving.

“Stay where you are until I tell you to go back down the steps. You can wait there until I get him into the bodega.”

“No, you can’t go in there now. It would’ve been bad enough if you were going to return with just Ronaldo and Jesus inside, but Pablo Diaz is not a man you want to be in an enclosed space with.”

She doesn’t sound like she’s speculating. She sounds like she knows from experience. That pisses me off even more. What did he do to her? I will find out, even if it’s not today. I watch Pablo walk toward the bodega, but I’m certain he’s already seen me. He confirms that when he pauses at the door and looks over his shoulder at me.

He raises his eyebrows, and I shrug. It tempts me to swear at him, but I remember how Joey didn’t like that punk-arse kid swearing on the street where anybody could hear him.

“You coming or what?”

Pablo calls out to me, and I cross my arms and adopt a smug expression.

---