Page 15 of My Irish Mafia King

“I would not tell you to call the cops,” I say, barely keeping it together. It’s like there’s a volcano inside of me, frothing, lava surging to the surface as my old self, as thekillin Killian, tries to emerge.

She throws her hands up. “That’s because you know there’s nothing you can do,” she snaps. “There’s nothing anybody can do. He’s got a gun; he’s from that world… Don’t worry, Killian. I won’t be offended if you leave and pretend this never happened. I know this isn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably the last thing you want to deal with.”

“I want to help you,” I tell her, my head pulsing, rage coursing through me. “Describe Shane to me.”

“What good will that do?” she says, exacerbated.

I want to hold her, whisper that everything’s going to be okay. But I’m afraid that if I wrap my arms around her, I’ll squeeze too tight, my urge to protect her too strong. Nobody may make her feel like this. Nobody has the right to threaten her. Ever. Not my lucky charm.

“Just do it,” I say.

She swallows nervously, then says, “He’s got a tattoo of a clover on his neck.”

I laugh savagely, no humor in it, just pure anger. So, this is what fate has decided to throw at me. First, a reunion with a woman I haven’t seen since she was a lost, scared little kid. Now this… the mob life crashing into this pocket of perfection without me even needing to pull any triggers.

“Wait here,” I growl, moving toward the stairs.

I know Shane. I’ve never spoken to him, but I know him by sight. He’s one of Uncle Frank’s men. I’ve seen him several times at bars and parties, the clover on his neck, always drinking, always laughing, always acting like he’s the big bad wolf.

Lucy grabs my wrist, tugs on it, and turns me toward her. “What are you going to do?” she asks anxiously.

“Stop him,” I snarl, flashes of violence burning in my mind, snapshots of the life I lived for a few years before I decided I had to go legit. I once thought I could wear the spiky crown of the mafia prince. I once indulged that darkness.

“You’ll get that woman hurt,” Lucy says. “Or Clover… oryou, Killian. He’s in the mob. You own restaurants. I’m sorry, but this isn’t some freaking fairy tale. This isn’t Ireland. You can’t save me this time.”

I pull my hand away. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Throwing the door to the apartment open, I march up the stairs, my heart thundering as the old battle signals burst out of me. Maybe this is who I really am. What I was built for. No matter how hard I fight it, this is where it will always end.

“Killian,” Lucy hisses quietly from behind me. “Stop.”

But I can’t listen. On some level, I know this is going to mean shattering every idea she has of who I am. What’s the alternative? Let this motherfucker do this? And what’s this crap about a prisoner? Is my uncle dealing in people now?

When I push the door at the top of the stairs open, Clover runs over, yapping, tongue hanging out. Shane rises to his feet, standing behind the couch with his hand on his gun. His eyes widen when he sees that it’s me. Behind him, looking small and scared, a woman with hollow pits for eyes leans against the wall, arms wrapped across her middle.

“Killian?”Shane says, like he’s seen a ghost.

“You know him?” Lucy murmurs, looking at me.

I walk toward Shane. He shakily raises the gun, aiming it at my head, but I don’t stop. “You’ve been shaking Lucy down for cash,” I snarl. “And now you think you can take over her apartment? Scare her in her own home.”

“What is she to you?” Shane demands.

Everything. But I don’t say that. I walk around the couch until the cold barrel of the gun presses against my forehead. “If you want to save yourself, you better pull that goddamn trigger now.”

I keep my eyes on the pistol, on his finger… not currently on the trigger guard.

His eyes go steely. “I didn’t know you knew her, dammit,” he mutters.

“It doesn’t matter what you did and didn’t know. You scared her. You threatened her. If I wasn’t here, you’d hurt her.”

“Don’t make me do this.” His hand trembles.

“It’s your only chance to save yourself, you scumbag.”

Time seems to slow, just as it always does when violence is imminent. His finger inches toward the trigger guard. I duck and deliver a brutal punch to his face, a loudcracksignaling his jaw breaking. He roars and stumbles back, trying to aim the gun at me, but I grab his wrist and snap it.

Another crack tells me I’ve broken that bone too. He bellows as I wrench the gun from his grip, and then it’s like I can’t stop. Somewhere, seemingly far away, Lucy yells at me, and Clover barks, but my ears buzz as I unleash my fury. I saved Lucy from terror once, from the fear of being lost, from her abusive father catching up with her. I saved her from one storm; now I’m saving her from another. I smash Shane in the face with his own pistol repeatedly, only stopping when Lucy jumps on me, grabbing my arm.

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