Page 45 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

I’m suddenly no longer hungry.

“However, the money I pay Tony and Dominic Sabatini isn’t just for operating in their territory. It’s to protect me from cops and investigations. Someone would have to be willing to piss them off. They have been in it since their grandfather came to take over for Capone. So pissing them off would be done only if they were desperate. But I told you before, I’m always going to be as honest as I can be.” He shrugs.

“Tony Sabatini…” It has to be the same man my father told me to ask for help.

An eyebrow goes up. “How do you know about Tony Sabatini?”

“A long time ago my father mentioned an issue Tony Sabatini asked him for information about. I was afraid it was a bad thing—that he would hurt my father. But my dad told me that he preferred me to ask for help from Tony than the cops.”

He nods. “Your father wasn’t wrong. Tony Sabatini is a very well-respected and powerful capo in the Outfit. Which is why it’s highly unlikely. Because there wouldn’t be much of a vacuum created by removing me. Since I’m operating in Sabatini territory, they’ll remain to police whoever tries to take over. However, only a fool takes anything for granted. And I’m no fool. I have a way out of the city if heat comes down on me.” He puts a blueberry bagel heavy with blueberry cream cheese on my plate. “Eat.”

Since I can finally breathe again, I do.

“The policing done isn’t just against very bad men. It’s to keep them from ever getting a foothold in the city, a territory. Have you noticed there are no MC—motorcycle club here?”

I nod. Every once in a while, I might hear a throaty Harley. But it’s one guy, not a bunch of them.

“It’s because there’s an agreement they remain out of the city. The thing is, lately, they’re trying to go against the agreement. So, people in Outfit territory were told not to rent apartments, houses, or parking spaces to MC, and if one of them tried to, they were to let the Outfit know. The Serbians have long tried to get a foothold in the city. So, the call is out against even serving them a meal. The call I got interrupting our dinner that first night was because an Irishman rented to a Serbian who blew up a club of an Outfit member. Six people were killed in the blast, all of them civilians.”

Oh god.

“The Irishman was a man I’ve known since I was a kid. His daughter got mixed up with the Serbian. Dominic needed me to question him because he didn’t trust Dominic. Because he went against the rules, I ordered his death that night. And last night, I had to lie to his one good daughter and hold her while she sobbed as she came to the realization her father was likely dead.”

I put the bagel down, as I work to swallow the bite I took. “So you can just kill someone and not think of what you did after?”

“You mean, does it keep me up at night?” An eyebrow is up.

My nod is stiff.

“It used to. The men who put me in charge stressed remorse and to find any other resolution besides murder. They never wanted meto make the call easily. I didn’t, and I still don’t. But as far as keeping me up at night, no.” His blue eyes are clear as they meet mine.

His lack of remorse sends an ache through me. “Why did you have to kill him? I mean, it was already done?—”

“You tell a child, no, don’t do that. If you do, I’m going to spank you. What happens when they do it again, and you don’t spank them?” The words are hard.

“In their mind, there’s no reason not to do it. Six people, Miranda. He knew he was going against a rule set, not because we said so. It was to protect others and, in the end, himself. To not pay for it, he’d think he could do it again. If it got out that Seamus went against what was set and walked away without repercussions, others would think they could do so, too.”

Why does it have to make sense? Context. He was upset because he had to hold the man’s daughter while she cried for her father—that he ordered dead.

Yet, he spoke so easily about ordering the death of a man over bagels and coffee… Wait. He admitted to me that he ordered a murder. It’s a little different than what he admitted the first night. By telling me the FBI could be interested in building a case against him and three minutes later admitting to a murder. Declan just placed his life in my hands.

How could he do that? My eyes jerk up to meet his. I can’t blink at the churning ocean storm.

His hand is behind my neck as he pulls me to within inches of him. “Ineverintended to keep you the night Ryan and Colm brought you to me. You were always supposed to spend every night in your own bed. But I took one look at you, and I couldn’t let you go.”

I bring up my hand to his cheek. He’s real. This isn’t a dream. He never planned on kidnapping me. But he couldn’t let me go.

“You are the devil,” I whisper as I press my lips to his. Only the devil, a fallen angel, so beautiful and filled with pride he resented man being put before him, could make me accept not only what I thought I never could—he made it make sense.

Declan

After we finished a very late breakfast, I asked her what she wanted to do for the day. Whatever she wanted to do, I would do. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and make love. While my cock was aching for her, I couldn’t forget the wince of pain on her beautiful face when I pulled out of her this morning. So we compromised by cuddling on the couch, and she’d have a long soak in the jetted tub I rarely used before we went to bed.

She was greedy for me to tell her everything from the time I was a child and teenager in Ireland. I found out more about her losing her parents—the pain in her eyes was almost more than I could bear.

Our late lunch is a stew Aoife cooked earlier in the week that Miranda warmed up while I was on a call with Ryan. Dinner is the Chinese place she loves from near her house.

We’re barely finished when she’s tugging me up the stairs. I hate calling an end to it. I’m firm that she needs at least twenty minutes in a hot bath before I fuck her again. With a sigh, she stomps up the stairs—pouting the whole time.

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