Page 5 of Irish Reign

“It’s not your fault,” Samantha says a third time.

It’ll be donkey’s years before I believe her. But mourning my mistakes now won’t help those still living. I make a conscious effort to sound like I’m Captain of the Fishtown Boys. “Where’s Fairfax? We need some basic supplies if we’re going to be at the Rittenhouse for a while.”

“He’s being his usual efficient self. Clothes for you and Aiofe will be delivered by six o’clock this evening. He’s having my things sent over from the pool house, along with some of his own from his cottage.”

The pool house… After everything that happened last night—Samantha coming home to warn me about Madden, the confrontation in the safe room, Samantha consenting to wear my collar, the fire—after all of that, I’d somehow forgotten Samantha was still living in exile in the pool house. When she wasn’t hiding in Delaware. When we weren’t feuding.

She says, “Fairfax is having groceries delivered too. I reminded him we have nowhere to cook, but he insists on bringing in some of Aiofe’s favorites.”

I make a mental note to give him a bonus, the next time I can actually see the screen on my phone. I regret the thousands in cash I had in my office safe. I suspect all of it was incinerated last night.

Samantha leans forward and brushes a kiss against my cheek. “You need to rest.”

“I need to see my men. And they need to see me.”

“They can see you after you take a nap.”

“They need to know nothing’s changed, just because of a house fire.”

“You could have died in there.”

“I didn’t.”

“You could have—” A hiccup breaks whatever she’s trying to say.

Even with my shite vision and pain that grows sharper with every beat of my heart, I find the waterfall of her straight, black hair. I wrap my fist around it, using it as a lever to tilt her mouth to the perfect angle.

“I didn’t,” I whisper against her lips. She resists for a moment when I kiss her, as if there’s more of an argument to be had. But finally she sighs and lets me in. Eyes closed, so it doesn’t matter if I’m blind, I deepen the kiss.

Every inch of me aches. My eyes are stabbing knives directly into my brain. My lungs feel like they’re packed with sand. I don’t have the breath to hold the kiss as long as I want, and when I break off, I’m gasping.

But my cock doesn’t know any of that.

“Mo chailín maith,” I breathe into her mouth.My good girl.

She pulls away. “No,” she whispers, her forehead against mine. “You need to sleep.”

I catch her hand, intending to set her fingers against my trousers, to let her know I much I needthis. But when she rejects me, slipping away again, I lower myself to asking, “Am I hideous, Samantha?”

She laughs. “You always were, you know.” She kisses the back of my hand. “Seriously,” she says. “Rest.”

I want to protest. I want to tell her if she won’t have me, I’ll go out to my men.Theyneed me. Instead, I find myself yawning hard enough to dislocate my jaw.

Samantha slips away. “I’ll come back soon.”

I let her go, fairly certain I have no choice.

I’m almost asleep when my phone rings. I fumble for it on the nightstand, knocking over the bottle of eyedrops Kelleher left behind. When I finally get the damn thing in my hand, I can’t make out the letters on the screen. I answer just before the call goes to voicemail, snapping, “Kelly.”

“Boss.” It’s Patrick, my Warlord. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I sent my chief enforcer to Fiona Ingram.

Because that’s the other crisis brewing. Fiona’s father died last night. Kieran Ingram was the head of the mob in Boston. But more than that, Ingram was the general of the whole Grand Irish Union, all of us captains throughout the United States.

The bastard wanted me to kill Samantha, supposedly because of a shite threat she made. Really, he wanted me to prove my loyalty to the Union. When I refused to follow orders, a raging Ingram coughed up a rotten lung and died. Now his followers want me to pay.

Last night, I knew Kieran was dead before Fiona did. She called to say she’d made the mistake of her life, thinking my brother was the kind of man she could build an empire with. She had the black eye and busted lip to prove it.

Madden was a feckin’ bully his entire life. But Fiona never deserved what he did to her.

---