Page 3 of Weaponized

“Sister?” Anthony asks. “You certain that’s not a girlfriend? Like, there’s a chance she might be available?”

I want to know the answer too, but I also don’t want to be talking about this. At the same time, I can’t quit looking over at her. I’ve never seen anyone like her. She is absolute perfection. If you wrapped sunshine in grace and then dipped it in honey, you’d have that very girl. Yeah, I know what I sound like. I said what I said.

Thing is, I don’t go for girls like that. I know what they see when they look at me. I’m too much of everything and not enough of anything, so I don’t expect her to focus on me. But she does. I’m not sure if she feels the weight of my stare or what, but she locks eyes with mine and doesn’t turn away. I’m used to catching people looking at me, then watching their eyes flit away, embarrassed to be caught staring at the monster. But, her gaze holds, a shocking pale blue framed by long, dark lashes. I expect her to drop her inspection, but no. She cocks her head a little to the side as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle. For my part, I just keep right on looking back. I can’t help it. I’m mesmerized. I can’t force my eyes away.

“Jesus, Luke. Eye fuck much?” Anthony laughs, stealing my attention and breaking the spell. I glance over at him with a scowl and when I turn back, her attention is on the guy across from her. Her brother, I guess.

I shrug again, when Matteo offers, “She certainly is something. Probably sent here by Daddy to find a husband.” When I look at him, he understands the question in my eyes and continues, “I’m betting he wants her to get acquainted with whatever tool he’s picked out for her. That’s how the Irish do it. Bet she’s promised to Liam McGuiness. Makes the most sense.”

I don’t like that. In fact, I don’t like it at all. I’m examining that feeling when Anthony starts cackling. “A tool for an O’Toole. That’s awesome.”

“You should fuck her,” is Matteo’s brilliant response as our breakfast plates are set in front of us. I don’t know if he’s talking to me or Anthony, but it’s unlikely either of us is getting near someone who looks like that. I sigh and decide to change the subject.

“Where’s Gianni?” It’s usually the four of us here on Sundays.

“Probably still up to his eyeballs in pussy,” Anthony responds. “That dick isn’t answering his phone.”

Our waitress refills our cups and scurries away from our table. “Quit glaring at the help, Luca. I need a lot more coffee before we go. That won’t happen if you scare her away,” Matteo bitches.

“Me? You think this one”— I jut my thumb over at Anthony— “talking about pussy didn’t do it?”

Anthony snickers and Matteo sighs. “If you want that girl, Luke, you should go talk to her. Introduce yourself,” my brother states calmly, and apparently we’re back to this.

I roll my tight shoulders, uncomfortable. “I didn’t say anything about wanting her,” I grumble.

“Of course you want her,” my brother answers like I’m an idiot. “Every guy in this place wants her.”

“Youwant her? That what you’re saying?” I ask him with a little more irritation than I intended. He’s fucking with me. Right? He has to be fucking with me. He’s totally baiting me, but I don’t know why.

He looks at me, assessing, and then looks back behind him again. I want to kill him. Now O’Toole will know we’re talking about his sister. “Maybe,” is all he replies over his shoulder.

I grunt. I start piling pancakes into my mouth. I’m done with this conversation. I don’t talk about girls. Matteo knows this. Usually, he accepts it just like he accepts absolutely everything about me. There’s no point. My brother gets his fair share of women, but even he never has much to say about it. And me? I’m practically a born-again virgin. You wouldn’t guess it, but I’ve only had sex twice and they aren’t experiences I’d care to repeat.

The first time was when I was fourteen. My dad got Matteo and me prostitutes for our birthday. He smiled broadly as he walked us into one of the family brothels. The lady I was with was at least thirty and cried the entire time. Apparently, she was there to work off her husband’s debt. I gathered that fucking a fourteen- year-old wasn’t on her bucket list. I did what was expected, but it was an awful experience that gave me nightmares for a couple years, at least until new nightmares came to replace them.

The second and only other time was with a cute girl my freshman year at St. A’s. She kept checking out me and my friends at some party, and was hanging all over Matteo. When he wasn’t interested, she turned her charms on me. She kept running her hands all over me, talking about how big my muscles are. We ended up in a back bedroom, and from there, it didn’t go well. She kept telling me to “go ahead and fuck her” but when I pulled out my cock, she turned completely white. I started to zip up. I wasn’t there to scare the chick. After all, I’m a big guy and I’m anatomically proportional, if you know what I mean. Some guys may be into sadism but that isn’t my thing. Honest to God, I was just a horny teenager and I wanted to get us both off so we could go on about our night.Despite what people think about me, I don’t hurt others for the fun of it.

Anyhow, she insisted she wanted to “get fucked” so on we went. I was in her for about two whole strokes before she started pushing at my chest, telling me to stop. When I pulled out, there was blood on the condom. She was crying. I was pacing and apologizing. To this day, I don’t know if she was a virgin, on her period, if I was just too big or what. I didn’t ask, and she just hurried to dress and get out of the room.

I’ve turned down a few advances since then, mostly from drunk girls that come on to me when they notice Matteo isn’t interested. Yeah, I’m not following that path again. So, there hasn’t been a ton of action, if I’m telling the truth.

I mean, I know I look scary. I’ve seen myself in the mirror. I work out my frustration in the gym, get by with my hand and porn. One day, I’m sure I’ll have an arranged marriage where my wife and I can figure out how to make her happy. If we’re married, I’ll have all sorts of time to get her comfortable. I tell myself it’ll all be fine. Do I wish I could fuck just anyone without so much as a second thought, like Matteo, Gianni, or Anthony do? Sure. Of course. But, I have no desire to hurt anyone by accident. I’m not wired that way. Of course, hurting someone who deserves it is a totally different story.

I guess that’s why the angel across the room confuses me. I’ve learned not to look at the pretty girls on campus. I’m focused on the Family, my studies, and working out. In that order. For the most part, I like that people back away and don’t want to fuck with me. My future has already been mapped out, and I want to be prepared to grab it when the time comes.I can’t focus on insignificant shit.

“Fuck. Just fucking fuck,” Matteo snarls from across the table. I don’t have to say anything; I just look at him and wait. “Gianni was arrested last night. Some girl accused him of trying to rape her. He’s out on bail, and Umberto says that he’s been beat to hell. Something about getting jumped walking home and this chick is making up shit to cover for her boyfriend and his friends?”

I look at my brother as he frowns into his phone, as though it may hold more answers. “Why the fuck would she accuse him of rape to cover up a robbery? And these guys didn’t know he’s part of the Family?” I ask the table, because it makes no sense to me. Somewhere in there, Matteo got the story wrong. Or, Gianni did something wrong. I’m not sure which yet.

“So a bunch of guys beat him up? Does he know who?” Of course, this is what Anthony wants to know. He’s focused on revenge, not caring much for the story behind Gianni’s bruises. His typical happy-go-lucky demeanor is gone. Anthony may be a clown most of the time, but he cares deeply for his friends and family.

“Where is he now?” I ask, ignoring my cousin. We should go see him to find out what the hell happened. Not that I want to leave the diner quite yet. With that thought, I look back to the blonde’s table and find her and her brother gone. For some reason, I deflate a little.

“Hey guys,” Rowan O’Toole says from right behind my brother. Of course, that’s why she isn’t in her booth. She’s practically standing right beside me. I now get to see her close up, and I flat-out know I’m gawking.

This girl is gorgeous. Every contour of her face is soft and radiant.She is statuesque, and has a lean, hourglass figure with terrific tits, a trim waist, and rounded hips that I want to grab on to. She’s wearing cutoff denim shorts with the inside of the pockets showing through the fringe at the short hem, a contrast to her lightly tanned legs. Her tank top shows off a touch of cleavage, just a hint. It molds to her perfectly. She’s not dressed up at all, but she’s easily the classiest person in this place.She doesn’t belong here.

“I want to introduce you to my sister, Gráinne,” Rowan continues, and my eyes snap away from her tits to him. “She’s going to be a junior here this year, just transferred from NYU. She doesn’t know many people yet, so I’m introducing her around.”

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