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Maybe she’s crazy and this is her kink. Find men and hate fuck them all over New York.

The door opens and the cat leaps off me to get to the door. Even Arnold trots over to see who’s come inside. My eyes are still closed, so I assume it’s Declan since he has the animals wrapped around his finger.

“That woman, Dec, did you recognize her? Ava?—”

“It’s not Declan,” Harry says, coming into view, the animals following her.

She’s a pretty woman, glowing now that she has Torin, or Torin has her. She’s the kind of underrated beauty who doesn’t care about dressing up. She’s happy in jeans and a t-shirt.

She’ll only dress up and show off her goods for my brother.

And Torin would rip my dick off and feed it to me, after stuffing my eyes down my throat, if he even thought I was thinking about his wife’s goods.

Fucking hell, my older brothers areeejitswhen it comes to their women.

She walks over with some pretty summer flowers in a vase and sets them down on a side table, their perfume immediately scenting the room. I offer her a glare. “I’m not a lass, Harry.”

“But someone tried to blow you up. You need a little happiness in here.”

She takes a step toward my desk and reaches for the blinds.

“Touch those and I’ll… well, fuck,” I mutter, “I can’t threaten you. So, make up a threat and pretend to shake in your boots.”

Harry snickers while she fusses with some twisted stick in the vase that gives the flowers a dramatic, elegant edge. If you like that sort of thing. “Did you say Ava?”

“Yes,” I say darkly, “I did. A black-haired Russian witch.”

She’s silent for such a long time I actually look over at her to make sure she’s still with me. She stands there, frowning. “When… when everything happened last year, I was in the church and a Russian-Italian woman came in. Black hair, gorgeous, mafia princess. A tattoo of ownership or belonging to a bratva on her wrist.”

“This witch didn’t have a tattoo.”

“Maybe it was fake?” She looks at me. “I know when someone’s poking around, to see if they want to use the underground, but Torin came in and scared her off. Her name was Ava.”

I sit up now. “She looked at Torin last night…”

Harry’s eyes narrow and she turns into a fiery creature of myth. Not literally, obviously, but it’s her aura. My brother will kill for her, and she’ll kill for him. But she’s not a jealous mess like him. She might let Ava live.

“Like,” I add, “she recognized him. Doesn’t seem to like us Murphys much.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I can see her remembering him because he pretty much ordered her out of the church. But not liking the family over a tense moment? No one banned her from coming back. Did she need protection?”

I laugh. “I think others need protection from her. She’s the type to take care of herself.”

“Or maybe she just seems that way,” Harry says. “I’m heading to Frank and Joan’s Pet Café with Lucie in a minute.”

Right on cue, Cal’s wife pokes her head in. “Hi, Seamus; bye, Seamus. Come on, Harry, we have things to do, my place, then Dirty Harry’s.”

Dirty Harry’s is my sister-in-law’s flower shop. The most famous one in the city.

They both leave, the cat and dog following them.

I flop back down on the sofa. Yeah, right. Ava’s some victim. If anyone’s the fucking victim, it’s me. Clunked me on the fucking head, stole my fucking gun. I love that thing. She also copped a feel.

Okay, I don’t holdthatagainst her.

Jokes aside, she also took the business card I carry. All my brothers have them. We bought a legit and classy sex club uptown. Actually, we bought the entire building. And with it we have a private floor that’s a safe house if we need it, as well as a floor that operates as a place we can meet potential clients for odd jobs or have a one-on-one with someone who might be seeking protection, goods, or an alliance. It’s where we met up with Romanov.

And she took the damn thing.