Page 121 of Forbidden Romeo

“Isn’t it crazy that a couple Irish guys made some bad decisions a few hundred years ago, and we’re here today still suffering their consequences?” I say conversationally.

But Jack’s smile fades a little. “The mob doesn’t forget,” he says with a sigh.

“But what if it did?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Why?”

Jack puts his utensils down. “It might have started with a couple bad decisions, but thiswarbetween our families… Aimee, people have died for it. That makes it our consequence too.”

“It doesn’t have to be; we could start fresh.”

But Jack is already shaking his head. “If we wash over everything that happened, that means they died for nothing.”

“They’d have died for peace, Jack,” I say quietly. “Are you telling me that’s not what Graham would want?”

“What would peace even look like?”

“I don’t know… A nice house out in the suburbs?”

“Seriously?”

“Fine. An apartment in the tallest building in New York City, a steady job in the ER where I make up for all the lives my family has taken. A Chinese joint that knows my order before I even need to place it.” I glance down at my plate. “A husband who lovesme.Not my family name or the power he can gain from it. Just me.”

“Any man would be lucky to have just you.”

“Then what does that make you?”

Jack’s entire body shifts before I even register what’s happening.

It all happens in slow motion.

He throws himself across the table and pushes me to the ground. We land on the concrete, hard. Glassware shatters around us, but I can barely hear it over the sound of the helicopter. I ignore the bite of pain as Jack drags me back toward the wall.

Just as a spray of bullets pelts through the wood of the table we’d been sitting at only seconds before.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jack

Being attacked by a fucking helicopter wasn’t exactly on my to-do list today. As I watch the picnic table get blown to smithereens, I wave goodbye to the matinee tickets in my back pocket.

As much as I want to focus on the task at hand, my mind can’t get over the absurdity of the situation. A goddamn helicopter is gunning us down inNew York City.This doesn’t happen unless someone has one hell of a lot of cash to bribe the cops to look the other way. And Homeland Security to boot.

Aimee clings to my arm as I shield her from the debris, and I shake the thought from my head. We can figure that out later. Right now, my priority is getting us out of here safely.

I plot a route in my head. The stairs lead directly down the alley below, where we can make our escape. Only the door to that staircase is on the other side of the building. A few hundred yards of open space between us and cover.

The barrage of machine-gun bullets winds down slightly. “Are you hurt?” I whisper to Aimee.

“No,” she replies a little weakly, but her face is set and determined.

“We need to get to that door. On my mark, you run there, okay?”

Aimee grabs my arm urgently. “What about you?”

I unsheath my gun and load it up. “I’ll provide some cover.”

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