I have to keep her safe.
With the horse’s sides heaving between my legs, and my nerves buzzing with adrenaline, the thought keeps presenting itself over and over again.
I don’t give a fuck about Liam right now. I feel a little bad about Stassi, because she’s a pretty cool person and I know my sister and Gia both like her a lot, but I needed to get Roisin out of there, and I needed to do it fast.
Abandoning them was the only option.
Racing away from the manor house, I keep Roisin and her horse in my sights at all times. I have no other thoughts in my head, other than one.
I have to keep her safe.
It’s extremely goddamn frustrating.
I should leave her there. Liam’s business, her business, is clearly not my business. I should take the opportunity to escape, and run back to my family. Where I belong.
Except I don’t fucking belong there.
I don’t belong anywhere.
But I absolutely can’t let her stay here when I know that she’s being fucking hunted.
My mind races as we speed toward the coast.
If we can make it to Donegal, I have a way for us to get the hell out of here.
Roisin isn’t going to like it. But hitting the ocean is the only option. Once we get to the coast, if I can find a boat, we can get the fuck off of this island.
And a head start on whoever is hunting her like this.
I know she has questions. Fuck. I have them too.
But we can’t answer shit if we’re being hunted…
If she’s being hunted.
There it is again. I could walk away. Any time.
But Roisin can’t.
The horses run, and I direct the chestnut gelding to a path through what looks like some kind of nature preserve. While I normally don’t give a shit about nature, I’m grateful now.
The trees provide some cover.
Cover that we desperately need.
The village is probably a half-mile away. If we continue on horseback, we’re more likely to be noticed, so I wrap my hands around the horse’s neck, murmuring slightly and pulling back.
Well-trained creature that he is, he slows, and the gray mare that Roisin is riding slows too.
The horses pant, their nostrils flaring. I slide off of the chestnut’s back, then move to Roisin.
Surprisingly, she lets me wrap my hands around her waist, and I pull her gently off of the beast.
Her face is flushed and her hair is wild. I’m sure it’s all tangled, and she’s going to need something to tame it with.
I make a note to find something in town.
“Why are we here?” she asks.
My question from earlier surfaces again. Do you trust me?
I look at the harbor. “We need a boat.”
“A boat? Where—”
“I can get us out of here.”
She looks at me, her eyes pinched together with worry. “Liam and Stassi…”
“I can’t do anything right now,” I say softly.
She looks backwards. “We should go back.”
“We can’t.”
“We should, Marco.”
I have to keep her safe.
“All we can do is keep moving forward, Roisin.”
“What if they’re dead?”
The question is flat. I can’t decide if she’s already accepted that they might be dead, or if she’s hopeful that they haven’t.
Roisin is too much of a realist to be hopeful that they aren’t dead, I decide.
“They might be.”
The statement makes her wince, and I kick myself for not being sensitive enough.
“I’ll tell Elio. He and Gia will be able to get a ground force here quickly,” I say. I whip out my phone and text Elio that Stassi is in danger, and that he needs to mobilize someone from Italy quickly.
When he confirms, I look back at Roisin.
“They didn’t come for Stassi,” she murmurs.
It’s a confirmation. “They didn’t,” I murmur.
Roisin’s eyes fill with tears.
My heart feels like it crumples as I look at her. She wraps her arms around herself, looking at me through the tears.
“Why is this happening to me?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice a low growl. “But we’re going to find out.”
The boat from Donegal is small. It stinks, like fish and ocean and the iron-sharp tang of seaweed left to rot in the sun.
Worst of all, though, Roisin has cut herself off from me entirely.
She’s wrapped up at the bow of the boat, a fishy blanket around her shoulders. The captain provided it after taking one look at her face. I explained that we were Americans interested in an authentic tour of my homeland, making my face as blankly American as possible.
Given the amount of Americans who come by the dozens to tour the places that their ancestors left, it’s not uncommon. I certainly know that Elio and I got away with things in Italy while pretending to be on some kind of homecoming trip.
Elio, of course, is Italian. And I’m Italian enough that it never felt right to say I was discovering Italy… I had always known it.
The boat captain rolled his eyes but agreed to take us on his route, which would stop at another village. My vision from there was to grab a car, steal it if necessary, and then continue on to a larger port. Or even a fucking airport.
I don’t think I can get the passports in time, however…
“Your woman. She’s gonna catch a cold up there,” the captain says behind my shoulder.
It takes years of careful steeling of my nerves to not tell him, aggressively, that she’s not my woman.
“She’s tougher than you think,” I murmur.
“Still. Someone’s going to get cold between the two of ye, if you don’t have a bed to sleep in for a while. If you need to mend something with her, son, you might as well do it,” he murmurs.
God save me from nosy old men.
Still, I have a part to play. I drift up to the bow with Roisin.
“The captain says I need to make sure you aren’t mad at me, so I can leave the doghouse,” I murmur.
I’m not sure why I’m hoping that the idea of our stupid lie will get a smile out of her. But I am hoping that.
Somehow.
Roisin sighs. “Sure. Well. You’ve done it. Made up.”
“Roisin…”
“What, Marco. Do you want me to say good job? Do you want me to say that I’m happy to be here right now, or that everything seems freaking great? It doesn’t. I’m a lot of things but I’m not a liar, and right now I’m terrified that my brother is dead and that his very amazing fiancé who never deserved any of this is dead too. I’m worried that I’m going to go to jail for a very long time, for a murder that I didn’t cause. So tell me, Marco,” she snaps at me. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you…” my voice trails off.
I don’t want her to be so defeated.
I don’t want her to worry about Liam and Stassi.
I wish I could just… fix all this for her.
Fuck.
This is what I do. I fix things. I do it for my family all the time.
So why the fuck can’t I do it for Roisin, somehow?
Roisin’s eyes search mine. She gives me just another moment before turning with a sharp nod.
“That’s what I thought.”
I don’t say anything. I stand there, so the captain doesn’t question my abilities as a partner and turn us in.
But my mind churns, faster and more quickly than the Irish sea.
As the boat pulls in to the village, my phone beeps. I’m not sure if it’s because we finally have a signal or if Elio has only just now gotten information, but I quickly open it.
Elio: Stassi and the fucking Irishman are fine.
There’s a relief.
Me: Who organized the hit?
Elio: Why is Andrei Moretti chasing you?
Ah.
Me: Tell you later.
Elio: Friends don’t tell friends that.
Me: Yes they do.
Elio: Fuck you. I swear to fucking god, if Moretti comes near my family…
Me: He’s in Europe. I’m in Europe. I’ll make sure he stays here.
Elio: Use one of the central safe houses.
Now there’s an idea.
Me: Thanks.
I snap the phone shut right as we pull up along the dock. I stick my hand out to Roisin to help her onto the dock, and she takes it.
That’s a good sign.
I pay the captain using a phone transfer, then tug Roisin into town. “Stassi and Liam are fine.”
She sags with relief. “How did you find out?”
“Elio. He sent one of his lieutenants over.”
“That was fast.”
The boat ride had been hours long. “I imagine they were nearby.”
Roisin sighs. “Where are they?”
“Don’t know,” I grumble. “Don’t care.”
Roisin looks back at me with confusion.
I scan the surrounding town. It’s bigger than the last one, but still tiny. “We need to go find somewhere to sleep, and something to eat. I need to pull out some cash, and then we need to get to Switzerland.”
She blinks. “Switzerland?”
“Keep your voice down,” I whisper. “Yes.”
“Marco. How the hell is that going to help?”
“It will keep you safe,” I growl. Why can’t she fucking see that?
Roisin shakes her head. “I need to stay here, in Ireland. I can’t be a fugitive. And I certainly can’t look like I’m guilty enough to run to a country that doesn’t always play nice with extradition.”
Fucking hell. “Roisin. You will be going to Switzerland if it’s the last thing we fucking do.”
“No, I won’t,” she says.
With that, she strides away.
About to grind my molars into dust, I follow her.
Irritating woman.
Why can’t she see that I’m just trying to keep her safe?
I catch up to Roisin, who is walking ahead of me quickly. “Roisin. Be reasonable. If we stay in Ireland, that’s what they’re hoping for. They’re going to hunt you down until they find you, and then you won’t have anywhere to go.”
“We don’t even know who they are!” she practically shouts.
Shit.
I grab her arm, ignoring her squeak of protest, and tug her into an alley.
Roisin starts to raise her voice, but I cover her mouth quickly. When she raises a hand to smack me, I shake my head. “Stop,” I whisper, my voice a harsh scrape against the cold sea air. “Just stop. Just wait, Roisin.”
She narrows her eyes. Her chest is heaving, and I do my best to keep our gazes locked, so I don’t look down at her very tempting breasts.
Finally, she nods, and I lower my hand.
“Think about it. Seriously. If we’re constantly running from them, whoever they are, then we’re not going to be able to do anything to figure this out. Moretti isn’t stupid. I’m sure he’s already looking up the records of whoever left the dock, and he knows our destination. It’s only a matter of time. We need to stay one step ahead of him, then when we’re safe at the safehouse in Lugano, we can do some digging.”
Roisin hisses, the sound a laugh that’s desperate and claws at my chest. “A safe house? Really?”
“Really.”
Roisin shakes her head. “Look, I appreciate the offer, Marco. But this isn’t your fight. You made it crystal clear what we are to each other, and I’m not asking you to risk any more. If you want to leave, you can leave, but I’m staying.”
“Roisin…”
Footsteps, echoing through the alley, spur me to action.
I tuck Roisin into an alcove. It smells foul back here, but the smell of trash might keep whoever is in the alley away. When they keep coming, I do something else instead.
I duck my head down, tugging the fishy blanket that Roisin is covered in up around her ears, and I kiss her.
Somehow, some fucking how, I can’t keep my lips off of her. It doesn’t matter if we’re in mortal danger or if we smell like fish, the only thing that I can do when it comes to her is keep her safe.
With a kiss.
At first, it’s just a kiss. She’s mad at me, so her lips are tight under mine. Gently, I bring the sides of my hands up to cup her face.
I want Roisin back.
I want the woman who I kissed in the shower. I want the woman who I kissed, who tasted like the ocean and the sun. I want the woman that I spent my days and nights with in a tiny cabin on the Irish coast.
I want the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself.
The one thing that hasn’t belonged to my family, the one obligation I’ve never felt like I had to fill. I wanted Roisin before I knew who she was.
And damn it.
I’m going to have her.
I tug her hair, noting how the tangles make it easy for me to burrow my fingers against her scalp. She softens under my hands, her lips opening with a breathy moan that I capture as I lap at the sound of her sigh.
I know the moment she loses control too.
The blanket drops, forgotten as she and I kiss. Her legs wobble, and I put my knee in between them. The position means that she’s kind of half-standing against my leg, her back to the wall, my thigh between hers.
And when she starts to rub herself, slightly, on the hard length of my thigh, I practically purr with joy.
The kiss deepens. It becomes something different entirely. It’s the kiss that we shared all those nights ago, the one that was interrupted. It’s the one in the shower that I hated myself for.
It’s every kiss I wish I’d given her, over and over again.
Roisin gasps, and I growl. I want her like this. Needy. Open. Wanting me. She scrapes her nails along my scalp, and I want to growl like a fucking tiger at the sensation.
She’s perfect.
She’s mine.
I have to keep her safe.
Roisin’s fully rubbing her hot center on my thigh now, and I’m as hard as a fucking rock inside my thick denim jeans.
I want her.
I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my fucking life…
“Well. This is not exactly how I was expecting this would go.”
A woman’s voice, with a lilting Irish accent, breaks through the fog of my lust.
Roisin shoves me away, peering from around me at the person in the alley. I turn.
There’s a woman there. She’s about Roisin’s height. Come to think of it, she has Roisin’s tangle of hair as well.
My world shatters when Roisin says one word.
“Mum?”
