KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2) (7 page)

Stacy

I kissed him. The man who killed my fiancé. I kissed him.

Why didn’t I feel disgusted? Why were my lips swollen with passion? Why was the taste of him lingering on my tongue?

Why did it feel so good?

Where did he go? What would I have done if he hadn’t left?

I was so confused. My head was spinning and I didn’t know what I was doing. I had to remind myself that things were going according to plan. I wanted Killian to admit his feelings for me. I wanted him to commit to me. I wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt me when he killed Davis.

But my heart was pounding and my belly was tight, my thighs quivering. What the hell was the matter with me?

My foot was throbbing. That pulled me out of my head a little. I got up and hobbled into the living room, searching for my cell phone to call work. I caught sight of Killian outside on the street, pacing in front of his building as if he was struggling with some great dilemma. And I supposed he was. I watched him, watched the way the tension made his shoulders look wider somehow, the way his thighs seemed to thunder with every step he took. He was so familiar, and yet there was this newness, as if I was seeing something about him that I hadn’t seen before. I’d always known how handsome he was. My friends in middle school always wanted to come over to the house when he was home from school. But it was like I was seeing what they had seen for the first time.

I touched my lips, remembering the feel of his kiss.

He looked up at my windows, and I ducked back out of sight. When I looked again, he was gone. I didn’t know if he went upstairs to his room, or if he’d walked away. I didn’t know if he’d be back. Something inside of me worried that he wouldn’t come back and I’d never see him again. What would I do then? How would I get my revenge?

I settled on the couch and tried to put him out of my mind. I watched stupid reality television shows all day and elevated my foot, changing the bandage when the old one got too dirty to look at. I hobbled around, drank tea, and snacked on things hidden in the back of my cupboards that I was ashamed to have purchased. And every time I stood, I went to the windows and looked down on the street and up at his windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Killian.

Wasn’t he supposed to be watching over me?

The last time he disappeared, Davis died.

***

Killian showed up at the hospital hours after I got the call. He walked in, his clothes a little disheveled as if he’d been in a fight or something.

“I’m sorry. I would have been here sooner, but I got tied up.”

“How did you know?”

“Ian called me. Is there anything…?”

I didn’t want him there. But he was family and he was in town to watch over me. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d seen him following me a few times so I called Ian and he told me. Pops got into some trouble and he wanted Killian watching over me just to make sure I wasn’t caught in the blowback of whatever was going on in Boston. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but…

He smelled like whiskey. I remembered that now. Killian smelled like a bar when he came to me at the hospital, when he held my hand and listened with me to the hospital social worker who was explaining what would happen next. There’d have to be an autopsy, by state law, and since Davis had no other family but me, I’d have to arrange the funeral. I should find any life insurance paperwork he had so that a claim could be filed. And I needed to decide where to bury him.

I was supposed to get married in the morning. Instead, I spent that morning deciding what cemetery to lay my fiancé in for all of eternity. And Killian was there, holding my hand, as if he had nothing to do with what had happened.

I should have known. Why didn’t I know? How could Killian be so cold to gun a man down and then show up at my side, help me make decisions that I never should have had to make? How could he be so weak as to do everything Pops told him to do without question?

And how could I be so weak as to like his kisses?

Ugh!

I was so restless with all these thoughts raging through my mind. I hated him. But then I remembered how kind he’d been to me when I was a kid. I remembered the first night I spent in the Callahan household after Mom brought me home. He came to my bedroom in the middle of the night, aware that I was frightened by the strange, new sounds of an unfamiliar place. I guess he’d seen it often enough in all the other kids Mom brought home. Ian told me once that there’d been more than fifty kids: kids who needed temporary housing, kids who were later returned to their parents, kids who simply needed a place to feel safe until they aged out of the system. And Killian was always there to calm their fears, mine included.

How could someone like that be a cold-blooded killer?

But there was no doubt in my mind. There were too many pieces of evidence, too many coincidences. Davis was fine, safe and healthy, up until Killian came to town. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was murdered less than two weeks after Killian showed up.

Maybe he thought he was protecting me. Maybe Pops lied to him. Maybe…I don’t know.

All I knew was that Davis was dead and Killian had to have had something to do with it.

I was about to turn off the television and head to bed when I heard the doorknob rattle. I grabbed a bat that I kept near the door and stood off to the side, waiting to see who was trying to break into my apartment. The door burst open, and Killian fell, falling to his knees, laughing almost maniacally as he did.

“I need to talk to you,” he said when he spotted me, his words slurring together. “I need to tell you something.”

“What the hell?”

I set the bat down and took his arm, trying to help him up, which was probably pretty comical since I was trying hard not to put any weight on my injured foot at the same time. He managed to get himself to his feet, slamming the door when he went to catch himself against it, his balance about as reliable as a feather floating on the wind.

“I’ve had a drink or two,” he said, turning into me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Maybe a dozen or so.”

“You need to sit down.”

“I do.” He touched my face, his hands surprisingly gentle despite his condition. “But I need to tell you something.”

“You need to sleep this off. You’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“Probably. But you…I was confused and now…I should go home, but I don’t want to.”

“Killian—”

“You kissed me and I’ve been waiting for that all these years. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” He dragged his thumbs over my bottom lip, pressing a little harder than he probably intended to. “I’m glad you did.”

“Killian, please sit before you fall.”

He inclined his head, looking over his shoulder at the couch. “Come with me.”

We leaned on each other, his hand strong as he helped me keep the weight off my foot. We fell together, finding ourselves tangled together on the center of the couch. He brushed the hair out of my face, staring at me for a second before he suddenly kissed me, returning exactly to where he’d been when he walked out of my apartment hours ago. I couldn’t help myself. I opened to him, tasting the whiskey on his lips as he captured me, reclaiming what I’d so willingly given to him before.

This was what I wanted. I wanted to convince him that he wanted me, that he was willing to commit to me where he hadn’t been willing to commit to anyone else. I wanted him to need me. I wanted him to put me in that place where only my betrayal could destroy him the way his part in Davis’ death had betrayed me.

I moved against him, deepening the kiss with an enthusiasm that I might not have felt under any other circumstances. But this was what I wanted. This was what I was going to do.

His hand slipped under the back of my t-shirt, slipping up over my back, around my ribs. His hands were warm and surprisingly soft, as one slipped around to my bare breasts, the other down over the panties I was wearing underneath the thin shirt. I was ready for bed, not really expecting any guests. My near nakedness should have embarrassed me, but his touch woke things inside of me that had been dead for far too long.

He rolled a little, moving so that we were lying almost face-to-face on the narrow couch. His hand on my ass held me in place and kept me from rolling to the floor. And his kiss moved from my mouth down my throat, making my head spin as I closed my eyes and allowed the sweet sensation of his heated breath wash over me. Had it really been so long since I’d been touched this way? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so completely aroused. I wanted his touch. I didn’t just know that I needed it, but I wanted it. I wanted his fingers digging into my ass, and I wanted his palm rubbing against my nipples. I wanted to feel the hardness of his masculine body against mine, and I wanted to welcome him inside of me. I could feel my insides turning to liquid. I could feel my belly quivering in anticipation. I had never known it was possible to want someone as completely as I wanted Killian in that moment.

What was wrong with me?

And then he was pulling away, extracting his hands from my clothing.

“What are you doing?”

“It shouldn’t be like this.” He sat up, buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Killian, it’s okay. It’s not like we’re really related.”

“I know. I just…I’m drunk, Stace. I don’t want to do anything that we’ll regret later.”

“I think in order for you to take advantage of me, I have to be the drunk one.”

He smiled when he peeked at me around his hands.

I touched his shoulder, squeezing my thighs together in an attempt to cool the heat that was suddenly alive there.

“We’ll talk in the morning?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “Stay here tonight. I don’t want to worry about you trying to make your way across the street.”

“Thanks.”

I kissed his cheek lightly and stood, hobbling as sexily as I could across the room. I turned back at the doorway and caught him watching me. There was this look in his eye that made my belly quiver again and made the fire inside of me burn relentlessly. I wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, but that was okay. It would give me time to remember why I was doing this. The only problem was, when I closed my eyes, it wasn’t Davis’ face I saw as it had been every night for the last six months. It was Killian’s.

Killian

I woke with a blinding headache the next morning. I hadn’t had a drink in six months, so it probably wasn’t a surprise that mainlining whiskey all day would leave me in such a condition. I stumbled into the kitchen and located the bottle of aspirin I knew Stacy kept there, swallowing a handful with a few gulps of water that did almost nothing to wet the desert in my mouth.

Stacy was still asleep. I remembered most of what had happened the night before, but not all of it. I remembered touching her. I remembered the feel of her skin under my hands, the taste of her lips on mine. I remembered her smile and watching her hobble away from me. I remembered the desire to get up and go after her, but the heaviness of my body and the weight of the alcohol keeping me anchored to the couch.

What would she have said if I had followed her into that bedroom?

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be with her. Momma would roll over in her grave if she could see me now. And what would Pops do? He sent me here to protect Stacy and I was on the verge of violating her last night, of taking away what little innocence she still possessed. What kind of man was I to do such a thing to a woman who was as much my sister as she would have been had my mother given birth to her?

It was wrong and I shouldn’t be here. But what choice did I have?

I rinsed my face and my mouth in the water from the faucet, running my wet hands through my hair so that it was damp and dripping when I straightened again. I felt a little more human when I returned to the couch and bent low to pull my shoes on. The least I could do was disappear before she woke.

I’d run it over in my mind again and again yesterday, finally ducking into a bar because I couldn’t do it anymore. But what did that say about me? It just suggested that I wasn’t strong enough to do what needed to be done. That I was good at running away, but not so good at facing the truth of a situation.

I wanted Stacy, but I’d convinced myself a very long time ago that I couldn’t have her. When she kissed me…everything was suddenly turned upside down.

Was it possible? Could she feel the same way I did? Was it possible that I could have what I’d wanted all these years?

I slipped out the door and was nearly to my own door when my phone vibrated in my back pocket.

“So…you left an interesting message on my voicemail,” Kyle said.

“Hey. Sorry about that. Yesterday was kind of a difficult day.”

“Were you drunk?” There was clear amusement in Kyle’s voice. “Not like you to drink to excess.”

“Yeah, well, some days call for a good drink.”

“And you
are
Irish. Sometimes you simply can’t fight your heritage.”

“Ha, ha.” I pushed through the door of my room, sinking down onto the couch with a heavy sigh. “What did I say?”

“Something about fate and love. I don’t know, you were sort of mumbling.”

“Sorry about that.”

“How’s Stacy?”

I glanced at the windows that looked onto her apartment. “She’s sleeping, I think.”

“It is fairly early. Pops has us all up early for a shipment. Jack’s trying to switch things up and do it earlier in the day so that the Italian might not realize what we’re up to.”

“You’re going?”

“All hands on deck. Pops even talked Sean into coming.”

“Sean? He’s never gone on a run before.”

“Yeah, well, he’s about to get a first class seat on one. Wish us luck.”

I leaned forward, resting my aching forehead on my hand. “Are things really that bad?”

“The Italians took our four of Jack’s men just last week. Pops is feeling the heat, and he’s letting it roll downhill, if you know what I mean.”

“Surely Jack understands that even though we provide protection, we can’t predict everything.”

“Yeah, well, every time one of his guys dies, he comes looking for Pops. He thinks that someone in the family is giving intel to the Italians.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because the Italians always seem to know where we’re going to be before we get there.” I could hear the tension in Kyle’s voice. “It’s bad, bro. Pops sent Kevin away last night. Made him go to the cabin down in Florida. He wanted Brianna to go with him, but she refused to leave her mother. So he told Cassidy to go, too, but she refused to leave Pops. It’s insane.”

“I should be there. I should come home.”

“Pops thinks that Stacy might still be in danger. He won’t let you.”

“But I should be there!”

“It’s not my call. Maybe you should talk to Pops yourself.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

I stood and walked to the window, spotting Stacy just as she crossed the street in front of a speeding taxi. The man yelled something at her, and she offered him a middle-fingered gesture, a bright smile on her face as she did it. It was almost as if she was born in this city.

“I’ve got to go. Keep me informed, huh?”

“Of course. But you might cool it with the drunk dialing.”

Kyle was laughing as he hung up. I set the phone on the coffee table and opened the door before Stacy had a chance to knock.

“Are you always standing at that window?”

“No.”

She brushed some hair out of her face as she looked up at me. There was something in her eyes…I wanted to kiss her and that made me step back because I wasn’t quite sure I could trust myself.

“Do I smell?”

“I probably do.”

She smiled softly. “Maybe we could take a shower together.”

Oh, my God!

She limped a little as she came inside, taking advantage of my distraction to invite herself in. She brushed her hair out of her face again, a nervous habit I knew all too well. Her eyes moved around the room, settling on my unmade bed.

“You were gone when I woke up. I thought we were going to talk this morning.”

“I was pretty drunk last night. I’m not sure…”

“You don’t remember?”

“Only bits and pieces.”

She blushed, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“Maybe I should go, then.”

“No.” I moved between her and the door, blocking her exit. “I remember enough.”

I lifted my hand to touch her, but I stopped myself just before I actually cradled her jaw in the palm of my hand. But she took my hand and pulled it to her, encouraging me to do what I’d wanted to do. I stepped into her, drew her close to me.

“Is this crazy? Am I pushing you into something you don’t want to do?”

“No.” She rested her hands against my chest, staring at her own fingers for a long moment. Then she looked up at me. “I don’t know what’s happening here anymore than you do. I just know that when you brought Sara up here, it killed something inside of me. And then when we kissed yesterday, something that had died long ago suddenly came back to life. I shouldn’t want you, I know that, but I do.”

“Maybe I should go back to Boston.”

She wrapped her fingers in my shirt, shaking her head as she looked up at me. “Please, don’t do that. I’ve already lost so much, and I don’t want to lose you, too.”

I groaned as I slid my fingers into her hair. “You won’t lose me.”

“Please, Killian…”

We kissed, a soft brushing of the lips. Then I pulled back, drawing her tight against my chest.

“Go home. Let me take a shower and clean up a little. Then I’ll come over so that we can talk.”

“Promise?”

I nodded, as I kissed her forehead lightly. “I promise.”

I watched her go, turning back to look at me several times as she limped down the stairs on that injured foot. I rushed into the bathroom, showering faster than I’d ever done in my life, careful to brush my teeth well, using more mouthwash than necessary. I felt like I was sixteen again, spraying cologne on my junk because I was hoping my date would be adventurous with her oral talents. Funny how you never outgrow some things.

I picked up coffee and pastries at the little shop down the street. She didn’t open the door to my knock, so I dug out my key and let myself in, thinking she might be nursing that foot. But she was nowhere to be seen in the living room.

“Stacy?”

Concern made my chest feel tight. I went to the kitchen, then the powder room. The last place to look was the bedroom. When I stuck my head around the door, I found her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked save for the thin blanket she had draped over her chest and lap.

“What are you…?”

“I thought we’d done enough talking.”

“Stace, I don’t think—”

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll get dressed. I’ll call Pops myself and ask him to call you home.”

Just the thought of leaving her made my chest ache. I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave her; I couldn’t hurt her; I couldn’t allow anyone else to hurt her. I studied her; I studied the way her generous curves seemed to turn that simple blanket into the most erotic piece of cloth I’d ever seen. I wanted her in ways I’d never wanted anyone else. I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe.

I crossed the room, cupped her chin in my hand, and forced her to look up at me.

“Are you sure?”

There were tears in her eyes, but she nodded.

“Stacy—”

“Don’t make me beg, Killian.”

I dropped to my knees because the need I heard in her voice was just that overwhelming. I lay my head in her lap and wrapped my arms around her hips. She ran her fingers through my hair, a few tears dropping on my cheek from her beautiful eyes.

It took me a minute to get control over my emotions. And then I kissed the bare flesh on her thigh, the warm bronze of her skin like brown sugar, the sweet touch of her fingers in my hair like the touch of an angel. I pushed her back against the mattress and slowly worked my way up, dragging my lips over her ribs, slipping my tongue around her nipple. I nibbled at her throat and tasted the sweetness of her jaw. And then I captured her lips and nearly cried out when she responded, parting her lips ever so slightly to welcome me inside.

She wanted me. There was nothing better in the world than knowing the woman I loved wanted me.