Chapter 34

The driver drops me off outside of Orla’s house and only shakes his head when I tell him not to wait. “Got to make sure you’re alright,” he says and hunkers down in his seat. “I’ll be out here until you’re ready to head back. Orders from the Don himself.”

I roll my eyes and decide not to argue. I have too much on my mind to care if my older brother is being overprotective. I hurry up the front steps and find Brody sitting in his office speaking to an older gentleman. Both of them look startled to see me.

“What a lucky day,” Brody says smoothly and gestures me forward. “Mr. Donnelly, this is my wife, Elena. I didn’t know she was coming to check on me.”

I stare at him, not sure what to make of his totally relaxed demeanor. When he called earlier and told me about getting ambushed by a crooked cop and Santoro’s men, I expected to find him shaken up. Instead, he seems completely fine.

But I’m not. I’m far from completely fine.

“I’ll wait with your mother until you’re finished,” I say and ignore old Mr. Donnelly when he tries to argue and says I should stay. Instead, I head into the kitchen where Orla’s sitting at the table in sweats drinking coffee and eating a bowl of cereal. She seems delighted to see me.

I like Brody’s mother. She’s got sad eyes and is holding back a very deep, unrelenting pain, but she fights through it anyway and tries her best for her family. I can relate to that, at least the part about taking care of everyone else. I hug her and we make small talk until she finally gets around to asking why I showed up out of the blue.

“What, I can’t visit my husband while he’s working?”

She shakes her head and studies me. “Not your normal thing. Did he tell you about the little ambush?”

“Sometimes I forget how involved you are.”

She looks amused at that. “Brody’s father was always asking for my opinions on things. I think the boys saw that and just kept up the habit. Now Brody tells me most of what’s going on with the family, even if sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.”

I process that and lean forward on my elbows, speaking quietly. “Is he okay?”

Orla takes a beat to answer. “I assume you mean emotionally, since physically he’s fine.”

“I can’t read him sometimes. He calls with this story about getting ambushed, but now he’s acting like nothing happened.”

“He’s the leader of our family, hon. He can’t go to pieces just because something dangerous happened. That man in there is strong, just like his father was.”

Which is exactly what I worry about. There’s a difference between being strong and being inflexible. Sometimes people think they can get all brittle, all closed off, and pretend like that’s strength, when in reality they’re one strong kick away from shattering.

But I know Brody isn’t glass. That man’s steel. I still worry.

He comes out a little while later and brings me back into his office. He shuts the door and kisses me, and we sit on the couch together, his hand slipping into mine. I lean against him, breathing that lovely smell of his again, and kiss his chin. “I was worried,” I say.

“I know. I shouldn’t have called. I just wanted to process with someone and I trust your judgment.”

I chew my lip, thinking about what Orla told me in the kitchen. His father used to talk to his mother—and now he wants to talk to me.

“Luca Moretti, huh? I remember him from the party last night.” I give him a wry smile. “He liked me.”

“Luca’s a fucking prick. He’s the worst kind of cop.”

“Oh, you mean, a cop that works with organized crime?” I waggle my eyebrows at him. “Huh, I can’t even imagine.”

He nudges me gently. “Don’t start with that.”

“I’m just worried, that’s all. I know you have a plan but Santoro’s starting to flex a little bit, and if things go wrong—” I don’t want to imagine what it would feel like if I lost him. Whatever Orla’s going through grieving for her husband might be only a shadow of what would wash over me, losing Brody before we ever got to live a life together.

Strange how now I’m thinking of growing old with him like it’s all I want in the world.

“Trust me, baby. I’m going to thread this needle.” He seems so confident, and I wish I felt the same way.

“We don’t need to go down this road. There are probably a million other ways we can get the Waterfront job approved.”

“While also winning favor with the cops? That’s what your family needs right now, isn’t it?” He leans in closer and kisses me gently. I feel hungry for his touch and let him drag me into his lap until I’m straddling him and grinding down against him. “But none of that will matter if I manage to bring down Santoro.”

“I know that’s the plan. I just—I don’t want to lose you while trying to help my family.”

“You won’t.” He kisses me harder. “This is a good thing. He took the bait. He wants to talk. All I have to do is make it convincing.”

I lean my forehead against his. “You don’t know Santoro. He’s crafty. He’s been evading my family for years and making our lives a living hell.”

“But he doesn’t know me.” Brody smirks and his mouth devours mine, and I want to keep arguing. I know it’s stupid, but suddenly I wish he’d drop this whole mission. That would mean my brothers would keep on fighting, that one of them might get hurt, but I don’t care. I need Brody now in a way I never imagined I would, and I hate the thought of him getting dragged into a game he can’t win, one that might end up with him dead.

There’s a knock at the door. I pull back from Brody’s kiss as Seamus comes into the room, looking pissed. He’s about to say something, but when he spots me in his brother’s lap with Brody’s hands on my ass, he rubs his face and storms over to the drink cart.

“Could you two cut it out for one second?” he says, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch. “God, you’re like fucking teenagers.”

“What can I do for you, Seamus?”

I get off Brody’s lap, feeling a little embarrassed, but at least Brody doesn’t seem to mind. Seamus swirls his drink and glares.

“We should do something about Santoro,” he says, sounding like it’s a growl.

“Here I was thinking you didn’t approve of the war.”

“He could’ve killed you today. It’s bad enough you refuse guards⁠—”

“You refuse guards?” I stare at Brody, feeling outraged.

He sighs and gives his brother a hard look. “Thanks for that. It’s all I’m going to hear about for the next week.”

“Goddamn right,” I say, getting to my feet. “Brody Quinn, how can you be so stupid?”

Seamus gestures at me. “The girl’s right. You are stupid. We need to hit Santoro back before he thinks he can do whatever the fuck he wants to us.”

“And you need to start bringing guards with you everywhere you go!” I’m ready to throw my damn shoe at my stubborn asshole of a husband.

“First of all,” Brody says, gesturing at me. “I’m a lawyer. A respectable lawyer. A fucking tax lawyer. I can’t show up at the office chauffeured by dangerous thugs.” Then he points at Seamus. “And you need to stop being so fucking bloodthirsty. It wasn’t an ambush earlier, it was a meeting.”

“That’s not how Mom described it.”

“Mom got it wrong.” He grimaces and gets to his feet. “Enough, both of you. I’m handling this.”

“Santoro could’ve killed you,” I say through my teeth. “And you’re too stubborn to have guards.”

“We should be out there showing Santoro that we can’t be fucked with!” Seamus says.

Brody slams his hand on his desk. “Enough.” He turns on his brother. “Drop it. I have a plan and I don’t need you fucking that up by going all cowboy on me. And you.” He turns to me and softens. “I’ll consider the guards.”

“He listens to reason,” I say, beaming.

But Seamus looks disgusted. “We’re not finished. I’ll see you in the office.” He storms out and slams the door.

Brody stares thoughtfully after his brother before gesturing me over. I go to him and let him pull me into his arms, even though I’m still annoyed.

“This is hard on everyone,” he says, and I know what he means. His family’s struggling with the idea of fighting this war, and Seamus in particular seems to be taking it to heart. “Now, where were we?” He tries to kiss me, but I push him away.

“You were about to call some of your guys to drive you to work. And I was about to go home.”

He groans as I wriggle from his grip. “It’s hard being the boss.”

“You’ll survive.” I give him a hard look. “If I hear that you’re moving around the city alone, I’m going to be pissed. No more of that. Do you understand?”

“I’ll do what I can.” His jaw works and I can tell he’s getting annoyed. I decide that’s the best I’ll get and leave him alone.

But if he thinks this is the last time we’ll talk about this, he’s crazy.

He’s too important to me to let it go.