Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(13)

“So what’s the plan? Ye’ll wait until she’s old enough to order a pint at a pub?”

When I remain silent, he heaves a sigh. “Yer the biggest eejit in all the land, and that’s a fact.”

“Listen, you tosser, it wouldn’t do you any harm to show me a little more respect. Technically, I’m your boss now.”

He cackles. “Oh ho! That’s a mighty high horse ye got there, lad! Do ye want a wee crown to go along with yer lofty new position, my liege lord?”

I picture myself in a Shakespearean period outfit with pouffy sleeves and a belted tunic, a bejeweled crown on my head as I haughtily survey the peasants toiling over my land, and can’t help but smile.

“Aye. Give me a bloody crown, would you? Even better, I’ll borrow the diamond tiara Sloane wore when she married Declan.”

“Why not go the full monty and borrow her red dress, too?”

“I do look smashing in red.”

“Always knew ye were a little light in the loafers, mate,” he says, still laughing.

“And what does it say about you that you’re my best friend?”

“That I’m the second biggest eejit in all the land, obviously.”

“For once, we agree. Now shut the fuck up, you gas bag. I want to catch a few winks before we get back on the plane.”

Try as I might, however. I can’t sleep.

All the way to the airport, memories of furious greenish-gray mermaid eyes keep me awake and churning.





“So you went ahead with it.”

“Aye.”

Declan grunts. I can’t tell what it means. I know he thinks I’m as daft as Kieran does to agree to an arranged marriage with a complete stranger, but I also know he’s pleased as punch with the deal itself.

Which means everything to me. Not only is Declan O’Donnell the head of the Irish Mob, he’s one of the finest men I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for him. My loyalty to him is unshakeable.

It’s a small price to pay to marry a lass I don’t love to prove it.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What’s she like?”

I think about it for a moment. “Bright.”

Declan makes a face. “Light bulbs are bright. What’s the lass bloody like, Spider?”

We’re sitting in his home office in Boston, drinking scotch. It’s late, past midnight, but Declan doesn’t ever seem to sleep much. When I texted him from Logan that we’d landed, he instructed me to come to his house after supper so we could talk.

Now here we are, talking, but I can’t come up with much to describe my future wife.

I barely know the lass, for fuck’s sake.

“What difference does it make?”

He snorts. “Only the difference between misery and happiness.”

“Not everyone can have what you have with Sloane.” I add drily, “Or would want it.”

His blue eyes twinkle at the mention of his wife. “Are you saying my dear bride is a handful?”

“Handful doesn’t even start to scratch the surface. Your woman’s a bloody force of nature. Had us all eating out of the palm of her hand within a day after you kidnapped her.”

His look sours. “I’ll have you know, I was in complete control the entire time.”

I chuckle. “Aye, it sure looked it as you were tearing out your hair and screaming.”

His wife, Sloane, could easily rule the world if she wanted to. They met under unusual circumstances—he abducted her with a mind toward interrogation after she caused a shootout between our men and the Bratva (long story)—and he instantly fell under her spell.

As everyone does, man or beast.

When I said she was a force of nature, it was accurate. She’s an erupting volcano, a category 5 hurricane, and a magnitude 10 earthquake, all wrapped up in a body made for sin.

Like someone else I recently met.

Who I am not fucking thinking about, goddammit.

Except I am, because Declan says, “Did you meet Caruso’s sister?”

I glance up to find him looking at me with expectation. “Aye. Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Only that I’ve always wondered what the notorious Black Widow is like. Does she have the arse on her they say she does?”

“Whoa, hold on a minute. Black Widow?”

“Aye. According to the rumors, she killed her husband in cold blood.” He takes a swallow of scotch. “Not that he didn’t deserve it. Word is he was violent with her. By all accounts, he was a gigantic prick.”

I think of Reyna’s face when I asked if she was Mrs. something, the way she grew so angry. I think of how she was so upset about her niece not having a choice about getting married. How she scoffed when I asked what made her think the lass wouldn’t have a life of her own after we were wed.

Then I wonder about that tattoo on her ring finger, the small black line of script in the place where a wedding band would be.

I feel a sudden powerful urge to know what that script says.

I say absently, “Aye, she’s got the arse. And a pair of tits that could give a man a heart attack. And eyes like thunderclouds over a stormy sea.”

After a moment lost in thought, I realize Declan hasn’t said anything. I glance over at him to find him staring back at me with his brows raised, an amused expression on his face.