Once Kissed (O'Brien Family, #1)

Once Kissed (O'Brien Family, #1)

Cecy Robson




Chapter 1



Curran


“Are you f*cking kidding me?” I nail my brother with my best cop face. Any perp would freeze, curse, or take off running. Declan doesn’t so much as blink. It shouldn’t surprise me. He’s never been the type to run from a fight, even before he earned his title as assistant DA.

“Curran, quit your bitching. It’s a cake assignment,” he says. “Look at it as a break until you’re back on the job.”

“You sayin’ I can’t do the job?”

Declan’s jaw tightens hard enough to stiffen every muscle in his face. Either I pissed him off or I’m onto something. “I’m saying it wouldn’t hurt to have more time before you’re back on the streets,” he answers, keeping his voice low. “What happened to your partner Joey isn’t something you just get over.”

“Who’s saying I’m over it? I know I f*cked up.” And so does everyone on the force, I don’t add. “That doesn’t mean I’m washed up or can’t do my job.”

Declan’s already stiff posture tenses even more. “I never said you were washed up, or that you can’t—”

“Might as well have.”

“Curran, don’t you get it? It’s not a punishment.”

“Don’t you get it? While you’re sitting here behind a desk, I got dealers and gangbangers offing people left and right—and you’re asking me to play bodyguard to your librarian.”

Declan leans back in his office chair, clearly annoyed, but also worried. “She’s not a librarian, Curran. She’s an intern in her last year of law school who’s helping me with research in the Montenegro case.”

“Like I said, librarian.”

“Jesus. Just help me out, will ya?” he snaps, rubbing his forehead hard.

Ya? Okay, now he’s pissed. Behind that new suit, clean-shaven face, and hundred-dollar haircut, my brother’s Philly through and through. One more smartass comment from me and the “youz” are going to drop like water ice and his fist will swing my way.

With a groan, Declan pushes away from his desk and stands to face the window. Useless gesture, if you ask me. His view is a brick wall. But I suppose it’s either that or pace, and his closet-sized office isn’t big enough to take more than a few steps.

The thing is, I can read faces. He knows as much, and doesn’t want me to read his now. “Curran. This is my chance to move up,” he says. “Zabrinski, head of Homicide, is retiring in a few months. I’ve paid my dues, worked the shit cases, and won trials seasoned DAs thought I should plead out.” He looks at me then. “If I can put Montenegro away, it would upset organized crime from here to Jersey.”

“And seal your position in Homicide,” I finish for him.

“Yeah. It would.”

I cross my arms. “So why the hell do I have to babysit your librarian? If anything, I should be watching your back. You painted a bull’s-eye on your forehead by taking this case. Vincent Montenegro isn’t just a mob boss. He’s a legend only a dumbass would cross.” I roll my eyes at his glare. “Calm your shit—you know what I mean.”

“Don’t you think I know that? It’s the reason I don’t want anyone else helping me with this case. No other names. No one but me for the mob to target.”

“And no one else to steal your glory,” I add, which earns me yet another glare. “Declan, I know you want the promotion, just like I know you want the street cred. But don’t be stupid and get yourself killed in the process. Let me watch your back. The librarian can get another badge to shadow her.”

“I already have someone watching me.”

I straighten. “One of the boys in blue?”

“Actually a few. They alternate nights. When I’m at the office, or courtside, the detectives and sheriffs here have my back. Contessa will be—”

“Contessa? Is that even a real name?” Declan coughs into his fist in a lame attempt to muffle his laugh. “Damn. If it doesn’t mean ‘I have a stick rammed up my ass,’ I don’t know what does.”

My remark only makes my big bro laugh harder. “She’s…intense, and at times rigid, I’ll give you that.”

“Like I said, stick up the ass.”

“She’s a hard worker and a nice young lady, I assure you.”

I assure you, I repeat in my head. Okay, the Philly boy has officially left the building.

“Curran, just take the assignment. From what we hear, Montenegro isn’t going to go to prison without making a lot of noise. The badges assigned to this case have the smarts to watch my back and theirs.”

“But no one’s guarding the poor homely intern’s back. I get it.”

A sly grin edges across his face. “I never said she was homely, bro.”





Contessa


“Why her?”

“No idea. I have more experience. So does Tyler, and Emily’s been here longer.”

“We’ve all been here longer,” Emily adds, jumping in.

They’re all talking about me—not just the other interns, but every law clerk here. I get that the Montenegro case is one most attorneys would kill to say they were a part of—one that will make history and open doors to a successful career in law, and one that provides an opportunity to work with Declan O’Brien, the gorgeous assistant DA who’s on his way to becoming a legend. I get it, I really do—and I’m thrilled that I was selected to be a part of it. What I don’t understand is why they have to be so mean-spirited. I would never treat someone this way.

“Do you think she knows someone?” Brett mutters.

“Probably,” Sarah offers. “It would explain why she thinks she’s better than us.”

I don’t think that, I want to say. But I don’t say it. After all the times I’ve passed on lunch and happy hour with them, they wouldn’t believe me anyway. I have my reasons. Yet those reasons are too personal to share, especially with people who think so little of me.

The comments continue as if I’m not sitting close enough to hear. I’d like to say their remarks have no effect on me, but they do. They kick at the pride I feel being the law clerk selected to help Declan. According to DA Miles Fenske, Declan and I will be the only non-investigators on the case. All those nights of staying in, studying, and working hard are finally paying off. My path to independence is close—I can see it. No, I can taste it. All I have to do is get through the next few months.

And probably a lot more jabs thrown my way.

“Well, looks like U Penn steals it from us again,” Janice chimes in.

I cringe, wishing the comments would simply roll off my back. But I never could ignore insults. They’ve always hurt. Yet unlike in high school and college where I could hurry away, pretending to bury my face in a book, there’s nowhere to run. So I focus on finishing the deposition I’m working on and do my best to ignore their harsh words.

“What makes her so special, anyway?” Brielle adds.

“Not her clothes, that’s for sure,” Burton mumbles, causing the others to burst out laughing.

Their comments are bad enough, but their laughter is more than I can take. This time, I don’t stay quiet. “You don’t have to behave this way,” I say aloud, keeping my back to them. “I’m sure there will be other opportunities—”

“Other opportunities?” Burton mocks. “Oh, yeah, because cases as epic as this one come along all the time.”

I used to stick up for him. I suppose it’s too much to expect the same in return. “I’m not saying that it’s not a good case to have—”

“Then what are you saying?” he demands.

I force myself to continue typing, even as I speak. “I’m only saying you don’t have to be so rude.”

“And you don’t have to be such a bitch,” he barks back.

I whip around, stunned. The huddled group disperses to the rows of desks occupying the center of the law library. No one bothers to glance my way, not even Burton. It’s as if I don’t even matter, and he’d never called me what he did.

If I report him, it’ll come down to my word against his. That much is clear given how they’re all now back at their stations, pretending the past several minutes never occurred.

My voice quivers from anger, and from the humiliation heating my body. “I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me, Burton. I’ll make a note of it in case it happens again.” It’s my way of warning him that I’m documenting this incident in case his behavior continues, but of course, he doesn’t care.

He lifts his head from his work and smiles. “I’m sorry, Contessa. Did you say something?”

Angry tears burn my eyes. You *.

His smile vanishes. Not because of me, or because he realizes he’s being a monstrous prick, but because of who he sees approaching.

The door to the library opens and DA Fenske walks in, his status and presence drawing everyone’s attention, and rescuing me in more ways than one. “Hello, sir,” we all say at once, because that’s the type of respect this man evokes.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he says, smiling. “Contessa, may I see you a moment? It’s with regard to the Montenegro case.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” I reach for my iPad and purse, trying to collect myself.

DA Fenske opens the door to allow me through and I rush forward. I smile when he joins me in the hall, thankful to be leaving the law library. “I truly appreciate this opportunity, sir,” I say. “I’ve already begun to prepare the deposition and have requested the case files from the records department.”

“Excellent, Contessa.” He nods to several staff members as we proceed down the hall. Some are renowned attorneys, some hold modest clerical positions. Yet Miles Fenske greets everyone by name while managing to stay on task. “I’m sure you’ll be a tremendous asset to Declan. However, as you may know, Montenegro’s reputation is one of extreme violence. While we think he’ll ignore you given your minor role in the case, we’d like to assign you after-hours police supervision.”

I trip in my alligator loafers. DA Fenske manages to steady me, although the action clearly causes him pain. He releases me slowly, pressing a hand to his side.

My attention travels from his hand to his face. “Sir, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

He lowers his hand and continues forward, forcing a smile. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just an old football injury acting up.”

Based on his hunched posture and strained expression, I don’t believe him, but I don’t dare press. We cut right, past the Homicide Unit and down the row of cubicles, as I carefully gather my words.

“Sir, my apologies, but did you say I would be assigned a police escort?”

DA Fenske adjusts the button to his suit jacket, graciously appearing to miss my grimace. “Correct,” he answers. “While we believe Declan will be Montenegro’s sole focus, Declan feels it would be in your best interest to have protection in case Montenegro becomes aware of your presence and misinterprets your role.”

I clutch my iPad tightly against my chest, not wanting to believe this is happening. Don’t I have enough people watching my every move? “And if I refuse, sir?”

DA Fenske stops a few feet from Declan’s closed office door. Although I’d tried to keep my tone casual, I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “Then another law clerk will take your place.”

Unlike my voice, his is firm, making it clear this matter isn’t up for negotiation.

Another collar wound around my neck, another leash pulled taut. I want to cry. Yet I know I can’t. So instead of fighting, or crying, or pleading, I quietly obey. Just like I’ve done a thousand times before. “Very well, sir. I’ll accept the conditions of my assignment.”

Miles Fenske takes a moment to consider me. He’s not blind, he knows something is wrong. Thankfully, he releases me from his scrutiny and knocks on the door. “Declan, it’s Miles and Contessa. May we come in?”

“Ah, Miles. Yes, please come in,” Declan calls from behind the door.

I adjust my tiny black-framed glasses and take a breath before stepping forward. For all my nervousness, the heavens seem to part as the godlike Declan O’Brien greets me with a dashing smile. He and the hulking male sitting directly in front of him rise from their seats and—

No…not…No!

The police officer in full uniform turns his six-foot-plus frame my way, his light blue shirt tight against a dense mass of muscle, his blond hair shaved close to his scalp, and his light blue eyes staring straight at me. But it’s not his physique, those eyes, or even that humongous gun strapped to his hip that cements me where I stand. It’s his face.

The same face that had dipped between my spread legs all those years ago.

Holy. Shit.

“Hello, Contessa,” Declan says, keeping his smile. He was so busy greeting DA Fenske that he didn’t catch my stupefied response.

I jerk my head and pull the strands of my blond hair forward before nodding Declan’s way. “Hello, Assistant DA O’Brien.”

He chuckles. “I told you, just call me Declan.” He motions to the police officer. “This is my brother, Curran. He’ll be watching you.”

Brother? Cold sweat pours down my spine. Murder me, Jesus. I beg you.

My hands clutch my iPad, hard enough to crush my minute breasts. I bow my head, hoping to shadow my features. “Ma’am,” he says.

Declan motions us to sit and immediately begins discussing his progress on the Montenegro case with Miles. I open my iPad and type feverishly. Or at least, I try. Curran is looking at me. Right at me.

I adjust my position to angle away from him. Damnit. Why him? Why here? The one time I let loose—the one time I slept with a man I barely knew—the frat boy I avoided, the loudmouth I did my best to ignore—of all people, he’s assigned to guard me?

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the same man I tied to bed with my argyle socks!

I stare hard at my iPad, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as I envision my future and reputation imploding around me.

“Montenegro’s second was arrested this afternoon,” Declan adds. “And we have a lead on his third.”

“Do you think either will talk?” Miles asks him.

Declan widens his grin. “They will once they know how much we have on them.”

Both men laugh. I shift my weight and steal a glimpse Curran’s way. The prosecutors may be talking mob bosses and arraignments, but his attention is all on me.

“Contessa, make a note that I’d like the records clerk to bring everything they have on Gus Mancini, starting from his first arrest.”

My fingers sweep across the screen. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

“Do I know you?” Curran asks, his deep voice cutting through the other men’s chatter and tensing every ridge in my spine.

My fingers pause their erratic typing. “No,” I answer quickly.

The old wooden chair creaks as he leans back. “I could swear I’ve seen you before. You hang out at Lou’s Barbecue or Romeo’s Pizzeria?”

“N-no, not at all.”

“What about Frank’s Bar? Or— I know, O’Malley’s Tavern?”

“No,” I mutter, doing my best to shield my face.

“Curran, do you mind?” Declan asks.

“Oh—sorry. I thought I knew Contessa here from one of my stomping grounds.”

“I assure you, I’ve never been to those places,” I stammer.

My nervousness and direct eye contact totally give me away.

Curran straightens as stunned recognition spreads along his features. “Argyles?” he asks.





Chapter 2





Curran


Tess Newart. Miss “Let me tie you up so I can ride you hard” is sitting close enough to touch. Fuck. Me. I never thought I’d see that face again.

But there it is, with a nice coat of red to top it off.

“Is there a problem?” Miles Fenske asks me.

His attention drifts from me to Tess. Hell, I never knew her real name was Contessa. Then again, I never knew that much about her. Unless you count the night we…

I clear my throat, knowing both Miles and Declan are watching me. “She’s wearing argyle socks,” I say like a dumbass, motioning to her feet.

“And?” Miles asks.

I shrug. “Didn’t know grown-ass women wore that shit.”

I grimace. Okay. Probably not the best response. But damn, argyles? It’s been what—almost four years since I last saw her? And she’s still wearing those things? What the hell’s up with that?

Miles looks to Declan, whose grip on his pen tells me he’s seconds from stabbing me in the eye. I should be on my best behavior in front of his boss. But I’m not. In my defense, Tess, here, now, is a damn good reason to be off my game. Not that she’s exactly thrilled to see me. Shit. I thought we had a good time.

She keeps her attention forward and away from me, her spine straight enough to raise a flag on.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t as good for her as it was for me.

Declan forces a laugh. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. His mouth sometimes gets away from him,” he says, gritting his teeth.

“That’s understandable,” Miles says, nodding. “My father, God rest his soul, was a police officer.”

“Yeah?” I direct my focus back on him. “With Philly?”

“No. Newark.” He takes his time answering, appearing to remember his old man. “He worked long hours to put me through school, and get me where I am today. He took pride in the job. But too much time on the street and too many felons to deal with eventually took their toll.”

“Yeah,” I agree, meeting him square in the eye. “Those shithead perps can do a real number on you.”

I thought for sure Declan would snap that pen in his hand in two. Miles, though, nods like he understands what I’m saying. “You have a hard job, my friend. Please know how much our office appreciates you, and all that you do.”

“It’s my sworn duty and honor, sir.” I mean what I say, but I’ll admit I’m laying it on pretty thick. It’s probably taking Declan all he has not to roll his eyes. My bullshit always screws with his patience. But he has his gifts and I have mine.

Miles adds a respectful nod, which I return. There’s a reason Miles Fenske knows who he knows and holds the position he does. He’s keen on what to say, and how and when to say it.

“So tell me about the third in command,” Miles says, returning his attention to Declan. “He’s managed to stay under the radar until now. How is that possible? And how is someone that young so high in the ranks?”

Declan goes into full attorney mode, spitting out everything he has. Without meaning to, I let my attention wander back to Tess. And damn, hasn’t she changed. Her once stick-thin frame has filled out. Her rack, while still small, actually makes a dent in that green blouse she has buttoned to the base of her throat. Gray pants cover her long legs, and she’s wearing the same kind of shoes Ma’s friends wear to church—the kind that belong on spinsters and f*cking leprechauns. Why the hell is she wearing those damn things? Better yet, why’s she covering up that body? Especially now that she has a respectable ass to grab.

“Well, everything looks in order. Keep up the good work,” Miles says, wrapping things up. He stands and shakes Declan’s hand, appearing satisfied. But as he pulls back, his tone gives away his concern. “I know you want to work this alone, but if you need more staff, I expect you to notify me at once. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

No he won’t. Big bro has something to prove and he’ll do it alone or die trying. Miles doesn’t suspect as much and leaves. Now, it’s just the three of us. One too many, if you ask me.

Tess resumes her typing. Declan his legal blubbering. Me, I’m back to eyeing that one-night hookup I broke the bed with.

She leans forward, tucking her hand against her face so her blond hair falls in soft waves. That’s different, too. One length, down to her shoulders, not like that pin-straight haircut that never made it past her chin and bangs so straight I could have used the edge as a lever.

There’s something else, too….She squirms in place under the weight of my scrutiny, adjusting her— That’s it: the glasses. They’re not those giant Harry Potter–looking pieces of crap. They’re little, square, and yeah, kind of hot.

“Curran?”

Aw, hell. I look up at Declan. “Wassup?”

“Contessa has to pick up some paperwork the judge just signed. My detectives are tied up at the moment. I asked if you could accompany her courtside?” he snaps, his jaw clenched so tight, I’m sure he’ll crack a molar.

“Oh, yeah. I’m on it.”

Tess leaps to her feet. “I have to close out my files and shut down my computer first. It’s late, and I left it on. I’ll be right back.” She rushes away, slamming her knee into the chair. I reach to steady her, but she jumps like I burned her and plows into the wall. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m—I’ll be right back.”

She tears out of the room, slamming the door behind her and working that ass like—

“Did you f*ck my intern?” Declan growls.

I glance back at him as he looms over his desk. “Just a little,” I admit.





Tess


Argyles. He called me Argyles. That’s the same nickname he gave me the morning after we, we…

I slap my hand over my head. Oh, my God, I need to get out of this. I need to get out of this now!

My urgent steps slow as the reality of my situation becomes abundantly clear: I can’t give up my opportunity to work with Declan. I can’t refuse police surveillance. I can’t request another police officer this soon. And there’s no escaping Curran O’Brien.

But then there never was, was there?

I lean against the wall and start flipping through the notes I took on my iPad.

I groan. Who am I kidding? My mind isn’t on work, it’s on Curran, just like it was from the first moment I saw him.

As rush chair of Kappa Omega Kappa, notoriously known as KOK, Curran was loud, obnoxious, and perpetually surrounded by girls who found him oh so charming and laughed at everything that came out of his mouth. I roll my eyes, remembering their constant giggling and overt flirting.

Oh, Curran. You’re so cute.

Oh, Curran. You’re so funny.

Oh, Curran, you’re such a nice KOK.

I stare at my screen, recognizing that I was one of those girls taken by his wit, his smile, and his striking looks. But I never expected him to notice me. Not with all the pretty girls in my sorority cozying up to him, and not when my eating disorder had left me so painfully thin. God, I was so unhealthy then, my hair so fine I couldn’t grow it out, and nails so brittle I had to keep them short. Throw in my dorky wardrobe and an awkwardness I never fully outgrew and, well, I never thought Curran would look my way.

Yet eventually he did, making me feel like I mattered.

I remember that day so clearly. It was the end of finals week our junior year. As the president of the college, my father discovered my stellar grades had been ruined based on my performance in my journalism class. The research paper I’d turned in counted as 90 percent of my grade, and I’d erroneously written it without checking the references against more reputable sources. The prof had scored it a 70, given the lack of credibility. Although I’d worked hard on it, the heavy course load in my double majors in politics and pre-law that semester hadn’t allowed me the time I needed to cross-reference my material.

Father was furious, and not only verbally thrashed me until I cowered and collapsed in tears, but forced me to rewrite the entire paper by hand—all forty pages—so I’d learn “my lesson” about not being lazy and turning in sloppy work.

“My lesson” had been one of many throughout my life used to humiliate me and destroy my will. And it worked. After years of being mistreated and reduced to nothing, I surrendered and obeyed.

Just like I do now.

I left his office that day a shuddering mess, forcing a smile as I passed his peers—because I was the daughter of Donald Newart, university president, political figure, respected member of the community, and overall idol. I had to keep up appearances. Yet all I could think about was finding the strength to kill myself so I could finally break free of his hold.

But I never tried. Too weak. Just like he always claimed, and exactly how he kept me.

I push off the wall and walk slowly back to the law library. To this day, his words sting because he continues to verbally berate me, reminding me of my incompetence, and how I can’t survive without his help.

My father should be my hero. He should be my greatest champion. He should mean everything to me, but he doesn’t.

He’s the only blood relative I have, and the man who gave me life. Yet I can’t stop myself from hating him.

The problem is, sometimes I hate myself more.

I enter the law library and slump into my desk chair, feeling a sense of defeat so great, everyone around me seems to vanish. With almost robotic movements, I log on to my laptop and begin saving my documents to their appropriate files. And although I try to focus, I can’t shake the memory of that day.

My fingers fiddle with the pages of the deposition I’d been working on. I hit an all-time low following the degradation in Father’s office. But instead of allowing me to wallow in self-pity, my sorority sister convinced me to “have some KOK,” as she put it, and dragged me to Curran’s frat party.

Curran was one of the rare few who never seemed to care who my father was. He saw me sitting alone and holding an empty cup, and sat beside me. He could have ignored me like everyone else, flirted with the skimpily clad girls, and drank and roughhoused with his obnoxious friends. Instead he edged closer, despite how I tried to avert my gaze, and drew out a smile I didn’t know I had in me.

“You’re really pretty when you smile,” he told me there on the couch…and once more the next morning when we awoke naked together.

I cover my eyes and lean forward. Now he’s here, to guard me on a case I can’t walk away from, one that can grant me a life of independence from my father.

A sharp rap at the door forces me to glance up. Nausea punches through every cell of my body when I see him standing at the entrance. No. There’s truly no escaping Curran O’Brien.

He marches in slowly, his expression tight. “You ready, Tess?”

That’s the name I went by in college, back when I had friends, and someone like him to make me smile. I nod, hurrying to shove the necessary paperwork in my large purse. “Yes. One moment please, Officer.”

Officer. I cringe at the word. It’s what he is, though, so why do I feel so stupid calling him that? Because you wrapped your lips around his tremendous penis, I remind myself.

“Who’s this?”

My shoulders slump. Burton. Of course he’d have something to say. I should ignore him yet I don’t, feeling like I need to defend Curran’s presence. “He’s my—I mean, he’s here to help me with the Montenegro case,” I manage.

“Help you?” Burton says, his laugh reddening my cheeks. He eyes Curran up and down. “If you say so, Contessa.”

Curran’s attention bounces to me as every part of me bristles. Something in my expression causes him to scowl, yet instead of addressing me, his attention shifts back to Burton. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he snaps, “but I’m the cop assigned to watch Tess’s back. Who are you, the office idiot?”

I rise slowly. I remembered Curran the joker, but forgot all about Curran the brawler. Unlike me, Curran doesn’t fear confrontation and isn’t afraid to take a swing.

Burton leans back in his chair and crosses his arms as silence stretches across the room, arrogance splaying along his face. “I’ll let that slide, given I’m a well-respected attorney.”

“A well-respected attorney?” Curran repeats, appearing unimpressed and slightly bewildered.

“That’s right.”

“Hmmm,” Curran mumbles, looking around. “And you work here? In a library? Mom and Dad must be proud.”

My, and doesn’t Curran have everyone’s attention now?

“Unlike your situation, mine is temporary,” Burton sneers. “Just biding my time until the next DA’s spot opens up.”

This time, it’s Curran’s turn to grin. “And how long has this temporary gig been going on?”

The smile vanishes from Burton’s face. “That’s none of your business.”

Curran keeps his smile, but his voice gathers a sharp edge. “And it’s none of your business what I am to Tess, *.”

Curran’s not bowing under Burton’s self-proclaimed awesomeness, and Burton doesn’t appreciate it one bit. “I think DA Fenske would take offense to your choice of vocabulary, Officer.”

Claims the man who called me a bitch.

“He didn’t seem to mind when he thanked me for putting my life on the line a few minutes ago—it’s what us boys in blue do to keep the community safe,” Curran fires back. “I know it’s not the same as filing books after spending two hundred grand on education, but he seemed to appreciate it.”

Burton rises to his full height, his face boiling over with rage. “Consider your inappropriate language and misconduct reported.”

His comment only widens Curran’s smile. “To who, my brother Declan O’Brien, the assistant DA? Nah, he can’t do much seeing how I don’t technically work here. And my captain probably wouldn’t pay much attention to a whiny little wannabe librarian.” He glances around the law library. “No offense to any of you. I’m sure you won’t wait as long as this dick has for a promotion that’ll never come. You seem smarter than that.” He turns to me then. “Ready, Tess?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

I scramble to gather my belongings. Curran’s verbal ass-kicking will likely turn the other clerks further against me. Yet for now, I don’t care and do my best to squelch my smile.

I walk fast, hurrying down the hall toward the back stairwell. Curran easily keeps up. “Is there a fire?”

“No. The judge is waiting. They—the judges, I mean—don’t like to wait.”

“So why didn’t we go there first? Why’d you head back to the library?”

I push open the door leading into the stairwell, but it isn’t until the metal door shuts behind him and we reach the landing that I turn and face him. He cocks his head, waiting for me to answer what should be a simple question.

My mouth opens only to abruptly shut. He raises a brow, watching me and once more waiting for my answer. Damn it all. What is it about him? I’m a multi-published journalist, and can formulate complex paragraphs as easily as most draw stick figures, and yet Curran’s mere presence jumbles my thoughts like a roller coaster.

For a moment, all I can do is stare out of the wall of glass. Four levels down, pedestrians hustle through the busy Philly streets and aggressive drivers blare their horns in protest. Those scrambling below can see us, but are blind to my insecurities and deaf to my words. I shouldn’t be so nervous, and yet I am.

Curran intimidates the hell out of me—not because of his imposing presence, or that virtual arsenal clipped to his leather belt. Oh, no. He’s intimidated me since the first moment I met him—back when he wore a backward baseball cap and sweats, long before he’d carried a badge and gun. His easy smile and confidence brought women to their knees…including me.

I lower my chin. Daunting physique aside, Curran scares me. He’s seen a side of me no one else has, one I want to keep hidden. After all, I did a lot more than bask in his glory while I was down on my knees.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says. “Why didn’t we head to court first?”

“I needed to shut down my computer,” I respond, wishing my voice held more conviction.

“That could have waited. You hauled serious ass out of Deck’s office. Don’t tell me it’s because you couldn’t wait to get back to numbnuts back there.”

“No, of course not.” I blink up at him. Curran’s as tall as I remember, but his athletic build has widened to resemble more of a boxer’s physique than the soccer player I knew. I suppose with his line of work he needs more bulk, and that his days of fun and games are long over. “I needed a moment,” I admit.

“Why?”

My brows knit tight. “What do you mean, ‘why’? Because, well, because of—” His grin causes me to trip over my words. If memory serves, I awoke somewhat intelligent this morning. I clear my throat, the flicker of amusement lighting his eyes making it clear he’s enjoying my torment. “Your presence caught me by surprise,” I manage.

“Believe me, I almost fell off that damn chair when I realized who you were,” he says, chuckling. “Which leads me to ask, why the hell are you so pissed?”

“I’m not pissed.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I am not!”

“Then why are you yelling?” he asks, laughing harder.

“I’m not yelling,” I say, quieting. I glance around. “Listen to me, Officer O’Brien—”

“It’s Curran. But I think you remember that.” The edges of his mouth lift. “And my guess, based on how you’re acting, is you remember a lot more than that.”

My lips part and heat spreads along my body. “You…cad.”

“What?”

“I said you’re a cad!”

He removes his hat and sweeps a hand over his closely buzzed hair. “I heard what you said. I’ve just never heard anyone aside from Bugs Bunny use that word. You gonna call me a scoundrel next?” He holds up his hands in surrender when I all but stamp my feet. “Look, lighten up. I was just as shocked to find you here as you were to see me. But so what? What’s the big deal?”

I take a breath, willing myself to remain calm. “The big deal is, I’ve worked hard to get where I am. This internship can open doors, or it could close them tightly behind me. I don’t want my morals or position questioned because of my past, ah, indiscretions.”

“Indiscretions,” Curran repeats. “So you don’t want anyone to know we…went to college together.”

My attention falls to the soiled concrete that makes up the landing. “Yes. Please don’t tell anyone that we, ah, attended the same college, as you put it.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” I repeat. “Really?”

“Yeah. I get it,” he assures me.

My shoulders relax as my worry lifts and dissipates in the coolness of the stairwell. Once more, my eyes sweep over his physique, stopping to scrutinize his face. I focus on each feature: those light blue eyes, his square jaw, and the curve of his nose. Miles Fenske was right. While glimpses of the young college student I knew remain, his visage reveals a man familiar with the rough city streets and the madness that comes with surviving them.

I shake my head in sympathy. Whatever he’s seen on the job likely hardened him in a way he wasn’t ready for, and forced him to mature into the man standing before me. Curran’s no longer that carefree frat boy I remember. I can see it. And in a way, it makes me sad.

“No one will know we went to college together,” he promises.

I place my hand against my chest. “Thank you,” I say, meaning it.

With that I turn and proceed down the second set of steps, stumbling over the last two when Curran yells, “But can I still brag about our crazy sex?”





Chapter 3





Curran


I try to lift Tess off the floor only to have her nail me in the shoulder with her little fist. “Hey, knock it off—I’m trying to help,” I say, laughing.

I reach for her again. This time, she smacks me across the chest with her giant purse. “Don’t you touch me, you cretin!”

I think about it. “I guess that’s a better word. Don’t remember Bugs using that one.”

“How about ‘*’? Did Bugs ever use ‘*’?”

“No. Come to think of it, I don’t think he did. Though it would have been damn funny if he had.”

Her pretty eyes narrow over her crooked glasses. “How did your mother not drown you at birth?”

I grin. “Ma wouldn’t do that. I’ve always been her favorite.” I hold out a hand. “Come on, let me help you up. The judge is waiting—you said so yourself.”

Instead of letting me help her, she pulls herself up by grasping the metal railing, clinging to it while she gathers her things. And although she’s limping, she pushes forward. “Looks like you did a real number on your knee,” I point out.

She stops halfway down the next flight and just glares at me over her shoulder. “No shit.”

I chuckle. “You said ‘shit.’ Aren’t you worried how that might affect your rep?”

She spins around at the next landing and points at me. “You are intolerable, unbelievable, and insufferable.”

“Yeah. I think you mentioned that once or twice back in college.” I wince. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that I’m supposed to keep our mutual education a secret.”

She stamps her feet all hissy-fit like. I didn’t think sexy broads did that. Come to think of it, I also didn’t think they wore argyles. “What’s up with you and those socks, anyway?”

Her cheeks flush to a deep red. “We were both young, and intoxicated, and, and—”

“You forgot horny.”

And holy Hannah, I thought for sure she was going to punch me in the nuts. Instead she lifts her chin and clenches her teeth. “Whatever. It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

I burst out laughing. “I wasn’t asking why you tied me up with them way back then—that I’m not complaining about—that was all kinds of hot. What I mean is, why do you wear those things?”

She opens and closes her mouth several times before finally forming her words. “They’re conservative,” she manages.

I lean against the wall. “Like you? And how you want others to see you?”

She presses her lips into a line. I don’t think she’s going to talk, but she does manage a small nod.

I smile. “Then that’s how it’ll be.”

“You won’t mention our time alone together?” she asks, staring past my shoulder.

I take one step down. Then another. And another after that until I’m standing right over her. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you, Tess.” I grin a little. “But if you knew me past our time in bed, you’d already know as much. Come on, let’s get you to court.”

For all I talk and screw around, I’m not one to drag a woman through the mud. The thing is, when Declan asked about me and Tess, I couldn’t lie. He knows me well enough to guess I’d been with her. There was no sense in denying it. That didn’t mean I’d go into detail. Even back in school when I thought for sure she didn’t like me, Tess seemed like a nice girl, just always kind of sad.

I’ll admit that when she wasn’t taken by my looks, wasn’t impressed by my athletic skills, and would avert her gaze instead of smile my way, I saw her as a challenge. She was sexy, in that understated way she is now, with the kind of mouth a guy like me needs to kiss. I figured eventually I’d get her to let me have a taste of those lips, and maybe even cop a feel. I just never guessed we’d end up in bed, doing what we did, as hard as we did it. Hell, out of all the women I banged—homely clothes and all—she was the one who rocked my world.

“You f*cked Contessa,” Declan’s voice repeats in my head.

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear me the first time?” I asked him.

“Christ, Curran. I don’t need this shit right now.”

When he slumped in his chair and rubbed his face, I thought for sure he’d send me packing and back to the precinct—seeing what this case means to him. Declan doesn’t like drama. Not when it involves his rep, and especially not when it involves a woman. It’s the reason he’s quick to cut his lays loose and not look back.

But as mad as he was at learning Tess and I hooked up—and as much as he didn’t want anything to interfere with his ticket into the Homicide Unit—he wouldn’t let me off guard duty. And it pissed me off.

He doesn’t think I’m ready for the streets. Just like the sarge, the captain, and the boys back at the station. My first instinct was to rip into Declan. As my brother, he should have my back. But then I thought about Joey, and how he’s messed up for life ’cause of me. Damn, I have to admit that maybe they’re right. All of them.

Tess continues forward and reaches for the door leading out to the second floor. “Hold up,” I tell her, pulling her back before she can step through. I cut in front of her and sweep the area. “Okay. Clear. Stay to my left, and always stand where I can see you.”

“You’re serious?” She peeks over my shoulder, where a handful of people are hurrying to court. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

“Yeah. I’m on the job.”

She takes a hesitant step before resuming her quick pace. Her limp’s better, but mostly because I think she’s pushing past the pain and not wanting to appear weak. My sister, Wren, once told me it’s hard being a woman in a man’s world, no matter how badass that woman is. S’pose she’s right, given how Tess straightens when she spots another suit glancing her way.

I know I pissed her off in the stairwell. But even so, she’d listened to what I had to say, and she keeps to my left as we cross the bridge. I stay just ahead of her, taking everything in.

Three sheriff’s deputies are on security detail at the courthouse entrance. Two take point at the metal detector; the other waits on the right to allow staff and badges through. Tess flashes her ID, gaining immediate access. One look at my badge and uniform and I’m waved through. I know the rookies from the academy. Damn, was it just last year I taught them to shoot? The old guy has done a few decades on the force. Never met him, and I’m not positive the other two remember me. But all three give me the eye.

Shit. Word travels fast when you screw up and your partner ends up full of holes.

My expression stays hard during our brief exchange of nods. Under other circumstances, I’d make small talk. Maybe crack a joke. But a lot has changed, and I don’t just mean guard duty with Tess. So I keep my focus ahead and my comments to myself.

We round the bend in time to catch a row of prisoners being escorted back to the jail in shackles. I clasp Tess’s elbow, keeping her in place. She motions to a squad of civilians passing by the prisoners. “There’s plenty of space to get through,” she says.

“Not saying there isn’t. But we’re waiting here till the perps pass through.”

What looks like a couple of clerks speed past us. “If it’s safer to wait, shouldn’t you stop them from going through as well?”

“They’re not you, and I’m not with them. In here, that’s all on the sheriffs unless shit goes down.”

“You’re taking this very seriously,” she says.

It’s not a dig, and I don’t take it that way. But I can hear the surprise in her voice. “What did you expect?”

Her attention falls to the floor. “Maybe more of what you were like in the stairwell.”

“That was different. There was no one there. Just you and me.”

Her cheeks flush. “I know,” she says, quietly.

She fumbles with her purse strap, even though there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. Her entire face is now bright pink. The hell?

Instead of staring at her like I want to, I do my job and scan our surroundings, taking in everyone who could be a threat. No one’s making eye contact. No one’s walking around in sunglasses. And more important, no one’s reaching for a gun to blow Tess’s head off. In truth, it’s too early for anyone to make a move—if they make one at all given her small role. Still, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep my eyes open…and off the pretty girl I’m supposed to be watching.

The deputies move the last of the prisoners forward and secure them behind the heavy metal gate leading back to the jail. I nod to Tess, giving her the okay to proceed.

From this point on I don’t know where I’m going, so I allow her to take the lead and shadow her closely, searching for anything that doesn’t seem right or doesn’t belong. I do have a damsel in distress, after all—and whether I want this lame assignment or not, I’m going to do the job right.

Hmmm. And now that I know whose body I’m guarding, and how nice that body’s ass bounces and twitches, maybe this gig won’t be so bad after all.

So long as I can keep my hands off that ass and everything bouncing along with it.





Tess


Curran stays close to me, watching everything with subtle scrutiny. I do my best to keep on task and hurry to the next floor, where courtrooms thirteen and fourteen are situated. My knee continues to throb, a reminder of how easily Curran can rattle me. “Crazy sex”—that’s what he called our night together. Yes, I thought so, too. But to hear him say it…well, let’s just say my knee wasn’t the only thing that throbbed.

Ahead of us, another sheriff’s officer stands guard between the hall to Judge Bronson’s private chambers and the small door leading directly to the raised platform where he presides.

Curran’s broad shoulders tighten when he catches sight of the guard. He seems to know everyone in uniform, just like they appear to know him. But for some reason, his presence causes everyone to tense, which surprises me. Curran was always “that guy” everyone wanted to be around. “The party doesn’t start until O’Brien’s in the house,” his frat buddies used to say.

Yet judging by everyone’s reaction, that party is long over.

Both men lock eyes and nod stiffly, neither particularly cordial. While the sheriff’s deputies take their positions seriously, they’re generally very pleasant—friendly, even—especially to staff they recognize. That hasn’t been the case today, especially in Curran’s presence.

I stop near the double doors leading into courtroom thirteen. “Is something wrong?” I ask him quietly.

“Nope,” he responds, continuing to take in the area. “Come on. Let’s get what you need and then back to the office.”

I don’t know Curran. Not really. And while he keeps his face neutral, I can’t help thinking he’s lying to me. I don’t press and proceed forward, hurrying when I catch sight of the wall clock.

Despite the late hour, Judge Bronson’s courtroom is bustling with activity. Curran stays directly behind me. For all he joked in the stairwell, he was all business from the moment we crossed into the common areas.

I smile at the sheriff’s officer standing guard and show him my badge, which he scans with an expert eye. “Hello. I’m Contessa Newart. I’m here to pick up paperwork Judge Bronson signed.”

“He’s in court hearing a motion for bail. His clerk knows you’re coming?”

“That’s my understanding. I’m here on behalf of Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien.”

“You catch that, Simon?” the sheriff’s officer calls over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’m coming,” Judge Bronson’s law clerk responds from the open door to chambers.

Simon attends a different law school from me, and while we work in separate offices, our roles allow us to interact fairly frequently. Our talks are typically brief and revolve around legal matters, with the exception of our last few exchanges. Although he’s sweet, I’m beginning to think Simon has more than a professional interest in me. I hope I’m wrong. He’s a nice guy, but the last thing I need is another distraction. And with Curran at my side, I’m more than a little distracted.

“Hey, Contessa,” Simon calls. He slows to a stop at the sight of Curran, taking a moment to smooth his hair and adjust his jacket before continuing forward. Despite his obvious hesitation, he manages to give me a bright smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to show.”

I smile back. “Yes, sorry about the delay.”

“You can make it up to me with coffee.” His smile fades in time with mine. “I mean a cup of coffee that you bring to me. We don’t have to go out together to get it. Unless you want to.”

“Jesus,” the sheriff’s officer mutters.

“I’ll be sure to bring you a coffee next time,” I offer, well aware that Curran’s watching our exchange. “Again, I apologize for making you wait.”

“No problem.” His attention bounces to Curran. “So, who’s this? Your boyfriend?” he asks with a laugh.

I don’t need a mirror to know my face is red. Nor do I need to turn around to know Curran doesn’t appreciate a laugh at his expense. “He’s the police officer assigned to help me,” I answer, hoping he’ll leave it at that.

“Okay. Good,” Simon responds, his smile returning like I somehow made him feel better.

I motion to the folder in his hand. “Are those the documents Declan needs?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He passes me the folder. “If you have any questions, call me directly—anytime. At home if necessary. You have my number, right?”

I flip through the paperwork to make sure everything is in order. “Yes. Thank you.”

“So you’ll call me?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

I glance up, feeling Curran edge a little closer. “Ah, if Declan needs anything, either he or I will be in touch.”

“Oh,” he says.

“Christ,” the sheriff’s officer mumbles.

I place the folder inside my large purse. Instead of returning to chambers, Simon excuses himself and rushes toward the doorway that leads to the judge’s raised platform. “What’s up?” the sheriff’s officer asks him.

“The judge is pissed,” Simon answers, grimacing. “He wants me in on this hearing and the one to follow. It’s going to be a late night.”

The guard calls in the update as Simon disappears and the heavy wooden door shuts behind him. Given how loud the judge is yelling, I hear him despite the door’s thickness. “Did you not hear me, counselor?” he hollers. “The defendant is charged with shooting a police officer. Request for bail denied!”

The judge’s gavel slams down hard enough to echo, but it’s Curran’s stony face that gives me pause. I glance to the closed door and then back at him. “What is it?”

“Perp shot a police officer, that’s what,” the sheriff’s officer answers, staring past Curran. “His * defense attorney wants him out, claiming this is his first offense. Attorneys suck dick,” he adds with a grumble before returning his focus on me. “No offense, ma’am.”

“No offense taken.” Who am I kidding? I’m offended all over the place.

Curran’s already hard expression solidifies to an icy tundra. “We done here?”

My attention cuts to the closed courtroom door. The judge’s booming voice pummels against it like a barrage of thrown stones. “Yes. We’re done.”

I take a step forward, yet the sheriff’s officer’s voice holds me in place. “He was just a kid,” he says.

I turn around. “The police officer?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “New to the force, just getting his feet wet.”

“I’m sorry.” I was going to ask Curran if he knew the police officer who was hurt, but given his tightening stance, it’s obvious he does. My hand reaches out to touch his arm before I realize what I’m doing. I quickly drop it to my side, but not before he notices.

He frowns, but I look away from him and address the sheriff’s officer. “Thank you for your time,” I tell him. He nods, but focuses directly on Curran.

Okay. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I all but run past the courtroom, knowing I need to put some space between us and whatever’s going on in that hearing. The attorneys and those in the audience are now screaming at one another and the judge is threatening to hold the defendant in contempt.

We snake through three more halls before either of us speaks again. “What’s our situation going to be like?” I ask him. “This situation here. With us. At night.” I throw my hands in the air when he smirks and practically laughs at me. No, this gorgeous hunk of man has no effect on me. No, not at all.

“You know what I mean,” I add. The strain caused by our trip to court lifts a little. For that I’m thankful; I only wish it hadn’t come at my expense.

“Tess, relax. I’m only here to make sure you stay safe.”

I sigh. “It’s not that.”

“Then what’s bugging you?”

I glance around, worried who might hear me. “It makes me uncomfortable knowing someone is watching me all the time.”

“You’re shy. I get it, but—”

“I’m not shy.” He looks at me. “I’m not,” I insist.

“Then how come you barely spoke to me, back in you-know-where?”

He chuckles when my face heats. But he doesn’t understand that what he asks isn’t easy for me to explain. I don’t want to admit how much he intimidated me, or how hard it was watching him flirt with everyone but me—or that I pretended not to notice him and acted like I wasn’t attracted to him, because in truth, it hurt knowing I was the one girl he wasn’t drawn to.

I don’t remind him that those few times I did try to speak with him when we first met, his attention quickly drifted to those pretty girls who had more to say, who weren’t so awkward, and whose figures captivated his interest more than mine did.

So yes, I might have avoided eye contact, stayed quiet, and kept my distance, but that didn’t mean I was shy. It meant he had hurt my feelings…even though he probably didn’t mean to.

“I mostly keep to myself,” I manage, hoping it’s enough.

Curran’s attention stays ahead. “All right,” he says, although I’m not sure he believes me.

I pretend to search for something in my purse, only because it’s hard to keep my expression casual when I think about how hard things were for me then. “So, how will things work exactly? Will you be with me every day?”

“No. We’ll work in shifts. Me and three other badges. It’s my understanding the other two cops will always be different, but me and Lu will be your regular eyes.”

“Lou? Who’s he?”

“Lu’s a she. Her name’s Lucy McCarthy and she’s been part of the Philly PD for close to thirty years. Most of us boys in blue—and the women, too—we go by our last names. Lu’s always gone by Lu. She’s worked the streets forever and has taught in every academy from here to Harrisburg. Everyone with a badge knows her, and either loves or hates her. But one thing: we all respect her.”

I consider his words. “Why do people hate her? Because she’s a woman?”

Curran barks out a laugh. “Damn, Tess. You skipped right past the love and respect and dove headfirst into the hate. You haven’t changed a bit.”

I tighten my hold on my purse strap. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling myself grow defensive.

He offers me a sexy smile, which simply irritates the hell out of me. Truly it does. “Oh, nothing,” he says, keeping his grin. “Just that you’re still as negative and uptight as ever.”

“I’m not negative.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Or uptight,” I insist.

“Yup. That, too.”

“I am not. I’ll have you know, I’ve done a great amount of research on sexism and know that despite the changes in our judicial system, laws, and increased awareness in our society, women continue to be oppressed and discriminated against in traditionally male-dominated fields—the police force being among the most guilty of such biases.”

And there’s that sexy smile again. “Believe it or not, not every guy out there is misogynistic,” he says.

“That’s a mighty big word for you,” I say, trying to ignore his grin. “I’m impressed you know what it means.”

“Of course I do. Not only am I good-looking, I’m pretty damn smart, too.” He spreads out his hands. “I’m the whole package, baby, standing right here in front of you. If you’d like, I’ll flex for you later. But only if you’re good,” he says, adding a wink.

I swallow hard, but then quickly clear my throat. “Officer O’Brien, you are truly unbelievable.”

“And you’re uptight, negative, and obviously convinced the world is out to get you and your sex.”

I slow to a stop. “I beg your pardon?”

He throws back his head, laughing. “Not sex sex. I meant womankind. Seriously, did you just go there?”

“I…”

Heat scorches me from head to toe as I quickly walk away. Of course, I can’t outrun this guy. In just a few strides, he’s right back beside me. “I’m not convinced everyone is out to get me,” I mutter under my breath.

“Sure you are.”

“I am not!”

“Then let’s get back to what you said. You’re assuming people hate Lu ’cause she’s a woman.”

“No. It’s just—” I take a moment to steady my voice. “As I was trying to explain, women make up a small percentage of the police force. They are not held in the same regard as male officers. They are often ridiculed and targeted because they are perceived as the weaker sex, weaker backup, and more emotional.”

“More emotional?” he asks, sounding appalled. “I don’t believe it.”

I gasp. “You—”

“Cad?” he offers.

I grind to a halt in front of the door leading up to the stairwell. This is the man who’s supposed to keep me safe?

Upon taking in my dumbfounded expression, Curran laughs into his shoulder. I slap my hands against my sides. Nice. Clearly I’m just kicks and giggles to be around.

It’s only when I try to open the door that his more serious persona returns. He holds out his hand, keeping me in place as he steps ahead of me and does a sweep of the stairwell.

“All clear,” he says, allowing me to pass.

I hurry through, only for him to clasp my elbow to keep me in place before I can take the first step. “Hold up,” he says. “I want to explain some things to you.” The door slams shut and he drops his hand away. “Remember the hazing that goes on when you pledge—you know, like at the college we went to together that I’m not supposed to talk about?”

I tilt my chin, wondering where he’s going with this. “Yes?”

“Well, it goes on at the academy, too, but it’s a lot worse—and meant to take you to your breaking point. The veteran cops there mess with your head. They purposely piss you off, screw with your mind, and stress you out. You’re maced. You’re thrown to the ground. And you’re sent to run until you swear to Christ your leg muscles are going to rip from the bone.”

I place my hand over my chest, feeling ill. “That’s…awful.”

Curran responds with a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s not meant to hurt, Tess. It’s meant to prepare. Because no matter what they do to you in the academy, it won’t compare to what some strung-out * waving a gun will do to you if he catches you alone. Won’t compare to the real pain you’ll feel when an abused woman cracks you in the head for arresting the man who knocked her teeth in. So the seasoned cops prep you any way they can. They’re not there to be your friend, or to hug you, or to tell you it’s going to be okay. Because if you’re a cop, chances are, it’s never going to be okay.”

Sadness overtakes me as trickles of Curran’s anguish find their way into his tone. Something happened to Curran—something terrible. Had he been harmed in the line of duty? Had he lost one of his friends?

“Are you all right?” I ask him, carefully.

He forces a smile. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

No, I don’t think it is…or was. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, honestly.

His mouth purses as if whatever happened to him had no effect, but it’s clear that it did, even as he continues speaking. “Like I was saying, those seasoned cops—they do what they do because they need to do it. They’re there to separate the weak from the strong and help those who graduate stay alive when it’s their turn to hit the streets.”

“So Lu was one of the trainers who took you to your breaking point,” I say, wanting him to know that I’m listening, and that his words are affecting me.

“Yeah. She was. To give you an example, my group was given a scenario with a bomb threat, armed perps, and a bunch of civilians. I was the only one who didn’t shoot an innocent bystander. The only one who kept his head, and the only recruit who got the job done the right way. Can’t say the same for the rest of my group. That didn’t stop Lu from macing all of us and making us run five miles while repeating the Miranda out loud.”

My mouth goes strangely dry. “But why were you punished? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Curran’s voice takes on a force I never knew, and one I can’t quite place. “It’s not about being punished, Tess. It’s about learning that once we put on the badge, and take the oath to protect and serve, we’re all in it together. Despite our differences in hair, skin color, and ability, we’re all brothers and sisters. We don’t share the same blood, but we will bleed as one. And when one of us falls, we fall with him.”

As I take in his stance, his clenching fists, his pained features, and his words, I realize exactly how much Curran has changed. He may be as strong and as imposing as ever, but just then, I catch a chink of vulnerability in his tough-as-steel persona.

I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close—to thank him for his sacrifices, and those of his brothers and sisters who share the oath he’s taken. God, never have I felt so insignificant and useless. I may know the law, but I will never enforce it—not to the degree Curran does. And, Jesus, not with my life!

I force myself to speak. “I never realized how intense law enforcement training is—or what it must take to graduate. This Lu woman sounds hideous.”

He nods, knowingly. “Yeah. But even though the other two male trainers present were the ones who devised our punishment, she was the one we were all pissed at. So yeah, we are a bunch of chauvinistic pricks.” He slaps my arm playfully and grins. “Come on, let’s wrap up and I’ll take you home.”

I watch him jog up the steps with my mouth dangling open. Oh, my God, this ball-busting frat boy hasn’t changed one bit!

I groan. Well, apparently neither have I, seeing how my stare locks on his ass, and my hands long to spank it.





Chapter 4





Curran


I wait for Tess to button the top of her plaid coat before we step out onto the street. Day two of Guarding Tess is well under way. I spent the last few hours escorting her back and forth to court and watching her race around the office getting Declan everything he needed. For the most part, she ignored me. That didn’t stop my grin, or the occasional wink I tossed her way when I caught her glancing at me. Both caused a deep blush to creep up her neck, something I enjoy more than I should.

As I speak, my breath becomes visible in the frigid air. “Okay. Where’re you parked? In the lot?”

She shifts nervously. My question has made her uncomfortable, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. When we returned from court yesterday, the boys from Internal Affairs were waiting in Declan’s office to grill me yet again about Joey. But she didn’t know who they were or why they were there, and she didn’t bother asking.

The interrogation took over a f*ckin’ hour. When I stepped out of the conference room, Tess was long gone, and I was fit to be tied.

Declan had wrangled me into his office and tried to calm me, assuring me it was all just procedure. “Bullshit,” I told him.

He didn’t push it, just passed on that the captain wanted me to take the night off and arranged for two other badges to take over bodyguard duty. Lu and I are officially on watch starting today.

I know Declan and the captain only meant to help. What they don’t understand is that being alone is the last thing I need. It gives me too much time to think about everything that went wrong.

I square my shoulders, waiting for Tess to answer. Instead, she huddles deeper into her coat when a gust of wind slams against us like a solid force. For as tall as she is, she seems so small now. As much as I bitched to Declan yesterday, it was probably better someone else had had her back. As it was, I spent the night reliving Joey getting shot and counting all the ways I screwed up.

“Wassup?” I ask her when she stays quiet.

She doesn’t look at me when she answers. “I don’t have a car. I walked here.”

“You serious? What happened to the badge watching you?”

“He followed me in his vehicle.” She glances around when I narrow my eyes. “Traffic was slow; he kept up just fine,” she insists. Her lips part when I practically growl. “It’s only ten blocks.”

“What do you mean it’s only ten blocks?” I ask. “It’s goddamn January.”

“I walk fast. You can call it an opportunity for exercise.”

“No, I call it an opportunity to freeze your ass off. Come on, I’ll take you in my squad car.” I pause when I catch sight of her horrified expression. “Relax, baby. It’s not like I’m going to cuff you or anything.” I dance my eyebrows at her. “Unless you want me to.”

Her mouth pops open. “Officer O’Brien. Do you really think this is an appropriate way to speak to me given our roles?”

I lean back on my heels, pretending to be all offended. “It was just a joke between friends.”

“Friends?” she repeats, grasping the collar of her coat tightly against her.

“We’re not—what do you call it?—BFFs. But come on. It’s not like we’re strangers. We know each other.” I make a point to glance around before leaning in close, acting as if I’m sharing some top-secret info. “From college, remember?”

Although she tries not to, she laughs. And damn, doesn’t that totally change her face. She goes from all business to, yeah, all kinds of hot. “Very well, bestie,” she says. “Take me home in your vehicle.” She clutches my arm when I take a step forward. “I am riding in the front, right?”

I grin. “Don’t you think it would be more fun to ride in the back? I can read you your Miranda rights and pretend you’re under arrest for streaking or some crazy shit.” She tightens her jaw and releases my arm. “Okay, okay. You can ride in the front.”

We cross the street and walk into the parking deck, where a couple of skate punks are racing down the ramp, hootin’ and hollerin’ like they’re at Disney World. “Wait here,” I tell Tess. “Hey, *s.” The kids skid to a stop, their eyes wide. “Can you read?” They look at each other. “I asked you if you could read, shitheads.”

The kid with the greasy hair hanging to his shoulders answers. “Yeah.”

I point to the NO SKATEBOARDING ALLOWED sign. “Then read and get the f*ck out of here.” I shrug at Tess when they scatter. “Just kids having fun.”

She takes a hesitant step forward before hurrying to catch me. “Then why did you speak to them that way?”

“So they won’t do it again,” I say, as we cross the low-lit area to the ramp where I parked my patrol car. “Their kind of fun can bust their heads open.” I glance over my shoulder. “Ever seen a busted head?” I grimace. “It’s not pretty. The skin is so thin on the scalp and forehead you bleed like a stuck pig.”

Tess makes a face. “I can imagine.”

I open the passenger door for her. She slips inside and glances around the interior when I shut the door behind her. “Don’t worry,” I say as I slide into the driver’s seat. “I’m supposed to sub this car out for my own tomorrow.”

“Thank you. That’s probably best.”

“Where to?” I ask her.

“Right out of the lot and then two blocks down to Juniper,” she says, keeping her attention straight ahead.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” she asks after a moment.

“Yeah. The blood pours right out. It’s real nasty when it gets in the eyes—”

She holds out a hand, looking a little squeamish. “I mean about you considering us friends from college.”

“Yeah. Why not? We hung out all the time. Well, at least my frat and your sorority did.”

“But we didn’t speak much.”

“Sure we did. I always said hi to you when you came over.” I cut my eyes her way. “Even though you’d look at me like you wanted to smack me upside the head.”

She adjusts her position, bringing her giant purse close to her chest. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No it isn’t. I was—” She sighs. “It’s just that I didn’t always approve of your behavior.”

“You mean the keg stands?”

“Yes.”

“And the drinking games?”

“Yes.”

“How about the body shots—were they offensive, too?”

She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms. “You mean the ones you did on my half-naked sorority sisters? If you must know, yes, I did find them offensive.”

“You did, huh?” She didn’t seem to mind the night I licked her all over, but I keep that memory all to myself. “You call it offensive. I call it age-appropriate activity. We were in college, after all.”

“Would it have bothered you if I’d done that?” she asks, quietly.

“Licked a shot off one of your sorority sisters? Hell, no.”

Oh, and there’s that pissy look again. “I meant if I’d done that to one of your frat brothers.”

“No.” Maybe.

“No?”

“No.” Okay, probably.

“Oh,” she says.

Maybe it’s me, but she sounds disappointed. I glance over at her, noticing the way she seems to shrink inward, like she used to do all those years ago. For all that she’s changed physically, on the inside, I’m not sure she’s changed much at all. She’s still that same girl, appearing to watch life from a distance.

I nudge her, hoping I can somehow draw another smile.

“Admit it, our time at the ol’ frat house was fun. And if I recall, the night you finally took part in some of those offensive shenanigans—”

“Shenanigans?” she asks, curving the edges of her lips slightly.

“It was my Grammie’s—God rest her soul—favorite word to describe me and my family’s behavior. Anyway, like I was saying, the night you cut loose, you seemed to have the time of your life. Well, until your dad caught us naked in bed the next morning. Speaking of which, how is the old coot?”

Tess’s jaw slowly unhinges, but then she quickly composes herself. “He’s fine. Just fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong’? You just brought up what happened between us as if, as if—Jesus, Curran.” She covers her face before she realizes how far I’ve driven. “Turn right, right here—no, here. Okay, now left at the next block. There—it comes up fast. No, no, right there.” She shakes out her hands, completely flustered as I make a hard left.

I straighten the car. “You all right?”

“No. I went to bed with you. And now you’re here, reminding me what happened and picturing me naked.”

“I’m not picturing you naked.”

She whirls to face me, her cheeks bright pink. “You’re not?”

“Well, I wasn’t before.” My gaze shoots her way. “But now that you mentioned it, I kind of have to.”

She buries her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”

Without meaning to, I crack up. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“But it is to me, Curran,” she says, quieting. “What happened between us was something I’d never done before.”

“Holy shit, you were a virgin?”

“No!”

I slump back in my seat. “Thank Christ. I mean, I didn’t think you were, given how hard we went at it and what we did. But if you were, I would’ve felt bad.”

She stumbles over a bunch of syllables before managing to spit out, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you feel bad had I been a virgin?”

“You know.”

She frowns slightly, appearing confused. “No. I don’t.”

“Because the first time for someone like you should’ve been different than what happened between us. Don’t get me wrong—you were all sorts of sexy and sweet. And I really liked how we rocked it. But we went at it like horny bulls at a rodeo going after hot clowns—” I shut my trap when I realize her jaw is hanging out somewhere near her toes. “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, yes, you could say that.”

I clear my throat. Too bad I can’t clear the image of throwing Tess’s legs over my shoulders and pounding into her. “What I mean is, someone like you deserved a different experience if it was your first time.”

She plays with her clasped hands like she doesn’t quite know what to say. When she speaks, her question catches me off guard. “When you say ‘someone like me,’ what do you mean exactly?”

I think about what to say without going too far. But nothing special comes to mind except the truth. “I mean a nice girl. You’re a nice girl, Tess. Just like you were then.”

“You thought I was nice, even though I kept my distance?”

The corner of my mouth twists. “You may not have been real friendly to me. But you did things for other people that showed me who you were. Remember Kenny Singleton? He was my little brother in KOK. He would have flunked out of school if you hadn’t spent all that time tutoring him. Instead, he became the first college grad in his family. And what about Ben Felipe? You found him passed out on the street. Anything could’ve happened to him, but instead of leaving him there covered in his own piss—”

“Oh, God, he was covered in urine?”

“Well, yeah, Benny was pretty wrecked. Anyway, like I said, you could’ve left him there. But instead you brought him back to the frat house and made sure one of us took care of him.” I turn my head. “You didn’t know he’d pissed himself?”

“All I could smell was his vomit when he hurled in the backseat of my car,” she says, grimacing. “Thank you for cleaning it up…and for being the one to look after Ben.”

“No prob— Scratch that. Yeah, the Benny thing kind of sucked.” I stop at the light. “You want me to keep straight?”

“Yes. But we’re almost there. It’s the second lot on the right.”

I take in the area, knowing it’s mostly made up of rich old people, then look ahead. “Hold up. You’re at the senior center?”

“It’s not a senior center.”

“Don’t old people live in that place?”

Oh, lookee here. There’s that blush again. “They’re retired, but most are still quite active,” she says, sounding nervous.

“I don’t doubt it.” I remove my hat and scratch my head. “Saturday nights must be hard core. Bingo must get all crazy up in this bitch.”

Tess laughs out loud, but then covers her mouth and hurries to settle. “They do enjoy quieter activities, but that’s fine by me. With school and everything I have going on, living here helps keep me focused.”

I don’t believe her. Like I said, I could read faces even long before I was trained to do it. But it’s as if these words aren’t her own. I mean they are, she said them, but it’s more like she’s repeating something that was told to her.

Tess quiets upon catching my frown, and she doesn’t say anything more until we pull into the lot. “You can park anywhere there’s an opening,” she tells me.

“Okay.” I pull into a spot close to the building and cut the engine. “Here. Let me help you out.”

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

She throws open the door and loses her footing the moment her feet hit the asphalt. I run to the other side of the car to find her squinting in pain. This time she doesn’t fight me and lets me haul her up. “Shit. You okay?”

She holds tight to her side. “Yes. The maintenance staff is usually good about keeping the area clean, but I suppose with all the sleet that’s fallen, they need to put more salt down.”

I pull her closer to me. “You suppose? Hell, had it been one of your neighbors, EMS would be responding to a broken hip. Who do I need to talk to in order to get this taken care of?”

She pushes her disheveled hair away from her face and adjusts her glasses. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll phone the super and let him know what happened.” She smiles at my scowl. “Really, it’s okay,” she says quietly.

Her eyes latch on to mine, and something in her expression changes.

My frown fades. Damn, she’s smokin’. Perfect heart-shaped face with full pink lips and a set of long, thick lashes to go with those doe eyes. I watch her for a beat, much like she’s watching me. Any other time, with any other woman, and I’d be pulling her in for a long, lazy kiss.

But here I am, standing in full uniform, trying not to kiss the one woman I’m not supposed to touch.

Those full lips part like she’s surprised, and maybe something more. My cue to break eye contact. “Sorry,” I tell her. “Let’s get you inside. It’s colder than a yeti’s butt crack out here.”

“It is rather chilly,” she agrees slowly, clearly taken by my wit.

I offer her my arm. “Here. Hang tight until we get inside. I don’t want you landing on your ass again.”

“Um. Thank you.” She motions forward. “This way.”

We cross the lot, and she slips two more times, but I easily keep her from falling.

“Got anything going on tonight?”

“Like a date? No, I’m single.”

It’s not what I mean. But that doesn’t mean I’m not glad to hear it. I mutter a curse when I realize where my thoughts are headed. Stay on task, *. “So you’re just gonna watch TV or something?”

“I don’t watch TV.”

“You serious? That’s un-American.”

She laughs again. “Law school doesn’t allow much time for anything but studying,” she says. “And now that I’m helping Declan, I’m going to have to work harder so I don’t fall behind. He mentioned that we’ll be keeping late hours in the coming weeks.”

“Yeah. Sounds like this case is going to be one massive headache and an even bigger pain in the ass.”

“It won’t be easy,” she admits. “But if Declan succeeds, it will all be worth it.”

We step into the small archway. Clear glass doors with long brass handles allow a full view into the lobby. Tess punches in the security code on a keypad to the right, causing the doors to click open. We walk inside and move straight to the elevator at the lobby’s center.

I jerk my chin to the opposite door. “Any other way in or out?”

She presses the elevator button. “There are four stairwells, on each corner of the building, that lead to emergency exits in case of a fire or another threat. But they alarm if opened.” The elevator dings and the doors part, but she pauses before stepping through. “You don’t have to follow me up.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to get a look at the layout.” I wave her in. “After you.”

I wait until the doors shut tight before whipping out my phone to take notes. “I’ll need the number to your cellphone.”

“I don’t have a cellphone. It’s not something I can afford at this time,” she says, cautiously.

“?’Cause of school?”

“Among other things.”

I try to keep my face neutral and not judge. The thing is, she has an iPad. How does she not have a cellphone? “How about a landline? And I’ll need the security code to your building.”

She spits out the digits, watching me program them into my phone. “Does every tenant use the same code to get in?”

“No,” she answers. “Each has a different number programmed specifically for them. It’s a feature so if there’s an issue, the police will know whose code was used.”

“Decent setup.” I pocket my phone, annoyed that none of the other badges bothered to check out the building or ask for the codes. They’re rookies, but that’s no excuse for sloppy work.

“The added security makes everyone feel safer,” she says, keeping her attention ahead.

She seems like she wants to say more, but keeps quiet until the doors open into a small hallway on the fifth floor. “This is the penthouse,” she murmurs.

There are only two doors on this level, separated by about twenty feet. Dark paneling and parquet wood floors run the length of the hall, leading to a small seating area with two chairs and a table at either end. Windows on each side offer views of the surrounding buildings. The place seems nice enough, and at the higher end of the price range, but dental-office boring and bordering on sterile. Except that’s not something to share. “Sweet,” I say.

“It serves a purpose,” she mumbles as she unlocks her door.

Her comment, and the way she says it, raises another red flag. But I don’t say anything yet. Mostly I watch her, trying to get a feel for what’s up.

She waits before opening the door. “Do you want to come in?”

“Babe, you don’t get a choice. I need to make sure I know where everything is in case you ever need me.”

The air between us thickens. “The detective who brought me home last night didn’t think it was necessary,” she says in that cautious way of hers.

“Maybe he wasn’t as worried, seeing how the case is still new. But it’s getting a lot of attention, real fast. Did you see the press lining up this afternoon outside the courthouse?”

“Yes, I saw them.”

“And that’s just the start. Once the trial begins next month, it’s going to be a circus filled with bearded ladies and trapeze artists looking to smoke each other.” I motion in the direction of her place. “So let me do my job, so you can do yours without living in fear.”

“Okay,” she agrees. She opens the door leading into a small foyer and places her purse and keys on an antique table shoved against the wall. “Do you think I’ll ever need you? I mean, do you think Montenegro will target me specifically?”

“I doubt it. But it’s better to be prepared, you feel me?” I march forward. A large living room sits directly in front of me with a dining area and a kitchen to the right. The furniture is all antique, dark like the floors, and just as dull as the rest of the place. There aren’t any pictures on the walls, or vases, or any of that shit girls are supposed to like. It all seems staged and cold. “Did you just move in?” I ask.

She shakes her head, appearing confused. “No. I moved in three years ago when I started law school.”

“Oh. All right. Mind if I open a few doors? Check the closets, that sort of thing?”

“No, that’s fine.”

I scan the area while she removes her coat and walks into the kitchen. “Would you like some water? I’m afraid I don’t have much more than that to drink.”

“No. I’m good.” I motion to the left. “Bedroom that way?”

“Ah, yes.”

“I’ll be right back.” I make quick work of flipping her prissy pink comforter so I can look beneath the queen-sized bed before moving to the walk-in closet and then the bathroom. The bedroom has that same dark furniture, and her closet more of the frumpy clothes she wears, but even that’s limited to a few pairs of pants, blouses, and those damn spinster shoes. The place doesn’t seem right. It’s clean and all that, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

She says she’s lived here for three years. But there’s nothing of Tess in here. Nothing.

“Is everything okay?”

I glance up to find her standing in the doorway, fiddling with her hands. “All clear,” I answer, my voice monotone.

“Thank you.” She starts to head back into the living room, but then changes her mind and faces me again. “How long will you be here?” she asks.

“I’ll be outside watching the place till Lu takes over at midnight. She’ll take you to the office tomorrow. The detectives there will cover you for most of the day, and either me or one of the other badges will see to you after that.”

“I’m not due in the office until tomorrow afternoon. I have classes.”

“How are you getting there?”

She motions behind her. “Oh, I have a bus pass.”

“You’re kidding.” I take in the apartment. She’s paying at least three Gs a month to live here. Is that the reason she can’t afford a car?

She edges away from the door. “It’s not a big deal,” she says.

I think it is, but don’t push. Any idiot can see she’s nervous. “You all right?”

“I’m fine.” She glances down. “I just have a lot of work to do.”

“Then I guess I should get out of your way.”

She lifts her chin. “You’re not in my way. It’s nice having you—” She clears her throat. “I don’t get much company,” she admits.

I watch her for a beat, looking at the way she’s looking at me, and thinking I’m in serious trouble. “I’ll have Lu drop you off at your school,” I tell her, my voice lowering. “When you’re done there, call the DA’s office, and either me or another badge will take you where you need to go.”

Her stare averts to the floor again. “That’s not necessary.”

“Yes it is,” I say, my cop face in place.

“All right, thank you,” she says almost silently.

She backs away and walks into the living room, giving me plenty of space as she follows me out. When we reach the door, she offers me her hand. “I appreciate the ride home, and, well, everything. You’ve been very sweet.”

Her voice is shaky. Did I spook her? I examine her face. Nah, that’s not fear etching its way to her sea-glass eyes. It’s something else.

And I like it.

Too much.

Shit.

She starts to withdraw her hand when I don’t take it, but I reach for it before she can lower it. I carefully round her fingers, brushing a kiss over her knuckles, my eyes never leaving hers. “You’re welcome,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen as I step away, those perfect lips falling open and that sweet blush coloring her cheeks.

Oh, yeah. I’m in serious trouble now.





Chapter 5





Tess


My back falls against the door. I stare into my open living room without really seeing it. Curran had what? Kissed me? Okay, not really—at least not technically, but I can’t deny it was a romantic gesture.

It was romantic, right?

I lift my hand and smile. For all his bluntness and inappropriate remarks, Curran can be sexy. My smile widens as I think about how soft his lips felt against my skin. He didn’t rush the moment, allowing me to feel everything: his warm breath, his loose yet claiming hold, and the roughness of his fingers.

His actions stole my breath and about ten years from my life. I rush to the window and push aside the sheer curtain, watching him march toward his patrol car, his heavy feet leaving prints in the freshly fallen snow and his arms swinging loosely against his sides. He appears relaxed, but that hand so close to his holster tells me he’s prepared to strike—

Holy shit. I’m totally ogling him.

I should be embarrassed. But I’m not, mostly because it feels good to feel good. So instead of starting on the briefs I have due the next day, I return my focus outside.

Curran pauses when he reaches the driver’s-side door and glances up. Like a complete moron, I duck. I slap my hand over my forehead, hoping he didn’t see me. God, why did I just do that?

If it weren’t for the phone ringing, I probably would have stayed there a moment longer. I stand and hurry to answer it. “Hello?”

“Did you just fall?” Curran asks me.

I freeze in place. “Ah, no.”

“Tess, I saw you.”

“Saw me fall?” I repeat, because I have nothing better.

“Fall, dive—I don’t know…something.” I hear him shut the door and shift in his seat. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he asks. “Then why were you at the window?”

“I…was curious.”

“What were you curious about?” he muses.

“Whether you’d return to your vehicle or take patrol in the hall.”

I don’t have to see him then to know he’s smiling. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you open the door to the hall?”

“I meant the lobby.”

“No, you didn’t.” He pauses. “You were checking me out.”

My mouth pops open. “I was not.”

“Yeah, you were. Like what you see?”

“What? You—”

“Scoundrel?” he offers. “I don’t think you’ve used that one yet.”

“I’m hanging up the phone now.”

“Okay. But if you change your mind and want one last look before you go to bed, I could step out and—”

I hang up. My face so hot I could warm bread on it. What did I do? Better yet, what do I do now? I’m seeing him tomorrow—if not sooner. What if it’s sooner? I can’t admit that I was gawking at his bitable ass. I’m a professional—and I’m working for his brother—and I’m an almost lawyer!

The phone rings while it’s still clutched in my hand, making me jump. I punch the button to answer. “Look. I know you probably think you’re the hottest thing ever. But I’ll have you know I have no intention of—”

“Contessa. What in blazes are you talking about!”

My hand quivers, and my leg muscles turn to sand. Slowly, I lower myself to the couch before my knees give out. Father’s voice is so laced with rage my voice shakes as I speak. “I’m sorry, Father. A telemarketer called and she wouldn’t stop her relentless—”

“Don’t lie to me, Contessa.”

Anger rushes forward, washing away a bit of my fear. “I’m not lying,” I insist. “Who else would I speak to this way?”

He takes a moment, likely mulling over his response. He doesn’t believe me, but he also doesn’t have any evidence to the contrary. “Watch your tone,” he warns.

I give him a moment to calm, wishing I could simply disconnect both the call and him from my life. Six more months, I remind myself. Graduate, pass the bar, and move on. That light at the end of the desolate tunnel is within reach. I can’t ruin my chances now.

I soften my voice. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He doesn’t respond, probably because I haven’t groveled enough. But although I depend on him in every aspect of my life, my patience has worn thin following years of being berated. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Spencer Woodworth phoned me today,” he says, not bothering to acknowledge my apology. “He’s asked me to consider donating to his son’s campaign for mayor. You remember his son, young Spencer Woodworth the second, don’t you? He seemed quite taken with you.”

If “taken with me” involves groping and fondling me in his limousine, then I suppose he was. I rub my eyes, remembering how I had to walk seventeen blocks home when I refused to spend the night with him following an event I’d been forced to attend. Spencer-the-second was a douchebag, and I told Father as much. But either he didn’t care or didn’t believe me.

“Contessa, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Father.” Nausea claims my belly as I clutch the soft blanket my stepmother had given me. I know where this conversation is going, and it’s already making me sick.

My family is one of the last of the Pennsylvania blue bloods—posh members of society whose gene lines can be traced back to royalty. The men belonging to this so-called exquisite bloodline are few, and the women even fewer. I’m one of the youngest, and unfortunately, so is Spencer.

“Contessa, do you remember Spencer or not?”

“I remember him well,” I assure him.

He ignores the bite to my tone. “Good. I agreed to the donation in exchange for your presence at his son’s side.”

“I’m sure Spencer would prefer someone else. The last time we saw each other we had a terrible fight—”

“His campaign fundraiser is in three weeks,” he continues, unaffected. “Spencer senior seemed thrilled with the idea. Perhaps you can reignite the spark between you.”

My head falls against my hand. Don’t. Don’t do this to me again. “There’s no spark. I told you, he was horrible to me—”

“Then perhaps you should have been a little nicer,” he bites out. “Mallory shall escort you to a boutique one week before the event for a formal dress. Be ready at ten….”

“I can’t. I have exams coming up—and, and my duties at the DA’s office have become more demanding.”

“I’ve arranged a private showing,” he continues. If he bothered listening, he’d hear the tears and desperation in my voice.

“Please don’t make me do this,” I beg.

“Quit acting like a child, stop your whining, and do not disappoint me,” he snaps. “Your future depends on it.”

When he disconnects, it’s all I can do not to throw the stupid phone.

His comment about my future is meant as a warning so I don’t screw up his future.

My father is a wealthy man. His seemingly limitless funds have allowed him to hold prestigious positions and associate with the power elite. Yet it’s never enough. He needs to feel important—omnipotent even—someone people seek, admire, and tremble before. It’s sick how he obsessively craves it like a drug, and how little he cares who it hurts and what it costs someone else, especially when it pertains to me.

In this case, he’s dropping cash in exchange for future favors, and for the opportunity to have his daughter seen with a political juggernaut.

As I sit on the couch, the life Father has carefully devised for me plays out like a well-orchestrated movie script: I’ll graduate law school, only to marry some sleazy politician or renowned figure he selects for me. I’ll play the good wife, ignoring my husband’s indiscretions, raising our children with a plastic smile fixed on my face, only to be replaced by someone better and younger when I’m no longer of use. Precisely like my mother’s life had been.

Hmm. What’s that saying? Oh, yes. Fuck that.

Six more months, I remind myself. Just six more and you’re free.

That’s what I tell myself. But as I think about how little I fought and how easily he defeated me, I can no longer be sure. Jesus, will I ever be free of this man?





Curran


I spent the next few hours in the cold, listening to my scanner and to all the calls I wouldn’t respond to. Considering it was midweek, there was a lot of shit going down. Two domestic violence calls so far, five thefts, and six breaking-and-enterings.

I should be there, I tell myself, watching backs, throwing down, getting the bad guys.

But would any of the boys in blue want me there now? I scoff. Probably not.

There was a time when I’d show up to crazy shit, and even crazier felons. Relief would flood my boys’ faces—even vets years into the force seemed happy to see me.

“You’re a good cop, O’Brien.”

“Thank God you’re here, O’Brien.”

“Hell, ’bout time you got here, O’Brien.”

That’s what I’d hear, and that’s what I’d sense. I tried not to let it go to my head, and for the most part I didn’t, too caught up in what was happening.

Turns out, they gave me too much credit.

Turns out, they were dead wrong.

It’s a long and hard fall from the top. And that shit hurts when you land.

I adjust my position and glance up at Tess’s apartment. The lights flick off except for one, which casts a shadow along her living room. I watch her lean silhouette cross the length of the room and into her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if in deep thought. Maybe she’s thinking through what she studied and learned. That’s my guess, until she pauses by the window and looks out, before quickly rushing away.

I laugh to myself. She did the same thing earlier when I caught her checking me out. And damn it all, she hadn’t liked me calling her on it, had she? Her sweet ass probably paced all over her apartment, pissed I was onto her….

Oh, shit. I pass a hand over my face, muttering to myself, “Okay, *, exactly what are you doing here?”

“Fuck you. I’m here to get a report, dumbass.”

I grumble a swear. I don’t have to turn around to know Lu’s here, pissed, and has likely been eyeing me like a hawk. I glance at the clock. She’s early. Way early. Damn. Considering she’s two donuts shy of the big one, she moves like a shadow.

I hit the locks, allowing her into the passenger side. “What are you doing here, Lu? Your shift doesn’t start for another forty.”

She scrunches her small nose and gives me the once-over. “I’m here on account of you and me have a few things to cover.”

I straighten. “This about Joey?”

“Yup.” She waves me off when I start cursing. “Don’t get your thong in a bunch, O’Brien. The captain just wants me to check on you. See how you’re doin’.”

“I’m done talking. Did enough of it yesterday when Internal Affairs showed up.”

“Yeah, well, they’re just following procedure. Especially since the trial’s been moved up.”

“So I hear,” I mutter, knowing the county wants to get rid of this mess fast.

Lu taps the armrest, ignoring my scowl. “So, you gonna tell me how you are?”

“I’m fine.”

She stops drumming her fingers. “No, you’re not. You watched your rookie get shot to shit.”

“Don’t need reminding, Lu.”

She purses her lips and nods. “Actually, O’Brien, you sorta do. See, you and me, we kind of have this situation.”

I frown. “What situation?”

“We both need time.” She points to Tess’s apartment. “Take a look at where we’re sittin’. We’re in some goddamn senior citizen compound one EMS call from the morgue, watching some princess the mob’s not going to do shit to. You know why?”

“Enlighten me, oh wise one.”

“Don’t be a smartass, and pay attention on account of what I have to tell ya’s important.”

“Of course it is—” She smacks me upside the head hard enough to send my hat soaring into the dashboard. “Shit! What the hell, Lu?”

“You’re f*cked up, O’Brien. You need the time this assignment’s offerin’ to screw your head on straight. Otherwise, five years from now, you’re gonna be that cop who goes down to his cellar and fires a round into his skull.”

I don’t like what she has to say, but that doesn’t mean I’m not listening. Suicide kills more cops than drug addicts and drive-bys.

She shrugs, the business of being a cop laying deep lines into her face. “Me, I need this gig to slide into retirement,” she says. “Six months, O’Brien. That’s all I have left before me and the old man hop in a Winnebago and leave the scum on the street behind us.” She rams her finger in my face. “I’ve had the shit knocked out of me by fat naked men with hairy asses, and dragged too many dead whores from the sewer. I’m done, O’Brien. But you, you’re just getting started. So take this time to get your shit together and maybe we’ll both make it to retirement in one piece.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

That earns me another smack upside the head. “Yeah. Don’t be an *, don’t get me shot, and don’t f*ck the princess we’re supposed to be watchin’.”





Chapter 6





Curran


It’s late Friday night and snow’s dropping like the evil bitch she is. Meanwhile, Declan’s scribbling notes at warp speed and Tess is alternating between flipping through law books and scrolling through her iPad.

Montenegro’s third was set free. He wouldn’t talk, and there was nothing to hold him once his snitches disappeared.

“Deck, it’s late. Call it a night. We’ve been at this for hours.”

Declan stops scribbling, his face tighter than panties on a prom queen. “No, we’ve been at this for hours. You’ve been sitting here watching.”

“Watching your ass, dipshit. You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Tess focuses fully on Declan, like I’m not even here. Something she’s done a lot lately, and something that really pisses me off. “There has to be something we can bring to Judge Bronson so he can grant a search and seizure. Something we’re missing,” she insists.

Declan throws his pen down. “We have nothing. On paper, this perp looks cleaner than the priest who baptized me.”

“But he’s not. With all these witnesses suddenly making themselves scarce—”

“Or dead,” Declan finishes for her.

Her expression turns grim. Even with her limited experience, she wants to help. That much is obvious. “There has to be something we can do,” she adds, quietly. “There’s almost no point sentencing Montenegro and his second if this man’s set to take over the family.”

I scroll through my phone when she and Deck start talking strategy again. My sister sent me a text, bitchin’ about catching our little brother banging some chick in her bed. I laugh, picturing the look on Wren’s face when she walked in on them. I pocket my phone in time to catch Declan’s glare and Tess’s disapproving head shake. Great, two of them. “What?” I ask.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” Tess tells me. “We need to bring in the third in command and put the squeeze on him.”

“?‘The squeeze on him’? Seriously?” I look at Declan, ignoring her flushing face. “Guess what?” I say to him. “Wren caught Finnie screwin’ in her bed—on her new sheets, too.”

Declan’s eyes narrow further. “You’re such an imbecile,” he tells me. “Do you realize what I have on the line here—the opportunity to take down a mafia empire. Do you think I care what Finnie did?”

“You should,” I answer. “He got the girl pretending to be you.” I barely keep it together when he leans back in his chair and covers his face. “I’ve gotta give him credit,” I say, continuing to play dumb. “You and him do look a lot alike.”

Declan mutters a curse and reaches for the law journal closest to him. “Whatever, Curran. I’ve got a case to prepare for.”

Tess offers Declan a sympathetic glance before crossing her arms and fixing her tightening expression my way. I don’t know who’s more on edge, her or him. She’s barely spoken to me these past two weeks, even on the rides back to her place. She hasn’t smiled much and she sure as anything hasn’t laughed—not since I called her on checking me out.

I kept up with the jokes, trying to draw that smile that lightens her face, and occasionally I managed. But something’s off about her, and the more time that passes, the more she seems to fade away.

Maybe school’s getting to her. Her bag is always spilling with law books and notes when I pick her up at U Penn. Maybe it’s this case. Or maybe I’ve pushed her too far. Damn shame I can’t seem to stop trying to get a rise out of her. Just like I can’t stop picturing her naked since she brought it up. It’s times like this I wish for Superman’s X-ray vision. What I wouldn’t give to see her—

“I don’t believe you,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “This is important, and yet you sit here swearing like a prepubescent boy drunk off his father’s stolen scotch.”

“Actually, we used to sneak Pop’s Irish whiskey.” She stills, like it’s taking everything she has not to fling Declan’s stapler at me. “Just speaking the truth,” I tell her.

She sighs. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

I grin. “You mean metrosexual with a small dick? Sorry, babe.” I motion to myself. “I gotta use the gifts God gave me.”

Declan looks up then. “Fuck you. I don’t have a small dick.” He coughs into his hand when Tess’s eyes fly open. If he hadn’t been working the hours he had, or putting so much pressure on himself, he never would’ve said anything like that with her around. “Look, Curran. Either help us or keep your trap shut,” he mutters.

I lean back in my chair. “Fine. What about his gumad?”

Tess pauses in the middle of reaching for the law journal closest to her. “What?”

“His gumad. You know, his mistress. He probably stashed evidence at her place.”

Declan levels his stare at me. “You know this for a fact?”

I consider his question. “What I know is she’s a former stripper who isn’t stripping, and who has sweet digs near the Liberty Bell. You don’t buy something like that with no money. Someone bought it for her. I’m guessing the third in command hooked her up.”

Tess cocks her head. “Why him specifically?”

“Because word on the street is the third owns the strip joint he met her in,” Declan answers with a grin.

I place my hands behind my head. “Word on the street also says she likes coke. Watch her. Catch her buying, get your search and seizure.”

“Can we do that?” Tess asks, excitement building in her tone.

Declan answers with a stiff nod. “Get me Santana from Narcotics on the phone.”

Tess scrolls through her list of contacts on her iPad and reaches for Declan’s office phone. “You couldn’t have brought this up earlier, *?” he asks.

I don’t hide my grin. “I would have if you’d asked nicely enough.”

“Excuse me, Declan,” Tess interrupts, but not before I catch her smiling my way. “Detective Santana is ready for you.”

He takes the phone, and within an hour, he has someone watching the gumad. Problem is, all the excitement gives him and Tess a second wind. “Deck, come on. It’s Friday night.” I motion to Tess. “Don’t you think your girl here deserves the night off?”

He surprises me by giving it some thought. “Maybe you’re right.” He looks at her then. “How about dinner?”

Da f*ck?

Tess beams at him. “That would be wonderful—I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. Do you like sushi?”

Her smile brightens. “Oh, yes, I love sushi.”

I rise slowly, telling myself there’s no reason to beat his ass. No reason to call him out for being a two-faced prick. Never mind. There is. This is the same idiot warning me to keep my distance, and to stop “looking at her that way” every time I did.

He lowers his rolled-up sleeves, smirking when he latches on to my WTF expression. “How about it, Curran. Dinner at Itsu’s grab ya?” he asks with a wink.

My shoulders relax when I realize what he’s after. Ah, Itsu’s. Declan may have been hungry. But the excitement of nabbing Montenegro’s third burned a hole straight to his pants. Itsu’s is known for two things: sushi, and a smokin’ hot hostess Deck bangs like cymbals at a high school band concert. “Sure. Yeah. I like Japanese.”

—

Another badge tails Declan while I drive Tess to Itsu’s. She stays quiet and keeps her attention ahead, just like she’s been doing around me for the last two weeks. “What’s up?” I ask her.

“We’re going for sushi,” she answers barely above a whisper.

“You know what I mean. You haven’t said shit to me lately.” I give her a one-shoulder shrug. “You and me, I thought we were pals.”

She adjusts her gloves nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”

“You weren’t rude.” I steal a glance in the rearview mirror, checking for tails.

“Yes, I was,” she admits, her voice lowering. “You’ve been very sweet—”

“Even when I asked you for that lap dance yesterday?”

She purses her lips. I think she’s blushing, but it’s hard to tell with the blaring commercial lights shining against her face. “Perhaps ‘sweet’ isn’t the best word.” Her expression softens. “Crazy and inappropriate antics aside, you’re very kind.”

“Kind?”

She nods, but keeps her attention ahead. “Yes. You’ve made every attempt to talk to me, and make me smile, although I’ve said very little in return. I…have a lot of stress in my life. But you’re not the cause. And I’m sorry if it seems I’ve been taking it out on you. Believe it or not, I don’t mean to.”

She seems sad, all over again. Just like she always was in college. “Got a lot on your mind?” I repeat, letting her know I’m listening and hoping maybe she’ll tell me what’s up.

“At times I think too much,” she agrees. Her voice is almost inaudible as we pass along the busy streets. “School, this internship, and…well, let’s just say I’m overwhelmed at the moment.”

I have the feeling there’s more here than what’s being said. “Are you sure that’s all of it?” I ask.

For all she tries to smile then, I catch that misery that always seems to plague her. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I s’pose.”

“What about you?” she asks.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “What about me?”

“You seem stressed as well.” She shifts her weight. “And when we go courtside, that stress becomes more pronounced, especially around the sheriff’s officers.”

“Nah. It’s just your imagination.”

“Curran…I’m not stupid.”

“Never said you were.”

The sharpness to my tone abruptly quiets her. I think she’s done pushing, and that’s good enough for me. But as I pull onto the street that leads to Itsu’s, she says something I’m not ready to hear. “You know that police officer who was shot. I know you do. And, well, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry he was hurt. And I’m truly sorry for what you’re going through.”

She keeps her voice gentle, and I can hear the honesty in her words. That doesn’t mean I say anything back. This thing with Joey is messing me up ten ways to Sunday—more than I want to admit, and more than I want anyone to know, especially her. But in not responding, it’s like I confirm all her suspicions. Well, f*ck me.

My eyes cut to the rearview mirror. No one’s following us, which is good considering I’m not paying enough attention. Tess threw me for a loop in bringing up Joey, and it’s something I can’t allow. She may not be on the mob’s radar yet, but eventually she might be—just like my brother already is. I have to stay sharp. No matter what anyone says.

And I have to get over this shit with Joey.

I park directly beside Declan, shielding his side with my truck and Tess with the cinder-block wall. “Wait till I come get you,” I tell her.

In her silence, I wonder if she’s feeling sorry for me. I slam the door, hoping she’s not. Given the choice, I’d rather meet a scowl and a swinging fist than pity. Pity’s for pussies and those too weak to fight.

And hell will freeze before I go down like a punk.

The other badge opposite Declan’s ride rolls down his window. “How long’s your shift?” I ask him.

“Got another two. How long do you have?”

“Four more.” I adjust my gloves. “Did you eat?”

“Nah, but the wife’s got dinner waiting. I’ll cover the outside if you want to head in.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Hey, O’Brien,” the badge calls as I leave to get Tess.

“Yeah?”

He taps on the wheel as if mulling over his thoughts. “I’ll see you around,” he finally says.

He means well, but what he keeps to himself isn’t doing me any favors. It wasn’t long ago people gave it to me straight. Those were the days, man. Days I won’t easily get back.

Declan and Tess follow me into the restaurant. “Booth in the back, please,” I tell the waiter who greets us, flashing him my badge pinned inside my leather jacket.

His eyes widen. “Of course. This way, sir.”

I motion Tess and Declan forward. Like a seasoned pro, Declan spots the hostess, Sally, or Cindy or who gives a shit what her name is? In that too-tight dress, she’s all Declan needs. They exchange brief nods from across the room, where she’s seating an elderly couple.

Tess doesn’t seem to notice, but she does notice how abruptly he excuses himself soon after he finishes eating. “Is everything all right?”

He smiles politely, though his attention is toward the front door, where his date is already waiting. “Heavy case is all. I’ll probably spend the weekend working.”

Or in bed, I’m thinking.

“Would you like me to come over and help?” she asks him.

“No,” we both answer.

Deck narrows his eyes. A warning meant for me, which I answer with a stiff middle finger. Tess slaps her hands over mine and forces my hand against the table. “Behave,” she whispers. “We’re in public.”

“We’re also in South Philly,” I remind her.

Declan pulls on his coat and drops a few bills on the table. “Thank you for your help,” he tells Tess. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” To me he says, “Good night, Curran. Hope you can stay warm, in your car all alone.”

Have I mentioned I don’t like being ordered around? “Don’t worry,” I tell him, winking Tess’s way. “I know how to turn up the heat.”

Her eyes are too busy widening to catch Declan slip away and out of the restaurant with this evening’s lay leaning hard against him. I angle my body around, making sure he reaches his car and drives off with his watch tailing him before turning back to Tess.

The waiter who seated us rushes forward, ready to bus our table.

My attention skims to Tess’s plate. It’s still half-filled with food. I hold out a hand, stopping the waiter from taking it away. “The lady’s still eating, buddy.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Tess stares from her plate to Declan’s empty one. “It’s all right. I probably had enough.”

“What are you talking about? You barely ate and you skipped lunch.”

She pushes her hair behind her ear, her attention returning to her food. “We were busy. It was hard to get out.”

I frown. “Which is more reason to eat now. You have to make up for what you didn’t get earlier.”

She glances up. “Are you going to eat?”

I ate quite a bit, but Tess isn’t going to eat alone. This much I know. “Yeah. I’ll probably order another few rolls.” I laugh to lighten the mood when she seems torn. “Come on. You don’t want me to eat by myself, do you?”

She swallows a little, her eyes traveling back to her plate. “No. I’ll stay with you.”

I point to her food. “Give us another two rolls of whatever she’s having, will ya?” I tell the waiter. He’s been quietly observing and probably rethinking his career choice.

“Right away, sir,” he mumbles.

Tess lifts her chopsticks and cautiously places a small piece of sushi in her mouth. She seems hungry, really hungry. Yet it’s like she’s forcing herself to eat slowly, just like she’s eaten since the food arrived. At first, I thought it was for show, trying to demonstrate all that cotillion crap she’d likely been forced to learn. I didn’t give it much thought, figuring she was trying to impress Declan with her manners. Now, I’m not so sure.

She picks up another piece and eats it carefully, her thick lashes lowering as if savoring every bite. It bugs me. Something’s definitely going on with her. “Did you always want to be a lawyer?” I ask, before I ask something I shouldn’t.

She finishes chewing and takes a sip of her water. “No. Actually, I wanted to be a ballerina.”

I bark out a laugh, quieting when I catch sight of her reddening face. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I was actually quite good when I was younger. But not good enough for what it takes to become a professional,” she says, carefully wiping her mouth. “So I was encouraged to choose a more practical career.”

“By your father?” Her sudden stillness makes it clear I hit a nerve. Shit.

“Yes,” she admits quietly. She lifts another piece of food. “What about you? Did you always want to be a police officer?”

“Either that or a stripper, but stripping doesn’t offer dental.”

She chokes on her food when she starts laughing, but manages to cover her mouth with her napkin. I chuckle when she lowers her napkin and meets me with a wide grin. “There’s that smile I’ve missed.”

Her humor fades, but not that sparkle in her eyes. “You missed my smile?”

The real one you’re giving me now rather than the one just to shut me up? Yeah, I had, but I don’t exactly say it that way. “It looks good on you,” I admit.

The waiter returns then, dropping a large rectangular plate full of colorful sushi. “You gonna help me eat this?” I ask Tess.

She nods, but then cautiously reaches for another small piece. “Tell me something about yourself,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Like anything.” The corners of her mouth lift. “For all the time we’ve spent together lately, I don’t feel like I know you.”

“I’m pretty damn boring. Good-looking, smart, funny, and with butt cheeks capable of rubbing two sticks together and starting a fire, but boring all the same.”

She tilts her chin, her features growing a little sad. “Why do you do that?”

I pause, wondering what I said wrong, before reaching for a roll. “Do what?”

“Say a lot without really saying anything at all.”

I stop mid-chew. Yeah, this babe’s no dumb broad. “How about I tell you a story instead?”

“A story? You mean about your police training?”

“Nah, I told you everything there is to know.” Okay, not really. “Let me tell you about my family instead.”

“Your family?” she asks, like she doesn’t believe me.

“Sure. You said you wanted to get to know me, right?”

“I really do,” she says with a soft smile I feel down to my gut. Shit, what’s happening here?

I crack my knuckles, trying to relax and shake off whatever the hell she hit me with. “Okay. Then I’ll tell you about the first time I almost got laid.”

The roll falls from her chopsticks, and the smile drops from her face. Her attention sweeps the room. “Do you think this is appropriate?” she whispers breathlessly. “We’re in a restaurant.”

“Probably not, but it’s pretty damn funny.” I chuckle. “Well, at least it is now.”

“But you said you were going to tell me about your family.”

“Oh, it involves them, too,” I assure her.

As much as she’s trying to keep me quiet, there’s no missing the flickers of curiosity in her gaze. “All right,” she says. “I’m all ears.”

No, you’re all legs. Legs I want to wrap around my— I cough into my shoulder. “Okay. See, there’re six of us boys.”

“Six? You have five siblings?”

“No, I have six, on account there’s also our sister, Erin—she goes by Wren. You know, the one who caught our brother f*cking—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she says, shushing me. She slumps back in the booth. “Wow. Seven children in one family.”

I hold out my hands. “What do you expect? We’re Catholic. Anyways, I think Ma and Papa would have stopped after Wren was born and they got their girl. But the Phils made the playoffs the following year and there was all this beer. Nine months later, Ma’s pushing Finnie out on our kitchen floor—but that’s another story.”

“Good Lord,” Tess says, her mouth falling open.

“Yeah, Ma said the same thing, except not so politely. Anyway, so Angus, Seamus, Declan, and Killian had all gotten laid. I turn sixteen, and I still haven’t popped my cherry.”

Tess’s eyes are now the size of the crab roll, but she’s not exactly telling me to stop, so I keep going. “Deanna Zaccara was a girl from the neighborhood. I think she runs a daycare now. Back in the day, she had quite the rep, especially following her affair with the wrestling coach. One day after school, she came up to me, told me I was cute, and asked if she could come over to our house to study.”

Tess tightens her grip on her chopsticks. “Curran! You took advantage of a young woman who was taken advantage of by a teacher?”

“She was nineteen when they were screwing.”

“Nineteen? She was in college?”

“No, high school. I said Deanna had a rep. I never claimed she was a scholar.” I take another bite of food. “So I told her yes. Like an imbecile, I thought she really wanted to study so she’d finally get her ass out of high school. It wasn’t until she dragged me into my parents’ bedroom that I realized she wasn’t interested in my mind.”

Tess gapes at me, and it’s all I can do to keep a straight face. “So I’m all excited,” I tell her, “thinking my time had come. What I didn’t know was that Ma had to close down the dry cleaner she ran early due to a gas leak in the building.”

Tess covers her mouth. “Your mother walked in on you?”

I smirk. “And my grandmother—God rest her soul.”

“No!”

“Oh, yeah. So there I am, wearing Deanna’s green panties—”

“Why were you wearing green panties?” Her fair skin morphs to beet red when she realizes the waiter’s looming over us.

“Deanna was also into some kinky shit,” I tell her truthfully, before glancing up at the waiter. “Hey, you got any dessert specials?”

“Cheesecake, sir. And, ah, green tea ice cream.”

I grin. “Perfect. We’ll take one of each.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tess leans in as the waiter disappears, speaking low. “I can’t believe that was your first sexual experience.”

I lift a piece of sushi and bring it to her mouth. She glances at it, then shocks me by letting me feed it to her. For some reason, it’s a bit of a turn-on.

Who am I kidding? Everything about her turns me on.

I pull back a little, watching her eat and forcing myself to finish my story. “I never said it was my first time. Ma freaked out and beat me over the head with her sneakers while Grammie begged God not to send me straight to hell. Deanna ran out without her panties and I spent the rest of the afternoon in confession wearing them beneath my jeans.” I lift another roll and offer it to her. “So, you going to tell me what your first time was like?”





Chapter 7





Tess


We stumble into my hallway, both of us laughing. My stomach muscles are clenched so tight, I drop my purse stuffed with legal briefs, and have to clutch the doorframe to keep from falling over.

Tears stream down my face as Curran finishes another riveting tale from his childhood. “I swear to God, my mother became bionic,” he says. “She chased Declan down the street when he bolted, trying to escape her wrath. Not two seconds later, she kicks open the front door and hauls him inside by the ear, all a hundred pounds of her dragging his six-foot frame like he was nothing.”

I wipe my eyes. “What did she do to him?”

“God only knows. The rest of us were jumping out windows trying to get out of her way. I gotta tell you, though, Declan never said ‘f*ck’ in front of her again—hell, none of us swore in front of her after that.”

I place my hand against my chest. “I don’t blame you. From what you’ve told me, your mother’s one tough lady.”

Curran leans against the wall, his smile softening. “She is. She instilled the fear of God into us, and didn’t let us get away with anything. But she was always there for us, you know? As pissed as we’d get about how strict she was, we knew she loved us.”

I smile. “It couldn’t have been easy for her, raising so many children, and raising them all to be good people. But she did, and it’s obvious she put her heart and soul into it.”

“Yeah, she did,” he adds as if remembering.

Maybe it’s me, but there’s something hot about a man as tough as Curran having a soft spot for his mother.

Or maybe he’s just plain hot.

My smile diminishes the longer I take him in, and as his stare sears into mine.

Jesus…I’m not sure what’s happening. If it’s good, or bad, or simply just is. But silence seems to envelop us at once, and all life stops except for the breaths between us.

My hand slowly slips from my chest. If it weren’t for the distant sound of moving traffic, I’d swear time had ground to a halt and carved out this moment solely for us.

It’s…beautiful, peaceful, and welcomed. Yet I can’t enjoy it, even though I want to.

Something pokes at me, reminding me that I shouldn’t be standing here, losing myself in this man’s grip. My keys are in my purse. And my purse is still on the floor where I dropped it. I think I should reach for both, but whatever this moment is, I don’t want to let it go. At least not yet.

My father had hounded me all week. It’s not like him to call me this frequently, but for some reason he felt the need to rein me in, tug on that leash, and remind me that he commands every aspect of my life.

Well, perhaps not every aspect….

I hold tight to Curran’s gaze. What would my evening have been like without him? Likely, just as it had been these past two weeks: boring, uneasy, and almost pointless.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me.

“You,” I admit, quietly.

“Yeah?”

I nod.

“What about me?” he murmurs.

Oh, where do I start? “I’m glad we went out,” I tell him. “I had a really nice time.”

Initially, I welcomed Declan’s invitation to dinner as a distraction from my workload and the loneliness that plagues my life. Now, I welcome only Curran: his deep voice, his hearty laugh, and his way with words. He has a way of stirring me up and breaking through the monotony and solitude of my existence, something I didn’t think was possible.

He cocks his head, taking me in. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me, but I don’t dare ask. I just hope it’s good. After all, he’s so…

He pushes off the wall and prowls forward, reaching for me and cupping my face with his large hands. His fingers thread through my hair, his light blue eyes so intense, my breath lodges in my throat and balls into a lump.

He leans in, closing his eyes. “What are you doing?” I stammer.

He pauses, then opens his eyes. “Ah, trying to kiss you.”

“On the lips?”

“I could do the forehead if you want,” he offers, slowly. “But it’s kind of not the same.”

“What does this mean?” I ask, barely able to spit the words out.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you trying to do here?”

“I told you, kiss you.” He drops his hands away. “I thought we were having a moment. But I gotta tell you, Tess. You’re kind of ruining it for me.”

“Um.” I look around, my palms unusually sweaty. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

I let out a breath. “Okay, you can kiss me.”

I rub my palms against my coat and close the space between us. You can do this, I tell myself. And you know you want to. I lift my chin, close my eyes, and wait.

Until Curran’s laughter jolts my eyes open.

My face heats, which only makes him crack up harder. “You really know how to kill a moment. You know that?” he manages between bouts of laughter.

My shoulders slump as I admit defeat. He’s right. I took a perfectly sweet moment and ruined it. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want this moment to happen, or that I’m ready to let it go. “Believe it or not, I’m trying here,” I tell him.

He leans back on his heels and crosses his arms, a big grin fixed on his face. “Let me take you back to college for a second. Think back to the night we went back to your sorority house.” He laughs when I blush yet again. “Before I ended up tied to your bed. Were you nervous?”

“Yes, I—no.” My hands slap at my sides. “A little,” I admit. “Mostly I was just having fun.”

Curran steps forward, his arm immediately claiming my waist while the knuckles of his free hand brush my cheek. “So just have fun,” he whispers.

I’m ready to tell him I’m not sure how, but his kiss immediately silences me.

At first, I think he’ll take his time, sweep his lips softly and romantically against mine, the same way he kissed my hand. I also think he’ll move his tongue to gently prod until I invite him in.

But I’m wrong.

Way wrong.

Good God.

Curran’s open mouth conquers mine, his lips fastening firmly and his tongue probing and teasing so that I easily surrender to the invasion. The Contessa Newart who’s so awkward and dorky gets kicked to the curb, succumbing to the Tess Newart who the cute guy wants, and needs, and, and— Holy shit.

I moan, my arms curling around his neck and drawing him closer. I’m briefly aware of my coat being yanked open, just as I’m aware that I don’t give a damn. Curran swears as he comes up for air before eagerly returning for more. He wants me. I know it by the possessive claim of his lips and the way his hands travel the length of my body.

His hand splays over my face, then moves down to smooth against my throat. It slides between my breasts and back up again, trailing to the base of my neck and repeating, each pass to my chest tugging at the front of my blouse.

His arm winds around my waist, gripping me and pressing me tight against his muscular body. I gasp when his teeth nip behind my ear and his movements grow more intense. He’s not touching my intimate parts, but I need him to—goodness, they’re practically screaming for his attention.

Unlike his, my hands aren’t so shy. They stroke up and down his torso, pulling at the buttons of his collared shirt. With every pass of his mouth, I grow more daring, needing to set his skin free and feel it against my palms—to reinforce that he’s real, and that this isn’t merely a dream.

I moan again when his chest shoves against mine, pinning me to the wall with his weight. But when he grips my backside and lifts me from the floor, it’s all I can do not to beg him to take me to bed, just like I did all those years ago.

And yet as I muster the courage to ask him inside, my feet return to the floor and his weight eases off me.

He steps back, falling against the opposite wall and breathing hard. Not that I blame him. As it is, I can’t control my racing heart or the harsh rise and fall of my chest.

Curran continues to stare at me. “Holy shit,” he says.

Ah, yeah.

I adjust my glasses and try to smooth my wild hair. I don’t need a mirror to know it’s a useless gesture.

“Sorry,” he says.

My hands fall away slowly. “What?”

He jerks his head to the side and mutters a curse. When he faces me once more, a slew of emotions riddle his features. I can’t make out all of them, but I do recognize the most prominent: remorse. It’s one I’m familiar with, and the one that destroys me to find in his face.

“I shouldn’t have done that. You’re my charge.”

“But I wanted you to,” I confess. “You didn’t force me. I wanted…this.”

Curran mumbles another curse. I meant to reassure him, but somehow I upset him more. “I should go,” he says.

I wish you wouldn’t, I want to tell him. But of course, I don’t. Not when he flat out told me he regrets our kiss. So instead, I nod stoically and reach for my purse. My fingers slip over my keys several times before I finally grasp them. Somehow, I manage to slip the key into the deadbolt on my first try.

Curran places his hand over mine before I can turn the knob. “Wait, me first.”

“It’s not necessary,” I say to the door.

“Yes it is, Tess. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

But you already did.

For all intents and purposes, and in every way possible, Curran did a real number on me. Maybe he didn’t mean to, but with him, I feel everything in its greatest extreme—happiness, humor, and now, sadness. He leaves me embracing every emotion, even when I fight not to.

I want to tell him as much, my need to practically thrashing its way out of me. Yet this isn’t the right time. For now, I need to let him go. I can’t have him if he won’t have me.

I step back and allow him ahead of me, wondering if I did something wrong. Yes, I’m his charge, but if he really wants me, should it matter?

“I’ll be quick,” he says, as if to make me feel better.

In truth, it only makes me feel worse.

I wait in the small hall, barely moving, until Curran finishes his sweep.

“All clear,” he says.

“Thank you,” I tell him, quietly.

He releases a heavy breath. “I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he tells me again. “I’m sorry.”

I look at him then, trying my best not to cry. “I am, too.”

Another hint of emotion marches along his features before his “cop” face returns and erases any clue to what he’s feeling. “I’ll be outside if you need me until Lu gets here. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

Curran marches past me when I say nothing more, shutting the door tight behind him. But it’s not until I flip the deadbolt that I hear his heavy footsteps stomp in the direction of the elevator.

I am sorry.

Sorry that Curran didn’t spend the night.





Curran


I sit in my car for fifty-four minutes. Fifty-four goddamn minutes, waiting for Lu to show up. It doesn’t seem like a long time, except that it is—long enough to feel like a complete screwup. What the hell is wrong with me? Didn’t I tell Declan I’d keep my distance—keep it all professional? And just this afternoon—when he caught me eyeing her up—I assured him nothing would happen.

Christ.

Every bit of common sense warned me against kissing Tess. Well, where was that common sense when I needed it—when I all but dry-humped her against the wall?

Hell, though. Can you blame a guy? Her laugh, that smile, those legs, and the way her green eyes flare behind her glasses are like magnets hauling me to her. I wanted that mouth so I took it. I also wanted to grip that ass and yank up her shirt and bra so I could tug on her nipples with my—

Every swear word I know shoots through my teeth. Holy Mother above, I could kick my own ass for being this horny. The thing of it is, if I were just horny, I’d head down to the nearest bar, pick up a girl, and take care of business.

So why don’t I?

’Cause you want Tess, *.

I run a hand over my face. Yeah. Pretty damn bad, based on that kiss. That angel face of hers gets me every time, even when she’s shaking her head at my stupid remarks. Pissed or happy, stressed or relaxed, Tess is a knockout, and she doesn’t even goddamn know it.

Damn, it felt good to have her body glued against mine. And didn’t she know how to work it, giving me everything back as hard as I took it.

I know she means it when she says she wants to be construed as a professional. Problem is, Tess is a nymph in nerd’s clothing. The night we spent in college didn’t involve that spooning shit or the cuddle time girls are supposed to like. It was rough and fast. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Even when we finally finished, we didn’t cuddle. We more like collapsed in a mess of sweaty limbs.

Something occurs to me, and it hits me like a punch: I want her. But unlike when we were in college, it’s not because she’s a challenge. I like her. She’s smart, and she’s sweet. Yet for all she seems to have going on, something’s way off. The way she eats, how she dresses, and where she lives seem all wrong.

And for all the ways I can describe her, “happy” isn’t one of them.

She never smiles…except maybe around me. That thought shouldn’t make me grin, but it does. I like having that effect on her.

“O’Brien!” Lu bangs her fist against the window. “You gonna sit on your ass with that stupid smile on your face or are you going to give me some kind of report?” she growls.

Shit. I roll down the window. “Why don’t you wave a sign over my head announcing I’m a cop—who happens to be the brother of the DA the mob is targeting—so any perp tracking us can just put a bullet in my head and be done?”

“Because I already swept the area for any unknown cars, called and checked in with our girl, secured the first, second, and, yeah, the other three floors of the building—in other words, did my job—while you sat there on your ass, again, with that * grin on your face.”

“Assholes don’t grin,” I counter.

“Fuck you” is her response.





Chapter 8





Tess


“How about this one? Contessa?”

I’m looking in the same direction as Mallory when the boutique owner presents yet another atrocious gown. “It’s fine,” I mumble.

My stepmother sighs dramatically. She resents spending time with me and only dragged me here because my father ordered her to. “Will you at least try to appease your father?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Instead of typing the legal briefs Declan needs, and studying for my exam in Criminal Law, and prepping for my upcoming mock trial.

Mallory eyes me, surprised by my tone given how anything I say will get back to my father. At this point, I don’t care. She’s betrayed me constantly to stay in Father’s good graces, giving no thought to how it affected me, or how badly I needed a supportive parent in my life.

In fact, Mallory married Father six months after my estranged mother’s suicide. We’ve never been close. To her I’m simply a burden to endure in order to belong to a family of prestige.

She never realized what marrying my father would cost her.

At only forty, and twenty years his junior, she is well within my father’s grip. She sits beside me, ramrod straight as he expects, dressed in suits or dresses he selects, belonging to charities and clubs he’s forced her to join, and associating with only women he approves.

While she enjoys certain perks I lack, like a cellphone and a car, they come at the price of being married to a dictator. Yet she stays, holding tight to her lavish home and lifestyle.

“Perhaps something in more classic tones,” she suggests when I say nothing more.

I glance around the shop. Curran would call it an old biddy’s wet dream, or something to that effect. I smile to myself, thinking about all the inappropriate comments that would shoot out of his mouth if he were here.

Mmm. That mouth.

I pass my fingertips along my lips, remembering the sweep of his tongue and how the stubble on his jaw had grazed my skin.

Damn, it was an amazing moment, until it wasn’t.

Sorry, he said.

I shouldn’t have done that to you, he added.

I know he didn’t mean to insult me. Curran isn’t cruel. But his reaction was an emotional blow I didn’t need, and one that really hurt.

God, Curran.

“Are you all right, Contessa?”

“I’m fine,” I answer, keeping my eyes ahead.

Three more gowns. Three more atrocities. “Just pick something,” she hisses when I pass on something that resembles a bicycle reflector instead of a piece of clothing I’d slip over my head. “I have a Daughters of the Confederacy meeting to attend. You know how testy they can be when someone arrives late.”

I fold my hands on my lap and try to breathe. This is the future that awaits me if I don’t break free of my father. “Do you have something more trendy?” I ask the store owner. “Perhaps something in black?”

The poor woman nods, and shuffles to the back of the store. I don’t want to be here, any more than her or Mallory. What I want is to see Curran, even though he may not want to see me.

When the store owner returns and shows me the next gown, I almost can’t believe my eyes. The gown is reminiscent of a dark sky filled with stars, like midnight in the summer along the shore. It’s all black, covered in iridescent beading that circles the turtleneck and swirls out and into the long sleeves.

I cross the small space, hardly believing a gem exists in this sea of paisley and polyester. “It’s stunning. I’d like to try it on, please.”

“No,” Mallory insists, forcing a laugh as she addresses the owner. “Forgive me, but your instructions were for more conservative and traditional attire. This is too, ah, formfitting.”

She means sensual. “I like it,” I say, quietly.

I pass the stretchy material along my hands, examining it closely. With a smile, I lift the dress from the woman’s arms and place it against me, ignoring Mallory’s warning.

“It will look gorgeous on you,” the woman says, her face beaming.

Her kindness makes me smile even more. “I hope so. May I use one of your dressing rooms to see if it fits?”

The woman motions to the right. “Of course, dear.”

My first thought is of Curran, and whether he would like it. It’s a silly thought, but if he liked me enough to kiss me in my old-lady shoes and nerdwear, maybe he’ll reconsider that kiss and a lot more if he sees me in this dress.

“Contessa, your father won’t approve,” Mallory insists.

“It has sleeves and a turtleneck. What more could he want?”

“A daughter who would be more appreciative of his efforts and grateful for his generosity,” he growls behind me.

I squeeze my lids tight. Shit.

Once again, my father arrived, unexpected and unwelcomed.

Panic replaces my shock. I don’t turn around, even when he reaches my side. “Why must you make such a simple task as picking out a dress so arduous?” he asks, his voice loud enough for the owner to hear.

Maybe it’s the humiliation, or the fact that I’m just so tired of taking his crap—whatever it is makes me snap. “Because it’s something I’m being forced to wear to an event I have no desire to attend,” I fire back.

My father hasn’t struck me in years. But if we were alone, he would have then. “Shut your filthy mouth,” he demands, seething with rage.

The sharpness to his tone causes the boutique owner to edge away. But from one blink to the next, the fury cutting ugly lines into his face dissolves, revealing the fine features of the gentleman he pretends to be. “We’ll take the blue one,” he tells the boutique owner, pointing to my left.

I make the mistake of looking, expecting the worst, and am not disappointed. There on a rack is a sexy number befitting most women in their nineties. I want to scream, but instead, there I stand, fighting the angry tears that come with being the daughter of Donald Newart.

The woman rushes away to fill Father’s order, falling all over herself to please him, as most do. It’s then that he leans in close, speaking through his teeth. “You walk a thin line with me, Contessa. Bite the hand that feeds you, and you’ll find it biting back.”

My stomach clenches tight. Fuck you.

Despite my vicious thoughts, the venom in his voice causes me to recoil, exactly like it’s done all my life, starting when I was just a little girl who simply needed her father’s love.

I lower my eyelids and take a breath when he storms off. This fear, it doesn’t come on suddenly. It’s always there, lurking beneath the surface just as he intended.

When did it start? I don’t know. If I had to guess, it likely started in infancy.

My earliest memory is of him ramming his fist between my shoulder blades and wrenching my shoulders back to “teach me” to stand straight and not slouch. I couldn’t have been more than three. But I recall that moment, and remember the feel of his knuckles against my small spine, just like I remember my heart breaking and my mother urging me not to cry, because “you’ll make your father mad.”

He’d smack my mouth if I didn’t speak clearly, or if I used words he believed were too simplistic. He’d make me wait to eat until he finished his meal to demonstrate he didn’t owe me anything, not even food. I wasn’t allowed to play around him. I wasn’t permitted to speak unless spoken to, and I couldn’t “behave like a child”—even when I was one.

This isn’t a form of abuse most read about online, or catch on the evening news. It doesn’t cause “real” bruises, but it bruises the soul.

It’s real. It controls. It hurts. And it’s effective. So for me to argue or speak to him like I did is unheard of. But, God, I’m tired, tired of taking his orders, tired of allowing him to belittle me, and tired of permitting his mistreatment.

I’m barely aware of his voice, and of the small clicking noises at the register as he completes the transaction, his words and anger leaving me as weak as if he’d beaten me with his hands.

It’s all I can do not to collapse.

He leaves then, with Mallory close at his heels. The hideous dress is my first punishment. The abandonment is my second. My third will likely be waiting for me in my apartment, but I won’t find it anytime soon.

I’m on the other side of town, miles from my apartment. My father left with the person who brought me. He intends to make me walk so I can think about my actions, and so he can occupy my thoughts. He didn’t bother leaving me money for a cab or asking if I brought my bus pass. And he knows I don’t have a phone.

He assumes I’m alone.

But I’m not alone.

Curran followed me here.

He shadowed Mallory’s car without her knowing, which is perfect. I don’t want Father to know I’m under surveillance. And if Mallory knew, she’d run and tell him.

Initially, I panicked over how Curran would react following our kiss. Now, I’m panicking over what he’ll say when he realizes Mallory left without me. I don’t want him to know I was dumped like a piece of trash.

I hurry outside, only to have the owner stop me. “Miss, you forgot your dress!”

I groan and wait for her to hand me the oversized box. “Thank you,” I say, although I don’t really mean it.

With the box tucked beneath my arm, I step outside, searching for Curran. Several stores surround the area and the lot is completely full. At first, I can’t find him, and wonder if another patrol took over. My shoulders relax when I see him step out of his dark blue F-150.

“Hi,” I say when I reach him.

He motions to the dress with his chin. “New argyles?” he asks. My expression shatters before I can stop it, erasing Curran’s grin. “Okay. Forget I asked.”

I quickly compose myself, or at least, I try. “I needed a dress. I have a social event to attend next week,” I mutter.

“You mean like a date?”

His question surprises me. “Something like that.”

“With the judge’s law clerk?”

“No.” I frown a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “Just curious. He’s the only guy you’ve been with.”

I meet his eyes. “No. Not the only one.”

Curran works his jaw but says nothing. I glance away, trying not to focus on those soft lips. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind taking me home?” I ask.

“I was wondering about that, seeing how that lady you came with left you here.”

Oh, boy, here we go. “She’s my stepmother. She had a meeting to attend.”

“With your dad?” He cocks his head when he catches my surprise. “I saw him, Tess. He pulled into the lot less than a minute after you walked into the shop.”

And yet he waited before entering. Not that I’m shocked. My father likes me to think I’m always being watched.

“You okay, Tess?”

I nod, but in truth, I’m not feeling well.

“When did you eat last?” he asks.

“What?”

His frown deepens. “I asked when was the last time you ate?”

“Last night. At dinner.”

“It’s almost two o’clock now.”

I rearrange the large box in my arms. “I don’t typically eat breakfast.”

“This isn’t breakfast, and you’re way past lunch. Why haven’t you eaten?”

I don’t miss the anger in his tone, although I’m not sure where it’s coming from. “I planned to wait until I returned to my apartment.”

“The way you look, you’re not going to make it back to your place.”

I shift uncomfortably. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

He considers his words. “Nothing. You just look like you could eat, that’s all.” He surprises me by slipping his arm around my shoulders and leading me forward. “Come on. I know this perfect place to get some steaks.”

I try to shift from his hold. “Curran, I can’t. I don’t have any money.”

“I’m not asking you to pay,” he says, like it’s obvious.

He releases me when it occurs to him he’s holding me close. Apparently, it wasn’t a conscious effort. As I watch, he marches toward his truck as if trying to put space between us.

I don’t follow, confused by his actions. “Do you think this is wise?”

He glances over his shoulder. “What? Eating? Hell, yeah. You look ready to fall over.”

I focus on the bright gold ribbon sealing the box as he returns to stand directly in front of me. “What I mean is, do you think it’s wise for us to go out together?” I take a breath. “Last night when you kissed me, you told me you made a mistake. Did you mean that?”

Curran watches me with his hands shoved deep in his pockets for what seems like too long. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

I raise my chin, feeling my body warm. “Okay. Maybe you’re right.”

He passes a hand through his hair when I make no effort to move. “Look, let’s just go eat. Okay? I wasn’t kidding when I said you look ready to pass out.”

I follow him to his truck, even though by now, I’m ready to crawl beneath the nearest rock. He opens the door for me and shuts it tight once I slip inside.

As I watch him walk around to the other side, streams of sunlight strike his head, brightening his hair and shimmering his irises.

I steal a long glance at his rugged features and at his fine ass in those jeans before he climbs in and starts the engine with a roar. It’s a shame those sweet lips and firm cheeks want nothing of my touch, but in a way, maybe it’s best.

I meant what I said. The right job and the right opportunities can slip away if those who can help me regard me as less than professional…including this alluring man who’s witnessed the real side of me.





Chapter 9





Curran


We enter Sal’s Sports Bar just before the big game and about five minutes before the place is overtaken by angry 76ers fans out for blood. Two plates are slammed down, topped with Sal’s infamous cheesesteaks and spilling with chips. One for me. One for Tess. Perfect.

“That’s a lot of food,” she says, gaping at her plate.

“Yup. Sal’s known for his portions.” I take a bite when Sal’s wife, Mina, drops off my milkshake. “Thanks, Mina,” I say through a mouthful of food.

“No problem, Curran. Tell your ma hi for me.”

“Sure thing, Mina.” I lift the shake to take a sip in time to catch Tess eyeing it up. I offer it to her. “Here.”

She shakes her head. “Ah, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I haven’t touched it yet.”

She laughs a little. “It’s not that. It’s the calories.”

“What about them?”

“My weight is carefully managed,” she explains slowly, a bit of a sting to her tone. “I’ve gained quite a few pounds since we graduated college.”

“I noticed. And every last one looks damn good—” I stop myself a little too late. Rather than make another stupid comment or keep focusing on her rack, I dig into my steak like a linebacker following the playoffs. Her thin brows lift, reflecting her surprise.

Nice, Curran. Real nice. I need to keep my thoughts to myself. But since I kissed Tess, it’s all I can think about. That, and kissing a lot more than just her mouth.

Last night, seeing how I couldn’t sleep, I almost called downtown and asked to switch with a different badge. Two things stopped me: I didn’t want to be a *, and I didn’t want to not see Tess. But it was the latter that kept me up in more ways than one.

Again, I watch her take small, delicate bites, relishing every morsel with her eyelids closed. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have those lids flutter for me as I plow into her with everything I have.

“Shit.”

She swallows. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. I think I left my lights on.”

She glances out the window and in the direction of the lot. “Aren’t they automatic?”

Shit again. “Yeah. They are.” I push my milkshake closer to her. “Here. Try it. It’s vanilla with chunks of pineapple.”

She pauses, but then lifts the glass and takes a sip, dripping the ice cream against her lips. And man, I swear that’s the last thing I need to see. She laughs and licks her lips. Okay, scratch what I said. That’s the last thing I need to see.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be so messy.” She licks her lips again. And again.

Aw, hell. I dive into my food like Ma’s life depends on it. “May I have some more?” she asks in her sexy voice.

“Baby, take every last swallow.” I cringe when I realize how that sounded, only to swear out loud again when she looks at me like I’m nuts.

“Thank you,” she says, quietly.

We don’t speak again until the end of the meal. With the exception of a few pieces of bread and some chips, Tess ate the whole thing, albeit in that careful way of hers.

I steal a chip from her plate and munch. She keeps quiet with her hands wrapped around her glass of iced tea. “Food okay?” I ask her.

She tries to smile. “It was delicious. Thank you.”

“Then what’s up?” I ask, aware that something is.

“Well, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the night we…you know.”

I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it. We f*cked like gorillas.”

Her jaw pops open. “Curran. That’s so offensive!”

“Sorry,” I offer. “I didn’t mean to call you a gorilla.”

For a second there, I’m not sure if she’s going to throat-punch me. But I can’t hide my smirk, and she can’t hide her laugh. Okay. Good. We’re headed in the right direction. The proper direction. The one that doesn’t involve me hooking the crotch of her panties with my finger and ripping them off her.

I rub my face. Christ.

She shoves my shoulder playfully. Well, at least she tries to. It’s a cute move. Too cute. Damn, I want her.

She shakes her head. “Officer O’Brien, you have absolutely no class.”

“I’m the classiest guy you’ll ever meet, angel face.”

She takes a sip of her tea. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Her smile returns when she places her glass back on the checkered tablecloth, lighting her perfect features. It’s then I realize there’s no going back.

So I go for it.

“Why do you have a problem with what happened between us?”

Her stare falls to the table. “You know why. It’s not the sort of behavior I ever engaged in.” She lowers her voice. “And I deeply regret it.”

Her thick lashes brush against her lenses as she waits for me to speak. The color’s returned to her cheeks, and her hair falls around her shoulders in sensual waves. God damn she’s beautiful.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and tell myself, Self, you just need to calm your shit and move on. Tell her it’s all good and not to worry. That you’ve forgotten all about that night and haven’t given it another thought. Well, given I’m kind of an *, and I don’t listen to *s, I ignore me.

I lean forward so my face is only a few inches from hers. “Did you like it?”

She lifts her chin. “What?”

“Did you like it? Did it feel good?”

She opens and closes her mouth several times, just like she does whenever I tell her something she might not want to hear. She then glances around to see who’s listening before hunkering in close. “What does that have to do with anything?” she whispers, tightly.

I give her a one-shoulder shrug. “Just answer the question.”

Tess presses her full lips together, and for a second, I’m sure she’s going to lie and say no. Then I see it, that spark in her eyes that tells me she’s remembering what I did, and maybe how I held her hair when she fell to her knees and pulled me into her mouth. “Yes,” she answers. “I did like it.”

I latch on to her gaze and hold it. It’s only for a moment, but it’s long enough to show her that I know she’s thinking about us, and what we did. I take a sip of my water. “Then what’s to regret?” I lean back, pretending not to care, and that the conversation is over. But I’m a man, after all, and now I can’t shake the image of her riding me hard.

Shit.

“Did you like it?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

I pause before reaching for my water glass again. Yeah, the old jeans aren’t as loose as when I first sat down. “Sure.” Another sip, another stretch against the denim.

“That’s it?” she asks. “That’s all you’re going to say.”

I grin then. “Were you expecting something else?”

She adjusts her glasses. Aw, hell, did I mention she does naughty librarian well? “I just thought you’d elaborate,” she stammers. “You always have a lot to say.”

I laugh. “You saying I run my mouth?”

Her voice quiets. “Not when it matters, Curran.”

Ouch.

Considering she called me out, I don’t say anything right away. My eyes travel to her neckline. It’s high enough to be respectable, but low enough to give me a peek at the swells of her breasts. My jeans tighten further when I think how good it’d feel to give those nipples a flick. “You want me to elaborate?” I ask, my voice deepening.

“No.”

“No?”

She plays with her hands, growing flustered. “I just assumed you would.”

I think back to that night, how we couldn’t stop touching each other or driving each other wild. And yeah, maybe I also think about how those doe eyes watched me when she swallowed before I threw her on the bed and returned the favor tenfold.

Maybe that’s why I shoot off my mouth before I can stop myself. “I like the way you tasted,” I admit.

Her fingers tighten around her glass. “Tasted?” she squeaks.

“That’s right.” I finish my water, slowly, as if my comment’s no big deal. As if I’m not popping enough wood to shame a forest.

I fix my attention on the giant flat screen, where the 76ers are trying to keep the Bulls from scoring. It looks like a good game, but all I see is Tess and her spread legs, begging me for it.

I’m hard as a bowling pin and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Not here, and not with Tess.

As the game progresses, I settle enough to stand, but not enough to walk straight.

I can’t forget my time with Tess.

Or that she’s close enough to touch.

“Come on,” I tell her. “I’ll take you home.”

We reach the car as the first few snowflakes break through the clouds. She slips inside quietly when I open her door, keeping her face away from mine. It’s just as well. Declan would beat my ass if he knew I crossed a line. For all the ball-busting I do, the job means everything to me. I can’t jeopardize it for a skirt.

No matter how pretty that skirt is.

The flakes morph from the thick ones that don’t quite stick to the little bastard ones that do. This is the type of snow that causes roads to ice over and businesses to shut down. Already a good chunk of it is accumulating on the wipers. I adjust their speed as we draw closer to Tess’s place, but by the time I pull into the lot, they’re on their highest setting.

I park as close as I can to the door and cut the engine, snagging her arm when she opens the door. “Wait. Don’t get out without me. You’re gonna kill yourself in those shoes.”

I walk around and help her out. She wraps her arms around mine. “Is this okay?” she asks carefully, motioning to the way she’s holding me.

And damn it all, her doe eyes are looking up at me again. “Yeah. Sure,” I say, leading her forward, my voice gruff.

Her arms slide away from mine as we wait for the elevator. Neither of us speaks. Maybe it’s better this way, I tell myself.

I step through when the doors open on her floor, making sure everything’s clear before allowing her into the hall. It’s too cold to wait in my car. I’ll probably have to keep watch from the chair at the end of the hall until Lu arrives.

It’s going to be a long few hours. Not just because of my stakeout point, but because of all my thoughts revolving around Tess’s panties hitting the floor.

Sports. Think sports, *.

I press my back against the wall as I wait for her to unlock her apartment. She fumbles with her keys, appearing to struggle with the one to her deadbolt. Her hands are shaking; she’s probably cold.

“Here. I got it,” I say, lifting the keys from her hand.

I unlock the door and push it open before dropping her keys into her open palm. “Thank you,” she says, noticing that I’m doing my best not to touch her.

Without another word, I proceed ahead and do a full sweep of her apartment. When I’m done, I notice she’s still waiting by the door. She hung up her coat and placed her purse on the antique table, but that shouldn’t have taken her long. Why is she still standing there?

She inches forward so she’s just in front of that hall table, her hands folded over her flat stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I say, wondering why she seems on edge. I prowl forward when she doesn’t move and stop directly in front of her. “What’s up?”

“When you said—” She clears her throat and looks around. But there’s not much there.

It’s just me and her.

“Just say it,” I tell her, my voice unusually tight.

Again, she clears her throat, this time meeting me square in the face. “When you said you liked how I tasted, you weren’t talking about the way we kissed, were you?”

It’s as if every shred of body heat heads south and straight into my erection. “No,” I bite out.

I’m not sure who leans in first, and I don’t care. Our lips smash into each other and our bodies collide.

My hands immediately grab her hips, smoothing down to palm her ass. I back her into the table, barely managing to flip the deadbolt while she yanks off my jacket.

We’re all over each other. My fingers, they can’t keep still. They rake up her body, tangling in her hair as I pull her closer and deepen our kiss. My opposite hand trails from the nape of her neck to her breasts and back up, teasing her as it slides along the silky fabric. She moans. She likes it. Maybe she’ll like this, too.

I curl my body to shove my hand beneath her long skirt. She breaks our kiss, groaning when I rub my fingers along the crotch of her panties. “Do you want me to stop?” I rasp against her ear.

“No,” she whimpers. “Please don’t stop.”

It’s all I need to hear. I tear off her panties and hoist her onto the small table. “Open your legs for me, beautiful.”

Her head falls against the wall as she complies, pulling her skirt up and dropping her knees open. She gasps when I part her folds, my tongue immediately finding the spot I need.

I don’t just lick, or suck, or nibble. I devour her soft flesh, pulling it into my hot mouth.

Tess cries out, her pelvis tilting back and forth against my face, her movements fast and forcing the table to slam in a perfect beat against the wall. “Curran,” she gasps. “God, Curran.”

Her hands smooth over my head, pulling me closer and deeper. I shove her knees out, extending her as far as she can go, knowing I need more of her.

She comes with a loud grunt, but it’s not loud enough. So I keep going, until those grunts turn into throaty screams.

My erection punches against my jeans. The moment her hold on me loosens, and the trembles of her thighs subside, I back away, barely managing to keep my feet when I reach for my jacket.

Her breath is labored, her skin is flushed, and her blouse is clinging to her sweat-soaked body. For a moment, all she does is watch me, her glazed eyes locked on my face. As her flaccid legs drop, and she releases her long skirt, I back into the hall and stumble out the door.

Pain throbs where all my blood is pooling, and every movement f*cking kills, but I manage a wink before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “?’Night, Tess.”

I shut the door and stagger into the elevator when it dings open. Christ. Now what? And what the hell am I going to do about—

The doors start closing when Tess bolts toward me, her fist striking the button to stop the elevator between floors. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t have to. Her actions are loud enough. She throws herself against me, kissing me for all she’s worth.

I drag her closer, letting her tongue savor every bit of me mixed with her. She hasn’t bothered to pull on panties. Her bare ass gripped in my hands is proof of that. I moan against her lips, wanting to go down on her again. But this time, she’s the one who wants to play. She tugs down my jeans, reaches inside my briefs, and takes me deep into her mouth.

My back crashes into the wall. Oh, f*ck.

The feel of her has me groaning. I’ve never been loud when I’ve messed around. But I am now. And so is Tess, the popping sound of her tightening lips throwing me over the edge.

My hands fist her hair while she digs her nails into my hips, encouraging me to pump. She works me, tapering her seal, sucking firmly, rubbing fast. But it’s not until I come that she meets my eyes again, finishing me off with those perfect lips.

This time, it’s her turn to stumble when she stands, her turn to stagger away slowly. She hits a few buttons, returning the elevator to her floor, her eyes never leaving mine.

The doors open and she steps out, smiling playfully as she wipes her mouth. “Good night, Curran,” she sings. She gives me her back, but then pauses to toss me an impish glance over her shoulder. “By the way, I like how you taste, too.”

The doors slam shut. It’s only then I remember my jeans are draped around my ankles.





Chapter 10





Tess


It takes all the energy I have not to collapse and crawl back into my apartment. Good heavens, what did I do? I swallow hard.

Oh, yes, that.

I shut my door behind me, lock it, and slide my back against it and down to the floor.

The wood floor feels cold against my backside and a cool chill greets my spread legs. It’s because your panties are over there, I remind myself.

Curran didn’t notice my generic underwear. But even if he had, I don’t think he cared. I hadn’t cared. And in remembering how his tongue swirled and his lips suckled, I don’t think…wait, what’s my name again?

My head spins as I think about how I clutched him against me, how I didn’t want him to stop, and how I screamed for more. I want him. There’s no denying it now.

Even though I probably shouldn’t have him.

I wrench myself from the floor, my hot skin cooling quickly as I wander into the kitchen. I wash my hands, then open the refrigerator door to sort through what remains.

Damnit. I have just enough food to get through the weekend before the grocery clerk delivers more on Monday. If Curran hadn’t taken me out to eat, I would have gone hungry today. Although I’m typically more careful, I hadn’t rationed out my food allotment for the week appropriately.

I check the bundle of kale. Although I’ve developed a tremendous distaste for it, I’m sad to find that the edges have begun to wilt. The late nights of helping Declan this week, followed by the even later nights of studying, had demanded more calories to help me function. And kale, let me tell you, doesn’t quite cut it.

I shut the crisper tight, knowing I’ll need more food to keep going. But I don’t dare make that request now. Father’s still pissed. I don’t have to call him to know that.

Well, today he’s not alone.

The strict meal plan he concocted infuriates me. So does his notion that I’m putting on too much weight—especially knowing how badly I struggled with anorexia. Jesus, it’s not enough to buy me clothes I despise, or keep me from making friends by denying me a phone and a car, and sticking me in a place where only elderly people live. He won’t let me work to earn my own money—and he doesn’t give me any money to live on. Nothing. Not even enough to buy myself a cup of coffee.

Around Christmas, he gave me twenty dollars. It joined the almost one hundred dollars I’ve saved throughout the last two years. “What do you need with more of my money?” he asked the last time I worked up the courage to request an allowance. “I already provide you with a home, clothing, and food.”

Is this crazy—like batshit crazy? Yes. Of course it is! I doubt, though, that many people would understand why I tolerate it.

What it comes down to is fear. Fear of making him angry, which my mother always warned me against. Fear he’ll hurt me physically, like he did so many times when I was young, and frail, and helpless. Fear I’ll be homeless and alone.

To some, this fear isn’t rational. To me, it’s all I’ve ever known. That, and his severe control.

I don’t have a bank account and I don’t have any credit. He’s told me that if I get a job, he’ll cut me off and I’ll be burdened with rent and utilities I can’t afford and saddled with several hundred thousand dollars in tuition. I’ve tried to apply for academic scholarships, only to have an administrator call my father and be forced to withdraw my application.

My father has me right where he wants me, and he knows it. And every time I focus on what a tyrant he is, I become blind with anger. And yet, even my anger isn’t enough to stop me from being afraid.

This time, though, my emotions fizzle before they threaten to choke me. I shut the stainless-steel door. Curran’s kindness saved me from hunger, but his touch…now, that did a lot more.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until the phone rings and I sense my good humor fade. Father’s likely calling to inform me of my latest punishment.

“Hello?” I answer, my tone clipped.

“I take it it wasn’t as good for you as it was for me?” Curran asks on the other end.

My skin prickles with heat. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

He pauses. “Another guy?”

“No!” I shake out my hand, trying to settle. “Not like that. Not like you.”

“Not like what we just did?”

I fall against my couch. “No, nothing like that.” Ah, and there’s my smile again.

“Good,” he says.

I think I should say something more; instead I wait for him to speak.

“So,” he says. “We messed around. Like, a lot.”

I sense the regret in his voice. “Curran, don’t,” I find myself pleading.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry, or that you didn’t mean it.” Seeing as your tongue told a different tale.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, or didn’t want what happened, ’cause I did.”

“Then why do you sound so upset?”

“Tess, it’s my job to watch you. I don’t get paid to go down on you.”

His bluntness catches me off guard, and perhaps it does him, too. “Well, you know what I mean,” he adds.

“You were watching me.” I grimace when I hear him laugh. “Not during the act, but when I— What I’m trying to explain is that regardless of what occurred between us, you performed well—”

“I could tell by the way you were screaming.”

Good. Lord. I clear my throat. “What I mean is you swept the apartment for any potential threats—”

“And then yanked off your panties like a teen trying to get laid,” he reminds me.

Curran really has a talent for stopping me in my tracks. Despite my litigation training, I can barely find my voice. “And—and you made sure I was safe—”

“Up until I tossed you on the table and spread your legs wide open.”

Perspiration builds between my breasts. “My point is, you made sure all was well before we, I mean, before you did what you did.”

“How about afterward? Did I make sure all was well after you left me in the elevator? Nope. While I was trying to pull up my pants, some psycho could have come out of your neighbor’s apartment and killed you.”

“That was my fault. You were distracted following the, ah, attention I gave you.”

“And that’s exactly my point. I’m on duty, Tess. This can’t happen again.”

In the silence that follows, I notice how cold my apartment is. As I consider what to say, I wander into my bedroom to check the thermostat. I stop dead when I see the note my father taped beside it.

Contessa,

I think you need reminding who provides you a home to reside in, and all the luxuries that come with it. Your heat has been disconnected. It will remain that way for the rest of the week to give you time to reflect on my generosity and how quickly it can abandon you.



He signed it Donald Newart II.

Damnit. It’s a wonder he didn’t disconnect all my utilities! “Are you saying you don’t want me?” I manage, the hostility directed at my father finding its way to my voice.

“No.” Curran’s tone is absolute. “I’m only saying I can’t have you when I’m on the job.”

Good to know. “What time is your shift over?”

The allure in my voice is clear, and Curran doesn’t hesitate. “A couple of hours.”

I crumple the note with my free hand. “Well then, let’s say in a couple of hours you pay me a visit. It’s cold in my apartment. How would you like to keep me warm?”





Curran


Holy shit.

It’s the same thing I’ve said for the last couple of hours since I disconnected with Tess. I glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes till Lu arrives.

That means seventeen left until I’m back with Tess.

I hit my wipers. Five inches of snow has fallen since I brought Tess home. It’s colder than a banshee’s left nipple, and I’ve walked around the perimeter of the building at least six times. Neither the cold nor the distraction did anything to smother my growing need for her.

I shift in my seat, for all the good it does me.

Christ, I want her. Where the hell’s Lu?

“O’Brien!” Speaking of which, she pounds on the window, causing snow to fall in clumps along the glass. “You ready?”

Am I?

I flip the locks up and she slides into the passenger seat. “Hey, Lu. What’s doing?”

“About five inches of ice, snow, and asshats who can’t drive worth shit. Goddamn Floridians, shouldn’t they be down South instead of schlepping through this crap?” She takes a sip of her coffee. “How’s our girl?”

Excellent. “No issues. No tails. No concerns. She was out for part of the day, but she’s in for the night.”

She takes another gulp. “Good. Her delicate little boobies would probably snap off if she was out in this. When was your last sweep?”

They’re not that small. “Twenty minutes ago. All’s quiet as usual.”

“All right. I’ll do another sweep when you leave.”

I rub my hands. “Yeah, about that…”

She stops before she takes another sip of her coffee and narrows her eyes. I might have my cop face on, but that means nothing to Lu. I may read faces, but she teaches rookies to read them in the academy. Yeah, I don’t stand a chance against Lu’s superpowers.

“You’re not goddamn leaving, are ya, O’Brien?”

I shrug like it doesn’t mean anything. “Lu, it’s no biggie. Ever see her with anyone under seventy outside of her law classes and the DA’s office? She’s a good kid. Lonely is all. She invited me up after my shift to talk.”

“To talk?”

“That’s right.”

I’m thinking Lu’s about two seconds away from pouring coffee down my pants. “You’re already f*cking her. Aren’t you, O’Brien? Jesus H. Christ. Didn’t I tell you not to f*ck her?”

I meet her face, my expression hard. “I can honestly say I’m not f*cking her.” Yet.

“Goddamnit, O’Brien.” She takes another gulp of coffee and says nothing more.

“You gonna rat me out?”

“If the higher-ups ask, then yeah, I’ll tell them.” She shakes her head. “Otherwise, they don’t need to know. I’ve seen the way she looks at you—hell, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Goddamn puppy-love shit makes me want to puke.”

“Then why are you pissed? She’s a nice girl.”

She squares her jaw. “That’s why I’m pissed. She’s not a whore, kid. And you’re all sorts of messed up. Do you really think she needs this shit?”

“You sayin’ I’m not good enough for her?”

“Yup.”

“The hell I’m not!”

“Oh, yeah. How’s counseling going? Oh,” she says all dramatic-like when I don’t say anything back. “It’s not, is it? Because you ain’t going.”

“Don’t need it,” I growl.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. It shows.”

“Lu—”

“How you sleeping, O’Brien? Resting good, getting all eight hours?” She huffs when I don’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Joey keeping you up at night? Or didn’t it bother you when he bled all over you like a gutted cow?”

“Lu, you don’t know shit.”

“Actually I do. On account of my first year on the force, I held a six-year-old in my arms, trying to tell her to stay alive while my partner cuffed her strung-out mother, who’d stabbed her. She didn’t make it. Neither did my partner two years later when her own goddamn husband took a bat to her head.” The grip to her paper cup tightens. “I responded to that one, too. Her face was so smashed up, the cops on duty needed help identifying the body.”

“Christ,” I mutter.

“My seventh year…” She waggles her finger at me. “Now, that was a doozie. Three of our veterans run over at a parade by some dad trying to steal his own kid. Ever pick up someone’s leg off the ground when it’s no longer attached? It kind of sucks, O’Brien.”

She doesn’t say much after that. She doesn’t need to. She made her point, and that was just her first seven years on the force.

We sit there in the quiet, both of us lost in the shit we’ve been handed. “Sorry, Lu.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. Just get some help. So when you see what you’ll see, you’ll still be in good enough shape to see it. Suicide is for pussies, O’Brien.” She looks at me then. “Don’t be a *.”





Chapter 11





Tess


I flip through the pages of my criminal law journal as I hunker down in my comforter, trying to stay warm. As I highlight the passage at the bottom of the page, I hear the knock on the door I’ve been waiting for. I collect my notes and the journal and shove them beneath my bed, hurrying to slip out of my pajama bottoms before placing my glasses on top of the nightstand.

My nightshirt falls to mid-thigh. It’s white cotton and long-sleeved, and sadly the sexiest piece of clothing I own.

I cautiously walk to the door, moving as quickly as I can, given my blurry vision. Curran knocks once more just as my hand grips the knob and I turn the deadbolt. I smile when I see him standing there, but he doesn’t appear to smile back.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I frown. “Opening the door.”

“You didn’t even ask who it was.”

“Who else would it be?” I see enough to know he’s raising his eyebrows. “Fine.” I shut the door, lock it, and wait for him to knock. “Who is it?” I ask.

“Your smokin’ studly date for the evening, ma’am.”

“In that case, you’d better check with Officer O’Brien so he can clear you.”

“You’re just a f*cking riot, you know that?” he says through the door.

I laugh and fling open the door, moving aside so he can step in. “Was that better?” I tease.

He shuts the door and locks it. “Only slightly. But if you don’t know who’s there, even if he claims to be a cop, ask to see a badge, got me?”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Curran gathers me to him, his hand stroking up my arm to gently rest against my face. He leans in. I close my eyes, expecting the lustful aggression he demonstrated before—a deep kiss that demands I pull him down on top of me.

Instead his lips pass along mine until he carefully pushes his tongue in. I follow his lead, although I find myself confused by his care. But as his tongue continues to meet mine, and his thick leather jacket falls to the floor, I’m no longer worried. He plans to stay, and we have all night.

He lifts me in his arms, carrying me while his mouth explores mine with growing need. As we reach the threshold, he pulls away, angling our bodies to avoid colliding against it. The compassion behind his care makes me smile. For all his brute force, his muscles, and his training, it’s clear there’s more to Curran than brawn.

His eyes sweep the room before settling on my face. “It is cold in here,” he says. “Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

He laughs at the way that sounded, but his humor fades when he senses my unease. “My heat was turned off,” I admit, although I don’t confess why.

“You serious?” Curran scrutinizes my face. Whatever he sees hardens his stance, but he doesn’t press. “Well,” he murmurs. “I s’pose I’m going to have to work harder to keep you warm.”

My softer parts tighten from the promise in his deep timbre. He lowers me to the bed and onto the overturned covers, climbing on top of me and kissing me deep. I gasp as he rakes his groin against my panties.

I yank his sweatshirt over his head when he pushes up. He tosses it aside along with his T-shirt, then quickly relieves me of my nightshirt. I pull in my outstretched hands and cross them over my breasts, worried he might not like what he sees.

Curran lowers himself to my side, his attention and hand leaving my face to drag along my body. “I’ve been dying to see you naked again,” his husky voice whispers. “Will you let me?”

He hooks his finger into the side of my panties, lowering them to my ankles and down past my feet. I let my protective embrace linger a moment more before I gather my courage and allow my hands to fall away.

For the first time in a long while, I’m completely exposed. I hold my breath, expecting to be judged and slighted for my imperfections. Instead he lifts my hand and kisses it, his eyes never leaving mine. “Damn, you’re sexy,” he murmurs.

His chest rises and falls in purposeful motions, in tune with my increasing breaths. My nipples tighten as the cold envelops them, drawing Curran’s focus. As his gaze welds to mine, he reaches with his fingers and rolls one, enticing a sweet sting that causes me to pant.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he asks, right before his mouth finds mine.

He grinds his body against me while he tugs off his shoes and socks. My hands get busy, too, reaching to unsnap his jeans, my body wild to feel his bare flesh against mine.

With small bites, his mouth finds its way to the base of my ear. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he rasps. “Otherwise I won’t.”

He jerks away then, hauling me by my hips until they reach the edge of the bed. As he falls to his knees he eases my legs open, giving his large body room to work. Slow kisses travel between my thighs until they reach the perfect spot. With a wink, and an even sexier smirk, Curran dips forward, using his tongue, his mouth, and gentle nibbles to create the perfect rhythm.

It had been close to a year since I felt a man’s touch. That man was barely wanted, and did little to stir my desires. Curran just started pleasing me, and already, my heart’s threatening to detonate through my sternum.

My body involuntarily responds to his, lifting toward him in tilts that match his quickening flicks. The fingers of one hand part my folds, granting his tongue access to frolic while his other hand skims along my belly to cup and knead my breasts.

It’s then that I lose any sense of control. The sensation, the heat building, it’s almost too much. Yet instead of easing away, Curran rises, pitching my legs over his shoulders so all I can do is succumb.

My shoulders bear my weight, keeping my eyes on his and forcing my legs to fall open. In this position, Curran is free to consume me, and all I can do is watch.

I curse through my gritting teeth, trying in vain to suppress my screams and whimpers.

My efforts are wasted. From one breath to the next, my orgasm builds into a mammoth peak that collapses all at once. I fall in a heap with Curran looming over me, his erect penis parallel to his chest. He climbs on top of me, kissing me hard and reaching between us.

His silky head brushes against me, inciting his throaty moan and a sweet tease that lulls me back to the climactic edge. He adjusts his hips and slowly makes his way inside me. I open my legs wider when he seems to struggle, eager to receive him, until common sense bashes me in the skull.

I break loose from his ravishing mouth and push my hand against his chest. “Wait.”

He freezes, then slowly pulls out, his expression riddled with confusion and his breaths pained. “You don’t want me?” he gasps.

Oh, the hell I don’t. “Do you have protection?”

His mouth falls against my neck, kissing me in a way that causes my eyes to roll back in my head. “It’s okay. I swear, I’m clean,” he promises against my ear.

I groan with frustration from having to move away from him again. “I’m clean, too. But that’s not what I mean.”

He pushes up on his forearms, understanding lighting those magnetic eyes. “You’re not on birth control?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

I stroke his face. “You don’t have anything?”

“Not with me.” He nips my chin. “I’m supposed to be on duty, remember?”

“Oh.”

I can’t tell who’s more disappointed, me or him. As I feel his waning erection slide against my thigh, I begin to think it might be him.

Uh-uh. Not in my bed, buddy.

I reach between us and tug on his bottom lip with my teeth. “We’re not done yet,” I assure him.

Curran squints when I begin to rub, allowing me to slide beneath him. This time, I’m the one who falls to my knees. This time, it’s my turn to be aggressive.

Like in the elevator, I don’t hold back, taking him deep and deeper yet.

My efforts make him vocal. And I like it. I’m in complete control to do what I please, his vulnerability to my mouth and touch surging my desires and his.

Curran stands and gathers my hair, thrusting gently, but speaking in a growl that makes it clear he enjoys the raid on his body. “You like that, baby?” he grunts.

I moan, demonstrating just how much.

He curses, growing louder when I dig my nails into his luscious backside and encourage him to pump faster and further in.

His body shakes against me with his release. I think he means to pull away, to give me some reprieve. But just then he’s mine to have, and he’s not going anywhere.

“Fuck,” he groans when I haul him back, curling his arms around my head.

I slow as he finishes, using more gentle movements, then lift my gaze to meet his. Sweat trickles down his chest and his light skin flushes to a deep red. He clasps my elbows and helps me to my feet, searching my face as if he doesn’t know me.

But he does. No one has ever known me like Curran.





Curran


I don’t remember falling asleep. What I do remember is Tess next to me, the smell of her hair, and how I gathered her close to keep her warm.

I also remember Joey, and the visit he paid me. He’s been a frequent guest in my head lately, one that has overstayed his welcome, all thanks to me.

Same dream. Same scenario. Same reality.

Shit.

“We got him now, O’Brien!” Joey yells.

I recognize that familiar light in his eyes, the one all rookies get at their first big arrest. The adrenaline stirs it. It’s the same light that dulls with each passing year on the force. I still have that light, too, flaring as bright as a lighthouse on the Jersey shore.

Joey leans forward, his hands clinging to the dash as the perp we’ve chased down for the last twelve blocks cuts a hard right and dashes down a cross street. Twice he’s slipped into the alleyways, trying to disappear. He’s local and knows the streets. Thing is, I know them, too. So each time Joey’s cursed, thinking we’ve lost him, I’ve kept my focus, forcing him back out where we could see him.

Our flashing strobe of blue and red smacks against his back. We’re getting closer. “Robbery suspect on the run near Stewart and Monroe,” I bark into the radio. “Officers O’Brien and Supreski in pursuit.”

I stomp on the brakes when we veer into the cross street and I catch sight of a door to an old warehouse slamming shut. “Suspect entered Old Mill Cannery at Stewart and Monroe, request backup. Suspect in black hood, dark jeans, possibly armed, repeat, possibly armed.”

“Roger that. Available units to Stewart and Monroe…”

Joey hits the ground running. “Supreski, wait.”

Joey flattens his back against the wall of the building. “Come on, he’s just a kid. We got this, O’Brien.”

I take the opposite side, leaning hard against the old brick. “Calm your shit,” I spit out. I know what he’s thinking, ’cause I’m thinking it, too. The perp’s a teen, a little guy. Probably trying to make a name for himself on the street. We’ve already cuffed his two older friends who’d held up the old mom-and-pop shop, left them with our backup, and tore after this guy.

“He’s gonna get away,” Joey snaps.

“No, we got this.” I count down with my fingers, three-two-one.

I throw open the door and find out just how wrong I am.

—

“Curran? Curran!” Tess’s arms are wrapped around mine, tugging me hard. “Are you all right?”

The hell I am. Pain twists my lungs like a clenching fist and cold sweat pours down my spine. I can’t see shit, which makes things worse. I’m drifting off into that f*cking black sea, the one that threatens to pull me under and drown me.

“Curran, can you hear me?”

I clench my teeth. I don’t know where I am. But I know Tess’s voice and feel her presence. “It’s okay,” she whispers, her hand stroking my back. “It’s just a dream, you’re only dreaming.”

No, I’m not, baby.

My chest caves inward. I can’t breathe. I can’t f*cking breathe.

“Shhhh.” Lips pass along my shoulder, pressing soft kisses. “You’re all right. I swear you are.”

I don’t think I am. In fact, I know I’m not. If I were, this pressure building wouldn’t hurt so damn bad.

“I need you to wake up, okay?” she whispers. “Wake up for me.”

Nothing makes sense; my head’s spinning from lack of air. But I can hear her. She’s my lifeline, the one I grab when the agonizing second wave hits.

Son of a bitch.

It’s like something is pulling my ribs apart, cracking my bones to rip out my lungs and leave me barren. “Curran, stay with me. Please stay with me, sweetie.”

I force the pain away and I latch on to Tess—the intimacy of her voice, the warmth of her skin, and the subtle scent of her perfume, allowing every part of her to haul me back up and out of the darkness.

Slowly, that tightening fist releases its vicious hold.

I concentrate on breathing when I drag that first gulp of air deep into my lungs, allowing those soft kisses Tess trails along the curve of my neck to soothe me. She abandons my arm to wrap both of hers carefully over my shoulders. “Shhh,” she says quietly. “It’s okay.”

Lu’s right; it sure as shit isn’t okay. But I can’t let Tess know that, not now. Instead of answering, I work to draw in more air.

In the time it takes for me to calm, the cold creeping in from the windows cools my sweat-soaked body. Jesus. It feels like my skin is covered in a layer of frost.

“Do you have any water?” I ask, my throat so raw I want to claw at it.

“Yes, wait here.” She kisses my cheek and slips out of bed, pulling her nightshirt over her head. I watch her walk away, listening to her fumble around in the kitchen. The motor on her ice machine rattles as it spits out the cubes into a glass.

Clink. Clink.

I ram my eyes shut. That sound is too similar to empty bullet shells hitting the concrete floor. Get it together, *. Get it together now.

Tess hurries back in. She hands me a glass and takes a seat beside me, her fingertips stroking lightly against my back. She waits for me to down every last drop before she speaks. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. Just a nightmare—that’s all.”

She hesitates, as if trying not to upset me. “Involving your line of work?”

My sight adjusts enough to catch the worry in her face. I keep my expression neutral as I mull over what to say. My first instinct is to lie. The thing is, I’m not sure what I said or did in my sleep. For all I know, I could have told her more than I wanted her to hear.

“It’s a tough gig,” I admit.

She nods carefully and reaches for the empty glass. “Do you want some more water?”

Water is the last thing I want. It was cold like the room, and only added to the sub-zero temperature shoving its way through my bloodstream. I take a strand of her hair and run it through my fingers. It’s soft, like the rest of her. Maybe she’s what I need, then. “I’m good,” I tell her.

“I don’t think you are.” She lifts her hand and strokes the side of my temple. “I want to help you, but I’m not sure how.”

She’d put her glasses back on, the tiny square ones. I didn’t notice her do that before she went into the kitchen, but I notice them now. They’re sexy on her. Hell, everything’s sexy on her. But considering what I plan to do, they’ll only get in my way.

I pinch the stems on the sides and carefully lift the glasses off her face. Tess watches me fold them and place them on her nightstand before pegging me with an inviting look that begs me to touch her.

So I do.

I haul her to me, flipping her onto her back and taking her mouth like I own it. She squealed with surprise when I grabbed her, but those squeaks turn to whimpers when I shove my hand under her shirt and find her nipples.

A few tugs, that’s all it takes to tighten her already stiff nipples into fine points. Her moans against my mouth deepen, sounding pained, but I know better. My tongue works hers and my hand pays close attention to her breasts. I need her to be louder. Loud makes me hard, loud makes me forget, forget everything but her.

My fingers clamp down, causing her breath to hitch. She barely hangs on to our kiss.

You want me, don’t you, angel face?

I repeat the motion on the other side, inciting a small cry.

Yeah…I want you, too.

I don’t know what time it is. Don’t care, either. All I know is that I’m not done playing. I run my hand down her soft belly, feeling the muscles tense against my palm the lower I go. She knows what’s coming. Her back arches when my fingers linger over that sweet spot my tongue had licked like candy.

My turns are slow at first; I don’t want to hurt her. But as the mild dryness fades and her folds grow slicker, my movements become faster.

She pushes up on her arm, reaching for me, her cries barely allowing our kiss to continue. I jolt when she takes hold of me. Damn, I’m so hard and so ready to ram into her, but then I remember she’s not on the Pill.

I grunt, from frustration and from how fast she’s working me. Yeah, no way are we done here.

Two fingers, that’s how many slip inside, hooking just enough to find my mark. She can’t take it and finally breaks our kiss, her eyelids heavy with lust. She clenches her teeth in that sexy way that tells me she’s almost there. Her grip tightens around me, moving fast, matching the speed of my hand, her eyes begging me to join her.

She’s the first to succumb. I practically lose it when she screams with pleasure, her body convulsing and her thighs batting my hand when she comes. “That’s it, baby,” I pant. “Just like that. Give me more.”

Her lids flutter as she surrenders. But she thinks I’m telling her what I want her to do to me and falls forward—onto my lap, her lips seeking me just above her hand.

I thought I’d last longer and drag a few more screams out of her. But I don’t stand a chance against that mouth. I moan, gathering her hair as she moves up and down. Again she finishes me, causing my spine to snap back from the force.

The room fills with my loud grunts. I try to back away, to give her room. She refuses the offer, and hell, I stop trying.

With those lips of hers and that crazy suction, I’ll admit, I don’t try very hard.

She releases me, lowering herself to rest against my lap, her breaths as out of control as mine. Spots dance in my vision, and my head lolls back. Yeah, no one’s ever rocked my world like Tess.

It takes her a long moment before she lifts her chin and speaks. “Is this—” She swallows hard and wipes her mouth with her fingertips. “Is this going to happen again?” she manages.

I brush her hair away from her face. “Oh, hell yeah,” I tell her.

She laughs when I do, but then her features soften with that look girls get after I’ve been with them. I hook my arms under hers and yank her to me, tucking the covers around us. “We’re about to have the ‘Are you my boyfriend?’ chat, aren’t we?” Her hesitancy tells me we are. And damn it all, whatever happened to just having fun?

“This isn’t something I do,” she says quietly.

“That’s what you said last time.”

Her hand smacks against my chest and I laugh. It doesn’t hurt, and she’s not trying to hurt me, but she is letting me know I’m bugging her.

“And I meant it last time,” she insists.

She rolls onto her belly and reaches for her little glasses. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to miss anything my face might give away. She doesn’t realize that talks like this kick my expression into neutral, and that’s how it’ll stay.

She wrinkles her nose, in that cute way of hers. “Like I was saying, it’s not like me to—well, I don’t usually have…”

“Hot, crazy, animalistic sex?” I offer.

Her shoulders slump. “If you must know, yes.”

“When was the last time you messed around—and don’t tell me back in college with me, because I know that’s not true.”

Her hand pauses in the middle of pushing back her wild hair. “How do you know?”

“Because you’re sexy, and not a nun, and yeah, all kinds of hot.” I shrug. “I figure at least a couple of guys, and maybe some women have tried to bang you.”

It’s a compliment, but for some reason she doesn’t seem to take it that way. “You think women have hit on me?” I nod. “Why?” She gasps at the way I’m smirking. “Because I dress borderline masculine? Is that what you think?”

“Some chicks like that shit,” I agree.

“Christ, Curran,” she says, shaking her head. She passes her hand along her pillow, as if debating what to say. When she finally speaks, her tone shifts, like she’s embarrassed about what she has to tell me. “I was seeing someone about a year ago. Howard was pleasant—”

“Pleasant? Well, with a name like Howard I’d expect no less.”

She shifts her body to lie beside me, gathering the bedcovers around us and trying uselessly to hide her small smile. What can I say? I’m hilarious.

“Don’t be mean,” she says. “Howard was a nice man.”

“How was he in bed?” She shuts her mouth tight, which tells me good ol’ Howard was either really “pleasant” or really not that good.

“He was…acceptable.”

“Ouch.” I grimace on behalf of the poor bastard.

“What? I’m not trying to insult him.”

“Babe. When you describe sex with a guy, he wants to hear shit like ‘beast in bed,’ ‘he owned my vagina,’ or ‘I couldn’t walk for a week from the magic of his rock-hard co—’?” Her widening eyes tell me I should stop right there. “You hear what I’m sayin’, right? ‘Acceptable’ and ‘pleasant’ would shrink some serious balls.” That said, thanks for the favor, Howie, ’cause you made me look that much better.

Tess rests her head against my shoulder, drawing circles with her fingertips along my chest. “To be honest, that’s one of the reasons I ended our relationship. We didn’t connect like I wanted to.” She hesitates, like she doesn’t want to say anything more, but then bites out more than I expect. “For some reason, this isn’t the case with you. You’re sexually freeing.” Her hand stops moving. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“No,” I confess. “Mostly, I hear the examples I just mentioned.”

I meant it to be funny, but this time Tess isn’t laughing. Her voice develops that hint of sadness it usually carries, and it bothers me more than it should. “I know you’re used to getting a lot of attention from women,” she says. “And I know you have a lot of experience. But my experiences are few, as are the men I’ve cared for.” She sighs. “I don’t want to be used, Curran. And I won’t be.”

“I’m not trying to use you,” I tell her truthfully.

“Then don’t,” she says. Her warm breath teases my skin as she thinks things through. “I’m not asking you for a commitment, only honesty. The reason I’m clean is because aside from my time with you, I’ve been really careful.” She lifts her head. “If you want to be with someone else, that’s your right. I don’t need details, or names, or anything. I just need you to tell me.”

My fingers stroke her lower back. “You won’t be mad if I’m with someone else?”

“No. But I won’t welcome you back in my bed, either. There are a lot of things wrong in my life, Curran. I don’t want you to be one of them.”





Chapter 12





Tess


“What about the paperwork to the judge?” Declan asks as he continues to sort through his notes.

I scroll through my iPad. “All sent, all received.” I finish reading through Simon’s email. “His law clerk is reviewing everything now. He assures me that he’ll have a trial date for you this afternoon once the judge wraps up his sentencing.”

Declan’s stance relaxes, but only slightly. The Montenegro case is proceeding full speed ahead. We’re holding his second, and one of his hit men, on charges varying from narcotics distribution to murder. Their hearings will have to wait. But Montenegro’s can’t.

If Montenegro’s men don’t help put him away, Declan is determined to make them pay. Yet even with their help, this case won’t be easy. Montenegro is cunning and has covered his tracks well. But that doesn’t mean he’s safe against Declan.

Declan is known as “the lion” among the other DAs, and by the looks of it, that lion is readying to go after his prey. I put my iPad away and sort through the files he needs to review. Our current issue is that we still have nothing on the third in command.

Declan leans back in his chair, appearing lost in his thoughts, but then his expression changes and he smiles. “I almost forgot.” He reaches into his drawer and pulls out a flip phone, then slides it across the desk to where I’m sitting.

“What’s this?”

“Curran said you didn’t have a cellphone.”

I try to brush off the remark. “Oh, I can’t afford it. Tuition, rent—everything seems out of control.”

Declan scoffs. “Tell me about it. Even with all the aid I received, I’m still paying my law school tab.” He motions to the iPad. “Do you at least get text access on that thing?”

“No, and I don’t have money to go wireless. My apartment offers free Internet. I tap into the Wi-Fi there, here, and at school when I need it.”

Like Curran, Declan seems to realize I’m holding something back. I’m thankful he doesn’t press. “Well, then Curran’s right. Looks like you need one. It’s from the Victim Services Unit.”

I glance up. “Won’t the team there miss it?”

“Not at this time. There’s a tremendous turnaround in that department—a new director’s taking over. She’s been saddled with supervising all the units in the county and is restructuring them accordingly. She’s visiting each one now to get things started, but her home base will eventually be here.”

“Wow. That seems like a lot of work.”

He laughs. “Tell me about it. It’s Miles Fenske’s daughter, though—I think her name’s Melissa—and if she’s a workhorse like her old man, I’m sure she can handle it.”

I tilt my head. “Isn’t there a conflict of interest, seeing how he’s the acting DA here?”

Declan unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and rolls the first one up. “I think that’s what most are going to assume. Hell, I did. But she started out in Harrisburg at the state level and really kicked ass—cut a lot of baggage loose, and hired people who were committed and had the education to help victims of violent crimes.”

I play with the phone in my hand as I consider his words. “How was she able to do that? With so many budget cuts, it seems impossible to hire the right people with the right education.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he says, adjusting his other sleeve. “From what I hear, her dedication caught the governor’s attention. The governor credits Melissa with her reelection based on her accomplishments and changes to the victim assistance program.” He quirks a brow. “The governor apparently gave her all the money she needs for the restructure, the hires, and pretty much anything Melissa wants—including smart phones for her staff. You’ll get one when they come in, in a couple of weeks.”

“How? I’m not working with Victim Services in any capacity.”

“Contessa, Miles told me he’d get me anything I need. You’re my legal intern, and you need a phone. So he secured one through his daughter.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Keep in mind that what you know will only get you so far. It’s who you know that will ultimately decide where you end up,” he adds with a wink.

A couple of weeks ago, his wink would have stopped my heart, and likely sparked a blush. Now, it only reminds me of Curran’s playful wink, and how much I’ve missed him all week.

“I suppose you’re right,” I say, quietly.

I lift the phone to find the number stickered on the back, and while I’m thankful to have the cell, my thoughts leave it, the office, my course load, and everything behind to return to Curran.

It’s been less than a month since he stumbled back into my life, and I can’t deny how hard I’m falling for him. His humor and some of his comments absolutely floor me; so does his über-macho attitude. But then he does something like arrange for me to have a phone, among other things….

He left my apartment Sunday afternoon after making a few private calls and taking me to brunch. He didn’t say much about us, but he kissed me goodbye and promised to call. After I walked him to the door, it took me a moment to realize my apartment was warm. I thought my father had taken pity on me until the building supervisor phoned me shortly after Curran went home.

“Is the heat working okay?” he asked.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” I said, clearly confused.

“Good. That police officer wanted me to make sure it stayed that way.” He took a nervous breath. “Sorry I turned it off. I have to follow the owner’s request.”

My fingers dug into the receiver. “Does the police officer know it was my father who told you to disconnect it?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t want any trouble. Made him think it was just a mistake.”

I used to like the building supervisor. I didn’t then. But Curran? Him I liked very much. What I didn’t like was what he had to say when he called me that night. “Another group of badges will be watching you this week, Tess.”

“Are you going back on patrol?”

I thought it was an innocent question, but I sensed that terrible awkwardness, even though I couldn’t see him. “No. I just have shit to do that needs to get done.”

“Will I see you at all?” I hope I didn’t sound as desperate as I thought.

“Probably not. Like I said, I have a lot that needs doin’.”

“All right. Be safe….”

“Are you all right, Contessa?” Declan asks, bringing me back to the moment.

I place the phone in my purse. “Yes. I’m fine. Do you need me to work on anything for you?”

“Nothing right now. Why don’t you take a break? Come back in twenty.”

“All right.” I stand, slowly, wishing I’d brought my case studies to review. God, I’m so behind on my schoolwork. “Please call me if you need anything sooner. You have the number, correct?”

Declan smiles, lifting the file closest to him. “Yes. I’ll see you in a few.”

I leave Declan’s office, taking my time since I don’t really have anyplace to go. My first instinct is to return to the law library, but unless I’m in need of a legal journal, I avoid the library at all costs. Attorneys are competitive by nature, but since my being appointed to the Montenegro case, the other law clerks have flat out shunned me. I suppose it’s better to be ignored than to be insulted, but I can’t say their behavior doesn’t upset me.

Declan told me that three more assistant DA positions will be available this fall. Two are a result of retirement, and one is due to an attorney who wants to stay at home with her children. If the other clerks are aware of the opening, it could explain why they’re behaving like cutthroats.

Or asshats, as Curran would say.

I’ll be honest. I want one of those spots and hope to apply for it when I graduate in May. The one in the Trial Unit could give me the litigation experience I need. Although I’ve won several mock trials throughout law school, it doesn’t compare to trying a real criminal case.

Hmm. While the starting salary is minimal compared to one at a large firm, I enjoy working here. The detectives, DAs, and staff are extremely dedicated to the public sector. Not to mention that since I escaped the confines of the law library, they’ve been very nice to me, and treat me like I belong.

I think about what it would be like to work here as I drift down the back stairwell and head courtside. And the more I consider it, the more I hope it will somehow happen.

The sheriff’s officers at the security point wave me through. I smile and thank them, but they don’t smile back. Instead, they exchange glances as if they’re expecting something I’m not aware of.

Since I can’t interrupt them to ask, I keep going, although a sense of unease fills me. I try to shake it off and head toward Judge Bronson’s chambers, hoping Simon has some news regarding the Montenegro hearing.

Once more, screaming emanates from courtroom thirteen. I hurry out of the way as the sheriff on guard barks into his radio and an army of deputies swarm the courtroom door. He motions me to the hall that leads to chambers. “Stay here, Connie,” he says. “Too much shit going down.”

There is, so obviously now isn’t the time to tell him my name isn’t Connie.

My mouth falls open as one by one, a cluster of civilians are hauled out of the courtroom in cuffs, most of them struggling, all of them screaming. A large man is dragged out next, blood pouring from his mouth. What appears to be his entire family is gathering around him, ignoring the orders to step back. A hysterical woman is pleading with everyone to stop, to calm down. The bleeding man is so incensed, he’s fighting with everything he has, breaking free of the deputy restraining him and pointing, at Curran.

“You f*cking pig!” he yells to Curran. “You ruined my boy’s life. You dirty cop. You f*cking dirty cop.”

Curran is being shoved away. I recognize one of the DAs among the many men in uniform attempting to separate him from the crowd. “Fuck you,” Curran fires back. “Your kid messed up one of our own for life!”

Declan comes out of nowhere, shoving his way through the escalating mob to Curran’s side. He slinks his way to him, those who recognize him giving him space to allow him through. He whispers tightly in Curran’s ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying through the growing clamor and the morbid cries, but Curran somehow does. He stops fighting, but his face is so filled with rage, I can barely stomach it.

“Contessa, where’re you going?” A hand grips my arm forcibly and yanks me back. “Contessa, what the heck are you doing?”

Simon has me and is yanking me back toward chambers. I don’t realize I lunged forward until I notice where I’m standing and how far Simon has to pull me back. I struggle against him, desperate to get to Curran, worried he’s hurt.

“What happened, Simon?” I ask, my voice shaking as I take in the blood splattered along Curran’s torn suit.

Simon loosens his hold when I stop struggling. “The judge just sentenced a first-time offender to twenty. His family felt the punishment was harsh and attacked the lead witness.”

The color drains from my face as I realize who the lead witness is.

“Harsh sentence, my ass,” the sheriff’s officer guarding the chambers growls. “The rookie’s paralyzed. He’ll never walk again. Prick should’ve gotten the chair.”

Simon apparently thinks this is a good time to argue. “The chair wouldn’t be used in any state for the charge of—”

“I know that, you little shit!” the officer yells back, making it clear Simon needs to shut up.

Simon doesn’t, and they begin to bicker. I ignore them, my full attention on Curran. I start to move forward, panicked something will happen to him, until his hard stare shoots my way and freezes me in place.





Curran


Declan continues to whisper in low tones. But I stop listening when my eyes lock on Tess. Shit. What the hell is she doing here? Declan was supposed to keep her at the office!

Like I goddamn need this. I don’t want her to see me lose my shit. And after a week of getting grilled, a week of seeing Joey sitting in his wheelchair—listening to every word coming out of my mouth, reliving every millisecond of that night—I’m seriously ready to tear someone in half.

Tess tries to snake her way forward, only for Simon to snag her by the wrist and tug her back. He’s saying something to her. Like me, she’s not listening, her widening eyes searching my face as the chaos explodes around us.

“Goddamn pig!” someone yells, this time a woman.

“Who you calling a pig, you worthless piece of shit.” A rookie sheriff’s deputy has had more than he can take, but the growing mutters of the surrounding deputies tell me he doesn’t stand alone. Maybe that’s what I need: a long, hard look at how I’m riling everyone up.

I take a deep breath, and another, trying to get it together. But remnants of how bad the defense counsel ripped into me flood my mind. Every detail of how I screwed up was thrown in my face—every detail—all with Joey front and center. The anger and resentment shadowing his face during the trial was all directed at me. Not once did he look at the defendant.

It doesn’t take a genius to know he blames me for putting him in that chair.

And he’s right.

Someone cuts his eyes my way—I recognize him as the brother of the defendant. He blinks once and lunges at the deputy, stirring the two family members on either side of him to attack.

Something silver flashes to my left. It’s then all hell breaks loose.

I should have barreled toward the perp; instead I freeze, trying to force the word out.

Knife.

It lodges in my throat.

Knife.

I break out in a sweat.

Goddamnit, knife. Just say it!

Two deputies respond, slamming the perp to the floor and inciting an all-out brawl. Tess screams. My head whips in her direction, her terror forcing me to act.

She and Simon huddle in the corner, away from where the judge’s deputy is lying on his side, curling inward to protect his weapon against the two men kicking him in the stomach.

I charge toward them. Bone crunches beneath my swinging fist when another perp tries to intercept me. He crashes to the floor, giving a smaller deputy the chance to cuff him. She has him, but the other two perps still have the judge’s guard.

In the tough Philly streets where I was raised, you learn to fight or you learn to get your ass kicked. The O’Briens are fighters, and as one of them, I’ve learned to inflict some serious damage.

My uppercut sends the bigger of the two assailants flying. Big man, glass jaw. The leaner one hurls himself at me. Tess screams again when I knock him out. One punch. That’s all it takes.

I dodge a fourth offender and wrench his arm back, kicking his feet out from under him.

Him I cuff, then I lug him to his feet and spout his Miranda. My eyes sweep my surroundings as adrenaline pumps through my veins, readying me for another attack. It doesn’t come. Thank Christ, more deputies have arrived and are quickly regaining order.

As I take in the blood and the swelling faces, it’s clear that the effort to secure the courthouse didn’t come easy. Shit. How did a knife get past security? The press is going to be all over this mess.

Simon stumbles forward when the perp I’m restraining is hauled away. “That was amazing,” he says. “Holy shit, dude, you’re one badass cop.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” Tess’s shrill voice cuts through the sounds of the angry crowd and furious barks from the deputies herding them out. “Are you all right?”

Despite everything, I feel myself begin to smile. “Yeah, I’m—”

My voice cuts off when I realize she’s not talking to me.

Her hands clutch Declan’s arm like she’s afraid he’s going to die. Seeing how he’s standing there grinning, I’m pretty sure he’s going to make it.

A couple of drops of blood trickle down his nose and onto his crisp white shirt. He chuckles. “I’m fine, Contessa, really. Just caught an elbow to the face. It happens when you’re forced to throw down.”

“You were so brave,” she says, her doe eyes blinking up, at him. She removes the paisley scarf from around her neck and dabs his nose, even though it’s already stopped bleeding. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

What. Da. Fuck?

He lifts the scarf from her grasp, smiling down at her and patting her arm. Jesus, help me. It’s all I can do not to finish breaking his nose.

“I’ve seriously never seen anything like that, dude,” Simon continues, his breath fast and his voice filled with excitement. “I mean you were like a machine. I thought that Jackie Chan stuff only happened in movies!”

Declan has Tess. I have Simon. Somehow, this shit doesn’t seem fair.

Tess’s eyes whip open when she finally notices me. She races over, pulling at my torn shirt. “Your brother hurled a man against the wall who charged me, but he’s hurt and needs immediate medical attention.”

Tell it to my bleeding knuckles. I turn to Declan. “Wow. You threw one guy against the wall?” I motion to the scrawny teen being led away. “That one right there? You’re a goddamn warrior, Deck.”

He nods like he believes me. “I know.”

The guard assigned to the judge’s chambers is being cared for by two EMTs, even though he’s pissed as all hell over it. Good thing he held tight to his gun, or else…

I shake the thought away. For the most part, things are slowing down. That doesn’t mean we’re safe. I clasp Tess’s elbow. “Come on. I need to get you and Declan back to the office.”

I move them out and away, holding tight to Tess while keeping tabs on Declan. It’s not until we reach the DA’s office that she notices my shredded hands.

She screams, pointing at them. “Oh, God. You’re bleeding too!”

Before I can tell her I’m fine, she runs out like the building’s on fire. “I don’t think she’s good with blood,” I say to Declan.

“Not even a little bit.” He gives me a long, hard look. “How’d it go?” he asks.

I shrug. “Shitty. But trial’s over. Jury came back quick due to the preponderance of evidence. Sentencing was today, which is why everyone lost it. Judge Bronson’s all freed up to hear the Montenegro case. You should get your trial date soon.”

He ignores my last comment. “Was Joey there?”

Although I keep my face neutral, the muscles of my neck tighten like a noose. “Yup. All week. He was led out by his family when things got heated following the sentencing.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No. Twice I tried to approach him. Both times he rolled away from me in his wheelchair.”

“He needs time, Curran.”

“Time won’t give him back the use of his legs.”

The door crashes open, and Tess stumbles into the room with a first aid kit clutched in her arms. “Declan, Detective Wendt needs to see you in the interrogation room. They arrested the gumad and are speaking to her now. They said they have enough for a search and seizure, but need to conference with you. I’ll get started on the paperwork as soon as I see to Officer O’Brien.”

For the first time since he started on this case, my brother hesitates. And it really pisses me off. “Go,” I snap. “This is the chance you’ve been waiting for.”

He snags his jacket and hurries out, but not before shooting me one last glance.

Tess cracks open the kit and immediately sprays my knuckles with white foam. It sizzles my raw flesh, burning its way down to the bone. I jump and shake out my hands. “What the hell is that?”

“Antiseptic.” She sprays me again, this time with more.

“Shit, are you sure?” My skin is on fire.

“Of course I’m sure,” she says. She glances at the bottle, her eyes widening. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Wash your hands—Jesus Christ, wash your hands now!”

“It’s not antiseptic?”

She falls all over herself, trying to lead me to the sink tucked in the corner of Declan’s office. The sink’s tiny; my scorching hands barely fit. In her haste, Tess blasts the water, soaking us both.

“Not hot—cold—cold, damnit!”

“I’m trying!” She fumbles with the faucets, completely flustered. “Is that better?” She reaches for the soap and lathers me up.

I yank my hands back. “It was until you added soap!”

She thrusts them back under the water. “Trust me, you need soap!” She reaches for more, her body trembling.

“What did you spray on my hands?” She doesn’t answer, continuing her task and averting her gaze. “Tess, what the hell did you spray me with?”

She drops her hands to her sides. “Something that shouldn’t have been in there. I borrowed the kit from one of the secretaries. Had I known she would fill it with random medication I never would have—”

“What did you spray me with?” I growl.

She sighs with defeat. “Wart remover.”

“Wart remover?”

She adjusts her spot-covered glasses. “Watch your tone, Officer.”

“Watch my tone? You sprayed me with wart remover!”

“I was trying to help—”

“I don’t have goddamn warts!”

She lifts her chin. “Well, I should hope not,” she says, her face heating.

Oh, I see….

I turn off the water and reach for the paper towels. My skin continues to throb, but I don’t let it show, my attention now solely on her.

She points to the sink. “Y-you should keep rinsing them. I’m not certain what adverse effects the medication may have on your delicate skin—”

“I don’t have delicate skin. But you already know that.” I clasp her shoulders and pull her to me, kissing her softly, holding her gently, allowing her the opportunity to break away.

But she doesn’t.

Her hands travel across my forearms to carefully hold my wrists, surrendering to my tongue as it circles hers. It’s one of those kisses girls talk to death about: slow, delicate, unremitting, the kind of kiss that lasts all day and ends after hours in bed.

My lips linger over hers until I pull back and leave her mouth completely. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I whisper.

She lowers her chin when I release her. “You seemed occupied.”

“Yeah. I was.”

She looks at me then with enough sadness in her expression to tighten my gut. “I take it the testimony on behalf of your friend was this week?”

I almost don’t answer. But she saw me in court, so there’s no denying it now. “That’s right.”

“It must have been difficult,” she says, quietly.

I tighten my jaw and stay silent.

“And stressful, I’m sure,” she adds.

My mouth remains shut. I know she’s trying to get me to talk, but I can’t give her what she wants.

Still she waits, and for a long time doesn’t move. Finally, when she realizes I’m not going to open up, she says, “If I’d known, I would have been there.”

When I do nothing more than breathe, she inches away and returns to where the first aid kit is teetering on the edge of Declan’s desk.

“I didn’t want you there,” I admit. Her back stiffens. “I didn’t want anyone there.”

She shuts the lid to the kit. “I see.”

“No you don’t.”

I don’t miss the hurt in her voice, despite how quietly she speaks. “I would if you’d just let me.”

Maybe she’s right. But I don’t tell her that.

She lifts the box and heads for the door, reaching for the handle.

“I should’ve called,” I repeat. I’m trying to keep her here, but when her shattered expression meets mine, I know it’s too late.

She turns just enough to meet me square in the eye. “Don’t bother. I told you, I have enough wrong in my life.”





Chapter 13





Tess


I don’t see Curran for the remainder of the week. But what did I expect? He didn’t follow when I left Declan’s office, nor did he try to stop me from leaving. I told him not to call me, but it’s not because I didn’t want him to. It’s because I’m not sure he ever will.

And it hurts.

Curran adds color to my world. Loud, bold, obnoxious color mixed with arrogance and often disturbing references, but color nonetheless.

He’s also a really great kisser.

Among other things.

Dear Lord, that tongue.

Declan laughs. “What are you smiling about, Contessa?”

I pass him a criminal file and reach for another one, hoping to give my cheeks a moment to cool. “I’m just happy your hard work is paying off, and that we’re getting closer to justice being served.”

Okay. I might have laid that on a little thick.

To my relief, he nods as he flips through the file, one of many he’ll be reading this weekend. “Snagging the mistress and finding all that evidence was our big break,” he agrees. “Can’t believe all the crap the search and seizure turned up. I owe Curran big-time.”

I fix the loose pages dangling from the next folder, trying to keep my tone light. “How is Officer O’Brien? He hasn’t been assigned to guard me lately.”

Declan pauses in the middle of stuffing his briefcase. It’s Friday, and almost midnight. Aside from our guards who are waiting in the hall, we’re the only ones here, having just finished the pending motions and depositions. “His testimony took a lot of his time,” he says, carefully. “He needed to debrief with his superiors about the trial and then had to collaborate with the Sheriff’s Department with regard to the multiple arrests and charges that resulted from the altercation following the sentencing.”

It’s what he claims, and I believe him, but I can’t help thinking he’s also making excuses for his brother. I force a smile and pass him the last file, realizing that around Curran, my smiles always seem to come naturally.

—

It’s not until the following day that I finally see Curran. It’s late in the afternoon and I’ve spent the day catching up on my law classes. The briefs I had to write took all day. Now I’m rushing to tidy my apartment and prepare for Spencer’s fundraiser.

I open my door to find him waiting in the seating area at the end of the hall. My arms are filled with my recycling and I’m wearing my oldest pair of pajamas—a Hello Kitty set, for heaven’s sake!—while strands of my unwashed hair dangle from the messy bun perched on top of my head.

He’s dressed in dark slacks and a royal-blue shirt that brings out his striking features and spellbinding eyes.

He looks sexy.

Damn sexy.

I don’t.

Dear God, kill me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” I teeter back and forth awkwardly because hey, I’m clearly not awkward enough. “How are your hands?”

He holds them up. “Good. No warts. That shit really works.”

I trip over my words trying to formulate a decent response—something witty, funny. Yeah, I have nothing. With a sigh, I let my door shut behind me and head to the opposite end of the hall.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like that.”

I slow my steps at the approach of his heavy feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“That’s not the point.”

I stop and turn around to face him. “Curran…what are you doing here?”

He surprises me by smiling. “I’m back on duty.” He frowns. “Something wrong?”

Yes. I’m not sure what’s going on. I think you like me, but you won’t talk to me about anything that matters. I can’t get you to open up, even though it seems like you really need to. I want to be your friend, yet I don’t think you want my friendship. And I want to be your lover, but not only when it suits you.

“No,” I answer.

I resume my quick pace until I reach the disposal chute and feed it my recyclables. I fiddle with my hair, for all the good it does, then march back in the direction of my apartment. “I have a fundraiser to attend this evening,” I say when he catches up to walk beside me.

“For Hello Kitty?”

My blush answers for me.

“Just asking,” he says, doing a horrible job of squelching his grin.

I glance down, but despite my embarrassment, my clothes, and my absolute shock to find him here, I can’t hide my smile. I’ve missed him and his stupid jokes. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” he tells me, his voice gruff.

My eyes widen. Slowly, I walk back to my apartment with Curran close beside me. He follows me inside and turns the deadbolt, stopping in my living room.

I stroll into my kitchen and wash my hands. It’s when I’m drying them that I realize he’s staring at the hideous dress my father bought me. I draped it over the couch when the dry cleaning service dropped it off earlier. I didn’t think to hide it. But maybe I should have.

He lifts his chin. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

I almost lie because it’s just that ugly. “Yes.”

“Oh,” he says like it pains him.

“You don’t like it,” I say, not that I’m surprised.

“No, it’s a nice dress. We buried my Grammie—God rest her soul—in something just like it.”

Of course he did. Of course…

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” I rub the back of my neck, feeling uneasy. The stress of my classes this past week and the late hours working with Declan have taken their toll. But it was the constant calls from my father that pushed me to my breaking point. He’s phoned twice a day, sometimes more, to “help” me become better acquainted with Spencer. He told me his likes, dislikes, favorite political influences, even the way he prefers his coffee in the morning—no, that wasn’t a hint or anything.

My father doesn’t know my favorite color, nor does he care. But he made certain I knew Spencer’s. Blue. No wonder he’d selected that hideous dress.

“Tess?”

I drop my hand away, detesting the awful way my voice shakes when I speak. “I hate the dress, Curran. I don’t want to go to this function. And I think Spencer Woodworth—my date for the evening, and Philly’s probable next mayor—is a complete and utter *.”

I’m certain Curran will laugh, or poke fun at me or Spencer. But all signs of humor are lost from his face.

“So why are you going? And why the hell are you wearing that dress?”

I place my hands on my hips and look down. “I have to go. It’s not something I can get out of.”

“Why?”

“I promised.” I didn’t really. It’s more of a forced expectation. But the truth will trigger more questions that I’m not prepared to answer, and I’ve already said enough.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing something that belongs on one of your elderly neighbors,” he bites out. “I mean damn, you have a body that won’t quit and you hide it beneath layers of goddamn tweed and polyester.”

“You like my body?” I’m not trying to redirect him, but it’s the one thing he said that I fixate on. “Even after the weight I’ve gained?”

Curran crosses the room to stand in front of me. “You didn’t gain weight. You gained curves. Men, real men, like curves, not f*cking angles.”

I place my fingertips over my smiling lips. “Swearing aside, that’s probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Good,” he says. “Come here.”

There’s no hesitation. I go to him easily, greeting lips as eager for me as mine are for his. Curran lifts me, carrying me to the couch and placing me on his lap.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he gasps, before quickly returning to attack my mouth.

My hands link around his neck and my teeth graze his jawline, nibbling their way across and stopping below his ear. “Okay,” I whisper, biting on his lobe.

He curses. Twice. His grip to my hips tightening. “Scratch that. We can’t do more than this.”

“Mm-hmm.” So I do more of this.

“I have to be ready if something happens,” he mumbles.

He startles when my tongue slips inside his ear.

“We can’t get naked,” he insists through gritted teeth. Or at least he tries to.

He pulls me back to his mouth, this time more fiercely, his heart ramming hard against his rib cage and his hand skimming up to knead my breast.

My phone rings. Curran ignores it. I do, too.

But I shouldn’t.

The voicemail feature booms with Spencer’s voice. “Hello, Contessa. It’s Spencer, your date for the evening, but you probably already know that.” He laughs in that rehearsed way of his. “I look forward to seeing you. I’m expected by seven, so kindly be prepared by six-fifteen—oh, and Contessa, be prepared for a long night. I’m sure you have suitable lingerie you can surprise me with.”

He disconnects then. His call was brief, but the damage is done.

Curran pulled away at Spencer’s reference to a “long” night. Yet it’s Spencer’s final comment that sparks his fury and deepens his scowl. “What the hell is that about?”

His sudden anger catches me off guard and adds to the humiliation triggered by Spencer’s call. I slip away from his lap and stand, crossing my arms.

I try to offer an explanation, but I can’t find any words to justify Spencer’s disgusting remarks. Probably because none exist.

“Are you sleeping with him?” Curran demands, rising to his feet.

I raise my chin. “No.”

“But you plan to. Tonight, I take it?” He scoffs. “Come on, Tess. Don’t look at me that way. You asked for honesty. So I’m telling you the truth when I say I haven’t been with anyone since you. Don’t you think you owe me the same truth back?”

“I’m not going to sleep with him. I told you, I don’t even want to go to this function.”

“But you’re going, with some guy you claim is an *, knowing he’s expecting a lot more than your company.” He motions to the dress. “Did he pick that out for you?”

This time, it’s my anger that flares. “What are you accusing me of?” He squares his jaw. “I’m not some hired escort, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“No, I’m not. But let’s not pretend that any of this makes sense. You’re a grown woman. If you don’t want to attend this thing, don’t. If you don’t want to be with a man, you say no. If he shows, and you don’t want him here, I’ll throw his ass out on the street. And I could give a shit if he becomes the president of the goddamn world.”

He means well, but he doesn’t understand what could happen if I don’t attend this fundraiser. Five more months, I remind myself. Only five more months. “It’s not that simple, Curran.”

“Yes it is, Tess.” He closes the distance between us and strokes my chin until I meet his gaze. “Call him back. Tell him you’re not going. And stay with me.”

I swallow the lump building in my throat, but it does nothing to ease the sting in my eyes. “I can’t. I promised.”

His hand drops away. “Yes, you can. You just won’t.”

He marches away from me. I call to him, my voice pleading. “Curran.”

He stops directly in front of the door. “You don’t owe me an explanation or a commitment. But I don’t need to hear lies. You have a choice. If you’re choosing to be with him, it’s because you want to.”

I wait for him to shut the door before I allow the first of my tears to fall.





Chapter 14





Curran


The first thing I do when the limo pulls into the lot is run the plates. Turns out Tess’s date didn’t just rent this thing, he f*cking owns it. His driver parks directly in front of the rear entrance to Tess’s building, making it easy for his boss to head inside. But instead of escorting Tess down, or sending his damn driver for her, he slips out to smoke.

He barely glances at her when she walks out—too busy finishing his cigarette and yapping on his phone.

He half-waves at her, laughing at whoever he’s talking to. She lifts her chin, her eyes briefly meeting mine. There’s no trace of her smile or her glasses. She has her hair up, she must be wearing contacts, and she has my dead Grammie’s dress on beneath her wool coat. What gets me is how pale she seems—no color to her cheeks except for that stuff girls add to make them look less pasty.

But that doesn’t make her less beautiful.

For some other guy.

Who isn’t me.

Fuck.

The driver hurries out to open her door, but she’s already wrenched it open, her scowl fixed on her idiot date. Not that he notices or probably even cares. He talks for ten more minutes before finally disconnecting and gracing Tess with his presence.

I crank the engine of my truck and wait for a count of ten before tailing them. The last thing I need is to think about what he’s saying or doing to her in the backseat as I follow them downtown. But I do, because I’m not pissed enough she’s with another guy.

She could have walked away and didn’t. But the more I think about how defeated and tired she seemed, the more this whole thing bugs the shit out of me. Something’s wrong with all of it. Yet even though I’m a cop, and despite all our time together, Tess doesn’t trust me enough to tell me why…probably because I haven’t done the same in return, but that’s different. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

It takes a while to reach the hotel. It’s one of those swanky places with columns in the front and walkways so white and clean, I could lick them and refresh my tongue.

I speed ahead and angle my truck into the lot across the street, snagging a spot at the end where I can catch all the action going down. That *, her date for the evening, steps out of the limo from a different door than he went in and waves to the crowd.

Either they switched seats before he climbed out or something happened on the ride down. I hope it’s the former, because the latter makes me want to cross the street and break him in two.

I drum on the steering wheel. Jealous much, dipshit?

He helps Tess out, then presses his hand against her back, only to lower it down to her ass. It riles me more than it should—not just because of what he does, but how he does it: sly, like he owns her and is showing her as much. Despite where his hand wanders, his fake political face greets a group of higher-ups heading his way.

He leans into Tess and whispers something. She shrugs hard, trying to shake his hold. He laughs. I’m not sure if it’s for show or if he’s laughing at her expense. Either way, he keeps his hand on her when it’s clear she doesn’t want him to.

She tries to shrug him off again. Instead of giving her space, like he should have in the first place, he secures his grip and squeezes her ass.

I reach for the door and fling it open. I’m out of line, but so is this prick, and I have every intention of knocking him out. But from one blink to the next, Tess smacks his hand away. “Don’t f*cking touch me,” she snaps, loud enough for me, and the advancing group, to hear. They pause as she storms away without him.

I find myself smiling.

She said “Don’t touch me.”

And “f*ck.”

She’s not just annoyed. My girl’s raging.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” She was telling the truth when she said she didn’t want to go to this thing. But then my smile fades when I realize she doesn’t have a way out.

I watch her move in line alone, her chin up. She’s forced a smile more times than I can count, but this time, she can’t seem to manage. This time, she’s done playing happy.

I mumble a curse, but then climb back in my truck. She doesn’t want to be with this idiot, just as she’d claimed. But it also doesn’t seem like she has any friends to support her.

The crowd that approached her date surrounds him, laughing and pretending that nothing’s wrong while Tess stands alone. She’ll probably stay that way, whether those other *s decide to include her or not.

And I don’t like it.

I lean back and tap my hand against the armrest, mulling over my choices. I can’t go in without flashing a badge and blowing my cover. And I can’t justify blowing my cover without looking like an ass.

This thing has head-to-toe security. I’m supposed to sit and wait unless she’s in danger. But she’s not in danger. She’s just with an *.

An * who’s gunning to be the next mayor.

Nope. I have no options…until the next SUV pulls in and I find my opportunity.

This SUV is specially designed to accommodate someone who uses a wheelchair. A ramp is carefully lowered and the driver, a guy about my age, jumps out and tosses his keys to the valet, smiling. He waits beside a woman in a fur coat, until what appears to be a paraplegic man eases his way down the ramp. The woman in the fur coat dotes on him, while the young guy reaches up to help a striking young woman out of the vehicle.

The young woman has my attention, but it’s not because of her looks, or because she’s dressed all in red. I know her, and know her well. I scroll through the contacts on my cellphone and hit her number. As I watch, the older man scoots ahead in his high-tech chair with his woman at his side, and the young guy hits a button to withdraw the ramp. The valet speeds away at the same time the hot chick in red digs out her phone from the bottom of her purse.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lety,” I say, watching her. “It’s Curran.”

“Hi, Curran,” she says, sounding surprised. Has it been more than a year since we talked?

Her date slides his arm around her and leads her toward the line of people waiting to get in. “Can I call you back? I’m at an event.”

“That’s actually what I’m calling about. I need to get into that event.”

“What?”

“I said I need to get in. By the way, you look great in red.”

She freezes, then slowly looks around. “Where are you?”

“Blue F-150 across the street and to your right.”

Even from here I can see her smiling. “What are you up to?” she asks through her teeth.

“Nothing bad.”

“That’s what you said when we broke into your father’s liquor cabinet,” she whispers tightly.

“Hey, we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t fallen down the steps.”

“You puked in my hair, Curran,” she mumbles.

“Yeah, but it was a total accident. Listen, this time I swear I mean it.”

Her date leans in and whispers something in her ear. She covers the mic and says something I don’t catch. “Curran, I don’t know. This is a private function.”

“Lety, I promise I won’t get you in trouble. But I’m serious when I say I need to get into that party. Say you’ll help me, kid.”

“Curran…”

“Come on,” I press. “You and me, we’re practically family.”

She edges to the front of the line, where her date passes security two envelopes. “Give me ten,” she says, and then disconnects.

Yeah. It’s good to have friends.

—

Lety walks out a little later, huddling in her red wool coat. She waits until several limos pull up to the curb before she crosses the street and heads to my truck. We exchange those cheek kisses we always do when she slips inside.

“Hey. You said ten. That was more like sixteen.”

She stops in the middle of fumbling through her coat. “You want my help or not, copper?”

“Okay, it was actually fifteen.” She shakes her head, smiling, and passes me a black jacket. “What’s this?”

“My boyfriend’s suit jacket. You’ll need it to get in. You’ll also need this.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an invitation to the event. “Your name’s Brody Quaid Moore—unless you get caught. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Okay. Come on, then. I need to get back.”

“Go ahead without me. I don’t want anyone to see us together, just in case.”

She tightens her jaw. “Just in case what? Damnit, Curran. I’m here with my boyfriend and his parents. Don’t start any shit that will embarrass me in front of them.”

“Come on, Lety. When have I ever embarrassed you in front of anyone?” She looks at me. “Okay, okay. But you have to admit, Father Flanagan’s face was classic when he caught us eating all that sacramental bread.”

She opens the passenger door but doesn’t step out right away. “Brody means everything to me, Curran. If you make him look bad because of something you do, you’ll be wearing your balls like earrings, understand?”

“Nice one, Lety. I guess you can take the girl out of Philly, but you can’t—”

“Shut up, Curran. And for Christ’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.”

She walks away then and crosses the street, joining the crowd of people making their way out of their limos and into the hotel. I hop out, wait another minute or so, and join the last few stuffed coats trailing in.

It takes a while to get to the front of the line. “This really you?” the security guard asks me.

“Who else would it be?”

“Brody?” Lety calls. She waves to me from inside the lobby. She didn’t go far, probably just far enough to check her coat. She wants to make sure I make it through. She’s a good kid, that Lety.

“Brody!” she calls again, this time louder. “You’re late—your father’s waiting, babe.”

“Okay, honey.” I grin. “I’m coming.” The guard isn’t completely convinced. “Come on, pal,” I say. “My girl’s waiting and so is my dad.”

Another security guard leans in to examine the invitation. I think there’s going to be trouble until he blows out a breath. “That there’s Brody Quaid Moore. You better let him in.”

And right on cue, Lety calls out again. “Brody!”

The guard motions me through. “Coming, sweet cheeks!” I yell.

I walk through the revolving doors. Lety wraps her arm around mine and leads me into a grand ballroom, speaking through her white sparkling teeth. “?‘Sweet cheeks’? Nice, Curran. You could have said anything, but you had to go there.”

I grin. “You can’t tell me that boyfriend of yours never told you you have a nice ass.”

She tries to hide her smile, her real one, and fails. “That’s none of your business, butthead. Show some class for once and I won’t have to kill you.”

She weaves us around the crowd. She doesn’t seem to know anyone, but she also doesn’t seem to care. Instead she tries to look over and around people until she spots who she’s searching for. And holy shit, doesn’t she light up then.

Her date is down to a shirt and tie. Good thing security doesn’t know what he looks like, ’cause we sure look nothing alike. Although muscular, and about my height, he’s not as brawny as me. And instead of short hair, his falls past his chin.

He polishes off the shrimp on toast he’s munching on and straightens when he sees Lety’s arm around mine. She holds on to her smile but lets me go, hurrying to his side. “Sorry, babe,” she says, standing on her toes to kiss his lips. “This is my boyfriend, Brody,” she tells me.

“Who’s this?” Brody asks, securing his arm around her waist.

Lety smooths her hand over his chest. “Oh, sorry. This is Killian’s brother, Curran.”

Brody nods, appearing to relax. “Oh, the DA.”

“That’s Declan,” she explains.

“That’s right, you’re the carpenter.”

Lety laughs. “No, that’s Seamus. Curran’s a Philly cop.”

“Then who’s the contractor?”

“Angus,” I clarify. “And Finnie’s the baby and probably up to no good.” I shrug out of his jacket and hand it to him. “Thanks for the coat, man.” I motion to Lety. “And sorry about keeping you from your girl. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

He slips into his coat and shakes my hand, grinning like he means it and showing me he’s a good guy. Lety leans into him like she’s known him forever, or at least plans to.

Brody’s arm returns to her waist as he considers me. “There are six of you, and you have a sister, too, right?”

“That’s right.”

He nods. “Yeah, Lety’s probably going to pop out at least seven for us, too. Right, peque?a?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Brody,” she mutters.

I laugh. “Oh, shit, are you blushing?” She narrows her eyes. “Aw, hell, you are. You got it bad, kid.”

“Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing?” she snaps. “Or are you only here for the free food?”

“Oh, I’m already doing it with my super-spy skills. I’m just so stealth—that’s spy talk for sneaky—that you didn’t notice.” I’ve already scanned the bar area and the other serving station. Still no Tess. “Hey, Brody. You know any of these people?”

He makes a face like he wishes he didn’t. “Yeah. Most of my life.”

“Where’s the * up for mayor?”

“Curran,” Lety warns, when my compliment makes an older couple passing us pause.

Brody laughs, not caring what people think any more than I do. “He’s over on the other side, trying to squeeze money out of a bunch of executives. Come on, I’ll get you close.”

“Thanks, man.”

We edge around the perimeter of the dance floor until I catch sight of Tess. Lety stops Brody when she realizes I’m not following them, her eyes widening at the sight of my pissed-off face. “Brody, wait,” she urges.

Tess stands next to Spender—or whatever the hell his name is—watching him laugh and rub elbows with the cluster of pricks circling him. He doesn’t care that she looks miserable. Instead he reaches for two glasses of champagne, one for him and one for the idiot next to him, while Tess’s hands stay empty except for the purse she’s clutching tight against her.

“Curran, what’s going on?” Lety asks. She glances in the direction I’m eyeing. “Oh, shit. It’s about that girl, isn’t it? Christ Almighty, you’re not going to start a fight, are you?”

“Humph,” Brody says. “And I thought this was going to be another boring-ass fundraiser.” He claps my shoulder. “I got your back if you need to throw down, dude.”

“Brody, do not encourage him.” She stops mid-sentence. “Oh, no. Here comes your dad.”

He looks to where his dad is maneuvering around a crowd of people making their way to the dance floor. “Yeah, he’s headed right toward us. Hey, Curran. He’ll probably do you one and mow over the bald prick to Spencer’s right. I think he slept with my mom.”

“Jesus,” Lety mumbles.

Brody’s dad stops his high-tech wheelchair directly beside his son. “Hello,” he says, frowning slightly, obviously aware something’s not right.

Lety inches to his opposite side, taking point directly in front of me. She’s trying to distract me, worried I’m going to do something stupid.

She’s probably right.

“Curran, this is Edward Moore. My…”

She seems to search for the right words. He smiles, and answers for her. “I’m Lety’s future father-in-law,” he says, causing Lety’s blush to return. “But you may call me Edward.”

I try to smile, knowing I need to keep it together. “Hey, man, and congrats. I hear Lety’s gonna pop out at least seven grandkids for you.”

His smile widens. “I was hoping for two, but this is excellent news indeed.”

Brody cracks up when Lety clasps her hand over her eyes. “I like this guy,” he says. He lowers himself so that he’s eye level with his father. “But hey, Dad, Curran here doesn’t like Spencer.”

Edward’s smile fades. “I can’t say that I blame him. He’s an imbecile, very much like his father.”

Lety places her purse on Edward’s tray and adjusts his collar. “Then why are we here? We could have stayed in and watched all those Wolfman movies we planned on.”

“Your mother-in-law insisted on getting me out, and her friend is the publicist running the event. She begged Dionna for her presence, and mine.”

I’m only half-listening. Spencer motions in Tess’s direction. Whatever he says makes the men laugh, and causes her to edge further away from him.

What did you just say about her, *?

Nails dig into my arm, keeping me in place when I take a step forward. “Curran, don’t,” Lety warns. “You’re a cop, and this is a highly publicized and political event.”

She’s right, and it pisses me off. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t embarrass her, especially now that others have seen me with her and her future family. I lean back on my heels, ready to apologize to Edward and Brody. They’re frowning, but it’s not because I’m seconds from charging Spencer and bashing his face in.

“You need to get that girl out of here. Don’t you?” Brody asks me, leaving me with the impression he realizes how Tess is being treated.

I square my shoulders. “Yeah. Will you help me?”

He and his father say yes at the same time Lety says no.

“I’ll go up first, Dad,” Brody says, straightening his tie. “You come up next and distract him so I can get her on the dance floor.” He grins at me then. “Curran, Lety’s one hell of a dancer,” he adds with a wink.

“Be sure to tell him I’m torn between parties,” Edward says.

Brody nods and takes off, leaving Lety to throw her hands out and swear. “Nice, Lety,” I tell her. “You kiss your future father-in-law with that mouth?”

“Shut up, Curran,” she fires back, when Edward starts laughing.

His wheelchair jerks and swerves as he attempts to steer between chuckles. He stops long enough to speak to someone he knows and give Brody time to strike up a conversation with good ol’ Spence. I’m not sure who Brody is around here. The security guard seemed to think he’s a big deal. Maybe he is, seeing how his presence draws Spencer’s attention away from the dumbass he’s been working. Again, a tray filled with champagne passes by. And again, Spence grabs two, one for Brody and another for himself.

Brody motions to where his dad is making his way forward. Spencer’s face lights up, similar to how a cheetah would at the sight of a baby gazelle. Evidently it’s cash on wheels moving toward him. He doesn’t even notice Brody pass Tess his drink. She takes it, her gaze dropping to it like she’s shocked anyone noticed her.

Brody makes a show of introducing Spencer and his dickless buddies to his dad. If Brody is a prince on a mound of bling, his dad is the king on a damn hill of diamonds. The men swarm him, with Spencer fighting to be front and center. Brody uses the moment to inch his way closer to Tess. He says something and motions to the dance floor. She shakes her head and smiles politely.

Come on, angel face. Dance with him.

Lety leans into me. Like me, she’s been watching everything closely. “Don’t worry, he’ll get her out there,” she promises.

Brody takes a small step back, giving her room before saying something that widens her smile. “Let’s go,” I tell Lety, knowing her boy is getting it done.

I clasp Lety’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor. The band starts playing a current tune, totally killing the song, but I don’t care so much now.

We’re halfway through the dance floor when Brody brings Tess forward, his arm appearing to only lightly touch her back. “You like to spin?” he yells over his shoulder when he sees us.

“What?” she asks.

Instead of explaining, Brody takes her by the hand and spins her hard my way. I do the same to Lety, who laughs and keeps going, right into Brody’s arms. Tess stumbles, barely keeping her feet, only to freeze when she sees Brody lift Lety for one hell of a kiss.

He places her down and leads her away, winking in Tess’s direction. Tess remains frozen, confused by his actions. At the moment, I can’t blame her. My girl doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Lety waves. “?’Bye, Curran,” she calls through her laughter.

Tess’s spine straightens as she slowly turns to find me standing there. I wrap my arm around her waist and take her hand, dancing with her as I lead her further away from her date.

“Hi,” I tell her when we’re a good distance away. “I know I probably shouldn’t be in here, but yeah, hi.”

Okay, not the smoothest thing I’ll ever say, but I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d tell her.

“Hi,” she says, smiling softly. I lean forward when her arms circle my neck and she melts against me. It’s then I know that coming in here was the right thing to do. She needs me.

And maybe I need to know that.

My arms pull her closer in time for a slow dance. Neither of us says anything for the longest time. “You look beautiful,” I finally tell her, because she does, even in this old-lady getup.

“Thank you,” she says. “But God, I really hate this dress.”

I laugh and whisper close in her ear. “It’s kind of hot. You got support hose on beneath all that paisley?”

Her voice gathers a husky edge. “Do you want to find out?”

My hold on her tightens. “Yeah. I do.”

“What time is your shift over?”

I glance up at the clock. “I got another forty minutes.”

“Enough time to return to my apartment.” She leans back so I can see her face. The heat in her eyes stops me dead where I stand. “What say we head back so you can help me out of this dress?”





Chapter 15





Tess


I don’t say goodbye to Spencer and never bother to find my father, even though I know he’s here. Instead I hold tight to Curran’s hand as he leads me out of the ballroom, both of us laughing as we cross the street and reach his truck.

He opens the door for me and helps me inside. I can’t stop smiling, especially when he slides into the driver’s seat and gives me a quick kiss. “Thank you,” I whisper against his mouth.

Curran returns my grin, stroking the side of my face. “You’re welcome, angel face,” he tells me.

I lean against his shoulder. This awful evening is now behind me, thanks to this man I can’t stop thinking about. But our night together? Well, that’s only just begun.

“Is Lu on watch tonight?” I ask.

Curran laughs, but it lacks some of its humor. “Yup. She’s on.”

He cranks the engine and pulls out of the lot. I place my hand on his leg. “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I tell him truthfully.

He rolls to a stop at the first light. “And I don’t want to pretend like there’s nothing between us when there obviously is.”

“There’s something between us?” I muse.

He shrugs. “Considering we’ve been miserable apart, I’m guessing there might be.”

“Oh, hell,” I say, trying my best to imitate him. “We’re not going to have the ‘are you my boyfriend’ talk, are we?” I lift my arms and drop them like they weigh a ton. “Oh, we are, aren’t we?”

He throws back his head, laughing as he steps on the gas, but then his good nature fades. “That Spencer guy, your date.”

The name alone erases my grin. “What about him?”

“I didn’t like you with him.”

“I don’t like him with me, either,” I mutter.

“Good,” he says, sounding satisfied. He taps the screen to his Bluetooth. “Hey, Lu,” he says when she answers.

“I’ll be at the hotel in thirty,” she says by way of a greeting.

“Don’t. Tess is headed back to her place.”

There’s a pause before she says, “I take it you’re headed back with her?”

Curran doesn’t hesitate. “Yup.”

“You sweeping her apartment?”

“Right again, Lu. She’s safe. We’ve got no tails. If anything changes I’ll call you back. Otherwise, I’ll meet you in the parking lot of her building.”

She mumbles a few curses, most of which I’ve never said. “This is your damn signoff. Isn’t it, O’Brien?”

Curran steals a glance my way. “Right again, Lu.”

“Christ,” she mutters, and disconnects.

We don’t say much once his “cop” face returns and he resumes his vigilant guard, checking for anyone who might be following us. Thirty minutes later, he pulls into the lot of my building, his eyes sweeping the area for any unfamiliar cars or potential threats.

He backs into a spot beside Lu. “Wait till I come for you,” he says.

He hops out and marches to Lu’s vehicle. She lowers her window and says something to which he immediately responds. Whatever he tells her earns him a stiff middle finger.

I clasp my hand over my mouth, laughing. Curran opens my door and helps me out, grinning when he sees me. “Come on, angel face.”

I smile at Lu and lean into Curran when he puts his arm around me, my way of assuring her that I want him with me. The last thing I want is Curran getting into trouble with his superiors, especially knowing I’m already in trouble myself.

Yet I don’t think about my father now. He’s not here. Curran is. And he’s all that matters.

Curran keeps his cop persona until he emerges from my bedroom, following a thorough sweep of my apartment. In the time he took to conduct his search, I removed my coat and placed two glasses of water on the coffee table.

He walks to me slowly, taking each of my hands, one at a time, his light blue eyes sizzling with desire. “You still want me to help you out of that dress?” he asks.

I move in closer, barely managing a nod when he hauls me to him.

Curran doesn’t help me out of my dress.

He tears it off me.

I fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt, and then the zipper of his pants.

My hands reach for his erection in time for him to pull off my panties and drag me to the floor. He angles our bodies, shoving my hips down to his face and granting me the perfect view of what I long to taste. My head dips down, my lips eager and my throat already moaning from the motions of Curran’s tongue.

It’s not a race. We have all night, but the speed with which we’re working each other up tells a different tale, as does the way my hips rock against his suckling lips. I break my seal when Curran’s fingers join the frantic efforts of his tongue.

“I want you,” I whimper. “God, I want you so much.”

My words mark the start of a long night. Curran rolls me on my back, reaching for something near his abandoned jacket. I grip his shoulder, yanking him in for a long kiss while my hand continues to rile him. Something I do lures a particularly hard groan. So I do it again, and again, and again.

“Fuck,” he says, using his teeth to rip open the small foil package. He lifts off me, breathing hard as he takes in my face. “Are you ready for me?”

I reach for the condom and curl forward, giving him one last slow pull with my mouth. He gasps when my fingers roll the condom in place, releasing my hair to fall along my face. It’s then that he cradles me, spreading me parallel to the couch and tossing my leg over his shoulder.

This time, he doesn’t kiss me. Instead he fastens his eyes onto mine as he eases his way inside. My spine arches, tilting my breasts upward with each of his presses. The wait, along with each subtle stretch of my body, is almost too much to take. But Curran takes his time filling me, using care and going deep. He’s quiet. I’m not. As I receive his full length and thickness, I’m the one swearing, and shaking with desire.

His right arm slips behind my lower back, keeping me in position, while his other hand holds my face so I can’t escape his stare.

But I don’t want to escape. Not from him.

He withdraws slowly, then returns fast, repeating the motion. Each thrust is harder, faster, until his body slaps against me and I’m screaming from lust and the sensual agony overtaking me.

One massive orgasm overpowers the other until Curran falls forward, his throaty moans cutting through his clenched teeth.

My extended leg is lowered. Curran pants above me, smiling playfully as he bends to kiss me. I can’t move; my heart is beating out of control and my legs are quivering as if seizing. Every part of me throbs and tingles, but his fingers and teeth aren’t done with their exploration. They want to know my body and learn it well.

My head lolls to the side when he nibbles the curve of my neck, his silky breath further tantalizing my heated skin. My hips begin to sway, inviting more of him. He complies, hardening again while his nips to my neck grow aggressively sexy.

His fingers pass over my lips until I open my mouth and draw two in, licking, sucking, and sliding them in and out. He groans and pulls out, stirring my moans.

As I reach for him, he withdraws further, fumbling between our bodies and quickly replacing the condom while I continue to suck and moisten his fingers. My hands slap against the wood floor as Curran pushes back inside of me.

He pumps his hips against mine, slipping his wet fingers between my legs and circling, knowing where to go and how hard to rub.

Good heavens. It’s as if every nerve ending along my skin can sense his touch, his warmth, his need. His motions send me into a tailspin of desire. I’m no longer simply writhing or screaming, I’m clawing at the floor.

This time he lasts longer, his steady thrusts coming quicker, the movements of his hands faster. I thrash, losing all control—screaming, swearing, trembling.

And I could give a damn.

Curran soon follows, his throaty growls joining my cries. He slumps forward, gripping the edge of the couch to keep from landing on top of me. Gradually he slows to a halt.

“Jesus,” I whimper, so consumed with want I can barely speak.

He leans against me, chuckling against my ear. “You can just call me Curran,” he whispers.





Curran


Tess laughs as she bites into her bagel, courtesy of my morning’s coffee run following a pit stop to the drugstore for more condoms. Damn, what a night. She spreads out on her bed with just a sheet around her waist. She’s getting more comfortable being naked around me, which is fine by me. I don’t like her hiding that sweet body, especially now that I know it so well.

She laughs again. “I’m serious,” I tell her.

She takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing with me?” I offer.

Her shoulders shake as she tries to hold back. “It’s just that I’m having a hard time picturing you as an altar boy.”

“I didn’t say I was good at it, just said I did it.” I polish off my breakfast sandwich. “All my brothers did it. It’s something our ma expected. Just like she expected Wren to teach Sunday school.”

“And did she?”

“Of course, but on her own terms, just like the rest of us.” I reach for my coffee on the nightstand. “I gotta tell you. She abused her power. Told the little bastards they’d burn in hell if they didn’t listen to her. Me and my brothers would steal sips of the holy wine, and one time Seamus was caught making out with his girlfriend in the confession booth. Grammie refused to walk beside us, convinced God would strike us all dead when we’d least expect it and take her with us before her time.”

This time I join her in laughing. “I said we’re Catholics, Tess. I never said we’re good ones.”

I help her gather the trash, then pull her on top of me, gripping her ass tight so, you know, she doesn’t fall off the bed and get hurt. What can I say? I’m a hell of a guy.

She holds her hair away from her face so she can kiss the tip of my nose. I grin at her. If I didn’t think I liked her before, I sure know it now. “Are you on today?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I glance at her clock. “I got another hour, but I should leave soon.”

“Why?”

“Need new clothes and a shower.” I scratch at the side of my face. “Shave, too, by the feel of it.”

She sticks out her bottom lip. “I wish you didn’t have to leave. Can’t you just watch me here?”

I tug on that lip with my teeth. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I know, I just…” She plays with that smooth spot on my chin, the one that never did grow any hair. “You make me happy,” she whispers.

Yeah? Well, same here. One of those sensitive types in the movies would tell her as much. But I’m not one to spill my guts. “Good,” I say, quietly.

She lays her head against my chest, like she’s trying to keep me with her. I let her because she feels good, warm. But then I steal another glance at the clock. “I should go, angel face.”

She turns her head and kisses me, then slips off without another word, backing all the way to her bedroom window, the one that faces the wall of the other apartment. I’m not sure why she’s giving me so much space, until she crosses her arms and lowers her chin. Tess is…sad, all over again. She doesn’t want me to leave her. But she doesn’t understand it’s not so easy for me to walk away.

“Hey,” I say, standing. She glances up. “My shift won’t end until about nine tonight. It’ll be late, but I know a few places that stay open. How ’bout we grab dinner?”

Tess smiles like she means it and drops her arms away, giving me a view of those breasts I sucked on and that drop-dead gorgeous body I can’t get enough of. I look down, and once more I’m ready to go. I spread out my hands and meet her face. “See what you went ahead and did? Now I’m not going to be able to get my shower.”

She laughs, but then stops laughing when she sees me snag another condom and slip it in place. I yank her to me, stamping my lips onto her eager mouth.

Damn. I’m starting to think that maybe I can’t get enough of this girl.

My knuckles graze over her nipples. I inch away to admire my handiwork. Her breath comes faster as her doe eyes alternate between watching me play and returning to my face. God, does she know what she’s doing to me?

I slide my hand down her flat stomach, between her legs, and…

Oh, shit.

Tess cranes her neck, moaning when my fingers easily slip in. Yeah, she’s ready for me, too. She reaches for me, but I whirl her around and press a hand between her shoulder blades, enough so she’ll bend over and spread her legs for me.

My body shudders as I make my way in, feeling her slick heat grip me tight. Tess grunts with my first thrust and whimpers at my second, and third, like she’s crying. I wind my hand under her arm to turn her face so I can see her, the urge to pound into her tightening my vocal cords. “Am I hurting you, beautiful?”

She whines a little, making me feel like I am. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” She tosses me a sinful look that almost brings me to my knees. “It just feels really good.”

I kiss her mouth and whisper against her lips. “What does, this?” I thrust, hard.

She curses and yanks on the sheer curtains. I hold still, knowing I’m driving her crazy by waiting. She glances over her shoulder again, her gaze steamy and her smile more nymph than lawyer. But then she does something I don’t expect. She tightens around me and moves her perfect ass in circling motions, slowly at first, until she has me falling forward from the feel of her riding me.

“Something wrong, cop?” she purrs.

Yeah, you can say it’s then that I completely lose it.

I clench her hips and drive into her while she rolls her ass, swearing as her body and mine collide. It’s like the first time I had sex: no grace, no technique, no nothing, just grinding away like I’m about to get caught. But no one will catch us, and my stamina is better than ever.

“Oh, God!” Tess screams. “Oh, God!” She grips the curtains, ripping them down, and Lord help me, I can’t stop.

My pounding is so forceful, her body slides against the glass. She fastens her hands to the frame to keep her balance. It takes some doing and a lot of focus, but I keep it up for one long while.

When I finally come, it’s potent, like a rush of adrenaline slamming into me at once. Her grunts, those moans, the spasms gripping me inside her, damn. There’s only so much a man can take.

I fall back, taking her with me. We land on our sides and on the hard wood, our bodies covered with sweat and both of us winded, gulping for air.

“I guess I should go to work now,” I gasp.

She laughs, only to quiver when I pull out. I roll her onto her back and push up on my forearms to hover above her. The smile she greets me with has me leaning into her for another long kiss. What the hell, I still have another twenty minutes.

A hard knock on her door has her jumping. It’s not Lu. This knock is angry. I wrench myself to my feet, reaching for my pants, and my gun. I check the chamber. “Stay here,” I tell her.

She clasps my wrist. “No, it’s okay. I know who it is.”

I pull on my pants when she releases me, but I keep my gun close. She glances around, frazzled, and then rushes to her dresser. “Tess, who is it?”

Another knock comes, this one more impatient. She stops dead in the middle of scrambling through her drawers. “Curran, it’s my father.”

It’s then that authoritative voice that threatened to kick my ass out of school barks in the hall. “Contessa. I know you’re in there.”

“I’m coming!” she calls out. She yanks on an old pair of pajamas, and then wraps herself in a thick robe. She glances at me as she reaches for her glasses. “I have company, Father!” she yells, only to quiet when she speaks to me. “Please come out when you’re dressed.”

She swiftly and silently gathers our trash, our empty cups, and the condoms scattered around the floor, shoving them into the paper bags of takeout.

Something isn’t right here. From the first knock, till now, she’s lost all the color in her face. I clasp her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She’s on the verge of tears. “We don’t have a good relationship,” she admits.

“You and your dad?”

She grips the bag against her as if it can somehow protect her. I release her, mostly because something about holding her in place seems wrong now.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She hurries into the living area, shutting the door behind her.

I finish dressing as every curse word I know bounces around in my skull. Something is definitely up, but as I hear her fumbling around in the kitchen, I know it’s not a good time to ask. We’ll talk later. For now, all I can do is grab the two condoms she missed and toss them in the bathroom trash.

I stomp out of the bedroom door and shove my way into my leather jacket. Tess reaches the front door when I’m only a few feet behind her. Her dress, the one I ripped off, is gone. So is any and all evidence of our night.

I prowl closer, watching her shoulders tighten when she senses me behind her. She doesn’t want me next to her, but damn it all, no way am I keeping my distance when she’s this rattled. She needs me now, whether she’ll admit it or not.

She takes a breath and throws open the door. Call me crazy, but the old fart doesn’t seem happy to see me. “Who’s this?” he demands.

My brows knit tight. “I could ask you the same thing, sir.” I look at Tess, then flash him my badge. “Is he on your approved visitors list, ma’am?”

“Approved visitors list?” she repeats, slowly, realizing where I’m headed. “I apologize. I didn’t realize I’m supposed to have one. I don’t have many visitors.” She motions to her dad. “This is my father, Donald Newart.”

I lean back on my heels. She seems to think he doesn’t recognize me. I’m thinking she’s right. So I stay in cop mode, even though every part of me wants to ask him what he did to his daughter to make her this nervous. She’s twenty-four, not some teen who snuck in her boyfriend. Yeah, I get that it’s awkward. But the way Tess is acting, the way she looks, she’s scared out of her mind. “If he visits often, you should include him on the list to prevent another incident.”

“He doesn’t visit often—”

“I can visit anytime I want,” he snaps. “I pay for this apartment.”

His reprimanding glare fixes on Tess. She stands unmoving, appearing to crawl inward. This isn’t the first time he’s spoken to her this way, and Mother above, I could tear out his spine for how he makes her react.

I can’t keep the snarl out of my tone. “Do you also pay for her utilities—water, electricity, heat?”

He raises his chin. For a skinny chicken-neck bastard he’s not afraid of me. But he should be. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I do.”

“Then can you explain why her heat was turned off a few weeks ago?”

This time his anger’s directed at me. Good, keep it there, *. I can take it. “It was cold enough to hang meat in here,” I tell him, keeping my voice sharp. “I had to call the super to make sure it was put back on.”

Newart doesn’t even blink. “Perhaps it was an oversight.”

My stare drills into his. “Let’s hope it was. You see, Miss Newart is helping the DA’s office with an important case. One that requires police surveillance for her protection.”

He huffs, taking her in. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then why would I be here?” I counter.

He doesn’t have an answer for that. And the longer I wait for one, the more I want to snap his scrawny neck. No, that wouldn’t piss my captain off or anything. “Ma’am, if you’re all right, and feel safe, I’ll leave now.” I look at her idiot father. “Otherwise, I’ll stay.”

She knows what I’m saying and backs away from the door, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m safe,” she assures me.

Everything in her features says she is, but it’s clear she’s not happy. Yeah, we’re going to have a long talk later. I tilt my chin. “Then the sweep of your apartment is complete. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Thank you,” she says.

She inches away as I pass, another thing I don’t like. If her dipshit father weren’t here, I’d wrap my arms around her and kiss her, reminding her that I’d see her tonight. Instead, we both keep our distance.

“Ma’am,” I say like a dumbass, pretending like we didn’t have sex all night.

“Goodbye, Officer.”

It’s the “Officer” that does me in. We’re long past this formal shit. I curse about a thousand times the minute the elevator doors shut, and all the way to Lu’s ride. As I reach the hood of her car, I glance up to the fifth floor, debating whether to return. But Tess doesn’t want me with her; she made that clear enough.

So instead of storming back up like I want to, I pound on my partner’s driver’s-side window.

Lu rolls it down, smiling. She keeps her focus ahead, even as she takes a sip from her bottled water. “So, her father showed,” she says.

“That he did,” I answer. I swipe my mouth. “The interior’s all clear.”

“So is the exterior.” Her shit-eatin’ grin widens. “I did a sweep about fifteen minutes ago.”

I don’t know what she thinks is so funny until she finally glances up. “By the way, excellent technique there by the window, O’Brien. You and the princess gave me some new moves to try with the old man.”





Chapter 16





Tess


“What happened to you last night?” Father demands.

His expression tightens to that look of loathing he’s often given me. The one that tells me I far exceeded his lowest expectations. I gather my robe around me and make my way into the kitchen.

He didn’t recognize Curran, but I’m not surprised. To him, Curran was an insignificant boy, one who defiled his daughter and was soon forgotten after the incident was taken care of.

I wash my hands at the sink, realizing that if Curran came from a prestigious line of well-bred tyrants, Father would have overlooked our encounter instead of strong-arming me into attending an all-women’s college the following year.

“I asked you a question, Contessa.”

I shut off the water and reach for a hand towel. “I had to leave. I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Unless you were soaked with your own blood or vomiting as you once so enjoyed, you should have stayed!”

His words strike me like a slap. “How dare you,” I snap. “I never ‘enjoyed’ what I did.” My eating disorder was my one attempt at control during my high school years and partway through college. Father manipulated everything in my world. I was certain my weight would be the one thing he couldn’t touch.

I learned the hard way that he could when my stepmother realized how much weight I’d lost following the incident with Curran. I spent my summer break at an eating disorder clinic, only for him to now restrict my calories and tell me that I’m getting fat.

“This was Spencer Woodworth—Philadelphia’s next mayor!”

It’s as if I didn’t even speak. “I don’t care who he is. He’s nothing more than a perverse bastard who fondled me despite my telling him to stop. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Father’s eyes widen, but it’s not because of Spencer’s wandering hands. It’s because of my tone. “You should have stayed and played the role of the lady I raised you to be,” he responds, gritting his teeth.

There’s no reasoning with a man this cold and heartless. No thread of kindness to work with or touch to give me comfort. So instead of wasting energy I don’t have, and breaths I desperately need, I revert to lies, just as I have all my life. “I told you. I wasn’t well.”

He regards me then. “Well, you look dreadful.”

Curran didn’t think so.

I move to the dining room table, arranging my law books and scribbled notes so he’ll take the hint that I have more important things to do than be insulted.

“Is it true, what that simpleton of a police officer said?”

It’s all I can do not to fling one of my texts at his face. Five more months, I remind myself, taking a full breath. “Yes. You probably passed the officer he was replacing.”

“I meant about you assisting with an important case.”

Okay. Now I see where he’s going. “Yes. But it’s a case I can’t discuss.”

“Even with me?” he challenges, his seedy grin firmly in place.

That may work on his flunkies, but following his obnoxious remark about Curran, I’m done playing nice. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the dealings within the DA’s office.”

He expected me to tell him, and is now pissed I denied him. “At least tell me who you’re working under.”

“Declan O’Brien,” I answer, thinking I’m tossing him a meaningless bone. But when his eyes widen, I realize I made a huge mistake.

“Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien?” he repeats.

I close my eyes, realizing what I did, and what he’ll expect. “Yes,” I bite out.

“He’s rapidly making his way up the political and professional ladder, a rare feat considering the amount of intellect and talent under Miles Fenske’s watch.”

His voice seems to fade. My father is no longer there, too caught up in another opportunity for gain and prestige. “There’s been talk that Fenske is grooming him to take over his position when he steps down. Others insist that with his charm and astuteness, he’ll have no problem gaining momentum in the political arena.” He laughs without humor. “That is if one of the more renowned firms doesn’t acquire him first. The possibilities are endless,” he mutters.

I can see the wheels turning, and it makes me sick.

He glances up, appearing almost surprised I’m still there. But then something shifts in his gaze and he edges closer. “How well do you know him?”

“Not well,” I lie. “I’m only helping him with research—”

“Then get to know him, Contessa,” he hisses. “Are you that blind? This is a golden opportunity—being shoved directly in your face. Use it to become something of worth for once.”

I shove my hands deep into my pockets when I realize how badly they’re trembling. “I’m trying, Father. Don’t you think I know that this can lead to job opportunities I’ve only dreamed of—”

“Job opportunities?” he scoffs, eyeing me with enough scorn to force me back. “Don’t think you’re better than what you’re intended to be.”

A strange chill encircles me like a ribbon, making its way up my throat. “Which is what?”

My whip-sharp tone does nothing to ease the escalating strain between us. If there weren’t a counter separating us then, I think he would have lunged at me. “Stupidity isn’t an attractive quality on you, Contessa,” he says, dripping venom into each word. “Not if you ever stand a chance at becoming a governor’s wife.”





Curran


My phone buzzes an hour after Newart leaves. It’s a text from Tess.

I’m not going to be able to see you tonight.

I stare at the message for a beat. This time, I’m not backing down or letting her off easy. I text back, Why?

There’s a pause as she works through the numbers of the old cellphone.

I have a lot of work to do. I have three exams this week and still have some research pending on the Montenegro case.

I groan before responding. So do it now while I’m out here freezing my ass off. That way, when I’m off, we can grab a bite to eat.

It’s not a good idea, she writes back.

You thought it was a good idea this morning, I point out.

Her next response takes longer than it should, considering how short it is.

I’m sorry, but I’m too busy.

I start to get mad, real mad. But I do my best to keep my head. So you don’t eat when you’re working? I fire back.

When she doesn’t answer, I send her another text. We’ll get something to eat like we planned, and then I’ll bring you back to your place afterward. I don’t have to spend the night.

I think I’ll leave it at that, but then I remind myself that I’m not letting her off easy: Besides, I’m tired. I didn’t sleep last night because of all the wild gorilla and banana-eating baboon sex we had. By the way, ballerina school paid off. You’re amazingly flexible.

Funny thing, this time she texts right back. You had to go there, didn’t you?

I laugh, picturing her blush. Just speaking the truth, angel face. Hey, what was that thing you did around three a.m.? What’s it called? A pirouette?

I believe you know it as a blow job.

I crack up, knowing she’s pissed. Settle down there, princess.

Don’t call me that.

Okay, nerd.

You are an absolute JACKASS!!!

A jackass you pirouetted at three a.m., and one you’re having dinner with at nine. See you then.

When she doesn’t text back, I start thinking I went too far, until that familiar buzz vibrates in my hand and I read her text.

Fine, it says.

—

I figured Tess would be distant when I came for her, and I figured right. She barely speaks to me. As I maneuver around town, she stares straight ahead with her hands folded over her lap. I roll into the parking lot of my apartment building and turn into my assigned space.

I don’t look at Tess until I jog around and open the door for her. “I thought you were taking me to dinner,” she says quietly.

“I am. This is me taking you to dinner. But tonight I’m your chef, server, and busboy all in one smokin’-hot package.”

She doesn’t move. “Okay…but I can’t spend the night. I have a— I have an early class tomorrow, and then I have to stay late and help Declan.”

“I’ll drive you back as soon as we’re done. Promise.”

She nods, and allows me to help her out. I hold on to her hand until we reach the doors to the foyer. I pause and nod to the rookie watching her for the night. He’s new. Brand new, but seems all right.

He nods in response, not that Tess seems to notice our exchange. She stares at the pattern along the gold-and-sand tiled floor as we cross the foyer and step in front of the elevator. “This is a nice building,” she offers almost silently.

Jesus. I thought we were beyond all this bullshit. “It wasn’t before, but we put a lot of work into it.”

She considers me then. “?‘We’?”

I punch the security code to the elevator and lead her inside. “Declan and Seamus—our other brother—we own it. We bought it a couple of years ago, but we’re planning to sell it in the next few months. The realtor we spoke to says we’ll get at least five times what we put into it.”

“Why are you selling it?”

I shrug. “It was an investment. Something we did with the money our father left us when he died. Deck, Seamus, and I are thinking about buying a parking deck next. No tenants to deal with, minimal maintenance, and a cash cow that will carry us into retirement.”

I wait for a beat, then ask, “Did you delete our text exchange earlier? Considering you have a county phone…”

Her cheeks pink up and it’s not from the cold. “Yes. I deleted it.”

No one’s checking in on her, and the phone will soon be tossed, but it’s better to keep things professional. “Okay. Good.”

The doors swing open and we step out. I release her hand and dig around my pockets for my keys. I didn’t realize we were holding hands again—I must have done it without thinking—but I do notice she doesn’t seem to mind.

I shove my key into the lock. “I’m not in the penthouse,” I admit. “But it’s nice, and I hope you like it.”

I lock the door when we step in and take her coat, hanging it with mine in the closet. “Make yourself at home,” I tell her. I walk past her to give her some space, not liking how uncomfortable she seems.

After everything we did, there shouldn’t be all this tension between us. It’s as if she’s a different person from the one who fell asleep in my arms.

I wash my hands in the kitchen and reach for a pot and pan from one of my bottom cabinets. “This is beautiful,” she says, taking a seat on the bar stool directly in front of me.

Okay, maybe she’s warming up. I fill the pot with water and add some salt before placing it on the stove. “The building’s old, but it has wood beams, crown molding, and high-tiered ceilings that a lot of the new places don’t have. We paid Seamus, and our oldest brother, Angus, to refinish the floors, replace the countertops with granite, and modernize the bathrooms.”

For all I planned to ask and say, I’m just shooting the shit now. Truth is, I want to know what’s up. I’m a cop and that’s what cops do, investigate what’s wrong.

I walk around the counter to where she sits, trying to work through what I think I should say. But then I find myself reaching for her hips and pulling her to me for a long, lazy kiss.

I expect her to be the one to pull away. But her hands smooth over my chest, and her tongue sweeps mine with equal aggression, letting me know she’s not going anywhere.

She wants this kiss.

She wants me.

I feel that now familiar stretch in my pants, but I can’t shake the feeling I’m maybe taking advantage of her. She’s had a rough day. Her father made sure of that. So I pull away, only to find her eyes glistening with tears.

This time my mouth won’t stay shut. “You have to tell me what’s going on.”

She covers my hands where they remain fastened to her hips. “I’m not the best person for you. But I really wish I could be.”

I lift my brows. “Is that what your father says?”

Her bruised expression makes it clear that I hit a nerve, and that I’m treading on thin ice. But something changes then, a flicker of defiance she probably didn’t realize she had in her. “If I tell you something, do you promise to let me, and not judge me for it?”

I watch her for a spell, not sure where this is headed, just sure it isn’t anyplace good. “Yeah. I promise.”

She releases a small breath, working to keep those tears in check. “I’m not supposed to be a lawyer, Curran. I’m not supposed to help amend laws to make our community safer, prosecute offenders who hurt innocent people, or change the world for the better in any capacity. That’s not what I’m meant for.”

My focus remains intense, but my hold on her hips loosens.

“Since the day I was born I’ve been molded to be the next Jackie Kennedy or Michelle Obama,” she says. Her voice cracks, but I can tell it stems from anger more than anything. “All the times I gave up attending your frat parties to study, all those dances I ditched to read through stacks of books in the library, all those extra classes I took—when I didn’t have enough hours in the day for the ones I already had—they weren’t for me. They were meant to shape me into the perfect prop. That fundraiser I attended last night was an opportunity to make nice with a man I think is a complete *, or to find someone else like him clawing his way up the political ladder, so that one day I can stand by his side and watch him become everything I thought I was supposed to be.”

The first of her tears roll down her cheeks. It’s then I realize the day will come when I’ll knock out her dad. But this girl is spilling her soul. She doesn’t need to hear that. She needs to be heard and to know someone’s listening.

“But you’re not going to be her, are you?” I say. “Because last night when you were supposed to make nice with someone else, you took a stand and spent it with me—a cop with no political aspirations, no connections, and no desire to be anything but himself.” My voice lowers. I have her attention. “You have to admit, in breaking that mold we had one hell of a time.”

She takes a moment, absorbing everything I said, although I don’t think I’ve said that much. But from the look in her eyes, I think it might be enough.

She smiles softly. “Do you know you’re the only person I’ve ever been able to be myself around?”

“Good,” I tell her. “?’Cause I like who you are. If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have f*cked you like I did.”

Her stunned face locks on to mine. On a different day, I would have grinned. But just because I can be an *, that doesn’t make me an ass. She’s hurting, and after all the shit she unloaded, she probably needs a moment. So I walk away, stripping out of my shirt and making a beeline for my bedroom.

“I’m going to get a quick shower,” I say. “Watch the water in the pot so it doesn’t boil over. When I get out, I’ll make you dinner.” I stop beneath the doorframe and shoot her a glance over my shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me, because you always have been.”

I cross my bedroom floor, yanking off what remains of my clothes, and walk into my bathroom. I blast the hot water, waiting for the steam to rise before stepping in.

My hands are making quick work of lathering my chest when the bathroom door opens. Through the thick wall of hot mist, I watch Tess stroll in naked, her hips swinging with every step. She opens the glass door and shows me the condom tucked between her two fingers.

“I turned the stove off,” she says. “Do you want me to wash your back, or would you prefer I take you from the front?”





Chapter 17





Curran


Declan polishes off his sausage stew. “What’s going on with you and Contessa?” he asks me. “You barely talk to her, and she keeps her distance.”

That’s because she doesn’t want you to know what’s going on between us. “Nothing. She’s a good kid.” I take the last bite of my sandwich. Damn, it’s good.

“Did you piss her off?”

“Not lately,” I say, truthfully.

“Then what’s up? Every time you’re in the same room, there’s all this goddamn tension between you.”

“Nah. It’s just your imagination.”

My phone buzzes. I have to work not to grin when I see the text from Tess.

Thanks for dinner again, cop.

Speak of the devil in argyles and corduroy. I glance at the time. Looks like she’s on break between her Torts and Civil Liability classes.

Last night, I cooked her my specialty: Velveeta Shells and Cheese smothered with sautéed mushrooms and onions, just like I did the first night she spent at my place. I tap on the keyboard. You’re welcome. If you’d like, I can make you ravioli tomorrow night.

Ravioli? Is this another secret recipe passed down from your ancestors—like your gourmet grilled cheese?

Oh, yeah, I type. It was given to me by our great uncle, the Chef of the Boyardee.

I hit send, only to catch Declan watching me. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Who?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know who. Contessa.”

“You mean Tess? Yeah. I told you, she’s a good kid.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he tells me, pushing his empty bowl aside. “The problem is, you can’t have her.”

I roll my neck from side to side. “Why? Because she works with you?”

“No. To be honest, I’m willing to ignore that fact.”

“Is that so? Why the change of heart?”

“Because I think she might be good for you.”

This makes me grin. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Problem is, I don’t think you stand a chance at getting her.”

“I did before,” I shoot back, reaching for a leftover pickle.

“Back then you had a keg and Jell-O shots working to your advantage. That’s not the case anymore.” Declan leans back in his chair, one of his more arrogant smirks playing across his face as he swirls the glass of water in his hand. “You know what your problem is?”

I scroll through my phone. “Nope. But I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“You don’t know how to treat a lady.”

This time, it’s my turn to meet him with a cocky grin. “I don’t?”

“Nope,” he says, emphasizing the “p.”

“Is that a fact—but I take it you do, right?”

“Damn right. Curran, you may have your moves. You may get laid, but you don’t know how to treat a classy broad. A woman like Contessa—”

“Tess,” I clarify again.

His smile widens. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. A woman like Tess is used to a certain guy—refined, highly educated, and driven.”

He’s starting to piss me off. “Like you?”

“That’s right. You need to put on the charm. Open doors, shit like that.”

“Shit like how?”

His smile fades. “Don’t be an *. I’m trying to teach you something here, so pay attention.”

I show him my phone. “Oh, I’m taking copious notes, believe me. Teach me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“Women love me,” he says in the same way I ask for the time.

“Do they?”

“They do. I get dates. All the time. You know why?”

“They think you have money, and want you to be their sugar daddy.”

“No. I—”

“They lost a bet.”

“No.”

“They prefer men with small dicks.”

It’s then that Assistant District Attorney O’Brien loses his cool and nails me in the face with a roll. To his credit, he does it when no one’s looking, or because no one at Rhonda’s Bistro gives a shit.

“My dick is bigger than yours, and you goddamn know it.”

I laugh. “Says you.”

“Look,” he says, adjusting his tie. “You’re pissing me off, but I’m still going to give you some free advice.”

“You’re a hell of a guy.”

“Do you want the goddamn advice or not?”

I’m kind of curious what Declan has to say, even though it’s probably straight-up bullshit. “Sure. Let ’er rip.”

He leans back again and spreads out his hands. “Treat her like she’s a goddess.”

“Goddess?” I repeat.

“Yeah, you know, like your world isn’t the same until you see her smile, touch her skin, and breathe the same air she does.”

Holy God.

“Bring her flowers for absolutely no reason. When she asks you why, let her know it was because you missed her, and couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

And couldn’t stop thinking about her?

Declan continues like this is the greatest advice ever despite my WTF expression.

“Take her hand, interlacing your fingers with hers. Draw her close to you when it’s cold to shield her from the bitter wind.”

“Jesus, Declan.”

“You say Jesus. I say help her off with her coat, and you’ll be helping her out of her panties next.”

I nod. “Okay. Got it.” I go back to eyeing my phone, grinning when I see Tess’s reply. If I pick up her list of ingredients, she’ll make me dinner tonight. Sweet.

“You already f*cked her, didn’t you?” Declan asks, looking stunned.

He can’t see my phone, but he knows me well enough. “Oh, hell yeah. And I didn’t even have to shield her against the bitter wind.”

In fact, Tess and I have been spending every night together for the past month. The last few nights have been at my place; tonight I’ll be at hers. But that’s my business, not his. My phone buzzes. Another text, this time from Wren. “Hey, Wren wants to hit Merve’s next week for brews and wings. You want to go?”

“You think I’m full of shit.”

“Yup. So you up for it? She’s thinking either Wednesday or Thursday.”

He ignores me. “Pick a woman here. Anyone between the ages of twenty-two and forty-two, without a ring.”

I know where he’s headed, but I ask anyway. “Why?”

“I want you to watch me pick her up. By tomorrow night at the latest, her legs will be locked like a vise around my hips and she’ll be calling to God, Jesus, and anywhere from three to four disciples.” He scoffs when I laugh. “Come on. I’m serious. Pick one out and watch me work my magic.”

Declan’s always been a player. Always. Political aspirations aside, he doesn’t commit, and I’m not sure he ever will. But if he ever does, one thing I know: he’ll never cheat, and he’ll never look back. Nope. If Declan ever falls for someone, it’s going to be hard and there won’t be anything to cushion his landing.

So for now, I’ll play his game.

As a cop, even one out of serious commission, I have certain ingrained skills that will never leave me. Even though I’ve been talking, flipping through my phone, and lookin’ like I’m bored out of my mind, I’ve checked out everyone in the bistro, cased the emergency exits, eyed those wandering in, watched anyone who’s left, paid attention to who follows who into the bathroom, and kept tabs on everyone who passed by the large picture window across from us. I expect everything, and maybe nothing at all.

I do another sweep of the small room. There are lots of women here who fit Declan’s criteria. Some have given us the once-over a handful of times. Even now, one smiles my way. She’s pretty, no denying it, but I don’t really care. A fact that gives me a shitload of pause. My attention wanders to the smaller group of tables on my right. It’s there I find her: the right gal for Declan to release his mad moves on.

She’s a brunette, with thick hair that curls just below her shoulders. She walked in alone and is flipping through the pages of a paperback in between bites of her salad. She’s not Declan’s type. In a red dress with tiny white polka dots that hug her hourglass body, she’s more fifties pinup babe than the Barbie dolls Declan usually goes for. Her profile is to us, giving me only a small view of her deep red lips and creamy skin. She might be plain or she might be beautiful; the way her dark hair veils part of her face, there’s no real way to tell. That doesn’t matter, though. Declan never said anything about looks.

I motion with a tilt of my head. “Brunette, red dress. Tucked in the corner.”

Declan angles his body in her direction. He sighs, clearly uninterested. “Fine. But I thought you’d give me a challenge.”

He stands and fixes his jacket. I adjust my seat in the small booth to get a better look, but not enough that it’s obvious I’m watching the show. I chuckle when she crosses her legs and turns the page of her book just as he reaches her. Declan’s right; this girl won’t be a challenge. She seems lonely, defenseless even. Yeah. Glad we didn’t make a bet. This girl’s going down.

Probably on my brother.

“Hello, miss,” he says, keeping his deep voice quiet. “Forgive me, I don’t usually approach women this way, but you look stunning in that dress.”

“Polka dots” turns another page without so much as smiling.

Declan cocks his head, probably dumbstruck as to why this chick isn’t giving him the eye and why she’s still in her panties.

But big bro won’t be deterred. “I apologize for being so forward. But my position as assistant district attorney doesn’t allow me time to meet many women, especially one as lovely as yourself. Would you mind if joined you?”

Holy Mother. He went for the kill and threw in the DA card to seal the deal. Declan’s not messing around.

The chick sighs and turns another page. I straighten. She still hasn’t even glanced up. Declan makes a motion with his hand like, “Don’t worry. I got this,” and lowers himself into the seat opposite her. He chuckles when the woman lifts her chin and finally acknowledges him. He holds his smile, showing off his perfect teeth. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in a red dress,” he tells her.

She knits her brows.

He laughs again. “Come on, you’re not deaf, are you? I’m trying to tell you you’re beautiful.”

She drops her book and stiffens, using her hands to sign. The term is “hearing impaired,” *, she snaps.

It’s then that Declan pales whiter than my ass. Before his mouth pops open and his face turns a serious shade of red. “Miss, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

The woman rummages through her purse and throws down a twenty. “Save it for someone who’ll actually swallow your bullshit, loser.”

She doesn’t bother signing this time—her hands are too busy snagging her book, purse, and coat. She stomps past me, fire practically shooting out of her heels.

Contrary to popular belief, I’m a sensitive and classy guy. So I wait for her to storm out of the bistro and cross the street, and for Declan to plop down in front of me, before laughing my ass off—at him.

“That’s not funny,” he growls.

“Holy shit, you went down in flames.”

“Shut up, Curran.”

“I mean like a fighter plane doused in gasoline, shot with a bazooka, into a burning field.”

“Are you done?” he asks.

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “No, dickless. Did it ever occur to you that she might actually be deaf? I mean, come on, Declan. Didn’t you learn anything from all those sensitivity classes you were forced to take? People have special needs—”

“No kidding—I know that. Fuck, I’m going to hell for this one.” He leans in close. “Look, I thought she was, you know, playing me. I’d never insult anyone like that, especially someone who has issues like her—”

“Issues?” I repeat, no longer laughing.

His face tightens. “Someone like her must have struggled. It can’t be easy being a non-hearing person in a hearing world.”

I throw out a hand. “Maybe if you would have started off with something more like that, you would’ve actually stood a chance at getting those legs wrapped around you.”

“I was going for charming,” he says, rubbing his face.

“No. You were going for someone you thought could hear that charm. Maybe you should have gone for sensitive. Then you would’ve had your ass spanked like you wanted to, instead of having it handed back to you.”

“Do you mind? I already feel like a big prick.”

“Well, you should.” I start to laugh again, but then back off when I see just how bad he feels. “Look. The important thing is you didn’t mean it.”

“Of course I didn’t mean it. I would never intentionally mistreat someone—especially a woman.” He curses again and glances in the direction she disappeared. “I should try to find her and apologize.”

“Nah. If it looks like you’re stalking her, it’ll only take you from * to creep and you’ll end up on some list. Trust me, if you want that promotion into Homicide, you’re better off just letting it go.”

“I don’t know,” he says, keeping his focus outside. “That was a total shit move, Curran.”

“Declan, relax. Say a few Hail Marys, donate your next paycheck to the church, and thank God that you’ll never see her again.”

He goes quiet. Real quiet, likely thinking things through. “Maybe you’re right,” he finally says. “Some things are better off left alone….”





Chapter 18





Tess


Curran flips on his right turn signal as I finish texting Declan with regard to the case file I was working on. As he makes the turn, I remind Declan to sign the documents I’d emailed earlier.

“Everything okay?” Curran asks.

“Yes. Just wrapping a few things up.” I try to keep my tone light, not wanting to give away exactly how much work I had to do in order to go out with him tonight. And I still have a few chapters to read in Administrative Law before I go to bed later.

I put my phone away and pull down the visor, fiddling with my hair in the mirror.

“Babe, you look great. Don’t sweat it.”

It’s the tenth time he’s said it, and like the first nine, I don’t believe him. “I just wish I would have dressed better.”

Curran laughs, stopping at the next light. “It’s a dive bar on a Thursday in sub-zero weather. If anything, you’re overdressed.”

I tug on my shirt, a green silk button-down. My pants are tweed, and my shoes more practical than cute. “It’s all I have,” I offer, apologetically.

“And it’s more than good enough. You look hot.” He hooks an arm over my neck and pulls me in for a kiss, but then the light turns and he has to stomp on the gas.

I pull down the visor again. My hair is so messy. Why is it so messy? Because of the crazy sex you had following your shower with Curran, I remind myself.

Okay. But considering how busy and stressed I’ve been, we both were due for some crazy sex.

I pull on the strands, trying to settle them and wishing I’d remembered to pack a blow dryer in my overnight bag.

“Why are you nervous?”

I shut the visor, conceding that my hair is a lost cause. “I’m meeting your family.”

“Yeah, for beer and wings.” His eyes glance up, checking to make sure the rookie cop watching us is still behind us. “It’s not exactly Thanksgiving.”

No, it’s not, and in a way it makes me sad. Although Curran and I commit every free moment to each other, I can’t be positive we’re actually committed. No, that’s not exactly true. I’m very committed to him, but I can’t be certain the feeling is mutual.

I sigh. Committed. That’s a funny word considering I already know I love him.

He pulls into a large lot lined with deep cracks and littered with chunks of asphalt. Most of the vehicles are trucks exactly like his with the exception of the I BRAKE FOR PUSSY and HONK IF YOU’RE HORNY bumper stickers decorating the others.

The rookie parks in the row behind us, positioning his sedan so he can see us and the front door. I don’t move, waiting for Curran to come around and help me navigate over a particularly large pothole. “Wow. The winter’s been brutal on this lot,” I say when he reaches for me.

“Oh, no, Merve’s always looks like this,” he says. “The owner is a cheap bastard, but this place has the best wings in West Philly.”

The closer we get to the front door, the more I wonder if these famous wings are worth a serious case of hepatitis. Curran wasn’t joking when he said the bar wasn’t the most modern or well-cared-for building. Old green paint peels away from the wood storefront, and the surrounding window frame is grimy with dirt and sections of rust.

He motions to the peeling paint before reaching for the door handle. “Hey, that’s the same color as your shirt. How ’bout that—you match Merve’s.”

His hold on my hand tightens when I try to bolt. “Come on, babe. There’s my brother.”

I can’t see more than his back. Merve’s loud atmosphere is lined with wall-to-wall flannel-clad bodies. Yet as I peek over Curran’s shoulder, I realize there’s no missing his brother. A titan of a man carrying two pitchers jerks his head toward the rear. Curran weaves us to the right and left, around what seems to be the open casting call for the next Deliverance movie.

His brother reaches the large booth first, where a beautiful young woman is sitting, her long, springy curls cascading down her light blue sweater and willowy frame. Curran greets his brother, the two of them clasping hands in a friendly shake before Curran leans over the table to exchange kisses with the young woman. “Hey, Sofe. How you doin’, kid?” Curran says to her.

“I’m well, Curran.” Her eyes dance my way. “How are you?”

“Good. I want you to meet someone,” he tells them. Instead of introducing us, he turns back to me. “Want to sit, babe?”

“Ah, sure.” I slip off my coat and scoot into the seat opposite them. I smile and wait for Curran to speak.

He shifts out of his heavy leather jacket and adjusts in his seat again before motioning to his brother. “Tess, this is my brother Killian, and his fiancée, Sofia. This here’s Tess.”

Both seem surprised to see me and exchange glances, but Killian is kind enough to offer me his hand. “Nice to meet you, Tess.”

Sofia smiles politely and waves. “Hi, Tess.” Both she and Killian quiet, waiting, it seems, for Curran to say more.

He doesn’t, so the three of us go back to staring at one another.

I’m searching for something to say when Killian motions to the pitchers. “Want a beer?”

“I…”

I haven’t drunk beer since college, but I don’t want to be rude, so I almost say yes. Thankfully, Sofia seems to sense my hesitation. “I don’t really drink, either,” she says. She points to the pitcher closest to her as Killian pours a beer for Curran and then one for himself. “This is Diet Coke, if you’d like some.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m not one for beer.”

Sofia returns my smile, but when she reaches for the pitcher, Killian lifts it from her grasp. “I got it, princess,” he tells her.

She leans into him when he drapes an arm around her, easily and openly accepting his warmth. Since my chatty significant other has suddenly developed a case of vocals absenti, I try to strike up a conversation. “You seem very comfortable around each other. Have you been together long?”

She glances up at him, laughing when he grins at her. “Almost three years,” she says. “We’re getting married at the end of June.”

Curran nudges me, leaning in close, but speaking loud enough for Killian and Sofia to hear. “They make it like they haven’t been together long, but don’t let them fool you. Kill’s loved Sofe since before he got pubes.”

Although the lighting is dim, I catch Sofia’s blush despite her efforts to shield her face with her small hands. Curran’s blunt remark doesn’t seem to bother Killian, but I guess he’s used to it. “We’ve known each other since we were kids,” he says, taking a moment to kiss her forehead. “We grew up together.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” I say.

As the tension lifts, Curran’s shoulders relax. It occurs to me that despite what he claimed, he’s nervous about me meeting his family. “Do you want something else to drink besides Coke?” he asks me.

I think about it. “A martini would be nice.”

He smirks and yells to the bartender pouring drinks. “Hey, Sonny. Could I get a martini over here?”

“Fuck you, Curran,” the bartender responds.

“Sonny says they’re all out of top-shelf liquor,” Curran says casually, causing Killian and Sofia to laugh out loud.

I laugh, too. “All right, cop. I get it. It’s a ridiculous request given where we are.”

Curran grins. “You sayin’ Merve’s ain’t a classy joint?”

I place my hand over his forearm. Curran tilts forward and gives me a small peck on the lips, widening my smile, and I swear I could look into his eyes forever. Yet when I return my attention to Killian and Sofia, their dumbfounded expressions cause me to blush.

“Ah, perhaps we should order,” Sofia suggests. “They’re busy tonight and I’m not sure if something’s keeping Wren and Finn.”

“Good idea,” Curran says, snagging the waitress hustling by. “Millie, can you get us next?”

“Curran, we’re down a waitress. Could you order at the bar? It’ll be ready faster, and then Sonny could bring it out.”

“Fuck you,” Sonny responds.

The waitress rolls her eyes. “Just be a dear and order, Curran. I’ll make sure it gets out to youz.”

Curran looks to us. “Wings, more beer, and nachos sound good?”

“Yeah. A few orders of pierogies, too,” Killian answers, reaching for his wallet. “I think it’s their special.”

Curran holds out a hand. “My turn. You got us last time.” To me he says, “I’ll be right back, babe. I’ll also see if Sonny can mix something up for you, okay?”

Although I nod, I almost offer to go with him, feeling nervous about being alone with his family. In the end, I realize I should try to connect with them. Curran means so much to me, and they clearly mean everything to him. Besides, they seem like good people, just a little surprised to see us together.

I wait for Curran to step out of earshot before speaking. “I take it Curran didn’t mention I was coming?”

“No,” Killian says, shaking his head. “He didn’t mention a damn thing.”

Oh. “Well, I hope it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude on your evening.”

Killian laughs. “Nah, don’t sweat it. It’s not like that.”

“We’re happy you’re here,” Sofia adds with a smile.

I start to settle when a young man with short ginger curls flops down next to me just as Curran reaches the bar.

“God damn,” he says. “You wouldn’t believe how bad traffic was uptown.” His attention drifts to me, a smile lighting his face. “Hey, sweet thing. I’m Finn. You a friend of Sofi’s?”

Killian fixes him with a hard stare. “No, she’s with Curran. This is Tess.”

“Hi,” I say, quietly.

Finn stares at my hand when I offer it, but doesn’t take it. “No, shit,” he says, sounding amused.

I pull back my hand, thinking I’m missing something obvious.

“So, I take it you do nails?” he asks me.

“Ah, no,” I reply, wondering if I misheard.

Finn carries the lean, athletic build Curran once held, versus his current broader, muscular frame. Killian is more of a mountain of bulk and power, capable of crushing anything insane enough to step in his path.

I return my focus to Sofia, seeing that she’s the most endearing and least threatening person here. And given how Finn continues to eye me with an unapologetic scrutiny, it’s clear I made the right choice. She offers me an encouraging smile before turning to address Finn. “Where’s Wren? I thought you were driving over together.”

This is the something shiny Finn needs to distract him. “She’s talking to Julian on the phone,” he answers, turning back to them.

“He’s not coming?” Killian asks as he pours him a beer.

“Nah. They broke up.” Finn takes the beer. “She said he was crying over some movie they went to see. She couldn’t take it. Says she needs someone with balls. Big ones.” He nudges me. “You know what I’m saying?”

“That’s understandable,” I agree, since I have nothing better.

Someone wolf-whistles, followed by another group of someones. A tall and sensual woman with porcelain skin and long ebony hair sashays toward us wearing thigh-high boots over jeans and a suede fringe jacket that hugs her startling figure.

“Hey, f*cktards,” Finn calls out. “Calm your shit. That’s my sister.”

“Sister?” the man circling her asks. “Well, if she’s your sister, I’d like to—”

Killian and Finn leap to their feet, their arms loose, but ready to tear him apart. Killian points at him. “Watch your mouth before you lose the few teeth you have left, *.”

The woman grins, clearly unaffected by the attention, and pats the man on the head. “Sorry, I don’t date men with small dicks.” She waves to the bar. “Hey, Sonny.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” the bartender says, actually smiling.

From the bar, Curran offers me a wink. Wow. His brothers aren’t the only ones watching out for their sister, and for that I’m grateful given Merve’s atmosphere.

She sits beside Killian. “What the hell is up with the men I date?” she asks. “None of them have any balls. Are balls too much to ask for?” It’s then she notices me. “Oh, hey. I’m Wren. You Sofi’s friend?”

I open my mouth, but Finn answers for me. “This is Tess. Get this—she’s with Curran.”

“Curran who?” Wren asks, crinkling her brow, although she knows exactly who Finn means.

“I know, right?” Finn adds, rolling his eyes.

“Be nice,” Sofia says at the sight of my stunned face.

Wren takes the beer Killian pours her and leans forward. “So I take it you do nails or massage people or something?”

Why do they keep asking me that? “No, I’m sorry. I’m not employed.”

“Ah, I get it,” Finn says. “You’re on welfare. Tough break, kid.”

I throw out a hand when they all nod like everything finally makes sense. “I’m not on welfare. I work for your other brother, Declan.”

“You his secretary?” Finn asks at the same time Wren says, “I thought you said you’re unemployed.”

“It’s an unpaid internship.” I glance around. For some reason, no one seems to understand what I’m saying. It’s as if I’m speaking another language, so I do my best to clarify. “I’m in my last semester of law school. I’m working at the district attorney’s office without pay for the experience.”

Instead of making things better, my words seem to confuse them more. “You’re in law school,” Finn repeats, like he doesn’t believe me.

“Ah, yes. I attend the University of Pennsylvania.”

“You seriously don’t do nails?” Wren asks, unable to move past this concept.

Sofia and Killian exchange another round of flabbergasted glances. Finn shakes out his hand. “Wait, wait, wait. I got this.” He looks at me. “What’s the cube root of seven hundred and twenty-nine?”

“What the f*ck, Finn?” Killian asks him.

This is clearly a test. One I’m obviously failing, but one I can’t just walk away from. I give it some thought. “Nine?” I offer.

“Sofe, is that right?” Wren asks her.

She nods slowly. “It sounds right.”

Finn whips out his phone. “Siri, what’s the cube root of seven hundred and twenty-nine?”

“Let me check on that,” Siri says.

Killian snatches the phone out of his hand. “Quit being an *.”

“The answer is nine,” Siri responds.

“Holy shit,” Finn says, grinning back at me with what appears to be newfound respect.

Heat flushes my skin, and it’s all I can do not to climb out of the booth and run. Killian leans in. “Tess, ignore these morons. You have to understand, Curran doesn’t usually bring women around.”

“And when he does, they’re not of your…caliber,” Sofia adds.

“Hell, they can’t even spell ‘caliber,’?” Finn quips.

“Neither can you, dumbass,” Wren fires back. She looks at me. “So you’re in law school?”

“Yes.”

“Ivy League, even.”

“That’s right,” I say, nodding like an imbecile.

“And you’re with Curran?”

Not after tonight. I straighten and clasp my hands together. “Yes.”

“Why?” she asks. “You’re not—what I’m saying is, you’re not—”

Finn huffs. “Psycho, money-grubbing, evil.”

Wren points at him. “What he said. You see, Curran usually dates outside his race. He’s a white Caucasian male, and his women are typically demon spawn from the planet Slut.”

My eyes widen. “So his typical companions are these, ah, fanatical, unemployed, hellish manicurists?”

“Yes,” they all answer, taking a drink.

Wren downs her beer. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot here, but you’re one hell of a breath of fresh air from what we’ve had to deal with.” She nudges Killian. “Remember crazy Miranda—the hairdresser? Do you think that * could have warned me he dumped her before I walked into her salon?” She pours herself another beer. “Freaking nutcase came after me with scissors, yelling about him having no dick. I was like, ‘Yo, you can’t be spreading rumors about my brother having no dick, seeing how you straddled that shit in the back of his car.’?”

Killian laughs. “What about Crazy Alexis? The girl with the pet monkey?”

“Or Shania?” Finn points excitedly. “Oh, remember Shania? The one who spray-painted ‘LYING PUSSY’ on your truck, thinking it was Curran’s.”

Killian’s stare turns deadly. “I’m still pissed at him for that.”

“Well, I assure you I’m not unstable,” I offer, making a face. “Nor do I own a monkey.”

“So then what are you doing with Curran?” Finn asks.

They all quiet, waiting for me to answer. “He’s sweet to me,” I tell them, honestly. “And he treats me well.”

No one moves as they seem to infer a lot more than I intended.

“How long has Curran been ‘sweet’ to you?” Wren asks, adding finger quotes over the word.

I think about it, realizing how inseparable we’ve been. “Well over a month now,” I answer.

Once more, they exchange surprised glances. Sofia is the first to smile, a flicker of recognition brightening her small features. “I know you,” she says. “My sister Lety told me about you.”

“I’m sorry,” I answer, slowly. “But I don’t know anyone named Lety.”

She laughs a little. “You may not know her by name, but I believe you know her boyfriend, Brody Quaid Moore.” She clutches Killian’s arm. “Tess is the same girl Curran was willing to throw down for at that political fundraiser. That was you, wasn’t it?” she asks, turning back to me.

I can barely speak, warmth overtaking every inch of me. “Y-yes. That was me.”

It’s then Curran finally returns, three pitchers of beer gripped in one hand and a drink for me in the other. He’s followed closely by the waitress hefting a tray packed with food. “Move over, will ya, Finnie?” he says to him.

He places the pitchers down while Finn scoots out, and immediately sits beside me. Everyone then helps spread the plates of food across the large wooden table. Everyone but me. Curran pauses when he catches sight of my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” I shrug. “Your family here was just explaining your preference for psychopathic and avenging monkey-owning manicurists who wield scissors they purchase with their welfare coupons.”

He freezes before veering at his family. “I leave you alone for fifteen f*cking seconds and this is what you tell her?”

Wren meets him in the eye, smiling. “Curran’s got a girlfriend,” she sings.

His brothers laugh, and I can’t tell who’s redder in the face, me or Curran. Sofia reaches across the table and pats my hand. “They mean well,” she assures me.

“Yeah, we do. She’s nice,” Finn tells Curran, laughing. “Not like that bitchy girl who tied you up in college….”





Chapter 19





Curran


“Available units to Stewart and Monroe. Suspect entered Old Mill Cannery. Officers O’Brien and Supreski in pursuit.”

Joey races ahead of me, cutting right. Goddamnit. What the hell are they teaching these recruits at the academy? He didn’t let me sweep first. Just charged in. I check right, then left, before springing forward and taking cover behind a stack of barrels reeking of stagnant salt water.

Joey crouches on the opposite side, behind another row of barrels. Even from where I huddle, and despite the darkness, I catch the gleam in his eyes. This rookie is raring for a fight. The first two we went to blows with hadn’t been enough to soothe his adrenalized rush. But he needs to settle down if we stand a chance of finding this perp.

I reach for my light, positioning it against my drawn weapon. “Philly PD,” I bark. “We know you’re in here. Step out with your hands up.”

Something metal hits the concrete and rolls to our far right. Joey whips around, aiming his gun and light in the direction of the sound. “Wait,” I snap when Joey lurches forward.

My guess is the perp tossed a can or something away from him—an old trick to lure us away—and I’m right. From the opposite side of the warehouse, something crashes. I prowl forward, keeping low, my gun pointed in front of me and my focus sharp.

It’s then I hear the subtle intake of pained breaths, 30 degrees to my left.

I turn toward the sound, keeping close to the barrels. My light nails the kid in the face. “Freeze. Hands where I can see them. Hands where I can see them, now!”

His wild eyes lock in my direction as his hands shoot above his head. Jesus, he looks twelve. “It’s okay, kid. It’s okay. Don’t move and keep your hands up, understand?” His head jerks toward the sound of screaming sirens. “Cover me,” I say to Joey. “I’ll cuff him.”

“I-I-I didn’t want to do this,” the kid says.

“Tell it to the judge, loser,” Joey mumbles.

“Zip it,” I tell him.

“I-I-I didn’t want to do this!” the kid stutters, this time louder. His entire body is trembling as bad as his voice, rattling the barrel pressed against his back.

The distant wails of sirens draw closer. “It’s all right, kid. No one’s going to hurt you,” I repeat, keeping my voice even. Judging by his tears, this has to be his first attempt at a felony. “Call it in, Supreski.”

“This is Officers Supreski and O’Brien. Perp located at the Old Mill Cannery on Stewart and Monroe. No need for backup.”

“Repeat, Supreski?” the dispatcher questions. It’s Gina, and she’s pissed. Like me, she’s probably figuring Joey has a lot of balls.

“Don’t tell them that,” I growl, taking over the call. “Perp located, appears to be unarmed. Immediate assistance requested.”

“I didn’t mean it—I had no choice, you hear me? I had no choice!”

“Kid’s scared shitless,” Joey says, like I’m missing something.

He’s right about the kid being scared. But a scared perp is a dangerous perp. I catch that familiar flash in his eye—the one you expect on cornered beasts. Fight or flight. I don’t want the kid to do either, or to force him to do something he’ll never be able to take back, so I keep my voice steady and my motions careful. “Easy, kid,” I say, edging closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid swears and starts bawling. He reminds me of the kids from my old neighborhood. Maybe that’s what makes me a little soft, and more than a little stupid. Any other perp would be thrown on the concrete, cuffed, and shoved in the back of my squad car.

“Just cuff him, already,” Joey mumbles, sounding annoyed.

“Shut up, and cover me,” I snap back. Joey expected more of a fight, and the adrenaline pumping through him is making him edgy. I know the feeling, and have felt it a thousand times over, but he needs to stay sharp.

“Turn around, kid. Hands against the wall.”

“I can’t go to jail!” The kid loses his shit, breaking down.

“I said turn around!” Another stupid kid from the street who ruined his life. Armed damn robbery. What a waste.

The kid shakes as he slowly turns and places his hands on the wall.

I tuck away my flashlight and house my weapon, using Joey’s light to see as I reach for my cuffs. Before I can blink, the kid snatches a gun lying on top of the barrel.

“Gun!”

I barely spit the word out. He spins out of reach and into the darkness. I dive as the first shot’s fired, the blast so loud it cuffs my ear.

Five more shots cut through the air. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. This time, I don’t hesitate. Kid or not, he wants us dead. I throw my arm out and over the old drum, shooting the kid dead center in his chest, narrowly missing his heart. He slumps to the ground, screaming.

I pounce on him and flip him over, wrenching his arm back and cuffing him. I ignore his agonized screams and yell into my radio, “Suspect shot and apprehended, need EMT at—”

A gurgling sound forces me to whip around. Through the funnel of light streaming from Joey’s discarded flashlight, I see Joey’s slumped form convulse as if seizing.

I kick the perp’s gun out of reach and bolt to Joey’s side. Blood seeps through his open wounds, his gun lying near his outstretched palm. He didn’t get one shot in. Not one. But he took at least three to the chest.

I yell into my radio, “Officer down. Repeat, officer down. Ambulance and immediate backup needed.”

The warehouse doors are kicked open, the voices of my brothers in blue and their racing footsteps echoing from all sides. I’m not alone, but it sure feels that way.

Joey’s trying to form words, words garbled from the blood oozing from his mouth.

I wrench off my jacket, bunching it and pressing it against his wounds, yelling at him to stay with me. But when I look down, Tess’s face looks up.

It’s her broken body, her blood, her eyes fading into death, her hand lifting toward my face.

“Curran!” she cries.

“Curran!”

—

“Curran!” Tess’s voice snaps me out of sleep; so does her grip on my arm.

“Oh, God,” she says, her thin arms reaching for me.

I snatch her to me, pulling her tight, breathing hard.

Her hands smooth down my back. “It’s okay. I’m all right. I’m all right,” she repeats, struggling to take a breath.

I loosen my hold on her, only because I’m afraid I’m killing her.

Killing her.

Jesus.

She died in my arms because I failed to do my job. Just like I failed Joey. My arms go numb, and I sense her and reality slip away.

“Baby, stay with me,” she whispers. “Everything is okay. You’re all right.”

No. I’m not. In my dream, Tess’s blood soaked my knees as it seeped out of the holes in her back. It painted my face red when she reached up to touch me and tell me goodbye. “No.”

“No? No what, sweetie?” she asks, keeping her voice soft.

“You weren’t all right,” I answer her.

“Curran…” She sweeps her lips over my crown. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe tell me what happened?”

Tell her what happened? Tell her how the bullets punctured her delicate skin—and how her eyes glazed over with death? How about I tell her that all I did was watch, since it was all I could f*cking do?

She felt heavy in my arms. Dead weight? Is that what they call it?

My eyes sting as I grip her hips, but it’s Tess who cries. “Baby, tell me how to help you.”

Her heart breaks right then and there as I hold her. She wants to help; she just doesn’t know how.

But I do.

I place her on her back and bend to kiss her eyelids. “Don’t cry,” I tell her. “Please don’t cry.” I pass my thumbs beneath her eyes, wiping the tears moistening her cheeks as my lips press against her forehead, her nose, her chin.

I wait for her to settle, then slide my hand down the center of her chest before returning to knead each breast. Tess covers my hand with hers on my second pass, keeping it in place. “I don’t want to be just someone you have sex with,” she says. “I want to help.”

“This helps,” I tell her, truthfully.

She seems sad, like she doesn’t understand, so I do my best to explain. “I’m not good with words. But when I’m with you, I don’t need them. I only need to know you’re here, and real, and safe.”

Slowly, Tess drops her hand away. “This will help you?” she asks.

I nod, feeling myself get hard. “Yeah. It will.”

She shifts her body and lets her legs fall open. “Then let me help you.”

I lower myself on top of her and find her lips with mine. My fingers drag down her body. Against her soft skin, my world is less harsh. In her breaths, I find the air to fill my lungs, and in her warmth, the coldness fades, and I become alive.

There isn’t time to play.

I need her, and everything she gives me.

Jesus, my body is starved for her.

I reach between us and push inside of her, causing her spine to bow and a gasp to break our kiss. I cup her face, locking on to her sea-glass eyes as my hips withdraw and plunge.

Back. Thrust.

Back. Thrust.

Back. Thrust.

My eyes drill into hers and my hips pound. Her fingers clench my shoulders as the heat between her legs builds, slicking me, inviting me to go faster. I tilt her head forward, bringing her face and that expression of shock mixed with lust closer to mine.

This is good. So good. And just what I need.

My arm slinks behind her to tilt her pelvis, giving me access to that perfect spot. She whimpers, letting me know I found it. And when her whimpers grow more desperate, I know she’s peaking.

It’s exactly what I need to hear. That, and maybe a little more.

“Are you going to come for me?” I ask, breathing hard.

Her response releases in a long moan. “Yes.”

“Then come for me now,” I gasp. “I need to feel you come.”

Her expression breaks and tears stream down her face. Her eyes squeeze shut and she thrashes, her body losing control as she cries out my name.

I slow my rhythm but drive in deeper, prolonging her experience, and mine.

God, she’s everything.

My hips grind against hers as I fill her. I kiss her lips, taking my time before pulling out.

Carefully, I edge down and lower my head between her breasts. Her heart pounds against my ear, proof that she didn’t die, that I haven’t lost her, and that she’s mine.

If I let myself, I’ll fall asleep and stay this way until morning. I’m sure of it. But I need to keep hearing that heartbeat.

When it finally slows, I feel her fingers skim through my hair.

“Tell me about your dream,” she says.





Chapter 20





Curran


“Please tell me,” Tess says, again. “By the way you lashed out, and the way you were yelling, it must have been horrible.”

My knuckles brush along the curve of her waist. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It was too much” is all I can say.

“Because it involved me?” She swallows hard when I don’t answer. “It’s okay if it did.”

“No, it’s not.” I stare at the pile of law books stacked on her dresser without really seeing them. “I can’t lose you, Tess,” I admit. We’ve been together for more than two months now, and while it doesn’t seem like a long time, I can’t picture her and me not being together.

Her hands splay along my shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You did in my dream.”

Her hands stop moving. “It was just a dream.”

I shake my head against her skin. “No. It played out like the night Joey was shot. Only this time, you took his place. You took those bullets. I failed you, and because of it you died in my arms.”

My words should freak her out—hell, they freak me out. But I couldn’t stop them from shooting out of my mouth.

Shooting? I huff. Nice.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“I am, too.”

Her voice remains calm as she strokes my hair. “Curran…I think you have PTSD.”

“I know what I have, Tess.” I’m not yelling at her, but I am yelling at myself. Mostly because there isn’t shit I can do to stop it. My frustration is, I should be able to stop it—turn it off like a switch or something. I’m better than this. Damnit, I know I am.

If she’s mad or hurt about the way I snapped, she doesn’t show it, keeping her motions and her voice gentle. “If you know what you have, then you also know you need professional help to overcome it.”

I adjust my weight against her. “No. I can’t. It’s not in me.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nor is it a sign of weakness. It can happen to anyone despite their strengths and preparation. Look at all the vets coming back from war, the firefighters who lived through 9/11…and your brothers and sisters in law enforcement. All of you deal with events that require physical and emotional strength beyond what most will ever face. But none of you are immune to the trauma your duties subject you to.”

“Tess, I get it. But you’re talking like a civilian from the outside looking in. I’m talking like a cop, and cops don’t talk. We keep it inside. It’s the only way to function given the amount of shit we see.”

“But you’re not functioning, Curran—not as well as you could be.” She releases a small breath. “I think that by trying to bury your pain instead of dealing with it, you’re spiraling into a very dark place.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not trying to insult you,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “Or make you angry. But I am telling you that I’m scared. These dreams are getting worse. I couldn’t wake you. You were screaming my name and begging me not to leave, and there was nothing I could do to bring you out of it.”

“Sorry” is all I can say.

“Curran…”

“Let’s just lie here, okay?”

“No. Please don’t pull away from me.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“That may not be your intention, but it’s what you’re doing—”

“I hesitated.”

Her fingers curl against my skin before sliding to rest against my shoulders. “What?”

I steal a glance her way. As much as she’s trying to hide it, I recognize the surprise in her face. She knows where I’m headed, and maybe she doesn’t like it. But for all I said about not talking, my mouth keeps going anyway.

“I hesitated,” I repeat. “That day with Joey, I held back.”

It’s a hard thing to admit for many reasons. Growing up, we were all talented in one way or another. And even though we made Ma proud, she’d remind us that our strengths and smarts wouldn’t always be enough to save us. You’re going to make mistakes, she’d tell us. It’s all part of being human. Man, was she ever right.

“I can shoot,” I say aloud. “Better than anyone on the force ever has. I see my target, I aim, I pull the trigger, and it’s game over. It wasn’t anything I ever needed to master. Once the basics were explained, it came naturally, like something I was born to do.”

Aim was always my thing. I rarely missed a basket when I played ball, constantly got the crumpled piece of paper in the garbage can, and won a lot of those ugly stuffed bears by tossing the rings or knocking down pins. “Some people called it a gift,” I mutter against her skin. “They said the same of how I followed my instincts. But I didn’t use either when they mattered.”

She waits for me to say more. But I’ve already said enough. I hope she’ll let it go. Instead she continues, pushing me more than I’m ready for. “You told me how you were often pulled from your duties to train the recruits. I don’t know much about your line of work, Curran. But to pull someone with only a few years on the job, your superiors must have believed in you, and considered you someone special.”

She’s listening, but she doesn’t understand. “Maybe they did. I doubt they think that anymore.”

Her arms return to my neck, her hold loving—shielding even—like she feels my pain, and maybe hurts for me, too. I don’t want her pity, but her compassion is maybe something I need. So when she asks the next question, it throws me for a loop. “Why did you hesitate?”

Right to the point. She’s not messing around. My mind wraps around the moment me and Joey found the perp—when I shone the light in his face and saw how scared and young he was. “He was just a kid,” I say, exactly like I did that night. “Another little punk on his way to prison for a stupid decision he can never take back.”

Tess’s voice softens in a way that tells me she’s ready to cry. “You felt sorry for him. That’s not a bad thing.”

“It is in my line of work. Kid or not, I should’ve had him on the ground the moment we cornered him.”

“So why didn’t you?” The kindness in her voice doesn’t match her point-blank question. When I don’t answer, she says, “Curran, I don’t know you as well as I want to. But I know your heart. If you didn’t throw that boy to the ground, you must have had a reason.”

I clutch her tight, reacting to the way her words punch me hard. It’s not just what she says about us—about not knowing me like she wants to—it’s about how she does seem to know me, despite how much I’ve held back.

“I didn’t want to be that cop,” I admit. “The one who uses excessive force, the one the media bashes for taking a step too far. I wanted to do right by him, no matter what crime he committed. Mostly, though, I didn’t want a dead kid on my conscience.”

I take a moment to feel the way I fit against her, and how her kindness seems to seep through her with each of her tender strokes. But then I continue, sensing the heaviness that’s followed me since that night. “The thing is, there’s a reason cops sometimes go too far. Kids or not, these perps don’t want to get caught. They get desperate, and do shit they probably think they never would….” My voice trails. “Like shoot a cop.”

The hollowness in my tone swallows us whole, leaving only the sounds of our breaths and the gentle thud of Tess’s heartbeat until I speak again. “His age, how scared he was—it shouldn’t have mattered, Tess. I should have had him down and cuffed. Instead I approached him slowly, trying to give him the chance he never gave us.”

She lets me lie there for a beat, allowing me to lose myself in my thoughts. “He was just a kid,” I repeat. “But then Joey is, too. And now he’ll never walk.”

“You’re afraid you’re going to hesitate again, aren’t you?”

I’m ready to deny it. Instead I say, “Can you f*cking blame me?”

“No.”

“Well, you might be the only one.” I practically snarl the next few words. “The captain flat out told me he thinks I lost my nerve. This assignment—guarding you—is supposed to give me time to get it back.”

“I don’t think time is what you need.”

“You’re right. I need to get my shit together and get back on the job.”

Her fingers spread along my shoulder blades. “I think you need more than that.”

“Don’t tell me I need a shrink, Tess. That’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Curran, you just told me a great deal. For someone as guarded as you, it speaks volumes. But as much as I’m here to listen, I’m incapable of helping you. You need to see a therapist.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking if you want to,” she says. “I’m telling you, this is what you need.”

I mutter a curse. She’s getting that lawyer voice of hers—the one that tells me I’m in for a fight, and that I’d better give in ’cause she’s not backing down. I don’t want to fight with her. But where she’s determined, I’m stubborn as all hell. “I’m not doing that shit. Look…I was mandated to meet with someone after it happened and the guy was a total douche.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a good fit.”

“And maybe I’m just not cut out for it. I met with the shrink, told him what he wanted to hear, and he cleared me. I did my part.”

“No you didn’t, Curran. No therapist in the world, no matter how gifted, can help you if you don’t open up.”

“I’ll just deal with it,” I mumble.

“Given the frequency of your nightmares and their escalating intensity, your strategy of burying your head in the sand—with the hope your trauma simply vanishes—is neither helpful, plausible, nor productive. You need professional intervention, cop. And you need it soon.”

Based on her SAT vocabulary, now I know she’s pissed. I groan. This is what I get for dating a smart chick.

I breathe against her skin. God, I’m tired. “Am I wrong for trying to choose another way?”

“Curran…”

“Tess, if one thing I know, I’ll fall, but I’ll grow.”

“I know you’re—” She tenses beneath me. “Wait a minute. Did you just quote song lyrics?”

Damn. She caught me. “I told you, I’m not good with words.”

Her body trembles beneath mine when she laughs. I lift my chin and plant a kiss between her breasts. “This is all the therapy I need,” I tell her. “You, here with me.”

“I wish I were enough,” she adds, quietly.

“You are.”

She shakes her head. “If I were, your guilt and anger wouldn’t manifest in your dreams like this. Curran, your trauma is worsening.”

She’s scared. I can sense it in her voice. And while I don’t like hearing what she has to say, I know she’s right. “Look, I mean it when I say I can’t see a shrink.” I let out a long breath, not sure why I’m yapping as much as I am. “But there’s something Lu’s been bitchin’ at me to try. I’ve been thinking about doing it, if only to shut her up.”

Her finger trails over my temple. “What is it?”

“There’s a peer counseling group that meets twice a week. It’s not therapy—at least not the sitting-on-the-couch, pouring-my-heart-out kind of shit—just a bunch of retired vets from the force who listen to you, and tell you what they’ve seen.”

“Like an emotional sharing network?”

I frown. “Don’t * it up for me.”

She laughs, but I keep going. “It’s cops talking to other cops. I don’t know—given my choices, maybe it’s not so bad.”

Her smile softens. “I think this could be exactly what you need,” she says. “But if it’s not enough, I need you to be honest with me, and yourself.”

“But it’s a start, right?”

“It is,” she agrees.

“Then what’s up? You look like I stole your favorite pair of argyles.”

Her finger stops along my jaw, and an odd expression plays across her face like I hurt her. Really hurt her. Damn, what did I say?

She averts her gaze and takes a breath, obviously needing a moment. When she faces me again she seems on the brink of tears. “Curran, I don’t know how you feel about me, and I’m not asking. But I’m to the point where I can’t picture my life without you.”

What she says then—about the future—is exactly what I’ve been thinking. Hell, I think about it all the time, seeing how we’ve all but moved in together. But the hurt in her features warns me that something’s wrong. “That’s supposed to be a good thing, isn’t it?”

A tear dribbles down her cheek. “Not if I have to walk away. But I will if you don’t get the help you need.”

My voice grows an edge as I lift off her. “Are you threatening to break up with me if I don’t do what you ask?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not meant as a threat, Curran. I’m only trying to be honest. I’ve spent the first part of my life being miserable. I don’t want to spend the remainder the same way.” Her voice trembles. “But I can’t be happy if you’re not. So go to counseling, and get the help you need, so we can be happy together.”





Chapter 21





Curran


As much as I told Tess I was willing to give peer counseling a shot, I never expected it to be what it is. The first group session, following a brief introduction, I just sat there, steeling myself to be tested and judged. I was the new guy, right? I had to prove myself—just like I did in the academy, and just like I’d done on the force. But it wasn’t like that. All focus quickly left me. Those who weren’t directly looking at the group leaders were drilling holes into the floor with their stares.

David, a retired cop who served thirty-two years on the force, started us off. “Me and Thomas are leading tonight. Shit gets too rough, you stop. All’s there is to it. You don’t have anything good to say, get the f*ck out. No one needs to hear it.”

Some people nodded like they understood or simply agreed. Others like me barely moved as David’s gaze swept around the circle. I didn’t expect anyone to understand me. Yeah, I mean I know they’ve seen and done shit they regret. But they’re good men, good cops. They don’t know the f*cked-up emotions striking me like a pickax through my skull. They don’t feel what I feel when I crawl into bed with Tess and hold her against me—the fear that comes that millisecond before I give in to sleep, wondering what my subconscious is going to do to me this time. Or when I wake, what will trigger my guilt or shame. No way. As much as they hurt, they aren’t me.

Holy shit, didn’t I get an earful and a real eye-opening.

“You okay?” Tess asked afterward.

I didn’t tell her how I wasn’t sure how I made it to her place. Didn’t admit how I don’t remember the drive. I slipped into my truck and then there I was, knocking on her door. For as much as I tried to set my “cop face” in place, I couldn’t manage. “Baby,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around my neck. My hands clutched her hips, then slid to her back as my head fell against her shoulder. Jesus help me, I thought I’d never let her go.

Did group get easier? Hell, no. But one thing it showed me was that I didn’t stand alone in my mistakes, my guilt, and yeah, my pain, too.

Tonight was a rough one. I pat Levon’s shoulder as I step past him. He nods once, his way of giving me the pass to leave. I think I should stay, but everything in his sunken eyes tells me he’s done talking and needs room to breathe.

This shit’s f*cked up. All of it. And I’m not sure how long he’s going to keep it together, or if more of us won’t follow him down the same path.

I stomp down the stone steps of the church. A few of the boys loiter behind—including Arnie and Malik, the two retirees who had led tonight’s group. They stand close to Levon, but not too close, giving him the kind of space I think he needs and I’m not so sure I’m capable of.

Levon had finally shared, and that shit tore him in half. But how do you get over shooting a baby when the bullet was meant for his piece-of-shit dad gunning for you? You don’t. And you never will.

This is the ugly side of law enforcement the media never mentions, and one critics turn a blind eye to, the one no politician runs to point out. They don’t have to, I guess. They have that luxury. Levon, and others like us, never will. We relive our sins with each passing day.

I rub my eyes as my head continues to pound from everything I heard and felt. A part of Levon died that day, with that baby, with the realization he couldn’t bring her back. It’s obvious from the way he carries himself, and how his eyes beg for a quick death. It’s the one way he’s certain he’ll find his peace—he said it himself, which is why he’s being monitored so closely.

I want to shake him—to do something. Those cops Lu talked about blowing their heads off in the basement. Levon has that potential. If he doesn’t get it together, this may be the last time I see him. I told him as much during group—so did the other boys. But words don’t mean much to him. Not the way his mind is messing with him, and not with those crying babies he says he hears at night.

I glance over my shoulder. Arnie and Malik flank him, speaking quietly, trying to hold his focus. They’re good that way. But they’re not good enough to stop Levon if he wants to die bad enough. For the sake of his wife and kids, I hope Levon has the guts to hang on.

I cut through a small garden, the one dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Like I told Tess, I’m not a good Catholic, but I cling to the rituals I was taught. I kneel down in front of the statue and pray for Levon and his family.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit,” I mumble, crossing myself. I bound down the steps in time to see Joey, his long arms forcing the wheels of his chair along the walkway.

My stomach bottoms out, and I freeze. For all I think I need my cop face now, it doesn’t come. Every muscle on me tightens, the same way they do when I see a fist swing my way and know it’s a blow I can’t avoid.

I know he sees me, but his focus is so fixed ahead, I think for sure he’ll roll right past me, like he did during the trial. Instead he stops directly in front of me. “Hey, Joey,” I say.

He blinks up at me, his jaw set tight. “Hey, O’Brien.”

Neither of us says anything for what has to be the longest damn minute of my life. “You here for the group?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Been coming long?”

I try to shrug, but can’t manage. “A couple of weeks.”

“This here’s my first time.” His voice is hollow. Kind of like mine. “The sarge told me it might help. I don’t know, but what the hell. Got nothing else to do tonight but piss through a straw, right?”

It’s a kick to the nuts I don’t need. “Sorry” is all I say, but I feel it down to my gut.

Joey stares straight ahead, then angles his chair and keeps going, up the ramp as fast as his chair can take him.





Chapter 22





Tess


I flip through my Torts notes, trying to make a dent in my class work now that I finished emailing Declan all the documents he needed and wrapping up my phone call with the judge’s clerk. Good Lord, the Montenegro case has been brutal, and my law school work just as demanding. If it weren’t for Curran, I’m not sure I’d know anything but stress.

I miss him. Since he started attending his peer counseling group on a regular basis, his superiors have allowed him to return to the station one shift a week. It’s desk duty, which he gripes about, but it’s a step forward.

While I’m happy he’s moving toward something positive, it’s hard being away from him. The other police guards I have are nice. But they’re not him. They’re not who I love.

My fingers idle on the keyboard. As much as I think counseling has been good for him, I’m not blind to how hard it is. The stories his peers share have a profound effect. For a time, Curran’s nightmares worsened. I worried he’d stop attending, but he hasn’t, demonstrating his commitment to his well-being and our future.

The first night he shared his experiences was the hardest for him. I met his shattered expression at the door, saying nothing, only reaching for him. Although he was emotionally battered, it was the first time in months he seemed to sleep peacefully.

Curran’s progress remains slow. He continues to wrestle with his regrets and the uncertainty of whether he can be the cop he once was—the one who won’t hesitate, and the one his fellow officers can depend on. But each session he attends reinforces that he’s not alone.

A sharp rap to the door jerks me back to reality. “Contessa.”

Oh, God.

I barely manage to push away from my dining room table before he knocks again.

“Contessa. I know you’re in there.”

I mutter a few curses as I stomp toward the door and wrench it open. “What took you?” he demands. “I haven’t all day.”

My jaw tightens. “I was working—”

“Is that what you call entertaining men I haven’t approved of?” he asks, scowling.

His bluntness and accusation cement me where I stand. Panic overtakes me as he storms past me, appearing to take everything in and searching for something to throw in my face.

“Farrington Blake phoned me. You remember Farrington?”

He’s not asking me, although I do remember that idiot. My grip on the door handle tightens. Any other woman wouldn’t cower. She would face him and remind him that he’s asking questions that are none of his damn business. A braver person would ask him to leave and not return until he learned how to treat someone like a human being. And a stronger person wouldn’t put up with such disrespect.

But when it comes to my father, I’m not brave, or strong, or grown. I remain that fearful child battered by his words, terrified he’ll hit me, and reduced to nothing.

My mother’s voice rings in my head. Don’t cry. You’ll make your father mad, it tells me.

I don’t want to think about her, or what she did to herself because of him, or that she left me when she left him and never looked back. So I think about my father, because he’s here, and awful, and hurtful. Just as he’s always been.

Get out, I want to say. You ruined me. Get the f*ck out of my home.

“Farrington Blake,” Father repeats, growing more irate. “My former investment partner.”

But this isn’t your home, I remind myself. And he’s the one who can kick you out. Sweat slicks my palms. Two months. You’re free in two months.

“I asked you a question, Contessa.”

Two more months.

“Are you that dense?”

Just two more.

“Contessa.”

Jesus. Two months seems like an eternity. I shut the door, not bothering to flick the deadbolt. “What do you want?”

His hideous scowl, the one that ages him, deepens at my words. My tone is feeble, but hits him as if I shouted. “How dare you?”

“How dare I what?” I slap my hands against my sides. “Question your behavior? There’s clearly something you want, or need, or desire. Tell me what it is, but don’t treat me this way.”

He storms up to me, his fury darkening his complexion. “Do you remember Farrington or not?!”

I want to tear my hair out. “Yes. What about him?” I mean to scream, but his looming presence has me shrinking away.

Although he’s angry, a certain satisfaction plagues his sharp features. He enjoys watching me squirm, and it makes me sick. “He saw you last night, stumbling intoxicated out of some pub downtown,” he accuses. “He said you were clinging to a man, barely able to keep your feet under you.”

I blink back at him, stunned. “I wasn’t drunk. I was laughing and—”

“That’s not what it looked like to Farrington—nor to the other investors in Spencer’s campaign he’d been dining with.”

Like I give a damn what those men think of me.

“Who is he, Contessa? Who is this man you chose to parade before my associates and embarrass me with?”

Father and his “associates” are everywhere. Even when he isn’t with me, there’s no escape from his presence. My mouth tightens. Curran is the one thing I have that’s all mine. Our relationship is sacred—no, he’s sacred. I don’t want my father to know anything about us.

Yet as I take in his anger, and sense my own flare, I know I may no longer have a choice.

“Was it that police officer—the one who watches you?” He scoffs when I keep my mouth closed. “Will you bed the trash collector next? Or is he too good for a woman of your repute?”

My breaths release in painful bursts, and my body turns unbearably rigid. I can’t take his verbal thrashing. But I also can’t stay quiet. “His name is Curran. He’s Declan O’Brien’s brother.” Father straightens. “He makes me happy,” I admit, my voice shaking. “And he makes me laugh. Last night, he made me laugh so hard I could barely walk.”

“Declan O’Brien has a brother?”

He doesn’t care what Curran means to me, and he still doesn’t appear to remember him. His thoughts fixate on something else, not that it should surprise me.

My happiness doesn’t matter to my father. It never has. “He has several brothers,” I answer. “All professionals who have invested wisely.”

Oh, look. He’s not impressed. The distaste puckering his lips makes that clear enough. “But aside from Declan, none are known, have sought prominence, or engaged among the elite. None. Correct?” he points out.

Curran’s brothers Killian and Finn are well known in the mixed martial arts circuit, but that won’t impress someone like my father. “No,” I answer, quietly.

His face twists, in that same way it did the last time he beat me and called me worthless. “You’re such a fool,” he tells me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the blood coursing through my veins pulsing hard against my ears. I should be used to his cruelty. But my father’s words never fail to claw at my soul.

He circles me, like I’m his prey, probably because I am. After all, he’s spent years making me so. “The future king well within your grasp, Contessa, and you choose to bed the court jester, simply because he makes you laugh.” He walks away then, speaking with each controlled step. “Consider your last semester of law school unpaid—and consider it a charitable punishment. I tire of your incompetence.”

I startle when the door slams shut behind him, the sudden movement causing the room to spin and nausea to engulf me. I race into my bedroom and into the bathroom, throwing the lid to the toilet open as I fall into an awkward crouch.

I’m sure I’m going to be sick, the pain crawling from my stomach and to my throat burning like liquid fire. But despite the agony, I can’t escape my father’s judgment or his words.

It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve worked, or what I’ve achieved. To him, I’m nothing more than a drunken slut, far too inept to ever evolve into more.

The pain increases as his cruelty consumes me. I don’t want to be so weak. But when it comes to my father, I always have been.

Tears drip from my chin. How is it possible for him to defeat me with only words? Wasn’t he supposed to be the first man to love me?

The pain takes its time to dissolve until I’m finally able to stand and wash my hands. Slowly I walk out to my bedroom and lower myself to the edge of the bed. I glance down, realizing for the first time how hard I’m trembling.

I stare at my shaking hands. This time, misery doesn’t cause my tears. But hate does.

I hate my father.

It should hurt to think it, and I should feel some guilt. Yet all I feel is numb.

There are women who worship their fathers. Women who seek their advice. Women who easily express affection to the men who gave them life.

I was forced to worship.

I was told to idolize.

I sought advice to pacify him.

And I was expected to show affection.

But I never meant any of it.

One memory. I rack my mind for one moment that would hint at a true gesture of love or kindness. I find nothing.

I hate him. But I realize then that perhaps he hates me, too.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, only that it’s long enough for my trembling to subside and for darkness to claim the room. I finally stand and return to the bathroom, stopping short when I see my reflection.

My mouth falls open. Am I really this pale, or is this how my interactions with my father leave me—an apparition of what I could be?

I startle again when someone knocks, two beats followed by one, then two.

Curran has arrived.





Chapter 23





Tess


I rush to open my cosmetics drawer when Curran knocks again. “Baby, you in there?”

I pass some blush powder over my cheeks. “I’m coming. I’m in the bathroom.” My fingers make quick work of fluffing my hair and adjusting my glasses before I all but run to open the door.

Curran crosses the threshold with a bag of groceries tucked under his arm. His smile isn’t forced. Not like mine. “Hey, angel face.”

“Hey, cop.”

As soon as I lock the door, he pulls me into a one-arm hug and kisses me, but when he pulls back, he’s frowning. “You okay?”

I step back, glancing around nervously. “Yes. Just tired. Long day of reading and research.”

He watches me for a beat, his attention traveling to the dining room, where my laptop is open and my books and notes are spread out. Yet despite my “evidence,” it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. I rub his shoulder. “But it’s better now that you’re here,” I say. And because I mean that so much, it helps me smile for real this time, helping us both to relax.

When his smile meets mine, I take his hand and lead him into the kitchen. “So, what magnificent feast do you have in store for me tonight?”

“Spaghetti. With my secret sauce.”

“Ketchup?” I offer.

He laughs and places the bag on the counter before stripping out of his jacket. “It’s actually made with roasted vegetables. It won’t take long once they’re done cooking.”

I stand behind him and circle his waist with my arms before kissing the spot behind his ears. “Mmm. Sounds awesome.”

“It’s not all wild sex and movie star looks, babe. I got mad skills you’ve never even dreamed of.”

“Really?” I nuzzle his neck. “I can’t wait to see them.”

“Yeah?” He turns his head to meet my face. “Well, what say we get these groceries unpacked and I’ll show you while the veggies cook.”

My body warms at the sizzle in his eyes. I release him, grinning, and step toward the paper bag perched on the counter. When I reach in, I expect to find only food. Instead my fingers latch on to the thick string of a small gift bag.

He shrugs when I glance back at him. “It’s no big deal. I saw it, and thought of you.”

“That’s so sweet, babe.” I push aside the green tissue paper, touched by the gesture. But when I pull out a pair of pink and navy argyle socks, my heart falls to the floor.

“I know you like those things, and I figured you can never have enough, right?”

His voice trails when he sees my face.

My father’s appearance had left me raw. And while Curran had managed to lift my spirits, these ridiculous socks and their significance cause me to lose my composure.

“Tess…what’s wrong?”

I back away when he reaches for me, batting my hands and trying to shake off my reaction. “What’s wrong?” he asks again. This time, he clasps my wrists and doesn’t let go.

“Christ,” he says, pulling me to him to cup my face. “What is it? Did something happen—did someone hurt you?”

“It-it’s nothing,” I insist, even though by now I’m crying.

A fierceness I’ve never seen spreads across his features, hardening them to steel. “Tell me what’s happening,” he says through clenched teeth.

My face meets his, that awful feeling of hate returning. “I don’t like the socks.”

It’s an asinine thing to say, and at first he seems confused, until he realizes I mean a lot more. “Why?”

I release a shaky breath. For all I didn’t want him to know, there’s no going back now. “Because I’m forced to wear them,” I admit.

“How are you forced to…Jesus,” he says, when he notices my worsening state. “Is this about your dad?”

I don’t want to answer, but manage to nod.

“He…dresses you? Picks out your clothes? Is that what you’re saying?”

Again, all I do is nod.

“Does he…” Curran drops his arms away, swallowing hard, his rage brewing close to the surface. “Does he put his hands on you?”

“No. Not like you think. What he does isn’t physical.”

“Then how does he force you, and why do you let him?”

My lips part. Curran’s harsh tone borders on accusing. “It’s not easy to explain.”

“Maybe not. But you need to tell me, and you need to tell me right now.”

There’s no getting out of this. And while I hate that I’ve kept so much from him, it doesn’t make it any easier to speak. I cross my arms and walk into the living room.

Curran follows, lowering himself beside me when I take a seat on the couch. He waits, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I only hope I can form them into words he’ll understand.

“I have nothing,” I tell him. “I have no claim to this apartment or anything in it. My education, rent, utilities, and everything else is paid for, but it comes at a price.”

Curran doesn’t move and barely blinks. But he’s listening. The anger stirring in his irises tells me as much.

My vision blurs with the start of my tears, and from the shame and anger raking my skin. But I continue. Not because I want to, or because it’s easy, but because for the first time, I have someone to tell. “Everything from my clothes, to my furniture, to my linens is selected for me.” I rub my hands. “Do you want to know why I don’t eat much, or why my pantry is always empty?”

He doesn’t answer, but I didn’t expect him to. “Because I’m restricted to a certain amount of calories each day. So I don’t get fat. I’m getting fat, you know.” Bitterness seeps into my voice. I try to settle down by continuing to rub my hands, but of course, it does nothing. “I’m allowed six ounces of protein a day and all the kale I can stomach. Before you came along, if I didn’t portion my meals correctly, I’d starve. I can’t buy what I want because I don’t have any money. And I can’t get a paying job because then I’ll be cut off completely, everything but the clothes on my back taken, and thrown out into the street.”

Curran’s jaw tightens and his form becomes alarmingly still. “Why?” he asks barely above a growl. “Is it just about control? Or is he punishing you for something his f*cked-up mind thinks you did?”

I didn’t expect him to be so specific or for his anger to be what it is. “It’s always been about control,” I say. “Ever since I was a child, he’s had a hand in every aspect of my life—even the people I associate with.” I look at him then. “And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

Curran slowly rises, his hands balling into tight fists. “Does he hurt you? I’m serious, Tess. I need to know if he’s hitting you, grabbing you—anything. Or using words to scare you.”

I start to stand, only to sit again. This conversation is already too much, and my fragile nerves aren’t ready for it. “When I was a child, my father would repeatedly strike me and berate me to instill fear. But the last time he hit me, I was in my early teens.”

“So he doesn’t touch you?” he repeats.

I lean forward, my head throbbing. “No. He’s very careful. His control now is financial and emotional. He continues to insult me, and degrade me, but not enough to constitute abuse.”

Curran gives me his back and swears. “No grounds for a Protection from Abuse Order.”

I wipe my eyes. “No, and I’d be a fool to try for one.”

He looks at me then. “No you wouldn’t.”

The lump in my throat builds so tight I can barely get my words out. “Come on, Curran. Can you see me before a judge? Opposing counsel would rip me apart. Here I am, this grown, intelligent woman about to graduate law school who’s taken Donald Newart, respected member of the community and political legend, to court—for what? Paying my tuition, giving me a lavish apartment with furnishings, providing me with food. I can hear his attorney now. ‘My, Miss Newart, if this was such a nightmare, if living the life of a kept woman was too hard to take, why didn’t you walk away? You had the education that your father paid for. Why didn’t you work at a coffee shop or a local dry cleaner for something better? If this was so torturous, why take it?’?”

“Why did you?” Curran’s deep and vicious tone immediately silences me. “He’s an *, Tess. Why did you take his shit? You’re better than that.”

No. I’m not.

I can’t contain my quivering voice. “Because I always have. Because it’s all I’ve ever known. And because I never had a way out until now.” Tears dribble down my cheeks. “I have two more months of school and then the bar to pass. Once I get through this, I’m free.”

“Screw that. You can be free now. Walk away. Tonight. Leave now and don’t look back. You said it yourself—there’s nothing for you here.”

“I can’t.”

Curran throws out his hands. “Why the hell not? What’s stopping you?”

I stand to face him. “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t have any money, Curran. None. No line of credit, because I have no credit cards—I can’t even open a bank account.” I swerve right, then left, uselessly searching for a place to go, only to stop. “He found out about us. You know what he did to punish me? He saddled me with the tuition for my last semester of law school. Thirty thousand dollars. Where am I going to get this money?”

“You have to get a job.”

“I don’t think you’re listening. If I take a job, he’ll stick me with any outstanding bills and I’m out of a home.”

For a moment, he simply stares at me, his eyes searching every aspect of my face. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

I ease away, wanting to deny it, but realizing I can’t. “Yes.”

“Even though he hasn’t laid a hand on you in years.”

Again, his tone sounds so accusing. “This damage he’s inflicted isn’t due to one thing alone, Curran. It’s a culmination of everything he’s done and how it’s made me feel.” I sigh, frustrated. “I’m not sure I can make you understand.”

His large hands clasp my shoulders. “Try,” he tells me. “Help me understand so I can help you out of this mess.”

I hug my body, working hard not to lose it as I do my best to explain. But the truth hurts, and doesn’t come easy. “My father has spent a lifetime stripping me of my worth. I don’t dare fight it, because it’s been ingrained in me that I’m not supposed to argue, or complain, or do anything other than quietly obey.”

“You wouldn’t obey me,” Curran snaps. I still then, only for him to scoff. “Come on, Tess. If I tried telling you what to eat, how to dress, how to talk, you’d rip me a new one and throat-punch me for being a prick.”

“It’s different with you,” I stammer.

“How—”

“Because I’m not afraid of you. You’ve never hurt me!” It’s then I finally crumble. “My father may not beat me, but it doesn’t mean I’m not broken. I’ve grown up thinking there’s nothing good about me, and constantly reminded of everything that’s wrong—the way I look, the way I stand, the way I breathe—nothing is ever good enough.”

“But you’re wrong. You’re beautiful and smart and kind. The problem is, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Instead you believe everything this lowlife shoves down your throat.”

Curran is right, but his words border on blame. He doesn’t understand that the strength I need to face my father has always lurked beyond my reach. Yet it’s what he says next that turns my shame to fury. “You shouldn’t let him do that to you.”

“What?”

“I said you shouldn’t let him treat you that way—”

“God damnit!” I storm away from him, only to veer on him and lash out. “You stand here, this strong and formidable man, judging me when you’ve never been dragged by a proverbial leash—forced to do what you’re told, shoved into clothes that make you feel ugly, and obliged to eat food that makes you sick so you don’t starve.” I ram my finger out. “It’s easy for you to tell me to walk away—you’ve never been afraid, or had every layer of your being stripped until you’re reduced to a pathetic mass of flesh and bones.”

Tears pour out of me, and my shoulders tremble. Curran gathers me to him, attempting to console me with his warmth and shield me with his hold.

“You’ve always had your family, and friends, and a support system to lean on,” I tell him. “All I’ve ever had is my father dictating every aspect of my life, and a stepmother who takes his side. With the exception of college, even my friends were selected for me.” My words release in chokes. I’m not sure if Curran understands me, but I keep going. Now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

“I tried talking with an attorney a few years ago. Do you know what he said to me?” He stills and waits for me to respond. “That no one in his right mind would go against my father. ‘Suck it up,’ he said. ‘There are worse problems and real abuse in life.’?”

Curran mumbles another curse, yet as furious as he is, he manages to brush a gentle kiss against my head. “I want you to get away from him. This shit ends tonight.”

“And where would I go?”

“What do you mean?” he asks me, frowning. “You’ll go with me.”

“And substitute one man for another?”

“I’m not him! Do you really think my intent is to take the place of your piece-of-filth father?”

God, he’s so angry. “That’s not what I’m saying. But Curran, I have to stand on my own. If I can get through these next few months, I can walk away and finally be free.”

“What if he stops you?”

“He can’t,” I try to insist, despite my shaky voice. “Once I pass the boards, I’ll finally have a way to make my own money.”

“Tess, this is a sick man who has gotten off on hurting you, scaring you, and forcing you to do things against your will. Do you think that’s going to end with your graduation? If you don’t think he has another ace up his sleeve, you have another thing coming.”

His eyes sweep over my body, while his hands travel the length of my arms. “Do you see yourself?” he asks me. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? He’s killing you, baby. This man is destroying everything you are, and everything I love about you.”

He hauls me to him when I sob into my hands, his words and their truth dismantling me. “I don’t want to be like this,” I admit.

“Then don’t. Let me get you out of here. I make a good living. I have money put away. I can carry us through until you can stand on your own. Will you let me?”

I clutch the front of his shirt, knowing what I have to say, and wishing I didn’t have to. “I can’t.”

Curran’s muscles tense beneath my hold. He doesn’t move or speak, not for a long time. But when he does, his words crush me more than an avalanche of falling stones. “If that’s the case, you’re more broken than I thought, and I can’t fix you.”

He wrenches himself away from me and grabs his jacket, then marches toward the hall. Without another glance back, he throws the door open.

I call to him, but he leaves anyway, slamming the door behind him.





Chapter 24





Curran


I drive around for two hours. The cop in me is gone. The Philly boy raring for a fight? He’s front and center, looking for a way to find f*cking Newart. Bastard piece of shit. I swear I could choke him with my bare hands.

He damaged my girl, spent years reducing her to nothing, and I’m not sure there’s a way to get all of her back.

What pisses me off, though, is that Tess is right. Me storming in there, pretending to save the day, won’t save her in the end. She needs to walk away from him. I can’t make her do it. No. I owe her more than that.

I make it back to my apartment after hours of senseless driving, but can’t even put the key in the lock. She’s a mess, and I left her like that. I glare at my door for about ten seconds before I hotfoot down the back stairs and head back to her place.

It’s almost one in the morning when I reach her building. I rush out of my car, pausing only to nod toward her guard sitting in his vehicle. I knock on her door moments later. She opens it slowly, her eyes red and swollen.

Shit. I was hoping I’d wake her. It would mean she’d slept, and not stayed awake crying like she obviously had.

“Hi,” I say like a dumbass.

Tears leak from her eyes. Damn. For as much as I think her father is a supreme dick, being the one to cause those tears, I’m no better. “I’m sorry I left.” She doesn’t answer, choosing instead to wipe her cheeks. “And I’m sorry for what I said. It won’t happen again.”

Her voice shakes. “What won’t?”

“Huh?”

She struggles to speak. “What won’t happen again? What you said?”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to keep quiet about what I think of your father. It’s wrong what he’s doing, and barely on the side of the law. But I was wrong, too. I shouldn’t have left you. Not like you were.”

She presses her lips and backs away into the apartment. “Do you want to come in?”

“I really do,” I answer, meaning it down to my gut.

Aw, hell. That only makes her cry harder.

I shut the door behind me, flipping the deadbolt and pulling her against me. “Baby,” I say, when she falls into my arms. “Don’t cry.” She cries harder. “Okay…I guess you can if you want.”

Her shoulders shake. It takes me a sec to realize she’s laughing even through her misery. “Thank you,” she mumbles.

I lead her to the bedroom and strip down to my shorts. She removes her glasses and slips into bed, cuddling close when I gather her to me. “What do you want to do?” I ask.

“About my father?”

“Yeah.”

“Part of me wants to run out of here with you, but then I worry that it may be for the wrong reasons.” She lifts her head. “I want us to be together because of us. Not because my father drove me into your arms, or because you feel this need to save me.”

“What if I want you with me? Even if this shit had never gone down with your father?”

“But it did. I think you would have asked me to move in with you before tonight if you really wanted me to.”

Maybe. Maybe not. In all honesty, I’ve thought a lot about us, and about being together for the long haul.

When it comes down to it, we haven’t known each other long, not really. The last thing I want is to rush things and screw them up. What I have with Tess is special. I’ve never felt this way about any girl. Not even close. But despite our time together, there’s a lot she’s kept from me. And I don’t like it.

“Did you tell me everything? Or is there stuff you left out?” I groan when she doesn’t answer. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t want you to get angry again.”

“I’m already pissed. But I hate these damn secrets. You’ve been quiet this whole time about shit you should have told me about. Now that I know some of what’s going on, don’t you think you owe me the rest?”

“I never meant to lie to you. But this part of my life is humiliating, and not something I ever meant to share.”

“But you have.”

“Yes. I have.” I give her a moment, and then one after that before she finally speaks. “I didn’t study abroad my senior year of college.”

I frown. “Then where the hell did you go?”

“Away where I wouldn’t cause any trouble.” Her voice grows distant, like she’s remembering. “My father was livid over a low grade I received at the end of junior year. But when he found us together, it pushed him to his breaking point. I embarrassed him. So he gave me a choice: finish my senior year at an all-women’s college two thousand miles away, or watch as he expelled you.”

I jerk to a sitting position, taking her with me. “What?”

She keeps her eyes on me. “Come on, Curran. You were caught in bed with a young woman whose father was the university’s president, in her sorority house, after curfew. Did you ever wonder why nothing happened to you?”

Yeah, about a million times—especially since the skinny bastard threatened to toss me. “You took the fall for me.”

Tears wet her cheeks, but she grins anyway. “I couldn’t let him ruin you, too.”

I think she’s maybe going to say more, but I silence her with a long kiss. Back in college, school, my friends, my frat—they meant everything to me. Good times, plus the opportunity to make something of myself.

“You took the fall for me,” I repeat, realizing everything it must have cost her.

Her soft smile and voice hold me in place. “And I’d do it again.”

Yeah. She would. “So why don’t I return the favor and take care of you now?”

“No.”

“Tess, don’t be so quick to say that. Take your time. Think things through.”

She kisses my chin. “I don’t want to be taken care of, Curran. I’ve had that all my life.”

“You’ve had it in a bad way. You don’t know the good part of it. Will you let me show you and get you outta here?”

She keeps her small smile, but this time, I see all that sadness buried behind it. “I wish I could. But it’s not fair to saddle you with my problems or finances.”

“Shouldn’t it be up to me to decide what’s fair?” I ask, as I pass my hand along her back.

“Not in this case, cop. You have to admit, all these details you’ve learned about me, it changes things, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t change how I feel, or that I want to be with you. Hell, you know you’re all I ever think about.”

“I didn’t know that…but I’m glad.” Her hand lifts to stroke the stubble along my chin. “No one’s ever kissed me or touched me like you. And no one has ever made me feel this happy. You’re everything to me, Curran. I just don’t want to rush the good things between us because of the bad things in my life.”

“What if I love you?”

She stops moving. “What?”

I take a strand of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. “I said, I love you,” I repeat quietly.

Her face falls against my chest and she starts crying all over again.

“Christ, Killian warned me this would happen.” She cries some more. “Aw, baby, come on. Me lovin’ you should be a good thing.”

“It-it is-is,” she blubbers.

Being the sensitive guy I am, once more, I crack the hell up. She lifts her head and sighs, like she can’t believe I’m the jackass she’s stuck with. Of course, that only makes me laugh harder.

“Come here,” I say, kissing her hard. I haul her on top of me as I fall back in bed, pulling away just enough to grin against her mouth. “Now, tell me you love me, too.” This time, it’s her turn to laugh. “Well, you gonna keep me hanging?”

“I love you,” she says softly.

My grin widens. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she says, laughing.

My hands slide over her ass. “One more time—this time, with feeling.”

She smiles through freshly falling tears. “I love you, Curran. I love you so much.”

I kiss her again, my arms sweeping up her back and then down again, pressing her tight against me. She dips her chin to kiss my neck and straddles me, grinding against my growing bulge. I peel off her nightgown when she reaches into my shorts to play.

We spend the night fu—wait, what’s the word the chicks like? Oh, yeah, we spend the night making love. If it weren’t for her alarm, I would have slept straight into the weekend. She shoves up on her arms, her messy hair falling all around her face.

Damn, she’s killer sexy.

“Shit,” she says, slapping at her alarm to shut it off. “Damnit.”

“I can see my charm’s rubbing off on you.”

She moans and crawls back on top of me. “I have class in an hour.”

I rub my eyes. Hell, we only slept about two hours. She lies against me for another few minutes before she nips at my chin and tries to climb off me. I snag her wrist before she can go far.

She leans in and nuzzles my neck. “Later, I promise,” she murmurs.

I release her wrist and slide my arm over her waist. “That’s not it, at least not this time.”

Worry etches along her tired eyes. I think she knows what I’m going to say, but I say it anyway. “You told me things would change between us now that I know about your dad.” I wait for her nod. “Well, you’re right. I don’t want you here. And I’m not going to pretend like everything’s fine, or turn a blind eye if he starts shit.”

“I just need to get through the next few months,” she reiterates.

“No, you don’t. You’re choosing to, and you think you need to, but I’m here to tell you it’s not something you have to do.”

“Curran…”

“Hear me out. I don’t throw the word ‘love’ around. The last woman I said it to was my ma, at my cheating dad’s funeral when I was trying to tell her everything would be all right. But I said it to you, so that says something, you feel me?”

“I mean it, too,” she says, quietly.

I watch her for a beat. “So do I. And because I said it, it comes with something—a promise. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, physically or otherwise. Don’t care who he is, even if he’s your blood. So if you want to stay, then stay. I’m not going to strong-arm you because then you’re only subbing one * for another.” I sit us up then. “The minute you want out, you’re out. No questions asked. But I won’t hide in a closet if he shows up, or pretend like we’re not together. I owe you the right to choose to be here, but you owe me the same respect back as your man.”

“I know,” she says, letting her hands slide along my shoulders. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you’re less to me than who you are. It wasn’t my intention. It was just survival.”

“I get it,” I tell her, and I do. That doesn’t mean it didn’t piss me off.

After a long while, Tess’s eyes travel to the alarm clock, only to widen. “Oh, shit,” she says again. She slips out of bed, nabbing my wrist in the process. “I need to get going. Will you help me get a shower?”

My lazy grin is answer enough. Oh, yeah, I’m definitely rubbing off on her in all the right ways.





Chapter 25





Curran


For all she says she’s not ready to move in with me, there’s not a night that goes by in the weeks that follow that Tess and I don’t spend together. That doesn’t mean I haven’t missed her lately. Both of us have been ready for her to finish law school, but I had no clue what it would take for her to graduate. Last week, I gave her space to study for her finals. This week, she finally took them. But between her exam schedule and all the shit she’s had to do on the Montenegro case, I’ve barely seen her.

“You know what I think?” I ask Declan. I pull Tess onto my lap, fast enough to make her squeak and drop the law journal she’s holding on the floor.

Declan raises his chin, taking us in. “That you should behave professionally and not fondle my intern during business hours?”

Tess buries her face in her hands. “Nah. That’s not it. Besides, it’s well after six.” My hand cups her knee. Man, she’s smokin’ in that pencil skirt and silk shirt. And don’t get me started on her legs in those high heels. I gave her a shopping spree for her birthday a few weeks back, but I didn’t know it would benefit us both. My fingers skim her hip as I wonder if she has another one of those lacy thongs on. “I’m thinking you should give her the rest of the night off,” I say to Declan, so I can take her home and maybe find out what’s beneath her skirt.

Declan returns to scribbling on his pad. “That sounds like a great idea. In fact, take her on a getaway—make a long weekend out of it. My big case—you know the one I’ve been working on for months—it doesn’t start on Monday or anything.”

“Declan, come on. You’re ready—I know you are.”

“That’s not the point, Curran.” He tosses his pen aside. “Montenegro and his team are ready, too. If something comes up, I may need her help.”

“Then call her at my place. We’ll both head back here, to your apartment, or wherever you want us.” I mean to sound relaxed, but in truth, I’m worried about my girl. Her finals wore her out, and she’s still waiting on grades for three classes. Yet despite her stress and the demands of finishing law school, she’s helped Declan with all the last-minute legal shit he’s needed.

What bugs me, too, is how quiet she’s been since I arrived. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. At first I thought maybe her chicken-neck father was causing trouble. She denied it in the few seconds I managed to get her alone, but she can’t seem to meet me square in the eye.

“What’s up?” I whisper in her ear.

She shifts uncomfortably in my lap, and keeps her arms crossed in front of her. “Later, okay?” she says quietly, her attention trailing in the direction from which Declan’s eyeing us.

Tess wants me to drop things, but the worry shadowing her beautiful face tells me I shouldn’t. “You know, Deck, the reason you’re prepared is because your sexy intern here has worked her ass off—making up for all the help you could’ve gotten if you’d only asked. She’s tired—she’s had a rough week. Just give her the night off. We’ll be back tomorrow—sooner if you really need us.”

“A lot could change,” he mutters.

“Between now and the time it takes to get back to my place? Come on, weren’t you the same guy who told me yesterday that you were ready to make Montenegro and his entire family your bitches?” I frown when he doesn’t answer. “What’s changed? And why the hell are you pissed?”

Declan considers me for a beat, his face tightening. “We’ve heard that Montenegro will put hits on his attorney’s family if he loses this case,” he answers. “His attorney denies it, but if there’s any truth to it, I’m going to have a lot more to deal with than just this case.”

I hear the unease in his voice, and what goes unsaid. My hold on Tess turns protective. “More reason to put this * and his cronies away for life.”

“I know. He thinks he’s untouchable.” His voice hardens. “We’ll see how he feels when I send him to prison to rot.”

The silence grows an edge that matches my brother’s tone. If most DAs are pit bulls, Declan is a damn bull. His horns are out, ready to ram anyone in his path and toss their limp bodies aside.

His eyes cut to Tess. She’s quiet, barely moving. Like me, he senses her exhaustion and maybe something more. “Tess, you can have the rest of the night off. I’ll call if I need you.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, straightening.

For her not to argue rubs me and Deck the wrong way. We exchange glances. Yeah, something’s definitely brewing. Declan nods. “I’m sure. Besides, I think I know where I can find you.”

Her face turns that bright shade of pink I can’t get enough of. I laugh and nibble behind her ear.

Declan rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Curran, what are you, twelve? Get a damn room.”

“If I were twelve this shit would be illegal,” I fire back.

“Christ” is his response.

A knock at the door shuts us up and sends Tess scrambling off my lap. She reaches for her discarded law journal and fumbles through the pages while Declan resumes his DA pose. The annoyance eases from his face, replaced by the neutral demeanor of a consummate professional. I chuckle, seeing as I know better.

Miles Fenske’s voice booms from the other side of the door. “Declan? May I come in? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Declan sits straighter and clasps his hands in front of him. “Of course, Miles, please enter.”

Miles strolls in first…followed by the hearing-impaired lady from the bistro Declan had crashed and burned with. Both she and Declan go stone still. But where the woman’s skin heats, and her scowl fixes on my brother, Declan’s face turns the color of ash.

Miles’s patient smile fades as his attention drifts between Declan and his companion. “Ah, this is my daughter, Melissa. She’s taking over as director of the Victim Services Unit.”

It’s then I completely crack up, whipping around to face Declan. “Oh, shit. This just gets better and better.”

The color in Declan’s face returns with a vengeance, his warning glare to shut the hell up trained my way. Being who I am, I continue to laugh. Tess glances between Melissa and Declan, her obvious confusion matching the puzzled look etched into Miles’s face. “I take it you’ve met?” Miles asks.

Declan, the Wizard of Words, the Count of Couth, doesn’t have shit to say. Melissa? She says a lot, but says it with her hands, signing furiously. This is the man you wanted me to meet? The one you’re so fond of—the one you want for your replacement?

Miles signs back, attempting to keep the conversation private. But I can understand sign language well enough. Yes, Miles says in his motions. Why are you so angry?

Because he’s an *, she signs back.

My laugh draws their attention, both of them frowning at me. I smirk and sign back, He’s not so bad. His heart is good, even when his mouth is saying otherwise.

My motions are crude, seeing how I don’t practice the language much, but they seem to understand. Melissa cocks her head. I have her attention now. You understand American Sign Language? she asks.

Of course. I’m not just good looks and personality.

The tension lifts at Miles’s smile, and Melissa’s, too. He places his hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to turn so she can read his lips. “This is Declan’s brother, Curran. He’s a police officer like your grandfather.” He looks past her to me. “Melissa damaged her hearing devices and is in need of replacements. Being as busy as she is, she keeps postponing her evaluation with her audiologist.”

Melissa keeps her focus on me, choosing to sign instead of speak. I have the feeling she’s more comfortable communicating this way, but I also think she’s trying to get a handle on me. How long have you wanted to be a police officer?

Since forever, I respond.

She knits her brows, moving her hands fast. Then why not learn Spanish, since it would be more helpful in your line of work?

I already knew Spanish. I pause, trying to remember the word for “Cuban,” but end up subbing it with words I do know. I grew up in a neighborhood mixed with Spanish-speaking families. I learned a lot through them, enough to be fluent, so when I had to pick a language in college, I picked American Sign Language. I liked it enough to keep at it. I pause again. Plus, all the hot girls took American Sign Language. It helped me get dates.

Miles and Melissa laugh out loud. Dates or laid? Melissa questions.

I chuckle. She’s not shy around her old man, and her question doesn’t seem to surprise him. Maybe a little of both, I admit.

They laugh again. They like me. Declan…not so much.

“What did you just say?” he asks through clenched teeth.

I lower my hands and grin. “We’re just talking about what an * you are.”

Miles surprises me by laughing. “My apologies, Declan,” he says, trying to placate Declan’s growing resentment. “I assure you, your brother was quick to come to your defense. Melissa and I were simply surprised to find him so fluent in American Sign Language.” He gestures to his daughter. “It seems she’s quite taken by his charm.”

Declan squares his jaw. “I can see that. He’s a real pip, isn’t he?”

He means “prick,” but I’ll take the compliment. Melissa keeps her smile, and her attention, on me. It’s then Tess who steps forward and offers Melissa her hand, luring her attention, and smiling in a way that tells me she’s more than a little pissed at my charm.

“Hi, I’m Tess Newart. The law clerk assigned to help Declan.”

Melissa shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you. Please, call me Melissa.”

Her voice is slightly garbled, which tells me she’s been hearing impaired likely since birth. But she’s clear enough to understand, just like she was when she ripped into Declan at the restaurant.

Something in her genuine smile eases Tess’s annoyance; so does the wink I send Tess’s way. Melissa is one of those classic beauties: thick dark hair, brown eyes, creamy skin, soft pink lips, and one hell of a figure. But Tess is my girl, and she has nothing to worry about.

Melissa doesn’t miss the wink or our obvious connection. She smiles, although I catch a trace of disappointment before she glances away and reaches into her purse. “Here. This is for you.” She hands Tess a new smart phone. “The pass code is 2-2-2-2. Please change it to something you’ll remember. The phone number is listed in the contacts section under ‘My phone.’ You may use the phone as long as you’re part of the office, but I’ll need it returned when your assignment is done.”

“Thank you so much.”

Melissa smiles again. “No problem. Do you have the other phone? I’ll have it recycled along with our old ones.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Tess answers, reaching for her purse.

Melissa stares past Tess to where Miles and Declan are speaking quietly. “I should head back to my office, Dad. I still have a lot to catch up on.”

Miles turns his focus back on her, disappointed, but also something more. “I was hoping to steal you and Declan away for a quiet dinner.”

Melissa takes the phone Tess offers her, looking directly at Declan. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answers, her voice firm.

Miles tilts his chin. “Very well. Dinner tomorrow, then? Just you and me?”

She tears her attention away from Declan, her face softening as she takes in her old man. “Depends—are you cooking or buying?”

“Buying,” he tells her.

“In that case, yes.” She’s just slightly taller than Tess, but still has to stand on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Good night, Daddy,” she says.

Daddy? Oh, yeah, these two are tight. My attention returns to Declan in time to watch him bury his pained expression in his hands. It’s all I can do not to crack up again.

Melissa waves to me and disappears through the door. Miles crosses his arms over his chest, his typical laid-back disposition dissolving in his daughter’s absence. “Contessa, Curran, will you excuse us, please? I’d like to discuss the Montenegro case with Declan.” He pauses, his deep tone turning harsh. “Among other things,” he adds, stiffly.





Chapter 26





Tess


Curran can’t stop laughing on the drive back to his apartment. His recap of Declan and Melissa’s first encounter, and now their reunion, has him in stitches. I sit here, horrified on his brother’s behalf. “Of all people he could have insulted, it had to be Miles Fenske’s daughter.”

“I know,” he answers, continuing to laugh. “It was like karma and Murphy’s Law hooked up and decided to screw with Declan. Holy shit, can you believe his damn luck?”

“No, and—” I tug on his arm. “Will you stop laughing? It’s not funny.”

“Considering what a kiss-ass Deck is, it kind of is.”

“Curran, what he did was awful.”

“Come on, it’s not like he meant it. For all that Deck is or isn’t, he’s not cruel. He’s a good guy. Knowing him, he’ll make it up to her and be back in Miles’s good graces in no time.”

I don’t agree. “Curran, did you see how close Miles and Melissa are? Or catch her reaction upon seeing Declan again? I don’t see either forgetting the incident so easily.” I consider the way Miles regarded his daughter. He adores her in a way that’s completely foreign to me. My eyes sting. Despite my father’s abuse, I hope I can somehow become the parent I’ve always wanted…especially now that the time has come.

Curran pulls into the lot and parks, slamming the emergency brake down when he sees my face. “What’s wrong?”

I let out a breath, trying to compose myself. I’ve been a mess since this morning when the giant blue plus sign confirmed my pregnancy results. My first instinct was to phone Curran at the precinct, but this is news I couldn’t share through a call or text.

“Tess, what is it? And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong, ’cause it damn well is.”

I take another breath as I watch the oncoming guard park across from us. “Inside, okay?”

Curran throws open the door and slams it shut behind him. He hurries to my side, but I can’t wait, knowing I’m moments from breaking down. The stress of my week coupled with the news that I’m pregnant is too much.

I swing open the door and leap out, rushing past him and toward the back doors. Curran catches up to me, but he waits to speak until I hit the door to the elevator. “You’re freaking me out. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I shake my head. I mean to tell him to please wait, and to give me a moment, but I know if I speak now, I’ll only cry. He places his arm around me and kisses my head. “Baby,” he says.

His choice of words makes me clasp my mouth to hold back my sobs. Good God, I can’t believe this is happening.

Curran doesn’t say anything more until we reach his apartment and he’s shut the door tight. Despite the tears blurring my vision, I make it to the couch and sit. He lowers himself beside me. For all his distress, he keeps his voice quiet. “Is this about your dad? Did he do something to you? You need to come clean and tell me what he did.”

“It’s not about him,” I assure him. At least, not yet. But I know Father would make it about him if he knew. “It’s about me.”

“Are you sick? Jesus, don’t tell me you’re sick.”

I clutch his hand when he reaches for me. “I’m not sick, Curran.”

“Then what could be so bad? Did you get your grades?”

I nod, grateful for the momentary distraction. “I received them a few hours ago. I didn’t think my final debate went well, but my professor emailed me to tell me I received the highest score in my class.” I release a shaky breath. “In fact, I excelled in all my exams and made high honors.”

Curran’s entire face lights up before he seizes me in a tight embrace. “Holy shit.”

I cry against his chest, my fear, excitement, and shock releasing all at once. “The head of the department emailed earlier to congratulate me, and to inform me that I’m graduating in the top three percent of my class.”

“Tess, that’s awesome. I’m so proud—”

“And I’m pregnant.”

It’s as if he dies, right there against me. Curran doesn’t move, nor does he breathe.

The burden of my secret releases every emotion burning its way into my heart. I don’t have a best friend to confide in, or a mother to speak to. The only person I have is Curran.

I wait for words of comfort that never come, or possibly even disappointment and anger. But in the silence-filled minutes that pass, I start to fear the worst. Very carefully, I inch away to meet his eyes.

Curran doesn’t meet me with his “cop” face. He’s not angry. Isn’t sad. Isn’t anything. He simply sits there, blinking, his expression absent of any emotion.

I clasp his hands as they fall away from me, squeezing them to remind him that I’m still here. He doesn’t squeeze back. His hands simply lie as unmoving as the rest of him. I allow them to slip from my grasp and release yet another breath. “I need you to say something.”

He swallows hard. “I thought you were on the Pill.”

I lift my glasses and wipe a tear away with my fingertips. “Okay. That wasn’t it.”

He leans forward and rubs his eyes. “Sorry, I just…How did this happen?”

I stand and start pacing. “We’ve had a lot of sex, Curran. There’s a reason the Pill is considered only ninety-nine percent effective.” Not to mention, my periods were always irregular. When I missed one, I didn’t think much of it. But when I missed it again…

I glance back at him. “Okay…okay,” he answers. I think he’s going to say more, but once again, the silence stretches between us.

The seconds turn to minutes before he speaks again. “I think I can switch to full-time nights when I’m back on the force and make more money. I say you snag a job right away. We’ll bank everything you make, along with the extra I’ll pull in. But when the kid comes, I want you home. A year, maybe longer if we plan it right.”

He rubs his jaw, appearing to think aloud. “I can probably get enough from the sale of this place to buy us a house outright—it’ll be small, but leave us enough to invest in that parking deck me and my brothers plan to buy. Between the revenue it’ll bring in, and my job, we’ll eventually get a bigger place and still have a good sum to retire on.”

He glances out the window. “I want something with a big yard so he can run around, and I can teach him to play catch—or her. Wren has a great throwing arm—why not a girl, too, right?”

This time, it’s my turn to simply stare. I can barely find my words. “Ah, right.”

Curran closes the short expanse separating us, laughing a little. “Ma’s going to lose her mind—seeing how this here’ll be the first grandkid. Thing is, we’ll need to find something pretty quick so I can get the nursery ready. Paint it. That sort of thing.” He stops talking when he gets his first good look at me. “Why you crying?”

I shake my hands out. “I’m that girl.”

He places his hands on my hips and draws me to him. “What girl?”

“The one who gets knocked up.”

He grins. “And I’m the hot stud boyfriend who did the knocking up.”

“Curran, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says, holding on to his smile. “Babe, what’s the big deal? Okay, scratch that, since it kind of is.”

“Kind of?” My voice is positively shrill, but that doesn’t stop Curran from laughing again.

He holds me closer, leaving enough space so I can see him. “I want this,” he says. “You and me and this baby, forever, you feel me? Okay, so this was quicker than I had in mind, but so what? It’ll give us a jump start and a good excuse to tie the knot.”

“You want to marry me?” I say. He nods. “And keep the baby?”

His smile softens. “Yeah. I do. So let’s get a place, have a baby, and be forever. What do you say?”

Curran wraps his arms around me when I fall against his chest. “You’re happy,” I say, not really believing it.

“Hell, yeah. I always wanted a hot wife and a houseful of kids. Now, I get both. Hey, can you dress in an apron and nothing else—you know, just to kick-start our married life?”

I clutch his shirt, smiling through my tears. Curran wants our baby and he wants me, forever.

But as happy as I am, I’m not prepared. Not for what happens next.





Chapter 27





Tess


My hips slide against Curran as my speed increases. I grip the headboard, my body tightening in that way that releases my screams. Curran’s chest reddens to match his face, the cords in his neck and his arm muscles straining. “Fuck,” he grunts, his release hard enough to make him jolt and clench my hips. “Oh, f*ck.”

A few more swear words follow as I fall forward. I slow my motions, allowing him time to finish. When his breaths seem to ease, I push up enough to meet his lips, moaning as I taste him and maybe a little of me. He grins and tugs on my top lip. “Happy graduation,” he murmurs.

I laugh, coughing due to my momentary lack of air. He rolls us on our sides, his fingers skimming the curve of my waist. “You okay?”

“Just a little worn.”

“Because of all our hot gorilla lovin’?”

I laugh, and cough, again. Curran and I went strong most of the night. We managed some sleep, but not a lot. “Did I tell you I’m proud of you?” he asks, his hand lowering to claim my backside.

“You did, but I like hearing it,” I say, taking a moment to enjoy his grin. “Your family was sweet to attend my commencement.” My smile widens, remembering how they cheered for me when my name was announced at the ceremony. My father hadn’t bothered coming. If it weren’t for Curran and his family, I would have accepted my juris doctorate alone.

“Declan would have been there, too,” he says, pressing a kiss along my ear. “He feels bad he missed it.”

My fingers run along his jaw as I speak softly. “He has a lot going on. Defense begins their case tomorrow. After that, it’ll be up to the jury to decide Montenegro’s fate.”

Curran laughs a little. “Yeah. I don’t think those saps stand a chance. The case Deck presented for the prosecution was epic. I knew my brother was good, but I have to admit, he blew me away.”

I know what Curran means and quietly agree. Declan is a renowned prosecutor in the area. But to witness his litigation skills firsthand was positively mesmerizing. His presentation, startling quickness, and skills in court are spectacles to behold. And with the Associated Press and all the major networks covering the trial, he’s receiving national attention.

I adjust my hold over Curran. “Your brother has exceeded everyone’s expectations. But keep in mind that the defense is tough, and the best money can buy. They’re going to fight tooth and nail, especially if those threats against them are valid.”

“I get it, but you have to admit, Deck’s a goddamn gladiator and the courtroom is his arena. Shit, he didn’t show any mercy.”

Curran calls him a gladiator. To me, Declan is more a Titan of Greek mythology. And while the defense may be gods in their own right, this time I’m certain the Titan is going to win the war. “He’s really amazing,” I admit.

“More than me?” he asks, nibbling on my neck.

I laugh. “I confess, professionally I’m deeply in awe of your brother. Personally, you’re who I love, and everything I want.”

“Good.” My body settles against him when he snuggles me closer. “Hey, Tess,” he says, his voice growing serious. “I don’t want you to go back to your place anymore. I want you with me, permanently.”

For the most part, I already am, but his words make everything so official. I’ve been looking forward to letting go of my past and racing into the future with Curran. Yet, as much as I want us to, I’m scared. Everything happening between us is beautiful, and more than I could have dreamed of. But it’s happening so quickly, and bringing on major changes in my life.

My past is horrible. There’s no question. But it’s also familiar, and something so familiar is hard to abandon despite the pain it’s caused.

Curran’s hand skims along my spine when he senses my hesitation. “Tess, you’re done. You graduated. There’s nothing to tie you to your father anymore. Say you’ll be here for good when I get back from my shift.”

“Okay,” I whisper. Although I smile, my eyes manage to sting.

Curran wipes my tears and kisses me, taking his time until he remembers he has someplace to be. “Damnit,” he says when he glances at the clock. “I gotta head out.” He slips out of bed. “Do you need my truck today?”

I hate to ask. “Would you mind? I’m supposed to have lunch with Sofia and Wren, but with Finn’s upcoming match, it might be easier for me to meet them at the gym.”

“Sure. Whatever you want, babe.” He hurries into the bathroom. “Hey. We need to get you your own wheels,” he calls out. “Sofe’s brother is a mechanic, and usually fixes up cars to sell. Mateo can hook us up with something good. I’ll call him during my break and see what he has.”

Curran starts the water for the shower just as I’m rolling out of bed. I spread out the sheets. “Are you sure? I’m worried about costs.”

“Don’t be. I have a couple of bills. It’ll be fine.”

That’s what he claims, but Curran’s covering everything and I need to start pulling my weight. I have interviews set up at a few law firms downtown. My work with Declan has also earned me interviews for the DA positions opening in the fall. In truth, a DA spot is what I want, but the starting salary is minimal compared to those at the more prestigious firms who phoned to schedule interviews. In the end, though, we have a baby coming, and he or she needs to come first.

My thoughts continue to whirl as I drive Curran to the precinct. “What are you thinking, angel face?” he asks.

“That I have a lot to do and little time to do it in.”

He bends to tie his boots. “I was thinking the same thing, but one step at a time, right? Did you call the doc to see if she can get you in sooner?”

“I did, but her schedule is pretty tight. According to the office staff, I’m still scheduled for my first appointment at fifteen weeks unless there’s a problem.”

Curran strokes my cheek. “But there’s no problem, right?”

“I’m assuming not.” I scrunch my nose. “Although I’m starting to feel nauseous in the afternoons. But I suppose it’s all part of being pregnant.”

He seems worried, but as I roll to a stop outside the precinct, his cop face replaces any concerns that remain. “I should be done around seven, okay? If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

I lean toward him so he can kiss me goodbye. “Okay. Be careful.”

“You, too.”

The warmth and affection behind his kiss linger as I pull away from the curb. The rookie assigned to me easily keeps up.

I work through my to-do list as I drive: grocery shopping, dinner prep, and mailing the résumés I still need to send out. I should head to the store and get the shopping out of the way. Instead, I find myself driving in the direction of my apartment.

Curran is right. In every way possible, it’s time to say goodbye to my past.

An odd sense seems to fill me the closer I draw to my old residence. Maybe it’s the reminder that it was never my home. My father made that clear enough.

I frown as moments of his cruelty play across my mind: his strikes, his words, his sharp tone, and how he made me think I was ugly and worthless. Curran never agreed with him; even back in college when I was unhealthy and frail, he saw something in me that I didn’t know was there.

“We would have hooked up a lot sooner if you’d given me a chance,” he told me the other night.

“Um” had been my only response.

The smile triggered by what Curran said fades. As much as I’m grateful for him, I can’t help feeling ashamed. I should have found the strength without him, and within me, to break from Father’s hold. I don’t want to be the woman some hulking hero needs to rescue—Curran deserves better than that—but it seems that’s exactly what I’ve become.

My foot slams down on the emergency brake after I place his large truck in park. I should be more aware of my surroundings, but it seems I’ve grown too dependent on the guards who shadow me. If I were more focused, I would have seen my father’s car.

And his presence in my apartment wouldn’t surprise me like it does.

The smoke from his cigar swirls into the air from where his hand rests on the couch. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him. According to the evening news, he’s been the driving force behind Spencer’s campaign for mayor. Yet as busy as he’s been, that hasn’t stopped his constant calls to my landline, all of which I’ve ignored. Nor has it likely stopped his uninvited visits. But I’ve been staying with Curran and have thankfully avoided him…until now.

His back is to me, but I hear the slurp he takes from his glass just fine. My eyes skim to the half-empty bottle of scotch on the table beside him. “At last my daughter returns,” he says.

The young police officer who escorted me up turns to me. “Ma’am?” he asks, questioning whether he should throw my father’s ass out.

My first instinct is to return to Curran’s truck, with the rookie close to my side. But my stubbornness and anger hold me in place. “It’s okay,” I tell him.

I’m not sure he thinks it is. He moves ahead, taking his time to sweep the apartment, likely expecting me to change my mind. When he finishes, he stops in front of me, making a point to look at my father. “Anything else, ma’am?”

“No, thank you,” I answer, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

He waits a moment before turning on his heel and leaving. Like the rest of the cops watching me, he knows Curran and I are more than friends. He doesn’t want to answer to him, but he probably also doesn’t think he should stay unless asked.

I wait for the elevator doors to shut behind the young cop before I speak again. “What are you doing here?” I ask my father.

He mashes the tip of his cigar on the saucer to the left of his scotch. “Don’t talk to me that way.” His words are slow and precise, with an underlying warning.

I release my tight grip on the doorknob and force myself forward, fantasies of smashing him over the head with my purse swimming in my mind. “I asked what you’re doing here.”

He stands slowly, taking his time before hitting me with an expression as cold as the blood streaming through his veins. My first instinct is to curl inward. But I don’t. Not this time.

My non-reaction seems to give him pause. It doesn’t last, and of course he’s far from done. He lifts a thick manila folder from the table and tosses it on the floor. It slides across the smooth wood, stopping a few feet in front of me. “See for yourself.”

He expects me to fall at his feet and retrieve like the dog he mistakes me for. I lock my knees in place, refusing to move. “No.”

Father stills, his expression acquiring that of a man seconds from exploding until an unearthly smile cuts across his face. “It’s a bill for two hundred and forty thousand dollars,” he says. “I would think you’d want to see it.”

He laughs without humor as the bottom of my stomach falls to my knees. “What’s wrong, Contessa? Surely you knew the path to becoming an attorney was an expensive one to undertake.”

“You…” I attempt to swallow, but my breaths are coming too quick. “You were supposed to pay it—all of it.”

Father shakes his head thoughtfully. “That’s the impression I left you with, wasn’t it?” His smile vanishes. “Sit down.”

Says the master to his bitch.

“I said, sit,” he repeats when I simply stand there.

My eyes fix on the thick envelope, but I refuse to touch it. “You were supposed to pay this,” I repeat, my voice barely registering.

I turn left, then right, my fingers clutching the front of my tiny tank top and the long skirt fluttering around my ankles. This isn’t a joke, or some twisted lie. This is the ace up his sleeve Curran warned me about. “How?” I demand. “How could I possibly be allowed to attend a prestigious law school without you contributing a single dollar?”

Annoyance ripples across his face. My lack of obedience apparently isn’t part of his plan. “The Newart name goes a long way,” he says. “It pardoned and postponed your financial obligations until your graduation.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. “No. It wasn’t your name—it was your money.” In his scowl I see the truth behind my accusation. I gasp. “Tell me, how much did you donate to the school in order for them to dismiss such a large sum until now?”

He crosses his arms and leans against the back of the couch as if nothing matters, despite the fact that my world is crumbling around me. I have no job, no credit, no money, and in excess of two hundred and forty thousand dollars to atone for.

“Eighty thousand dollars each year,” he responds, his satisfied tone jolting me back to reality. “I donated tuition, books, and room and board to a more deserving soul. Marlon Thomas, a young man from Harlem. Do you know Marlon? He’s quite grateful for my generosity.”

My face crumples into a thousand pieces. In helping this underprivileged young man, my father has assured two things: that I’ll be the one stuck paying the bill, and that he’ll come out a hero.

I have no grounds to fight these costs. None. It’s my name on the juris doctorate, my body that sat through each class, my mind that was expended learning. I’ve accepted everything from him—his insults, his degradation, his mistreatment—I’ve starved because of empty promises he never intended to keep.

“You *.”

His expression quavers, before heating with fury. “What did you say to me?”

“I said you’re an *!” I stomp forward. “Everyone thinks you’re this righteous and admirable member of the community. But you’re nothing more than a selfish and manipulative bastard.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“You’re wrong. Aside from your wife, I’m the only one who knows what a vengeful snake you truly are.” I kick the envelope back at him. “I’ll take the debt—I’ll take all of it. But I’ll be damned if I ever take your shit again.” I storm out the door and punch the elevator button, but when I hear his footsteps racing toward me, I hurry to the back stairwell. My steps are quick, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible. Yet my father won’t let me walk out of his life unscathed.

He snatches my arm before I reach the first step. “Listen to me, Contessa. It doesn’t have to end this way.”

I try to yank my arm away, but he holds tight. “Spencer still needs a reputable partner at his side—listen to me!” he yells, shaking me hard. “He’s to be the next mayor—the next governor. For each event where you’re seen with him, I will pay a portion of your expenses on your behalf.”

“Let go of me!” I scream. “I won’t be your puppet any longer.”

Without thought or care, my father shoves me away. My arms flail as I try to stop myself from falling. But I can’t.

I fall screaming, my body smacking against the steel steps. Agony engulfs me as I land hard on my spine. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t think. All I know is the pain burning through me.

Excruciating jolts shoot from my pelvis and into my legs. I clutch my belly, crying. “I-I-I need help,” I stammer.

“Tell me you’ll be with Spencer.” Father waits at the top of the steps, his hands balled at his sides. “Contessa, say you’ll do this for me!”

A sob breaks through my lips. “I need help,” I repeat. “Please help me. Please.” Warmth floods my thighs, and every breath rakes my body with misery.

Yet the help I ask for doesn’t come. The slam of the door forces me to glance up. My father is gone.

Once more, I wait alone.

My discarded purse and its contents lie scattered over the first few steps, the remains of my phone in pieces. Somehow, I find my feet.

I stagger down four more flights, clinging to my belly, and falling more than once. The alarms blast as I stumble through the emergency exit. “Jesus Christ!” the rookie yells, racing toward me when I collapse.

He knows I’m hurt. The blood seeping through my white skirt is proof enough that I need the help my father denied me.





Chapter 28





Curran


I don’t run through the hospital, I f*cking tear down the halls. Killian is the first I see as I round the corner of the Emergency Department. He barrels in front of me with Declan and Finn, all three blocking my path. “Easy, Curran,” Killian says.

I shove them away, trying to get to the room they were standing in front of. “I need to see Tess.” I push them again, this time harder. “Is she in there? Goddamnit. Tell me where she is!”

They hold their ground. In my periphery, Angus and Seamus are suddenly there. “Listen to me,” Declan says, his voice steady. “Her physical injuries aren’t life threatening—she’s safe and she’s stable. But emotionally, she’s a mess and hurting. You need to stay strong for her, you hear me? I need you to be a man for her. Not some out-of-control thug.”

I stop moving as the impact of his words sucker-punches me across the jaw. He said that emotionally, my girl was hurting. So that means…

“Is the baby all right?” I can barely spit the words out. Tess didn’t want me to tell anyone she’s pregnant, but of course I did. You share the good and the bad with those you love, right? And this baby, although unplanned, is good news.

Or at least it was.

Their grim expressions answer me in a way I don’t want to hear. I swipe at my face. “Jesus.”

This was supposed to be a decent day. My first step into the path to hell came when the sarge told me he was placing me back on patrol. He stuck me with one of the vets and we responded to a report of a burglary. I was crawling out of my skin the whole time, and despite how hard I tried to hide it, that old vet saw right through me. He knows I lost my nerve, and that I’m done. As much as it crushes me, it’s nothing compared to what that call from Declan did to me. “There’s been an accident,” he’d said. “Tess is hurt. We’re in the Emergency Department at Thomas Jefferson, room 1014.”

He couldn’t tell me much more. Privacy laws and hospital regulations won’t allow the staff to share any news about Tess’s condition—even with me. I tried calling in the forty damn minutes it took me to get across town, but as much as I love her, I’m not her husband yet.

“Curran, listen to me,” Declan says, his voice softening. “We’re not sure what’s happening yet. The doctor on call is going to examine her.”

“Why hasn’t he yet?” I bite out.

His eyes cut to Killian. “Sofia said something about her needing an internal exam,” Killian answers. “They’re getting the equipment from the maternity ward now.”

For all that my family is right next to me, they feel far away. “I want to see her,” I tell them, hoping they’ll listen before I bust some shit up.

My brothers part, allowing me through, but those few steps forward are the longest of my life. My feet feel dipped in lead and encased in cement. I push the curtain aside and walk to where Tess sits in a narrow bed wearing a gown that’s way too loose on her.

Sofe sits beside Wren, who’s holding my girl’s hand tight in hers. They all glance up, but it’s Tess’s face my stare adheres to. Her skin is red and swollen around her pretty eyes. She’s been crying a lot, and was likely alone until my family arrived.

I move forward. Sofe and Wren take it as their signal to leave. They stop to kiss her cheeks and mine. “We’ll be outside,” Wren assures me.

I guess the fold-up chairs are for saps like me, to wait and sit still in. I don’t wait, or sit still. I lower myself on the bed and pull Tess against me when her expression shatters into a million pieces. She clutches me hard and releases her fear…giving me a moment to release mine, too.





Tess


Curran holds tight to my hand when the OB hospitalist, Dr. Tantillo, returns with an ultrasound. “I’m going to do an internal scan. You’ll feel some pressure, but if it becomes too painful, I need you to tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, my voice trembling.

I scrunch my face as she inserts the probe, which does nothing to ease Curran’s stress. “What are you trying to see?” he asks, his voice tight.

“I want to see if there’s any internal damage and harm.”

“To the baby?”

“Yes,” she explains, patiently. “Along with the surrounding structures.” She advances the probe. “It will be difficult to see much since you’re not very far along, Tess….” Her voice trails, and although I keep my eyes closed, I can picture the smile behind her words. “Never mind. There is something to see.”

Curran’s breath hitches. “Oh, man,” he says. “There’s the heartbeat.”

With a shuddering breath, I open my eyes and turn to the screen. “There’s your baby,” the doctor says, pointing.

My eyes swell as I see the heart flicker rapidly. “Is he all right?” I ask, starting to tremble.

“Yes,” Dr. Tantillo answers. “He or she is a strong little one.”

Curran kisses my head when I start crying. “That’s our baby, Tess. Holy God, we made a kid!”

“There was bleeding,” I stammer.

The doctor nods, pointing to the screen. “It looks like there was some separation in the placenta, but it appears to be minimal and should repair itself. The area is very vascular and it also appears there was some rupturing in the lower uterine segment, but that should heal as well. Either way, I’d like to keep you overnight, and do another ultrasound in the morning.”

“He’s okay?” I ask again, too scared to believe it.

“So far, everything appears to be proceeding as it should. According to the scan, you’re about seven weeks along.” She removes the probe and covers me with a sheet after allowing me another look at our baby. She straightens my legs, then hands me a picture from the ultrasound exam. I can’t see much. But I see our little one, and for now it’s enough.

Dr. Tantillo smiles as I place the picture against my chest. “You took a bad fall, Tess. And to be honest, I’m surprised by how good things look. The ED doctor doesn’t believe you suffered any fractures or organ damage, but you need to take it easy these next few weeks.”

“Don’t worry. She will,” Curran assures her.

I wipe a few tears away. “Thank you, Dr. Tantillo.”

“You’re welcome,” she answers, standing to leave.

Curran stays with me all night, leaving only to speak to his family and show them the picture of “our boy,” even though it’s too early to know the sex.

The soreness along my back and shoulders and stiffness in my legs keep me awake. So does the confrontation with my father—his words, his actions, and his desperation to cling to his hold over me….My God, what kind of man does this?

Curran rises from the couch sometime close to dawn. “You’re not sleeping,” he says, coming to my side.

Neither is he, apparently. I inch over on the bed. “Will you lie with me?”

He slips beneath the bedcovers and curls his body against me. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I get the feeling you need to.”

I do, which is why I can’t sleep. I don’t like keeping secrets from Curran, not after all that we’ve shared, and all we’re becoming. But compared to all the things my father has done, this is by far the worst and the hardest to disclose.

I stroke his arm, the muscles dense beneath his blue shirt. He knows I fell in the back stairwell, and although he hasn’t pressed, he probably realizes I had a reason for being there.

“You’re not going to like what I have to tell you,” I say, quietly.

“Probably not. But I think you should tell me anyway. Don’t you?”

He’s right, but knowing so doesn’t soothe my unease. “I went back to my apartment to gather my clothes, and found my father waiting for me.” His muscles tense against me, but I continue, worried I’ll lose my nerve. “You were right about the ace up his sleeve. My father never paid for any of my law school expenses. He paid another student’s in exchange for U Penn giving me an extension on my costs. I’m now two hundred and forty thousand dollars in debt.”

“Are you f*cking kidding me?”

I use the bedsheet to wipe my eyes. “No. He told me he’s willing to pay a portion for every event I attend with Spencer.”

Curran jerks up. “And what did you say to that?”

I ease into a sitting position, the stress and my exhaustion hitting me all at once. “I told him that I’d rather be in debt than ever do anything for him again.”

“What happened after that?” he asks when I pause.

He’s furious. And while I know his anger isn’t directed at me, it’s still hard to tell him what my father did. “He chased me into the stairwell, demanding that I reconsider. I know I shouldn’t have been in there, but I was trying to get away from him.”

Curran’s breaths release in short bursts. “Did he…did he push you?”

I nod, slowly.

“That son of a bitch.”

I snatch his arm when he tries to leave. “Baby, wait. I don’t know if he was trying to hurt me, or if he was upset and reacted—”

“I don’t care. He has no right putting his hands on you—or harassing you—or trying to pimp you out. Christ, do you realize what could have happened—what he could have cost us?”

“I do,” I say, my welling tears keeping him in place.

Something in my expression softens his. He returns to the bed, gathering me close. “Tell me what happened. All of it. Don’t leave anything out.”

His tone, while quiet, holds so much anger I can feel it. Just as I feel his warmth as he holds me. “Everything happened so fast,” I admit. “But he saw me fall, and he saw me hurt. And he didn’t help me. I was lying there, barely moving, and all he could think about was himself.” I sigh. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”

“Then you won’t.” His voice is absolute. I don’t have to convince him of anything.

I expect Curran to push for more information, and I expect him to tell me to press charges. But he doesn’t, and stays quiet. Maybe he realizes that more than anything now, I need him to lie beside me and comfort me with his presence.

I remember him cradling me against his broad chest. But I don’t remember sleeping. Yet I know I did, feeling that same security I’ve always felt in his arms.

—

The incoming nurse wakes me to check my vital signs sometime around eight. “Everything appears to be within normal limits,” she says. “I’ll phone the doctor and let her know. If she’s comfortable with her findings, she’ll probably send you home after your ultrasound.”

I rub my tired eyes, thankful there’s no evidence of any further bleeding. “Do you know how long it will be before she arrives?”

She makes a face. “I’m afraid it might be a few hours. She was paged to assist in an emergency surgery, and has several patients to round on.”

I rub Curran’s thigh when she leaves and motion to the tray of food in front of me. “Are you hungry?”

He frowns. “Yeah, but that’s for you.”

“I don’t feel like eating.”

“Tess,” he says.

“I’m serious—I’m feeling nauseous.” I try to smile. “But that’s a good thing, don’t you think?”

“That doesn’t mean I like it,” he tells me. “When was the last time you ate? It wasn’t dinner, ’cause I was here and you barely had more than two bites.” He slips his arm around me when I don’t answer. “I need you to be all right, you hear me? That’s not going to happen unless you eat.”

I know he’s right, but that doesn’t inspire my appetite, especially when Curran lifts the lid and shows me my not-so-spectacular feast. I cringe from it, fighting not to become ill. “It’s sausage and pancakes. It’ll be good for you,” he insists.

“It’s too heavy. Why don’t you eat it? You didn’t eat dinner either.”

He covers the food again. “What will you eat?”

Truthfully, I don’t think I can stomach much. But I also know he won’t eat without me. “Maybe a bagel, or some fruit.”

He pushes my hair away from my face. “What say I go to the cafeteria and see what I can find? When I get back, we’ll eat together, all right?”

I agree, mostly because I want Curran to eat. When he leaves, I go to the bathroom to freshen up and change into the sweatpants and T-shirt Wren brought me. I press my hand against my belly as I step out, thankful my baby’s still growing inside me.

My smile vanishes as I emerge from the bathroom and find my father waiting for me. “What are you doing here?”

He tightens his stance, annoyance appearing to be the dominant emotion clouding his features. “The apartment supervisor informed me you were taken away via ambulance yesterday. It took quite some time to locate your whereabouts.” His stare travels the length of my body. “It seems you gave your neighbors plenty to talk about.”

I’m not exactly sure what he means, nor do I care. He’s probably miffed at how the incident will reflect on him. But I’m counting on that. Until this moment, though, I didn’t realize just how much.

I release the handle to the bathroom door and step toward him, my ire blazing and raring for a fight. “I’m only here because of you. You pushed me down a flight of stairs and jeopardized my baby’s life.” Anger causes my voice to quiver, but it’s his look of stunned revulsion that boils my blood. “You didn’t know I’m pregnant. But there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Shall I enlighten you?” I nod as his eyes narrow further. “Yes, I think I should. The first thing you should know is that I’m filing charges against you for assault and harassment.”

“Against me? Go ahead and try,” he quips. “You’ll be laughed at, and any pitiable charge against me dismissed.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m interning for the office whose primary role is to investigate such charges. Unlike in your presence, I have a voice there. But it’s not simply the criminal matters that should concern you. That’s only the beginning. I’m also bringing a civil suit against you.”

“It was an accident, Contessa!”

“No, it wasn’t. And if you think the lawsuit involves this event alone, you are very much mistaken. I’m suing you for decades of financial and emotional abuse—your persistent vying for control, your ongoing harassment, your wretched cruelty, and the disgusting way you’ve used me for political gain. Everyone will know of it—everyone. Even those you consider so far beneath you.”

He fixes me with a scowl, but then laughs. “You want to play games, little girl—fine. We shall play them. My legal team will tear you apart.”

My steps are slow and purposeful. After what he did, and how he almost cost me my child, I’m no longer afraid. I’m angry. This man has caused me nothing but harm. “I’m not a little girl. I’m a woman with the best legal education money can buy. You think your attorneys are good, wait until you see me in action. There’s a reason I graduated at the top of my class.”

He looms over me, trying to force me to cower, exactly as he’s done all my life. This time, he doesn’t succeed, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “You’ll never win,” he grinds out.

“It’s not about winning. It’s about showing the world who Donald Newart really is. You’ve taken everything from me. But I assure you it ends today, and I swear to God so will your reputation when I’m done with you. Good luck in court, and with your involvement in Spencer’s campaign. You’re going to need it.”

“You wretched—”

“I would seriously watch the next few words that come out of your mouth,” Curran warns. He stands in the doorway with Killian, and with his other brothers directly behind him. It seems he never made it to the cafeteria, and that he and his family heard our conversation.

Menace drips like tar in the way Curran regards my father. He marches toward him, his mere presence forcing Father to edge aside, and away from me. Killian’s rigid grasp to his shoulder holds him in place, but just barely. I clutch Curran’s hand, fearing what will happen if he strays within reach of my father.

Curran takes a controlled breath, keeping his glare trained on my father as he places his arm around me.

The remaining O’Briens pile forward, appearing to overtake the entire room, their sheer numbers compelling my father further toward the exit. Curran’s attention never wavers. “You hurt Tess and jeopardized our baby’s life,” he tells him, his voice so lethal it’s almost too much to bear.

An odd sense of recognition tightens the hard lines in my father’s scowl. He finally realizes who Curran is. “I didn’t know she was pregnant. But it shouldn’t surprise me given your past,” he sneers.

If it weren’t for the firm press of my hand to his chest, Curran would have stormed forward and pummeled him, I’m sure of it.

“I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” Declan says, stepping in front of him. “I’m Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien. I should inform you that my office will investigate any and all criminal charges my future sister-in-law brings forward, and offer our support any way we can. I should also inform you that whether you were aware of her pregnancy or not, you pushed her down a flight of steps, risking her and her unborn child’s lives. Some, like me, would argue it was attempted murder. How do you think your legal team—or for that matter, a civil or criminal jury—might interpret your actions, given your history of mistreatment?”

The color drains from my father’s face. He turns on his heel, but Curran’s voice freezes him in place. “Hey, Newart. Just so you know, if you ever make my girl cry again, these legal charges will be the least of your worries.”

I lean heavily into Curran when Father stomps away. I’m not sure why he came, but informing him that I’m bringing legal action against him has put a dent in his plans.

Curran’s family closes their circle around us, speaking quietly. Their support and kindness mean a great deal; so does Curran’s love. Given my encounter with my father, I’m not sure how I would be holding up without them.

Never mind; I’m not holding up. I start to cry against Curran’s chest, not because I’m scared, but because I’m relieved. Regardless of the stress my legal actions will cause, for the first time, I feel a sense of control, but more important, peace.

And I have Curran’s love to thank for it.





Chapter 29





Curran


“Later, Levon,” I call to him.

Levon smiles. It’s forced, but it’s a step forward—not the expression of defeat he usually carries. And the way he stands makes me think he’s not done fighting yet.

“Later, Curran,” he yells back.

I cross through the church garden again, pausing in front of the Holy Mother. I thank her for giving Levon another week with us. I also thank her for Tess’s laugh that morning, and for keeping our baby safe. Tess hasn’t laughed much lately. But since the doctor assured us everything’s fine, and now that she’s twelve weeks along, she’s smiling more, and yeah, laughing, too.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes.

Hey, cop. I miss you. Is everything all right?

I speak into the mic and send her back a text. I’m fine. Group went a little longer tonight. Who am I kidding? It went a lot longer. I was supposed to meet Tess an hour ago.

Are you coming to the pub?

I grin. Of course I am. Can’t miss my brother’s big celebration, can I? Not every day one man destroys an entire mafia empire.

I know. Twenty consecutive life terms for Montenegro alone. Can you believe it?

No. Declan f*cking owned it.

So you’re coming? For sure?

I’ll be there in fifteen.

Good. He needs you. Despite all the higher-ups here, they don’t mean as much to him as his family.

I grin, knowing she’s right. Are my brothers and Wren there yet?

Yes. Finn and Wren were the last to show, but they’ve been here awhile now. She pauses, then adds, If you can believe it, Miles Fenske’s daughter is also here.

Melissa?

Yes.

Did she call Declan an * yet?

In the seconds it takes for her to respond, I know I’ve missed another of her cute laughs. No, but everyone is drinking, so I’m sure it’s coming. She waits, then adds, If she doesn’t sleep with him first.

What the…? You serious?

Curran, it’s odd. But despite their atrocious first meeting, neither can seem to tear their eyes off the other.

No shit? On my way. Save me a ringside seat.

I pocket my phone, but stop short when I catch sight of who’s waiting for me.

Joey sits by the entrance in his wheelchair, arms crossed, face tight. Seeing how his group had to wait for mine to end, it looks like he’s been waiting there a long time. All that aside, he doesn’t seem in a hurry to round the corner and head inside.

“Hey, Curran,” he says. “You have a minute?”

I don’t. But for him I do. “Yeah. Sure.”

I sit on the bottom step leading out of the elevated garden area. For all he seems to want to talk, he takes his time. I don’t rush him, just wait. I owe him as much. He angles his chair around so instead of facing me, we’re both looking in the direction of the parking lot, the streetlights casting an odd shade of white against his light skin.

“Do you want to know something about me?” he asks.

I steel myself—expecting him to say he’s getting worse, or that he can’t have kids, or that I screwed him up more than I know. “Yeah. Sure.”

He keeps his sights ahead. “I was supposed to be better than you.”

I frown his way. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He rubs his hands, his expression turning dark despite the glare from the lights. “In the academy, me and the other recruits, all we heard about was you—how fast you moved, what a first-class shot you were, and how your instincts were something they couldn’t teach—an ‘ingrained talent’ one of the trainers called it.” He huffs. “They played you up like you were some sort of god—even the way you wrote up your reports was something they threw in our faces. Your agility, your speed—it wasn’t enough you had the physical shit down. The old-timers made sure to tell us you had the smarts, too—and the rest of us could only be so lucky to sweat in your damn shadow.”

I’m not sure where he’s headed, but I listen, and listen hard.

“Thing was, I was fast, too. I could shoot, and passed my exams like they were nothing. Reports? Hell, they were almost a joke to me. But it wasn’t good enough. Not like the legend of Curran O’Brien,” he says, playing with the brakes on his chair. “The first time I saw you was when you came to do a demo with an assault rifle. By the way the instructors talked you up, I thought you’d walk in wearing a cape or some shit. Do you remember that day you taught us? You remember me?”

I want to say yes, but I don’t want to lie. “No. But I taught a lot of recruits—”

“Save it,” he says, his nostrils flaring. “I hit every target faster and closer to the mark than anyone in my class. Every time I squeezed that trigger I blew my competition away, and you didn’t say shit. Neither did the other trainers. But didn’t the world stop spinning when you showed everyone how it was done.”

“You wanted praise,” I say, thinking I know what he means.

“No. I wanted recognition for how good I was, because I deserved it.” It’s what he says, but something in the memory makes him lower his head. “Instead, you moved on to those who were struggling, instead of commending those who got it right the first time around. Maybe I impressed myself, and maybe a few others there, too, but I sure as hell didn’t impress the one guy I thought I should, you.”

“Why’d you care what I thought?” I’m not just blowing smoke. I honestly don’t know where he’s going with this.

“I told you: because I was supposed to be better than you. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself….”

Joey stares out into the deserted lot, where an old rusty Buick is parked in the corner. “I think everyone knew how good I was,” he says. “But where they saw confidence in you, they found arrogance in me. I was placed with you for a reason. So maybe one day, I could be better. The thing was, since I wasn’t impressed by you, I didn’t see it for the gift the higher-ups meant it to be.”

I don’t move, mostly because the claws ripping their way down to my soul won’t let me.

“You know why I’m stuck in this chair?” he asks, his voice cracking.

Christ. I look hard at the pavement, realizing he’s crying. “Because I didn’t do my job,” I admit.

“No,” he gasps, trying to speak. “It’s because I didn’t do mine.”

I turn in his direction, watching the tears pour out of him like a faucet.

“When you went to cuff that perp, I housed my weapon instead of covering you. I was rolling my eyes at how you were taking your time talking him down—thinking you were nothing but a * when you yelled ‘Gun!’ The first shot was meant for you and it just missed your head. I barely had time to yank my piece out of my holster. But as fast as I was, I wasn’t fast enough.” Joey breaks down then, his voice forcing its way through his sobs. “I’m sorry. Jesus Christ, Curran, I’m so f*cking sorry….”





Tess


I lift my phone to check the time. Declan is worn out and starting to make his exit, and Curran still hasn’t shown.

Finn’s whistle has me looking to the door. “You girls ready?” he calls.

I lift my purse and weave my way through the crowd with Wren at my heels. We join her brothers minus Curran at the door. “Any word from Curran?” Killian asks me.

“No. I’m not sure what’s keeping him.”

Declan places his arm around me and leads me forward. “Come on. I’ll take you to my place so you won’t be alone. We can wait for him there.” He turns before leaving and waves, inciting the crowd who gathered to cheer.

Seamus laughs as we step out. “Yo. Attention Philly and all your lowly inhabitants—even youz all the way in Kensington!” he yells. “May I present the one and only Declan O’Brien, your future king and possibly the best-dressed male outside of Lower Merion Township!”

“Fuck off,” Declan says, shoving him back and joining the others in their laughter.

I used to think Declan was so staid and proper. But in his family’s presence, I see the roughhousing Philly boy Curran’s always described. Although Declan’s more serious in a professional atmosphere, I’m glad he’s finally comfortable enough around me to show this side.

As Declan and his brothers continue to joke, my thoughts return to Curran. His group counseling sessions are often intense. I’m worried tonight was harder than he let on.

Sofia inches closer and places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure Curran has a good excuse for not being here.”

I try to smile. “I know. I just wish he would have come.”

“Will we see you for lunch at our place tomorrow?” she asks, quietly.

I nod. “Yes. We’ll be there.”

After a brief round of goodbyes, Declan leads me to his beautiful sedan with tinted windows. His place of honor at the impromptu celebration secured him a spot in front of the pub. I slip inside when he opens his passenger-side door for me, but the sight of Melissa exiting the building distracts him from shutting the door.

He nods graciously her way and offers what most would consider a dashing smile.

Melissa apparently doesn’t find it so dashing, and responds with an icy glare fierce enough to freeze a flock of pigeons mid-flight. His siblings burst out laughing. “What’s wrong, Declan?” Angus yells. “Another hookup you forgot to call back?”

And doesn’t that earn Declan yet another scowl from Melissa. He leans against the car and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That woman hates me.”

Hmmm. I’m not so sure, but don’t tell him otherwise. Melissa isn’t just someone he works with; she’s his boss’s daughter. For all the success and fame Declan earned with the Montenegro case, a misstep with someone so close to Miles Fenske could ruin him.

I reach for my phone as Declan pulls onto the street, but wait to check the screen until I see his assigned police guard trailing us in his unmarked vehicle. With the heavy traffic this time of night, our guard has to drive more aggressively to keep up. I’m not sure if Lu is also tailing us, but she tends to be more discreet.

“How much longer do you think you’ll need protection?” I ask Declan.

He shrugs. “I don’t think I need it now.”

“No?”

“No,” he says, turning on his blinker. “Montenegro’s been sentenced. His first, second, and third have pled guilty and are looking at at least twenty to life each. What’s left of the family is scrambling to hang on to the crumbs that remain. They don’t have time to bother with me.” He huffs. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m looking forward to getting my life back.”

I consider his words, and his performance throughout the trial, as I return my phone to my purse. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not certain your life will ever be the same. You’re headed for greatness, Declan. You know that, don’t you?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

The lack of inflection in his voice has me looking back at him. “Isn’t that what you want?”

He seems to catch himself. “Oh, hell yeah. I’ve always wanted this.”

I adjust my glasses. “Then why do I sense some uncertainty?”

“It’s not that. It’s what I have to sacrifice to keep the momentum going and achieve what I want before I’m thirty. You may have noticed how tight my family is. But this is the first time I’ve seen anyone aside from Curran in months.”

“It must be hard being away from those you most count on.”

Declan doesn’t respond right away. “It is. Like I said, the seven of us are close.” He smiles then. “You know, as big a pain in the ass as Curran is, he helped me through the stress of building and winning this case.”

“He’s a good guy,” I say, unable to hold back my grin.

“And you’re good for him. In fact, you’re exactly what he’s always needed.”

“And what do you think you need?” I ask him, quietly.

His eyes cut to the rearview mirror. “Nothing serious, that’s for sure. Not if I’m going to accomplish everything I want.”

My phone buzzes as Declan makes a right at the light. I reach into my purse, my eyes widening upon reading Curran’s text.

“Is that Curran?”

“Yes.”

“Everything all right?” Declan asks.

“I…think so. He’s having beers with Joey, and says he’s sorry he missed your big night.”

“Jesus, he’s with Joey?”

“Yes.” I realize the significance of their meeting, and hope he’s okay. “He promises he won’t be much longer.”

“Tell him we’ll be at my place and that we’re ordering food. Lots and lots of food.”

I angle my chin his way. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didn’t eat, and didn’t drink anything more than water,” he answers, rubbing his jaw.

I type Curran a quick text. “I thought you were drinking vodka on the rocks.”

“So did everyone else. But with all the big shots there, I needed to keep my head.” He tugs at his collar and loosens his tie. “Once we’re back at my place, it’s going to be a whole different story.”

I smile. “Well, if anyone deserves some fun, it’s you. Declan, you were incredible throughout the entire trial. I only hope to possess half your talent one day.”

His smirk reminds me of Curran’s. “Maybe you’ll get your chance. You did one hell of a job on this case. Truth is, I needed more help than I asked for, but you had me covered, worked hard, and never disappointed me despite my demands. I recommended you for the assistant DA spot opening up in the Trial Unit. You want experience, you’ll get it there.”

He laughs at my stunned face, continuing before I can thank him. “The pay is abysmal for a starting position, but working for the county is not without its benefits. Did you know for every year you work at the DA’s office as a prosecuting attorney, the county will pay twenty percent of your school loans?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” I stammer.

“Now you do.” He waits as if debating what to say next, odd for someone who has a gift with words. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen with your pending lawsuit, Tess. But no matter what, this should show you that you’re going to be okay.”

I nod, although by now I’m pretty choked up. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. “That’s what family’s for, Tess.”

Declan lets me deal with my girlie emotions while he calls in a food order at the bar and grill a few blocks from his apartment. He parks near the entrance and steps out. His guard steps out with him and follows him in like they’re old friends. After months of working together, I suppose they are.

I text Curran to let him know that we’re almost at Declan’s. I hit send and debate whether I should also tell him about Declan’s recommendation, but a knock against the driver’s-side door has me looking up.

Declan’s hands are full of takeout. I don’t remember him ordering so much, but hurry to unlock the doors to his sedan.

I realize too late that it’s not Declan when a strange man slips in and presses a gun against my side. “Don’t move. Don’t scream.”

He flips the locks and two more men jump into the back. “Got her?” someone says.

Something hard and cold presses into the back of my skull. “Yeah. Drive.”

The driver cranks the engine and eases onto the street as if he has all the time in the world, even though I recognize my time is already up.





Chapter 30





Tess


I often wondered what I would do if I were ever in a dangerous situation. But right now, right when it’s happening, I can’t think straight, and my body is shaking so violently my phone falls out of my hands.

“Fuck,” the driver says. “We have a tail. Who is that? Another one of your boyfriend’s cops?”

It takes me a moment to register what he’s saying. This man thinks Declan is my lover. “He’s not my boyfriend—”

The barrel of the weapon smacks me hard against my head, making me cry out. “Shut up, bitch,” the man behind us says. “We saw you with him.”

My mounting fear makes me desperate. “Please, don’t do this. I’m pregnant.”

“Sure you are,” the third man says, cutting me off. To the others he says, “We have to kill her fast.”

“Easy,” the driver says. “Too many witnesses out here. It don’t matter how much she’s paying us if we’re not around to spend it.”

“Sh-she?” I manage.

The men in the rear seats laugh. “Montenegro’s wife. Your man took away hers, she’s taking you away from him. Fair is fair, sweetheart.”

The car continues forward, accelerating enough to put some distance between us and the restaurant, but not enough to arouse suspicion from the cars on either side of us. I try to keep track of where we’re going, but each turn makes it more challenging.

We pass Franklin Square and make a left onto North 5th. Panic pounds the blood coursing through my veins, making me dizzy, and making it harder to focus. As far as I can tell, we’re near Penn’s Landing, but heading further away. Three more blocks, then another right. Jesus, where are we?

“Did you lose the tail?”

“Yeah. Back by Vine.”

“Good. Let’s get this done. Take the next left, and go straight past the old section of warehouses where we left the car.”

My heart pulverizes against my chest, its vicious beat flooding my ears. Curran and I are supposed to have lunch with his family tomorrow. We’re going to build a house, get married, have our first baby. How can my life be over, when it’s just begun?

“Please,” I beg, my terror splintering my voice. “I’m twelve weeks pregnant. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I said, shut up!”

My pleas earn me another jab to the head. But it’s the clicking sound that freezes me down to my bones.

“Oh, f*ck,” the driver says. “Our tail’s back.”

The seat squeaks behind me and pressure eases from the base of my skull. “He alone?”

“Looks like it,” the driver answers.

“You sure?”

“Yes, *. There’s only one car.”

“Turn here,” the man behind me says. “Damnit, right here. We have to finish this shit now.”

“What about the tail?”

“We gotta kill him, too.”

No…please, no.

The driver pulls to the curb along a quiet street lined with crumbling buildings, stopping beneath an unlit light. Ahead of us in the cross street, cars speed along, but they’re too far and driving too fast to notice us. This is a place these men are familiar with. They’ve taken people here before.

I want to scream, run, and lash out. I don’t want anyone telling Curran I’m dead—that his baby and I are gone. I don’t want him to suffer—not after what he’s been through. But the hard metal digging into my skull reminds me that I may not be able to spare him from this.

The lights from the car behind us shine in the rearview mirror, illuminating the menacing stare of the driver and expanding as the car closes in. My hand inches toward the handle. It’s Lu—I’m sure of it. I have to warn her.

A gun rams into my ribs, keeping me in place and paralyzing me with fear.

“Don’t move—stay quiet or die quicker,” the driver mutters, pressing the barrel harder.

Terror stabs my racing heart like a dagger. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to die. Jesus Christ, I don’t want to die!

The familiar stomps of heavy boots close in before Lu appears at my passenger-side window, smiling. “Wassup, girlie? Boyfriend taking you for a joyride?”

I don’t see her raise her gun. I only see Curran, his first shot taking out the front window, and the driver.

“Get down!” he yells.

I dive forward as sprays of bullets fire from all directions. Someone grunts, falling hard as the rear side doors fly open. More shots, more glass breaking, and above it all, Lu’s pained voice, screaming our location, barely audible over the firing weapons and racing footsteps: “Officer down. Repeat, officer down.”

“No!” I hit the seatbelt release and throw the door open. Lu lies on her back against the dirty walkway, blood seeping from her shoulder.

I scramble to her on my knees. “Get back in the car, and stay down!” she hollers.

“Where’s Curran?”

Her face hardens. “He went after the other two.”

Somewhere in the distant shadows, three consecutive shots fire, followed by an agonizing scream. The blood drains from my face. I’m certain Curran’s been shot. Two against one. The odds aren’t in his favor no matter how good he is.

The blaring sirens and flashing lights tell me help is near, but it doesn’t come fast enough. Lu’s widening eyes and her lifting gun send a warning a second before I’m yanked from the ground by my hair. “Try it and she dies, bitch,” a deep voice booms in my ear.

The hot barrel of a gun digs into my scalp, singeing my skin.

Lu keeps her weapon trained forward as she forces herself to her feet, joining the other men and women in blue who are suddenly there, announcing their presence.

“Drop your weapon.”

“Hands on your head!”

“Step away. Step away now!”

I barely hear them, my stare locked on Curran as the blue and red strobe lights smack repeatedly against my face. He stalks forward, through the throng of law enforcement arched around me, his stance rigid and his focus trained on the man holding me.

He’s alive. Somehow, Curran survived.

“One more step and I’ll kill her,” my captor warns. His voice is that of a desperate man, out of options and outgunned.

Curran freezes, the gun in his hand steady. He should appear torn, yet he’s not.

He makes his decision and carries it through.

The air explodes around me as the grip to my hair loosens and I collapse to the ground.





Curran


I recognize that look, the one that shifts in a perp’s face. It’s the same one that kid had right before he reached for his gun and shot Joey full of holes. This perp, like that teen, knows there’s no going back, not after what he’s done.

He’s going to kill Tess, the mother of my child, my soon-to-be wife, and the woman I promised forever. There’s no doubt in my mind.

He makes his choice.

And I make mine.

My target is his left eye, and that’s precisely where my bullet strikes.

I bolt to Tess’s side when his body buckles and her knees give out. From one blink to the next, she’s in my arms. I wrench her to her feet and drag her away, over to where McMullen and two others are seeing to Lu.

“You all right?” I ask Tess. “You hurt?”

She points in the direction of the perp with one eye and a busted skull. I think she means to say something about him, but instead asks, “How did you find me?”

My hold on her tightens as I remember the call. “Lu saw them take you. She phoned me and half the precinct. With all the traffic this time of night—and festivals going on down at Penn’s Landing—no one could get to you fast enough. For the time being, we knew we were on our own. So we formed a plan as soon as we got a handle on where you were headed, and moved in.” I motion ahead to our left. “I parked on the block before this one. Snuck through that small alley and stuck to the shadows. Lu took her time pulling up behind you and getting out, giving me time to get in position. It worked. Perps never saw me coming.”

“I see,” she says, two seconds before she almost collapses. I ease her down on the curb. “Your job sucks,” she stammers, breathing hard and clinging to my shirt with white knuckles.

Maybe, but it’s what I’m meant to do.

I kiss her forehead, because that’s all I can do right now. What I want to do is snatch her to me and never let her go. She almost died—Christ Almighty, my girl, my kid, I almost lost them, just like that.

I kiss her again, this time a little lower. Her glasses are crooked. I try to fix them, but they’re bent from the throw-down. “They thought I was Declan’s girlfriend,” she says, her voice continuing to tremble.

“Then my guess is Montenegro’s wife put a hit on you.” I shrug to make like everything’s fine, and that I’m not freaking the f*ck out over her being kidnapped and held at gunpoint at twelve goddamn weeks pregnant. “Women are funny when it comes to their men.”

I don’t mean to make her tear up, but that’s what she does. She clutches the front of my shirt and loses it, crying so hard I can barely understand her. “I thought you were dead. You were outnumbered; Lu was hurt. D-did you kill them—all of them?”

I nod, anger reverting me to cop mode.

Police officers are taught to protect, and to do so, that means we’re also taught to kill. I’m not immune to taking a life. I felt the impact with each one I ended tonight. But I also know I didn’t have a choice. Not this time. Not if it meant saving the woman I love and the baby she’s carrying inside her.

I hold on to Tess and let her cry, ’cause that’s what she needs to do. By the time the EMTs arrive to take Lu to the hospital, she’s calm enough to let me help her to her feet.

We walk to where they’re securing Lu to a stretcher. Tess holds tight to my hand as she bends to squeeze Lu’s arm. “Thank you for watching over me,” she tells her, softly. “You saved me and our little one.”

Lu nods and offers her a tight smile. I can tell that shot to her shoulder is killing her, but she manages to stay strong and be nice to my girl. She’s a good cop, and an even better woman. I lean in to tell her as much. “Lu, I—”

“Thirty years, O’Brien.” Her scowl and husky voice cut me off. “Thirty f*cking years and two shifts left till retirement.”

I straighten and swipe at my face. “Ah, yeah, sorry about this, Lu—”

“No stab wounds, no bullet holes, not even a damn black eye. Then I meet you and take one to the gut.”

“It’s only a flesh wound to the shoulder, ma’am,” the EMT interrupts.

“Was I talking to you, *?” Lu growls back.

“Um, no ma’am,” he answers.

“Then shut the hell up. You ain’t no doctor.”

The EMTs exchange glances, then hurry to shove her in back of the ambulance. “Thirty f*cking years!” Lu yells.

“I swear I’ll make it up to you,” I promise. “Do you like muffin baskets?”

“Fuck you, O’Brien.” The doors shut, but not before I hear her call me an *.

Tess rubs my arm. “She’s just upset about what happened,” she offers.

I take in her beautiful face, her eyes reddening the longer I look at her. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m a mess, and I think I have glass and pieces of bone in my hair. I’d like to go home. Can we go home?”

“As soon as we’re done here. I promise, baby.” I motion to the detectives waiting to take her statement. “It’s just procedure. Tell them everything you remember, and then we’re out of here, okay?”

The two suits step forward. I release Tess and step back just enough so it doesn’t look like I’m coaching her. I reach for my phone and hit the icon for my email. I rattle off the facts in a detailed report and send it directly to my sergeant, all the while keeping tabs on Tess. More cops show in the time it takes us to wrap up.

“Oh, shit,” someone says.

Three rookies gather around the last body, pointing to what remains of the man’s head. “Clean shot. All the way through. Do you know anyone who could do that? I sure don’t.”

“Hell, no. And did you see the perp by the building? O’Brien got him right through the heart.”

“Good job, O’Brien,” the one closest to me calls.

They mean it as a compliment. But they’re young, and still have a lot to learn. Maybe I’ll be able to show them. For now, my girl needs me. I reach for her and lead her back to my truck.

We’ve had enough bad lately. It’s time to start our life of good.





Epilogue





Tess


The autumn breeze is chilly, but the sun warms my face as I step onto the porch. Curran warms the rest of me when he presses his chest against my back and winds his arm around my growing belly. We wave to his siblings and friends. One by one, they climb into their vehicles and pull out of our long driveway.

My father and I settled out of court. For as much as he resents me, he hates scandal more. At least, when it’s directed at him. The figure we settled on paid the majority of my law school expenses; the rest I’ll work off as a prosecuting attorney in the DA’s office. Although I was only sworn in two months ago, I already know the public sector is where I belong.

I smile when Joey laughs at something Finn says. He pulls himself into the passenger side of Finn’s truck while Finn tucks his wheelchair in the rear cabin.

“Place is coming along nice,” Curran says to me. “Way better than it looked on paper.”

“I know,” I agree. “My favorite room so far is the master bathroom.”

He nibbles on my neck. “Not the bedroom?”

I laugh. “Oh, that room has its advantages, too. But our bathroom is gorgeous. I find myself going in there all the time just to stare at it.”

“I hear ya. I wasn’t sure when Sofe suggested that quartz shit, but that girl has damn good taste. Looks awesome with the cherry cabinets—and did you see the stone tile in the mudroom Finnie and Joey put down? Hell, they killed it.”

“Tell me about it. And they were so fast.” I turn to face him. “At this rate, we’ll be able to have Thanksgiving here.”

“Probably Christmas, too. It’s a big place.” He frowns when he lifts my hands and examines them closely. “Hey, where’s the rock?”

I smile and reach into my shirt, pulling out the long silver chain that holds my platinum engagement ring and wedding band. “I didn’t want to risk getting anything on them.” I shrug. “It seemed like a good alternative.”

That’s what I say, but my husband is no longer listening. “Hey. What else have you got in there?” He pulls at the collar of my T-shirt and peeks inside. “Damn, those are nice. Can I see them without the lace?”

We’ve spent another long weekend working on the interior of our newly constructed house, and both of us have to work the next day. But as my hands splay over the hard muscles of Curran’s chest, and I catch the gleam in his eyes, my exhaustion dissolves, replaced with a need that deepens my voice. “You can see anything you want, cop.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” I answer.

He lifts me in his arms, crushing his lips against mine as he carries me inside. The moment we hit the couch (incidentally, the one piece of furniture we haven’t broken in), it becomes a race to see who gets naked first.

I’m struggling to catch my breath when we finish, and he lowers us onto our sides, his rough hands sweeping over my bare breasts as his eyes latch on to mine. “I love you,” he rasps.

My arms link around his neck and draw him closer, allowing me to savor the sweeps of his tongue and the heat from his body.

As we lie there, I remember the words of his brother. Declan said that what I know will only take me so far. It’s who I know that will ultimately decide where I end up. I know Curran, his strengths, his faults, and how much he gives me. So I suppose “happy” is where I’ll be.

I smile and stroke the side of his face. “Thank you for loving me,” I tell him, quietly.

His blue eyes soften as he takes me in. “I didn’t get a choice,” he says. “Once I kissed you, I knew there was no going back….”





To those in law enforcement who risk their lives and practice their profession with strength, heart, and honor.





Acknowledgments


To my editor, Sue Grimshaw, for her kind words and for her continued support and encouragement, and to Team Random House for their patience and dedication to my work. You have my respect and admiration.

To Nicole Resciniti for being an agent when I need her to be, and a dear friend always.

To my husband, Jamie, who seems to like everything I write—no matter how crazy. Including, and not limited to: psycho machete-wielding fathers, tsunamis that appear from nowhere, useless fight scenes that don’t advance the plot, vampires who dress like naughty Catholic schoolgirls, and venomous snakes—because some books just need venomous snakes.

To my babies for their patience when Mommy needs to write…and their patience when Mommy is the loudest screamer on the roller coaster those rare times she isn’t writing.

To my girls and my writing pals, Amanda Flower, Kate SeRine, and Ann Marie Walker. I’m so proud to know you, and more proud to call you my friends.

To my fans who have stood by me from the start, and to those who are just discovering me. It’s an honor to share my characters and their journeys with you. The good news is, I’ve only just begun.

Lastly, to my Tío Marce, for all the smiles and laughs he gave me throughout my life. How do you thank someone who’s been so good to you, when “thank you” doesn’t seem to be enough? I’m not sure. What I know is that I’ll cherish my memories with him forever, and that I’ll mourn greatly because he loved me so greatly in return. Love you, Tío.





BY CECY ROBSON


O’Brien Family


Once Kissed

Once Crossed (coming soon)





Shattered Past


Once Perfect

Once Loved

Once Pure





Weird Girls


A Curse Awakened (novella)

The Weird Girls (novella)

Sealed with a Curse

A Cursed Embrace

A Cursed Moon (novella)

Cursed by Destiny

A Cursed Bloodline

A Curse Unbroken

Of Flame and Promise (coming soon)





PHOTO: KATE GLEDHILL PHOTOGRAPHY





CECY ROBSON is the New Adult and Contemporary author of the Shattered Past series and the O’Brien Family novels, as well as the award-winning author of the Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series. A self-proclaimed professional napper, Cecy counts among her talents a jaw-dropping knowledge of useless trivia, the ability to make her hair big, and a knack for breaking into song despite her family’s vehement protests. A full-time writer, registered nurse, wife, and mother living in the South, Cecy enjoys spending time with her family and silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories.

www.cecyrobson.com

Facebook.com/Cecy.Robson.Author

@cecyrobson

www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomCecyRobsonAuthor





The Editor’s Corner


Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November…wait, it is November, and Loveswept is releasing some of our best books of the year! Check out these fabulous romances:

New York Times bestselling author Marquita Valentine releases her second new novel in her Boys of the South spin-off series Take the Fall series with When We Fall, in which a small-town sweetheart takes a chance on the bad boy who’s always been her hottest fantasy. Another Loveswept New York Times bestselling author, Tracy Wolff introduces her new Hotwired series with Accelerate, where an unassuming passenger is taken for the ride of her life. New York Times bestselling author *crane A. Meredith Walters releases a powerful romance akin to The Fault in Our Stars with Butterfly Dreams. Then, welcome to Thistle Bend! A charming series debut from Tracy March, Should’ve Said No introduces a small town where old secrets are revealed—and wounded hearts are opened to new love. And in a short novel, Rebecca Rogers Maher’s Rolling in the Deep, two kindred spirits share a winning lottery ticket—and discover what it really means to get lucky.

Sports fans were introduced last month to the Aces Hockey series by Kelly Jamieson with Major Misconduct, and this month Kelly releases a holiday romance, Off Limits. Book two in the Recovered Innocence series by Beth Yarnall features a San Diego investigative team with a soft spot for lost causes and a passion for redemption in Vindicate. And Taking It Off, by USA Today bestselling author Claire Kent introduces you to Matt Stokes, the sexy-as-sin male stripper and club owner who knows what it really means to bare everything. Jessica Lemmon’s irresistible Lost Boys series kicks off with Fighting for Devlin the story of a good girl who plays by the rules—and the bad boy who brings out her wild side. And in Cecy Robson’s O’Brien Family series debut, two total opposites find that the flames of desire are still smoldering in Once Kissed.

For historical romance fans, Sharon Cullen’s The Reluctant Duchess ignites as a shy country girl and a hotheaded duke surrender to dangerous temptations. Then it’s on to Scotland for USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Haymore’s Highland Knights and the first book in this new series, Highland Heat, an electrifying tale of class warfare, fierce loyalties, and forbidden love.

I don’t want this month to end! But the good news is December is upon us with more fabulous Loveswept titles. Until then…

Happy Romance!



Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher





Read on for an excerpt from


Once Crossed


An O’Brien Family Novel



by Cecy Robson

Available from Loveswept





Chapter 1





Melissa


I stare at the nameplate perched on my father’s desk: DISTRICT ATTORNEY MILES FENSKE. It proclaims his position and allows those who read it a glimpse of what he’s accomplished. Yet it’s only a glimpse. It’s not a true representation of all he is, and all he means to me. Nor does it adequately paint the portrait of a man who’s been so kind, who saved me from tragedy, and who gave up his happiness in exchange for mine.

The nameplate is cheap, unlike the generous soul who looks back at me with the same gentle gaze he’s carried since the first moment I saw him. What are you thinking, Melissa? he signs to me, moving his hands in beautifully fluid motions.

We’re alone in his office. He doesn’t need to sign to keep our conversation private. He could whisper, and I would still be able to read his lips. But he knows I’m more comfortable communicating with my hands, probably because American Sign Language is one of the many things we learned together. As a child I considered it our very own secret language, something he and I could share away from the hearing world.

That you’re making a mistake, I sign back.

My comment earns me a smile, but I can see his concern, despite the crinkles around his eyes that deepen when he grins. “You’re going to have to trust me,” he says aloud.

I let out a breath. He knows I trust him. How could I not?

I was brought to the Lehigh Valley District Attorney’s office when I was about four years old, after my biological mother had attempted to sell my innocence in exchange for drugs. My mother probably thought it was a brilliant plan. Being born almost completely deaf, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate, couldn’t understand. Which meant I couldn’t tell anyone what was about to take place.

Yet that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel pain when she slapped me, or that I was numb to the terror when she shoved me into a room naked with those men. My primal instincts ordered me to run, that this was wrong, that I was in danger, so I did—thank God I did. I kicked and fought, dodging the hands trying to grab me and scurrying out my window.

To this day, I remember the way the cold metal grating of the fire escape felt against my bare feet, and the way my mouth struggled to form what I thought were words as I banged on my elderly neighbor’s window. Miss Lena, the lady with too many cats and twice as many grandchildren, yanked me into her apartment when she saw me. She called the police, but by the time they arrived, the men were gone and so was my mother. I never saw them again.

Not that I regret it.

I was placed in foster care, confused and frightened about what was happening and certain I’d eventually return “home.” Instead, I was brought before the young assistant DA Miles Fenske. He was supposed to handle my case, dispose of it, and move on. He was never supposed to welcome me into his heart. Yet that’s exactly what he did.

“Melissa,” he says. His words sound muffled; my hearing aids can only do so much, but I hear enough to sense the emotion in the way he speaks my name. “Why are you so sad?”

I raise my chin. “Declan O’Brien will never be the man you are. He’s not the right DA for this position.” I shake my head. “He belongs in the Trial Unit, Arson, Fugitive—anywhere else but where you’ve placed him.”

“I know you don’t like him…”

I raise my brows.

“…and that your first encounter wasn’t a positive one…”

“That’s because he was an *,” I mumble.

He chuckles. “I assure you he deeply regrets what he said. But Declan is smart, quick, and kind.”

I don’t agree. Not completely. Is Declan intelligent? Brilliantly so, and absurdly astute in court. With short, curly blond hair and a dashing grin that lights his blue eyes, he’s also gorgeous, and he knows it. But is he kind? I’m not so sure that he is. “He’ll never be the man you are,” I repeat.

“I’m not asking him to be. I simply want the best person for the job, someone who will help the victims who need him most.”

“That’s what you claim. But he doesn’t have experience handling delicate cases where offenders often inflict irreparable trauma.”

“No, but as the head of Victim Services, you do,” he offers with a knowing gleam.

My nails dig into the wooden armrests. “If you’re trying to hook us up, I’m going to be seriously mad at you.”

The edges of his mouth curve. “I’m only asking you to help Declan as he transitions into his new role. This new assignment won’t be easy on him.”

“Because he doesn’t want it. He wants to be the head of Homicide.” I stand, my hands pleading. “Please reassign him. The Sexual Assault and Child Abuse Unit is not where someone who seeks glory belongs.”

My voice trails as I catch a glimmer of his pain. “Daddy?”

At once, his face scrunches, flushing red only to grow alarmingly pale. I race around his desk, clutching his shoulders to keep him upright as he grips his side and beads of sweat gather along his receding hairline.

It’s only because he lifts his bowed head and a healthier shade of pink returns to his cheeks that I’m not screaming for help and dialing 911. “Daddy?”

He offers me a weak smile and pats my arm. “I’m all right,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

“No you’re not,” I say, my eyes stinging. My stare drifts over his body. His light blue dress shirt clings with sweat to his arms and plump midsection. He’s not well. My father is…sick. “What aren’t you telling me?”

His hand slowly eases away from his side. For a moment his eyes search my face, as they’ve done a thousand times throughout my life. “The doctors discovered new tumors along my colon,” he finally says. “They’re going to resection my bowel and dispose of the affected area, with the hope of avoiding chemo this time around.”

Very carefully, I straighten, despite the fact that my heart has all but stopped beating. My father was diagnosed with colon cancer years ago and just barely survived the aggressive treatment. If it’s returned, now that he’s older, and not as healthy…

“When were you going to tell me?” I ask, keeping my voice steady despite how badly it wants to shake.

He sighs. “Friday, over dinner.”

To give me the weekend to absorb it, no doubt. “And your surgery? When is that?”

“A few weeks.” He frowns as if debating what to say. “I’ll be out of commission for a while. In my absence, Declan will lead the office as acting district attorney.” He looks at me then. “And I ask that you help him, regardless of your feelings toward him.”





Declan


“This isn’t where I f*cking belong,” I growl. I’m beyond pissed, and started typing my resignation letter at least six times today only to delete it. Yet for as much as I don’t want to head the Sexual Assault and Child Abuse Unit, I’m not a quitter. “Fuck,” I mumble, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”

My brother Curran crosses his arms over his chest, not caring how it creases the shirt of his Philly PD uniform. But Curran doesn’t care about shit like that. “It’s still a promotion, Deck,” he says. “You got this DA spot straight out of law school and have made more of a name for yourself than most douchebag attorneys ever will.” He holds up a hand. “No offense.”

“Which is why I should be leading the Homicide Unit.”

I shove away from my desk and pace. When Miles gave me these new digs, I thought it was just the start of all the good things coming my way. When he assigned me a county car and personal secretary, it only reinforced that my hard work had paid off. I was on my way. Until I wasn’t.

“I spent months dismantling a mafia empire, Curran.”

“I know,” he says. “I was there.”

“I brought down a major crime boss—and his second in command, and his third.”

“Yup. Saw that, too,” he agrees.

“I received international attention—the trial of the century, the media called it—and for what? To be shoved someplace I don’t belong.”

“Why don’t you think you belong there?”

Out of all my five brothers, Curran is probably the biggest ball-buster. But he’s not messing with me now. He’s being serious.

“Do you want to hear about babies being beaten or women dragged into alleys and raped?” I demand. “These are the cases I’m going to be dealing with every day.”

“Someone has to do it, Deck. It’s the right thing.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m only saying I may not be the man for the job. This shit’s disgusting, what these lowlife *s are capable of.”

“Is this about Finnie?” He huffs when I straighten and don’t answer. “Christ,” he mutters.

Just like that, my brother nails it on the head. For all he sometimes pisses me off, my brother isn’t stupid or blind. “Finnie didn’t deserve what happened to him,” I say, feeling my anger burn down to my gut.

“Of course he didn’t,” Curran snaps. “No one does. But as his brother, you owe it to him to put the pieces of filth like the guy who hurt him away.”

I sit back in my chair and rub my jaw. “I don’t know if I can.”

Our youngest brother was sexually assaulted by a neighbor when he was ten. It screwed with his mind, and despite his jokes and his good days, his bad days are still really bad. What he doesn’t realize is that we’ve all suffered, too. Not like he has—of course not like he has. That doesn’t mean we don’t hurt for him or haven’t spent sleepless nights worried what he’ll do to himself.

Nothing bad was supposed to happen to Finnie. He was the baby. The one who counted on us. And the one we were all supposed to keep safe.

With this new assignment, hearing stories like Finnie’s on a regular basis? Goddamnit, it’s bad enough he’s starting to spiral downward again. I huff. “I don’t think I can do this,” I say yet again.

“Deck, you have to, man.”

A knock on the door interrupts us. I know who it is before I even ask. “Come in,” I say, assuming my attorney pose because for now, I have to. For now, I’m a professional. Even though all the Philly boy in me wants to do is rage.

My boss, Miles Fenske, walks in, followed by his daughter, Melissa. Miles smiles warmly, nodding my way.

Mel? What can I say? She’s the one person who’s never been taken by my charm. Today’s no different. Unlike the other females who work here, from interns to attorneys, she doesn’t meet me with a grin, doesn’t flash me a little leg, doesn’t pretend to flirt. Brown hair, brown eyes, creamy skin, with a stony exterior, she walks in with her hips swinging as her bright red dress hugs her hourglass figure, her full lips press into a firm line, and her unyielding stare meets mine.

She doesn’t like me. Not that I blame her. Too bad this is the one woman I can’t seem to get out of my damn mind….