Paddy reaches out and puts my arm down. I glance over at him and press my lips together to stop any more flow of words.

  His smile is gentle. “We’re…friends, remember? You can ask me how I’m doing.”

  My cheeks heat. Duh, of course. I shrug with a bit of awkwardness. “Sorry. I guess I’m more comfortable around flowers than I am people.”

  “That’s understandable, considering.” He winces as though realizing what he just said. “I mean…”

  “I knew what you meant.”

  Paddy clears his throat. “Anyway, to answer your question, I spent my day unloading crates of weapons.”

  I cough on the bite of sandwich and cover my mouth. “I’m sorry?”

  He sends me a cheeky grin. “It’s my job within our organization. I’m the arms buyer.”

  While he continues eating, I just stare at him for a minute. There are times I forget the family—families—I belong to. Pierce kills and tortures people in his special underground room. How could you forget that? “Do you enjoy it?”

  Paddy’s eyes widen a fraction before he nods. “I do. Weapons are something of a hobby of mine. It’s the only thing I’m good at. So, yeah, I enjoy it.”

  It’s my turn to be surprised. My eyes narrow. “It can’t be the only thing you’re good at.”

  He shifts and faces forward, his gaze turning from mine. “According to my grand-da, it is.”

  I study Paddy’s profile. His jaw is clenched, and his shoulders are tight. My gaze travels down. His knuckles have gone white from clutching his plate. Emotions roll off him in waves. I want to reach out and comfort him in some way, but he may not welcome the gesture.

  “Well, I’m sure your grandfather was wrong,” I say instead.

  He seems to shake off whatever hold the conversation has on him because he clears his throat and straightens awkwardly, loosening his grip on the plate. “Anyway, how was your shopping trip today? I noticed the new table in the dining room when I walked through.”

  It’s clear the previous subject is closed.

  “It was productive, I think. Pierce knows a custom furniture maker, so we stopped at his workshop. Apparently, a customer had backed out on the purchase of that dining room set, so he had it stored in his warehouse. I’ll admit, it’s gorgeous, and I couldn’t resist buying it,” I admit with a bit of self-indulgence. “We spent the remainder of the morning and early afternoon picking out items for the rest of the house. I guess there are perks to being a member of Emilio’s family because it all should be delivered in the next couple of days.”

  Paddy chuckles. “I’m sure the perk is Pierce putting the fear of god into everyone. It’s probably why you’re getting everything so fast. Most people wouldn’t want to get on your brother-in-law’s bad side.”

  I’m horrified at the thought. “You don’t think he actually threatened that man, do you?”

  He quirks his lips. I smack my hand over my face. “Now I feel awful. That poor guy.”

  “I’m sure he’s being compensated soundly for the rush order.”

  “He better be,” I say fiercely.

  Paddy huffs out a small laugh. We go back to eating in companionable silence. The neighborhood is quiet. It’s nice just sitting here, enjoying the remaining sun, being surrounded by all these flowers. I could get used to this.

  “Did you get all your stuff unpacked?” Paddy asks, breaking it.

  “Mostly. I still have some of my sewing materials that need to be put away, but I’m trying to figure out the best system,” I tell him. “I’m also waiting on my dress form mannequins to arrive.”

  “Dress form mannequins? What are those?”

  “They’re basically torsos on a stick.” I giggle at the image, but that’s the only way I can explain them. “Clothing designers use them for their designs since they’re essentially the shape of a person. It gives us a form to use for fittings of whatever clothes we make.”

  “Interesting.”

  I cast a glance in Paddy’s direction, expecting a mocking expression. He actually sounds sincere.

  “Did you make your wedding dress?”

  I nod. “Took me all week, too. But I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.”

  “You looked beautiful. I can’t remember if I told you that or not.”

  My cheeks heat. He didn’t say it with words, but rather in the way he looked at me. “You did.”

  What is it about him that makes me feel safe? If he were any other guy saying these things, I’d be anxious and nervous.

  Paddy clears his throat as though uncomfortable with the direction the conversation just took. “Anyway, I should probably get inside. I need to go over a few last-minute details regarding something with Jack tomorrow night. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

  Without another word, he gets up and disappears around the corner and through the breezeway. I continue eating, but it’s not as nice without company. I can’t stop thinking about how different this Paddy is from the one I’ve watched over the last few years.

  Gone is the cocky womanizer. In its place is someone who seems to be as awkward about this marriage as I feel. It’s almost refreshing. Maybe he’s not quite as confident as he usually appears. It makes me curious about him. Everything I know is from observation and Caitlín, who’s obviously biased.

  Except I’m not sure being curious is wise. I’m experiencing that same “vibe” about Paddy as I did about this house being ours. It’s telling me that with each layer of his personality I peel away, the greater my chances are of being led down a road I’m not sure I’m prepared to travel. He’s already admitted to being attracted to me, even if it’s against his will. It’s pretty clear there’s so much more to him than what he’s always shown.

  It’s that more that terrifies me.

  Chapter 25

  Paddy

  * * *

  My knee bounces an impatient rhythm as I stare out the back window of the SUV and go over everything we’d planned for tonight’s raid. Including every contingency. I mentally catalog all our weapons and ammunition. As always, my supplier had come through yesterday and delivered several crates of world-class semi-automatics.

  “You seem extra on edge tonight,” Jack says next to me.

  “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”

  He rams his elbow into my side. “Not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.”

  “Feck, that hurt,” I cough out with a pained wince.

  “It was meant to.”

  I glare at Jack in the darkened back seat that is packed with not only him, but several of our soldiers. They glance in our direction but then turn away. They’re used to us and our behavior.

  “I apologized to Anya,” I lean in close and whisper. Nobody else needs to hear about my personal life.

  “She accepted, of course, because that’s the kind of person she is.”

  My eyes narrow, not caring for his tone. “You seem to know an awful lot about my wife.”

  Jack cuts his gaze to me. “Because I’ve actually made several attempts to get to know her.”

  “Why?”

  His mouth snarls and his brow furrows. “What do you mean, why? Because she was a young girl who got dealt a shit deal. She also seems like she could use a friend. She has a witty sense of humor. You should have heard how snappy she was, telling me she’d take small bills for when she won that bet we all made about Brenna being pregnant a couple of years ago. And between Pierce’s family and ours, I’m sure it’s a bit intimidating to be surrounded by people who, at one time, would have considered you the enemy. No doubt, there are a small few who still do.”

  How the feck could anyone think of Anya as an enemy after all this time? The woman barely speaks at family functions. Hell, I found her hiding behind a damn tree at Rowan and Matteo’s christening reception.

  “I don’t really like being around people.”

  If they’re treating Anya like shit, then I don’t blame her. How have I never noticed that?

  “Hey,” Jack says, snapping me out of it. “Stop thinking about it right now. I need your head in the game. Worry about that other shit tomorrow. Tonight, your focus has to be on us. On this raid. On getting in there and getting those women out without getting yourself, or any of our soldiers, killed. You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” The anger simmering in my gut grows hotter. It’s good, though. Because it gives me more of an incentive to kill those Polish bastards. Five years we’ve been at war. Five years of countless raids where we’ve found women, bound and naked, stashed in warehouses. Any single one of them could have been my wife. It fires up the rage that continues to build.

  Finally, we arrive at our destination. The last distance will be on foot, covered by the pitch-black of night. Like a synchronistic dance, we all exit the vehicles, circle to the back, and begin passing out weapons as though we’re on an assembly line. Throughout the years, we’ve become like a well-oiled machine. We all have our parts and can perform them with our eyes closed.

  Once everyone is armed, we move out. No rushing. We have a plan, and we stick to it. Impatience causes mistakes. There’s no room for error. It’s how we lose people. This part of Greenwood Heights is quiet. It’s burned-out and closed-up warehouses that have long been abandoned. Or made to appear that way.

  We arrive at the front entrance of the most rundown-looking building with its missing windows and door nearly hanging off the hinges. Jack leads the assault with me right behind, followed by our soldiers. Nathan and Da take up the rear.

  “You ready?” Jack whispers.

  I nod. Then, it’s nothing but chaos as we rush in at full assault. Gunfire explodes. Flashes of light burst from our weapons. Cries of pain fill the air. The scent of gunpowder and smoke surrounds us. Beneath that soon grows the copper-tinged odor of blood. I say a quick prayer none of it’s Irish. My shoulder aches from the constant battering. At long last, the final echo of a gunshot fades.

  My gaze takes everything in. Searching for my brothers. Our soldiers. As well as any lingering enemies. All seems well. Nathan approaches. “You good?”

  I nod. “You? What about Jack and Da?”

  “We’re all good.”

  Dead bodies lay scattered along the concrete floor. Dark liquid spots grow bigger—wider—as the blood flows from our enemies to bathe the area around them. I toe a few, rolling them over, but none are familiar. Just blank faces with empty stares.

  Faint feminine cries grow louder. Moments later, our soldiers are escorting woman after woman out of a room on the opposite end of the warehouse from where Nathan and I stand. That same sickening sensation I get with every raid lands in my gut. Especially when my gaze falls on a blonde woman. She looks nothing like Anya, but I can’t help drawing a comparison.

  Seconds pass, and soon, all the women are out of my sight. They’re being loaded into the back of a van and will be transported to Francesca’s community refuge center she had built for this reason. It’s the place we send every woman we find.

  I take another glance around. Suddenly, I’m tired from all this. “Is that everyone?”

  Nathan nods. “I think so.”

  “We ready to get out of here before reinforcements show up?” I ask.

  He claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  The house is dark as I open the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible. I lock up behind me and slowly make my way up the stairs to my room. My gaze cuts down the hall toward Anya’s room. Of course, the lights are off. It’s the middle of the night. No doubt she’s sleeping.

  I head into my bathroom for a quick shower. No matter how many I take, there always seems to be blood staining my hands. It’s the price we all pay for the life we lead. For the family we were born into. The water scalds my skin, brightening it to pink. Before long, I step out and throw on a pair of briefs. Buzzing energy flows through my veins, making me jittery.

  Knowing there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep yet, I head back downstairs to the family room I’m converting into my own private space. The first place I go is the small, temporary dry bar I had installed today. Nathan had gifted me with a couple bottles of The Devil’s Keep for a combination wedding and housewarming present.

  Once I’ve poured myself a shot, I toss it back. The heat of it burns the entire way down before settling in my stomach. I fill the glass again and take it with me across the room. All I want to do is clear my mind of all the shit that went down earlier.

  This is the first raid where I don’t have my brothers seated around me afterward. There’s a different kind of silence when you’re alone with your thoughts than there is when you’re sharing it with someone else. It’s, weirdly, louder. The silence surrounding me at the moment is deafening. Overwhelming.

  Needing to try and drown it out, I grab my gaming controller and turn my system on. The latest game I bought powers up, and before too long, I’m immersing myself—losing myself—in it. Until I sense another presence. My finger hits the pause button, and I swivel my head toward the entryway.

  Anya stands there, appearing abashed for being caught. I drink her in. At least now you know what she sleeps in. She looks almost exactly how I imagined she would with her hair wild and tangled around her pale, bare shoulders. Like she just rose from my bed. Her cheeks flush as though she can read my mind.

  There shouldn’t be anything overtly sexy about the tank top and shorts she’s wearing, yet my cock hardens. All I can picture is settling between her thick thighs, and those long legs of hers wrapping around my waist.

  Even knowing it’s a bad idea, I can’t seem to help myself. “You might as well come in and have a seat instead of just standing there.”

  Chapter 26

  Anya

  * * *

  Muffled noise drifts through my bedroom door. I lie there a moment longer. What is that? There’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep not knowing. My anxiety won’t let me.

  I toss back the covers and crack open my door. It’s coming from downstairs. Is that someone fighting? I move to the top of the steps and glance over the balcony. Light shines from the family room—Paddy’s converted den—and the clanging of metal, growling of an unseen animal, and shooting-type sounds grow louder. Taking my time, I creep down the steps. One of them creaks. I freeze, my bare toes of the other foot skimming the carpet.

  Another animal growls, and a familiar “feck” reaches me. I let out the breath I’d been holding and head down the last few stairs to peek around the corner. Sitting on the floor in an overstuffed beanbag, playing a video game, is Paddy. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. My pulse races and a flutter begins in my belly.

  I stand there, watching him. My gaze occasionally darts to the large-screen television and the fascinating game he’s playing. But mostly, it stays on Paddy. The intense concentration on his face is a stark contrast to the smiling, smirking man I’m used to. There are circles under those blue eyes that seem almost weary. I continue my perusal, watching the way his muscles twist and flex as he uses the game controller. There’s a tattoo on his inner forearm I’ve never noticed before. There’s a lot about him you’ve never noticed. Another large tattoo appears to cover his entire back, but only part of it is visible.

  As though sensing he’s being observed, he turns his gaze in my direction. I swallow hard at being caught. Our eyes meet and lock. I’m not sure I could move if I tried. An awareness passes between us, especially as his gaze slowly travels over me. I’m only wearing a sleep tank and mid-thigh-length sleep shorts.

  “You might as well come in and have a seat instead of just standing there,” Paddy says drily. “Get comfortable.”

  With hesitant steps, I pad across the room and sit on the floor near—but not too near—him. I pull my knees to my chest and hug them to me. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “You didn’t. Not really. I could probably do with the interruption anyway.” He turns his gaze back toward the game he’d paused, but he doesn’t resume it.

  I study him more closely. He seems tired. Not sleepy. But tired. Like he’s holding on to a heavy weight that’s only getting heavier. His words about playing video games when he needs to decompress come back to me.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask hesitantly, not sure he’ll appreciate my intrusion. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

  He darts a glance my way. There’s an energy around him like he wants to tell me how he’s doing but isn’t sure he should. Whatever internal war he’s having seems to settle because he lets out a breath. “It was just a rough night.”

  “Would you like to talk about it? I’m a good listener. Or, at least, that’s what Caitlín tells me. You know how she likes to talk,” I say, trying to make him smile. I don’t like the almost defeated expression on his face. It reminds me of the one he wore on our wedding day.

  I get my wish because one side of his mouth tips up. It’s not the full smile I’m used to, but I’ll take it.

  “Yes, she does at that.” He chuckles lightly. “No doubt you’re the perfect friend who just sits there and listens.”

  A bit of guilt runs over me at poking fun at my friend at her expense, but in this case, I don’t think Caitlín would mind. “We all have the one thing we’re good at. Your sister’s is talking. Mine’s listening.”

  Paddy’s gaze intensifies. I try not to shift under it. “We went on a raid tonight.”

  I don’t move. “A rescue?” I ask quietly, my voice barely audible, even to myself.

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  A boulder grows in my throat. I do my best to swallow it down, but it nearly chokes me. It doesn’t do anything to calm my racing heart or the nauseated sensation doing loops in my belly. A rescue means they found more women. Women like me. I take in a shaky breath. “How many?”

  Paddy hesitates as though unsure how much he should tell me. Whether because he’s afraid of my reaction or something else, who knows. “Ten,” he finally says.