Page 33 of Shattered Hearts
Forcing her out of my mind, I knock on my father’s door.
Shane Gallagher’s private office is stately, outfitted in dark wood and plush brown leather. The sort of place that’s impossible to get comfortable in. Every time I enter, I can’t wait to leave. But Dad must not have a problem with the décor since it’s been like this for as long as I can remember.
He doesn’t smile much, even when he likes someone. He’s pensive and stern, but I know he loves me. And in this line of work, love is rare. Aside from the fact he’s my dad, I owe him my life and my allegiance, among many other things, and I hate to bring him bad news.
He situates a cigar between his teeth, staring hard at my bruised-up face. “Rough first night together?”
“Funny.”Especially when you know she’s not my real wife.“I was attacked this morning. Four assailants. Killed one, wounded another. They took off before I got any information out of them, but I have reason to believe they targeted me. They moved in at the perfect moment, and they weren’t muggers. They didn’t take anything.”
Dad wastes nothing. Not time, not words, and certainly not money.
He goes for the jugular with his first guess. “De Lucas?”
The scar bisecting my face throbs at the mention of that name, like the ghost of the man who gave it to me is being summoned from the grave.
I swallow hard but shake my head. “Couldn’t have been. The guys weren’t Italian.”
“You’re sure?”
“One of them had the Celtic cross on his forearm.”
“Irishmen?” This clearly stumps Dad, same as me.
Mob enforcers do all manner of grisly jobs, which means our enemies are sometimes numerous. However, having a petty grudge against me isn’t enough motivation for someone to go up against the Kings. They would know attacking me means retaliation from one of the most powerful families in the city.
“I’ll put out some feelers.” He sets the cigar in an antique silver ashtray. “If there’s a bounty on your head, I’ll find out. For now, watch your back. And your…wife.”
I swear there’s a twinkle in his eye when he says that last word.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.Don’t fucking remind me.
My father has good intentions, but his meaning lands like an anvil. I don’t need any reminders about what happened to Bri. With the ridiculous way I’ve been acting around Riley, though, I do need a reminder that I’m a dead man walking.
The curse of my gruesome past haunts me. I’ve removed myself from any hopes of future relationships or marriages because I know the truth. Any woman who comes into my life will be doomed to the same danger I court, day after day. I’ve escaped dying many times, but in the end, death will have its vengeance. On me, and on any person who gets too close.
I don’t want this for anyone. Not Harper, and not Riley. Their entanglement with me just puts them in more danger.
After Dad dismisses me, I exit his office, turn right, and head down the hall. Standard procedure stipulates that if you call a crew to clean up an unauthorized kill, you report on the circumstances to Thomas Brennan.
Even without this morning’s little workout, he’s a man I need to see. About the matter of my runaway bride.
When I enter, Thomas sits behind his desk, visibly worn out from yesterday’s events.
He takes one look at me and narrows his eyes, motioning with a meaty hand. “Your face?”
“I called the crew to pick up the guy who did this.”
“Rando?”
“No. The attack was coordinated. Three others. Irish. Dad’s looking into it.”
Thomas listens with disinterest before dismissing me with a wave of his fingers. While nothing would give me greater pleasure than leaving, I don’t move a muscle.
“Any news about Harper?”
His expression darkens, harshening his already grim features. “Not yet.”
Thomas passes those two little words like kidney stones. Clearly, Harper’s disappearance has him rattled.