This Life II Page 4

  “No matter the reason, it’s doing me good,” I said. “I feel more confident.”

  “And it shows.” His gaze took a lustful turn, and he gave me a once-over that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m so fucking proud of your hard work.”

  Heat bled across my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop the beaming smile. I had worked hard this summer. Both physically and with my studies. I’d started learning Italian. Sarah had ordered books to learn Spanish, which had inspired me.

  “You ready to sweat?” he asked.

  I saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

  He chuckled and jerked his chin at the house. “Do two laps around the property while I set up the markers.”

  Fuck yes! The markers meant knife throwing—my favorite. When we’d started practicing in Washington, we’d gone easy at first. It was mainly about accuracy and…well, making sure I lodged a knife into a tree and not Finnegan’s leg. Maybe I’d been close—once! Just once. And it’d only grazed his jeans.

  He shouldn’t have been standing so close!

  Then, as I improved, Finnegan would start putting up markers on different trees, and it would be my job to hit them. I would stand with my back against the trees, and he would count me down. Then I’d turn around, quickly locate the markers, and throw my knives.

  It was such a rush.

  “No, keep your eyes closed.” He grasped my shoulders. “I switched things up a bit.”

  Anticipation tore through me, and I gripped my knives tightly.

  My breath was still coming out in pants from my run.

  “Once you turn around,” he said, “there will be nine markers in different colors.”

  “Why can’t I open my eyes?” I wasn’t facing the trees anyway.

  “Focus,” he replied firmly. “Push everything else outta your head. It’s just you and those markers. Understood?”

  I nodded and did a mental check of my stance. Shoulders relaxed and squared, feet parted, knees not locked into place. I had to be flexible and quick.

  “Nine markers in different colors—got it,” I said.

  “Good. I will tell you what marker you’re going for,” he went on. “You’ve trained enough to be able to handle a bigger challenge, so here’s what we’re gonna do. If you miss, Emilia…? I’m still gonna give you a new color, and then you’ll have two targets to hit as fast as you can.”

  I drew in a breath and nodded once more.

  Fuck, how I loved this. Whenever he cranked things up, there was a current of something intense that buzzed through me.

  Finnegan stepped away, and I rolled my shoulders.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “I’m ready.”

  I had nine knives in my hand, with three more sets of six knives in the bag by my feet. If his plan was for us to go faster and longer between breaks, I might need them all.

  “Green marker, go,” he ordered.

  I spun around and blinked. The daylight rushed at me, as did the sight of the nine markers. Palm-sized patches attached to nearby trees—there! I spotted a green one and threw the first knife. And missed by a large margin. I cursed and gripped another knife.

  “Yellow,” he said.

  I hit the green—

  “Red—come on, hurry.”

  “Fuck.” I gnashed my teeth and shoved the panic out of my skull; it would only cause the colors to blur together, and I’d freeze up. Green, down. Yellow and red—

  “White,” Finnegan commanded. “Pink.”

  I missed on white, then got them both within a second.

  “Orange and blue.”

  Thank God I didn’t miss again.

  “Gray,” Finnegan told me. “Fast, he’s coming at you with a gun—”

  “But I’m out of knives,” I protested and turned to him.

  He nodded with a dip of his chin and clasped his hands behind his back. “So you’re dead, because you missed twice.”

  I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. My hands were getting cold.

  Finnegan lifted a brow and nodded at the trees. “Grab your set and go again.”

  3

  Finnegan O’Shea

  “You’re a hard-ass,” Emilia said.

  I smiled faintly as we walked back up toward the house again.

  Truth was, my wife was fucking fantastic. She had better aim than I did with knife throwing, which I’d told her, and I never shied away from telling her how proud I was. But it was time to step up the game, and I wanted to test her limits.

  “Only ’cause I know you can take it,” I settled for saying. “We’ll do this tomorrow too, and then we’re gonna start with moving targets.”

  Emilia chuckled, all flushed cheeks and sweat-dampened hairline. We’d been at it a couple hours, and I was the one who hadn’t gotten much of a workout. “What, are you gonna stick one of those markers on Patrick and tell him to run?”

  At that, I barked out a loud guffaw and hugged her to me. “I love you, princess,” I laughed. “Remind me to tell him that one.”

  She gigglesnorted and slapped my chest.

  “We’ll use a flashlight,” I told her. “It’ll do you good to train with less visibility too.”

  “Oh cool, that sounds fun.” She made that clear every time she got ready. It worried me a bit to observe her. Because I recognized the signs. I knew what it was like to get high on adrenaline and crave the next hit. The first time I’d seen her that way was when she stole my Aston.

  She’d been wild. Her eyes—her expression. Fuck.

  I had to find a balance. If I let her take too big of a hit, she’d put herself in harm’s way. At the same time, if I tightened the leash on her, her spirit would be crushed. And that was the last thing I wanted. My wife was a ballbuster and had yet to see her own potential—but I had. I saw it every day, and I fell harder for her with each new development.

  “What’s for dinner tonight?” I asked.

  “Carnitas.” She said it with a Spanish accent and shimmied her hips. “Viv is helping me.”

  I shook my head in amusement at how goddamn adorable my goofball of a princess was. She hadn’t only brought me back to life, she was also bringing herself back to life. Well…I guess it would be her first. It still infuriated me how her father had treated her—how he’d spent years pushing her down, abusing her, making her feel like less… Thank fuck Jonathan was dead.

  It was another thing I had to tell Emilia at some point.

  “It’ll be a late dinner,” she said, “so I’m gonna prepare some snacks after I’ve showered.”

  I pressed a kiss to her temple. “I don’t deserve you.” None of us did.

  I was gonna have a talk with Pat, though. He needed to set some fucking rules where Sarah was concerned, ’cause she wasn’t doing jack shit. Most days, she stayed in their room and watched TV or studied. She’d come down for dinner and chat about this or that—and she’d eat the food Emilia had made. I wouldn’t stand for it.

  “About this shower…” I dipped down and nuzzled her neck. “I think it’s best I help you.”

  “Oh, you do, huh?” She grinned.

  “I definitely do.”

  “That was a long shower, mate.”

  I quirked a brow at a smirking Conn and passed him on the stairs as I folded the sleeves of my shirt. “You’ve seen my wife. And don’t answer that.”

  He chuckled and trailed down after me.

  We found Liam, Kellan, Pat, Eric, Pop, Colm, and Seán in the living room area of the basement, where they were all staring at a map splayed out on the coffee table. Liam was pointing out possible routes between safe houses and targets.

  Liam spotted me and wrapped up. “But all this depends on what Finn decides for our safe house in Europe. If we stay in London, we’re gonna need separate transport for our gear. That might rule out the best location.”

  And it did. The place we owned in London was undoubtedly safest, but the border between England and France was more heavily patrolled.

  “A
fter what Eric dug up yesterday, I believe our best option is Cerveteri,” I said.

  We’d narrowed it down to two Avellino villas, one of which was just outside Rome. And yesterday, Eric had found out a regular grocery delivery was scheduled once a week, which indicated someone was staying there. Eric had gotten the idea to look into it when we’d had another food delivery here. Over twenty of us were staying at Liam’s ranch, and Emilia had to order groceries pretty much every day. With only one fridge, we didn’t have a lot of space to keep shit around for long.

  “We just got a lease on that place, son,” Pop pointed out. “There’s no security system installed, and to do that now would only make people talk. It’s a small town.”

  I frowned. “You do realize I run a security firm, right? First of all, Eric and I can get security up and running in a day—using only our guys. Secondly, we’re not staying long. We’ll need a place nearby after we get into Gio’s house. We’ll lay low a day or so, and then we’re ghost.”

  Pop leaned back and lit up a smoke, and he didn’t say anything else. The frustration in his expression said plenty.

  Pat and I had talked about it last night, and we believed our father was going into panic mode as a reaction to losing Ma. Pop grew antsy when Pat went to pick up fucking groceries. We felt for him—we hurt too—but this was for Ma. I wouldn’t rest until our mother’s murderers were six feet under.

  Eric brought out his phone and checked it. It looked like he’d received a message. Then he stood up and excused himself for a moment.

  I turned my attention to Liam and Kellan. “What’re your two cents on where to keep the women and children safe in Europe?”

  They were two of the guys who thought we should all go together.

  Liam shrugged. “With us,” he said bluntly. I furrowed my brow. Was he serious? “We don’t have the manpower to put enough guards on them so we can relax and get shit done. You’ll be worried about Emilia, I’ll be worried about the twins—so on.”

  Fuck. I scrubbed my hands over my face. He was right. If we were working a gig in Italy and our women and children were in a safe house in, say, Germany or Spain, I’d still worry. Europe wasn’t our territory. I didn’t know it as well as I knew the US, and I’d never be certain that no one followed us—or worse, followed the girls. What if the Avellinos tracked them down? And we were in another country?

  Even if Colm and Conn traveled with them, it wouldn’t be enough. Not that we could spare those two.

  “The Italians would have to go through all of us before they laid a finger on our family, boss,” Kellan murmured. “You know that.”

  “You’re not seriously considering this.” Pop stared between us, incredulous.

  I didn’t know what to say, which I couldn’t show more than I already was doing. We’d left protocol behind the day Ma and Ian were gunned down and John was kidnapped. It went against everything I believed in to bring our women and kids with us, but at the same time…where the fuck would they be safer? I only trusted myself to keep Emilia safe. I bet Liam felt the same about Alec and Nessa.

  “Guys,” Eric said, returning to the living room, “we have movement outside of Rome. My contact sent me a clip from the surveillance the local cops are doing.”

  That ended our previous topic for now, and we all followed Eric into the control room.

  He pulled up the clip on one of the screens as I joined his side, and I nodded for him to play it.

  “Sir,” someone said behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, but it wasn’t for me. It was one of Liam’s boys. My cousin stepped outside to handle it.

  The rest of us watched an eleven-second-long clip. It had been filmed from the side of the road, it seemed. Outside the gates of Gio’s villa, probably hidden away in the bushes or whatever. Two vans drove through the gates, and the interesting part was that the license plates were German. It stood out.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Pat said. “Is that Gio’s…?”

  “Freeze the frame,” I ordered quietly. Right there, at the end of the clip. Another car. I snorted under my breath. A fucking Rolls Royce Phantom. Talk about ostentatious. “That’s a woman in the back seat.” I pointed at the rear window.

  Long hair and a flashy hat said everything. The Italians didn’t work with women. This had to be family. Any other alternative would be too farfetched.

  My mind wandered to Emilia, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this woman was her mother.

  Elena Avellino had once, presumably, run away from her family and started her own with Jonathan Porter, a working-class alcoholic from a small mining town. She’d had his child, then left them both and returned to Italy. There were more gaps to fill than holes at a brothel, and I, for one, couldn’t wait to get my hands on some answers. But either way, we had our destination now. Cerveteri. The villa outside Rome was the most likely location where we’d find information on Gio’s operations around Europe.

  “Can we talk in private, boss?” Eric asked.

  I inclined my head and gestured to the door.

  On our way out into the hallway, Liam passed me and told me we had to talk later.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said. Something was up; that much was clear from the look on his face. It wasn’t good news he’d received. He furrowed his brow in the same grim way I did.

  Eric and I walked down the dimly lit hall until he slowed down and turned to face me with determination in his eyes.

  “I can get access to the surveillance,” he said quietly. “But not from here.”

  Well, shite. That meant only one thing. “You wanna go home.”

  He nodded once. “We have the best tech at the office, boss. I’d need two days—tops.”

  I blew out a breath and rubbed my forehead.

  “I’m crippled here,” he said. “I have to cash in favors to gain information. Don’t get me started on once we leave for Italy. Local law enforcement stuck in the mainframe era…? It’s not just an in-and-out job in someone’s fucking cloud or some shit. I have to get in there.”

  There was nothing to discuss, then. He had to go. “All right. You take Pat, Conn, and the Mikeys with you. Two days—and right before you come back, you have dinner or something in a public place.” It would do us good to have Pat show his face in Philly. It might rattle the Italians and make them wonder what the fuck we were up to.

  Eric understood. “We’ll make sure they know.” Then he hesitated for a beat. “Can I leave Autumn here? I don’t wanna upset—”

  “Of course, mate.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “At this point, I’m surprised my wife hasn’t adopted the girl.”

  Emilia was very fond of Autumn, and it was mutual. They were cute as shit together. I’d watched them be goofballs in the kitchen a few times.

  “Speaking of,” I said, and now I was just being nosy. “How come the girl doesn’t call you Dad? You became her guardian when she was a toddler.”

  Eric shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. “I couldn’t. I’m happy raising her and I love her more than anything, but my brother was her father.”

  Sorta what I’d suspected was the case.

  He smirked a little. “You’re trying to knock up Emilia, aren’t you?”

  “I’d be a lot more successful if she didn’t insist on birth control,” I muttered. We started walking back toward the control room. “I managed to switch out one of those blister packs with placebos in Washington, but she’s back on the real thing now. Pop couldn’t fix new placebos from where we were.”

  Eric’s shoulders shook from silent laughs. “I thought you put that shit in your contract. No tampering with birth control.”

  “Are you new here?” I side-eyed him and frowned. “That’s only if she finds out the truth.”

  “My bad,” he chuckled. “So do you want me to get you new fakes in Philly? If Shan tagged along, I mean.”

  That was a fucking brilliant idea. “You’re one of my favorites for a reason, mate.” I clapped him on his back, my mood instantl
y brighter. “I’ll let Pop know.”

  Reaching the doorway, Eric aimed for his spot at the screens while I jerked my chin at Liam.

  He stepped out and closed the door, still wearing that serious look on his mug. “We have a problem.”

  “I figured.” I steeled myself and folded my arms over my chest. “Out with it.”

  He didn’t beat around the bush, thankfully. “Joel and Sullivan were seen by the Italians today in the city.”

  My jaw ticked with tension as the shock and anger took hold of me. “City, as in here? Boston?”

  He inclined his head. “This is big, cousin. Me lads were comin’ out from the station—in broad daylight—and two Italians were parked near the entrance, and they said something. I don’t feckin’ know, but they made it clear they were Avellinos before driving off. Joel and Sullivan couldn’t pick up the chase.”

  I cursed and retrieved my smokes, quick to light one up. My mind spun as our world shrank. It infuriated me to be some sitting duck—to be chased and played with. The fuck did they think they were?

  I took a deep drag and let the ideas flow through me. We always had to pick one of two positions: offense or defense. And running away clearly hadn’t worked if the Italians had come so close as to search for us in Boston. More than that, they’d been outside the train station at the exact time our boys came out? That was no coincidence.

  “You think we can flush them out?” I asked quietly.

  He nodded slowly, thinking. “It’s either that or find a new place.”

  I took another drag and thought back on our history—or where Gio and his scum would’ve started their research. Only God knew how much old Ennis had divulged to his bastard son. Information that wasn’t his to share with any goddamn outsiders. Fucking fool. Had he honestly believed he could unite his family? First, he stepped out on his new wife and had a kid with an Italian broad, then he had Uncle John…and he thought the two would get along despite knowing very well there was a throne at the end of the road that would seat only one.