Star
I didn’t like feeling guilty.
In fact, I really fucking hated it, but aCooooig, Conor, brought it out in me.
The ability to feel.
Katina, my foster daughter, had started to wear down my walls, so I couldn’t solely blame Conor—although I’d deny that in a court of law—but there was an urge inside me that was growing.
I dealt with urges all the time.
Kill that bastard—go for it. He beat his woman.
Throat punch that barfly—why not? He was stalking one of the servers.
Most of the time, I acted on those impulses. It was why, instead of counting my losses once I freed myself from the Sparrows’ clutches, I dove back into the fray, determined to bring them down or to die trying.
However things had swiftly grown complicated.
Along the path of learning how the Sparrows worked, I’d found women dotted around the States who’d been bought and sold like they were T-shirts from Walmart. That was how I’d found Katina.
Then, still on the hunt, I’d sniffed around the Five Points as I tried to determine whether they were the Sparrows’ illegitimate front.
Because I’d breached Conor’s security that first time, I’d brought them down on me. The Irish Mob had me in their crosshairs, so I’d escaped to the haven of a serving buddy/old boyfriend—the Satan’s Sinners’ MC compound in West Orange, New Jersey, dragging Katina along with me—CPS be damned.
Since then, more shit had gone wrong. I’d started to care about the MC. Started to feel like they were family which meant I’d killed, dug my way deeper into shit, and had sorted through their personal laundry as if it were my own.
Throughout it all, Conor had been there.
Once he’d forgiven me for breaching his security, we’d started a playful relationship. I hacked into his systems, he hacked into mine.
It was fun.
Fun.
Something I didn’t allow myself to have, not when there was a secret society of asswipes out there to take down.
But he invited that side of me to come out to party, and we’d grown close.
Closer than close.
Which was where those urges came into play.
I wanted to meet him.
I wanted to... touch him.
Just hearing his voice on the other end of the line was starting to do weird things to me.
I’d never been an overly sexual person. Most of the time, I’d used sex to manipulate men into doing things for me, and because they were beautifully predictable, it worked like a charm. Having been raised on the road with my rockstar family, I knew how the world worked.
A groupie sucked off a roadie, then suddenly, they had access to the band if they gave good head. That groupie fucked the band, got passed around, and got to travel around the world for lying on her back.
Transactional.
What I was feeling for Conor wasn’t transactional, and that was dangerous.
"Star? Are you listening to me?"
I blinked at the rumble in his voice.
I knew what he looked like.
One word: YUMMY.
And I never used that word.
Not even to describe Phish food or candy corn, both of which were life.
I even thought he might be hotter than Atomic Fireballs, which was pretty goddamn sacrilegious.
"I’m listening," I retorted. "I’m always listening."
He grunted. "Was that supposed to sound creepy?"
"Of course," I assured him. "What would be the point otherwise?"
Conor snickered, then asked, "Did you patch up that back door you hacked into my server?"
"I did." That was where another round of feelings came into play. Squirming on my seat which only made my broken leg and bruised hip ache all the more—long story short, I’d been blown up along with the Sinners’ MC compound—I muttered, "Conor?"
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
He paused. "Huh?"
We’d never really done personal stuff. Not until recently. He knew I was Gerard Sullivan’s daughter now, and I knew he’d been molested as a kid. That changed things.
"Are you okay?" I repeated.
"Why are you asking?"
I huffed. "No need to sound so damn suspicious. It’s just a question."
"Why are you asking though?"
I squirmed some more, wondering why this was hard when, ordinarily, I’d have taken great pleasure in bruising a guy’s ego. "When Savannah called me and asked me to hack into your security so she could gain access to your helipad, I noticed something."
"What?" Conor asked warily.
"Your code’s weak. I think someone’s been trying to get in, but they’re not good enough. They’re trying to circumvent it, but I don’t think you’ve noticed."
I heard his hesitation, then he rumbled, "Thank you for telling me. I know that must have been hard for you."
It was when he said shit like that, that I wanted to melt in a puddle of Phish food. Seriously. Hackers were arrogant, cocky SOBs with massive egos and small dick syndrome.
They didn’t thank you for looping them into a weakness in their system.
But Conor did.
Conor did and it made me feel weird inside. All warm and shit.
It wasn’t comfortable.
He couldn't have a small dick, could he? That just wouldn't be fair.
Maybe if I prayed that he did, I’d stop feeling all these weird things about him.
Because thinking about his cock wasn’t helpful, I cleared my throat. "I mean, I was toying with keeping it as a fail safe. What if I ever needed to get to you in an emergency, you know? But these attacks have been going on for too long. Your security’s been strong enough so far, but I noticed a pattern. They’re trying to get to you specifically."
"I’ll work on shoring up the defenses."
I almost choked on the words. "I’ll help you."
He almost choked on the words. "I’d appreciate that."
We both gusted out a big breath at the same time.
Silence fell, then he muttered, "I finished up with Savannah’s phone. I can’t believe you let her keep her old model."
He didn’t sound triumphant, more disapproving, and I squirmed again. That shouldn’t be hot. It really shouldn’t be hot.
"I dropped the ball," I admitted to him when I’d admit that to no one else. This was the second time I’d done so, each instance had been about Savannah and her security.
She was family, and I’d sent her out into this shit show with a target on her back.
I really hoped these mistakes with her safety weren’t a Freudian slip. My brain, which functioned at a high level, purposely choosing to let her down like the noxxious family had let me down…
I really hoped I wasn’t that much of a bitch.
"We’ve both been dropping a lot of those, haven’t we?"
"That’s what happens when you’ve got to keep juggling so many things at the same time." I shrugged. "It’s a fact of life, but these situations... they’re life and death.
"We’re both tired, we’ve both been barely sleeping, and we’re working constantly. We’re at the end of the marathon, but that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t still beat us to the finish line."