His lips twisted into a smile, but then, something snagged his attention. His head whipped to the side, and he peered at the grand glass and cast iron-curlicue door. Whatever he saw had him dragging me behind him.
Scowling, I cupped my weak wrist, the one he’d grabbed, and peering into the house so I could see what had scared him, muttered, "What’s going on? I can’t see anything."
"I thought I saw movement—"
He started scanning the property line, the exact opposite of inside the house where I thought he’d been looking, but I stood my ground and bit off. "Is this you not looking out for me?"
His head whipped back to face me, and there was fire in his eyes as he snarled, "The day I stop looking out for you is the day we die. Even then, it’s not going to stop. I’ll haunt your ass to keep you safe if you outlive me."
"If anyone could do it, it’d be you," I whispered quietly, eyes big in my face as I looked up at him, knowing he meant it.
"Exactly," he rasped. "I think I’ve done enough of the Devil’s work for him to owe me some favors."
"Maybe I can help, though?"
"You can. By doing as you’re fucking told."
His cell buzzed.
"Conor?" he barked, after scanning the Caller ID.
"Someone just walked through your gates. I have men on their way. Two minutes’ ETA."
Aidan unlocked the car with the fob. "Savannah, get your ass in the car." To Conor, he said, "Divert Savannah’s guards. They don’t need to see the bloodshed."
"Done," Conor replied as he cut the call.
Having heard his brother’s side of the conversation, I bit my lip, then just as I started to step away, I heard something too. I twisted to look over Aidan’s shoulder and finally saw the guy from last night walking across the manicured lawn toward the driveway as if he owned the place.
"Is that the Italian from The 68?"
His nostrils flared as he turned to look where I pointed, then when he caught Valentini’s eye, he twisted back around and unlocked the front door. "Get inside."
I was about to do as he demanded, his words different now, not just a command, but one that was uttered from his soul—the heir had spoken and everything in me responded.
However, as I stepped away from him, I soon saw four men circling the Range Rover and I grabbed his hand. "Aidan! Look!"
"I see them. Get in the house!" He shoved me away, but I wouldn’t let him.
"No, I can’t leave you—"
A growl escaped him and one hand grabbed mine again, his fingers curving about it to the point of pain as he rumbled, "Stay close to me."
Call me crazy, but in the middle of a gunfight, I’d prefer to be stuck at his side anyway, so there wasn’t any place I wanted to be more than right here.
The prospect of seeing him being cut down by these men—
God. No. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand to see that. Even if it meant my death too.
"If this is your idea of trying to get me on board with you taking over the Famiglia, Valentini, then you’re fucked in the head," he snarled, somehow projecting confidence when all I felt was horror at his belligerence.
Valentini just arched a brow and stepped closer. "You have a beautiful property, O’Donnelly. It’s not what I expected, antique on the outside and," he paused as he peered through the glass door, "ultra modern on the inside, but I think that makes sense. It’s very fitting for the Irish Mob. Old and new." He hummed. "I approve."
"Well, I can rest easy tonight knowing you approve of my home," Aidan snapped. "But you might not be resting so easily—"
Valentini lifted his arms in surrender. "I mean no harm."
"Coming onto my property like this is an act of aggression. Fuck that, it’s a declaration of war. The only thing saving your ass is that you didn’t break in."
"By no means is it an act of war, Aidan. I think we should call each other by our first names, no? We’re going to be working closely together after this...
"Your house is too secured for even my greatest code cracker to begin the attempt, but slipping inside the gates once you pulled through them is another matter entirely. We have done no harm. I intend no harm, either. Actually, I have a Christmas gift for you," he finished when Aidan scoffed.
For all that my heart was in my lungs because I knew this was us being in a situation that went beyond deep shinola, a part of me, the part that was fascinated by all things mafia, was breathless with anticipation.
I’d come to realize, through a thousand hours of therapy, that sometimes, the thing that made you the most scared, that terrified you to death, was also something that made you feel alive.
Messed up, but so true.
"What kind of Christmas gift?" Aidan rumbled, and this close, I could practically feel how pissed he was.
Close to vibrating, Aidan O’Donnelly Jr. was the antithesis of a happy camper. Which was very sad, because he’d been happy before.
While I knew I should be running screaming for the hills, this, if anything, confirmed that I was in the right place.
Of course, I might have changed my mind if Valentini wanted to skewer me on a spike, but lucky for Aidan, that wasn’t happening.
Phew.
Valentini lowered his hands and with a placating motion, swept them aside. "He’s in my van, waiting to be transported to wherever you’d like him."
"He?" Aidan intoned, his surprise clear.
Valentini smiled, but it was nothing like last night’s—the one that had made Jen undergo a personality transplant.
It was cold, cruel. Calculating. Twisted and bent.
This man I could envisage slicing up another’s face.
Shivering, I wondered how Jen had fared after we’d left. I was such a shitty friend for not having checked in sooner. Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t texted me either.
"I listen to the chatter from the Vatican." He tapped his temple. "I distrust the church, but we Italians, what can I say? Catholicism is in our blood. But my men have kids, and I’m not about to let them be preached to by some pedophile cazzo."
Aidan tensed up, making the way he was vibrating before look like a purring cat in comparison to the outraged tiger in front of me now.
"What are you talking about?" he thundered, his hand tightening around mine again. It hurt, but when I squeezed back, I knew it soothed him.
Not outwardly, but he shifted toward me the faintest inch. Like magnets, we stuck close together.
"The Archbishop of St. Patrick’s Cathedral has helped shield seven priests from being thrown in jail. When my consigliere discovered this, they went hunting, and uncovered a neat little connection that I’m sure your family wouldn’t like to be out in public."
Aidan grated out, "Watch your mouth."
I cast him a look, and realized that someone in the family had been abused by a priest. One of his brothers? From his fury, I’d guess so.
"I’m watching it," Valentini almost crooned, but he was being placatory, not incendiary. Although, I wasn’t sure it mattered. Aidan was acting like a hand grenade with the pin pulled. "But that’s why I brought him as a gift for you.