“Bloody hell,” I mutter. “Not sure I’m a fan of distance anything.”
“Distance learning means I stay here,” she says, with one of those fetching grins that make me want to kiss her senseless. “Right here. After what happened, and you guys took all those insane safety measures to be sure this place is safe, I think I’m most comfortable just staying right here.” She rolls her eyes when I reach her. “Not that you’ll let me get anything done.”
We decided to temporarily forego a honeymoon while I got our guard secured. Keenan’s appointed me head of the guard, and it’s a job I’ve taken seriously. But we took our vows two months ago, Christmas is coming, and I have a surprise for her.
“Well, in that case, I approve.” I knead her shoulders and she sighs in contentment. I wait until her eyes close before I take the envelope out of my pocket and slide it on the table in front of her. I begin to wonder if she’ll ever open her eyes and see her surprise, so I finally bend and bite her neck, which makes her squeal. Her eyes flutter open.
“Exactly what I mean,” she says. “I’ll be online doing a class and all of a sudden I—oh. Lachlan, what is this?”
“Bit of a wedding gift,” I say, suckling the sweet skin I just bit. “And Christmas gift,” I say, licking her collarbone until she shivers. “Open it.”
She reaches with trembling fingers to the white envelope and slides it open.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Seriously? You’re taking me to Paris? I’ve always wanted to go. How did you know?”
“Had a little help,” I admit with a shrug. “I don’t care much where we go, as long as you’re with me.”
She smiles shyly at me. “Well, look at you, with all the romance? And just so you know, I got you a wedding gift as well.”
“Did you, lass?”
“Aye, but you have to stay right here.” She frowns. “It’s not anywhere near as fancy.”
She walks to the bedroom, and I wait. The trip to Paris is only one of the gifts I got for her.
“Lachlan, how strange! I think the cleaners left a pair of handcuffs on the bed?”
I grin. She’s adorable.
She comes out with flushed cheeks and a small gift bag.
“Here,” she says. “Open it.”
I do. It’s a picture of the two of us, our arms wrapped around each other on the cliffs of Ballyhock. You can see the sea behind us, churning and white-capped, and billowy white clouds. I’m standing behind her, my arms wrapped around her, and her head is nestled on my shoulder.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, strangely moved by the simple picture that captures the two of us so perfectly.
“It’s symbolic, you see,” she says with a smile. I saw it and I just… I just saw us. See?” She points to the sea. “The tumultuous waves behind us.” She points to our feet on the cliff. “Firm footing beneath us. Your arms are around me, and you’re holding onto me, but I’m leaning on you.” Her voice drops. “And there… right there in the background, if you squint your eyes, you can see the colors of a rainbow.”
“I love it,” I say, gathering her to me and kissing her freckled cheeks until she giggles. “And I love you.”
She rests her head on my chest. “I love you, too, Lachlan. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a home.” My chest squeezes. “I’ve one more thing to show you.”
She fingers the little locket at her neck, opens it, and I peer down to see. On the opposite side of the picture of her as a child she’s put a smaller version of the picture she’s framed.
“And now,” she says with a smile. “The locket’s complete. Just like me.”
From the author: I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Lachlan: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance. Next in this series is Tiernan, due October of 2020.
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Keenan: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms)
I watch from where I sit on the craggy cliffs of Ballyhock to the waves crashing on the beach. Strong. Powerful. Deadly. A combination so familiar to me it brings me comfort. It’s two hours before my alarm goes off, but when Seamus McCarthy calls a meeting, it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, the men of The Clan answer.
I suspect I know why he’s calling a meeting today, but I also know my father well enough not to presume. One of our largest shipments of illegal arms will arrive in our secured port next week, and over the next month, we’ll oversee distribution from the home that sits on the cliff behind me. Last week, we also sealed a multi-million-dollar deal that will put us in good stead until my father retires, when I assume the throne. But something isn’t right with our upcoming transactions. Then again, when dealing with the illicit trade we orchestrate, it rarely is. As a high-ranking man of The Clan, I’ve learned to pivot and react. My instincts are primed.
The sun rises in early May at precisely 5:52 a.m., and it’s rare I get to watch it. So this morning, in the small quiet interim before daybreak and our meeting, I came to the cliff’s edge. I’ve traveled the world for my family’s business, from the highest ranges of the Alps to the depths of the shores of the Dead Sea, the vast expanse of the Serengeti, and the top of the Eiffel Tower. But here, right here atop the cliffs of Ballyhock, paces from the door to my childhood home, overlooking the Irish Sea, is where I like to be. They say the souls of our ancestors pace these shores, and sometimes, early in the morning, I almost imagine I can see them, the beautiful, brutal Celts and Vikings, fearless and brave.
A brisk wind picks up, and I wrap my jacket closer to my body. I’ve put on my gym clothes to hit the workout room after our meeting if time permits. We’ll see. My father may have other ideas.
I hear footsteps approach before I see the owner.
“What’s the story, Keenan?”
Boner sits on the flat rock beside me, rests his arms on his bent knees, and takes a swig from a flask. Tall and lanky, his lean body never stills, even in sleep. Always tapping, rocking, moving from side to side, Boner has the energy of an eight-week-old golden retriever. My younger cousin, we’ve known each other since birth, both raised in The Clan. He’s like a brother to me.
“Eh, nothing,” I tell him, waving off an offer from the flask. “You out of your mind? He’ll knock you upside the head, and you know it.”
If my father catches him drinking this early in the day, when he’s got a full day of work ahead of him, heads will roll.
“Ah, that’s right,” he says, grinning at me and flashing perfect white teeth, his words exaggerated and barely intelligible. “You drink that energy shite before you go work on yer manly physique. And anyway, get off your high horse. Nolan’s more banjaxed than I am.”
I clench my jaw and grunt to myself. Fuck. Nolan, the youngest in The Clan and my baby brother, bewitched my mother with his blond hair and green eyes straight outta the womb. Shielded by my mother’s protective arms, the boy’s never felt my father’s belt nor mine, and it shows. I regret not making him toe the line more when he was younger.