Shattered Hearts (Irish Kings #1)

20. Riley

Chapter 20

Riley

Where am I?

I roll over to find I’ve cocooned myself in my covers again.

When did my bed get so big?

My eyes snap open, and the semi-darkness of the room disorients me.

What’s going on?

Heart skipping in my chest, I wait for my mind to provide the memories that explain where I am and…oh my god. A ten-second spice reel of Finn and me plays in my mind, capturing yesterday’s events. Our arms tangled around each other like vines, his rough kisses as he thrust himself inside me, our voices overlapping in climax, the spasms of pleasure, both of us coming all over each other.

I have to bury myself under the covers to face this one.

Holy shit, what have I done?

When was the last time I had tons of sex or slept so well or did something that incredibly stupid and crazy? Never! Not only have I slept with the guy who’s engaged to my sister, but I almost told him about the crush I’ve had on him for, well…years.

No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

This isn’t happening. Yesterday didn’t happen, did it?

I squeeze my body into a ball, hugging myself tight beneath the sheets. Finn’s sheets.

Wait. Where is he? I scramble out from beneath the covers and scan for signs of life in his giant apartment. No water running in his bathroom, no soft footfalls around the corner in the den. Maybe he’s already gone to work.

I check my phone to see if he left a note, but there’s nothing. The only thing glaring across my screen is the time. It’s eight seventeen, and I have to be at work at nine.

“ Shit .” I’m going to be so late.

I launch out of Finn’s bed, freezing in the surprise of unexpected soreness.

God…my waist, my hips, my thighs. I feel like Finn rotated my, well, everything.

“I need a walker.” Weathering the discomfort of achy muscles as best I can, I hobble toward Finn’s bathroom, flipping on lights and glancing around.

In the bathroom’s glow, I discover I’m in worse shape than I think. My hair is a nuclear disaster. Around my neck and collarbone, I have a nice collection of hickeys and bite marks. Please let me have enough makeup to cover them. Please, please, please.

I yank my toothbrush out of my toiletries bag, pausing when I peek at all of Finn’s manly things gathered around the sink. Yesterday, after we had sex in his shower, we stood right here and did our mourning routines, side by side. Together. Like a couple. Like Mr. and Mrs. Finn Gallagher.

When I glance back at myself in the mirror, tears are gathering in my eyes.

What was I expecting? To wake up in his arms? A lump forms in my throat. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t go down.

What’s the matter with me? I grab my phone and toggle to our text messages, but when I view them, I lose my courage. All of his texts are one word each. That’s not weird. He and I spoke more to each other yesterday than ever. Who knew Finn could be anything other than laconic?

But when I see those messages, I don’t see Finn, the guy who fucked the life out of me yesterday. I see a guy who’s interest in me comes down to one word remarks. Out of nowhere, my father’s face appears in my mind.

Cold seeps into my bones, like everything I’ve felt and experienced in the last forty-eight hours is shutting down, disappearing, and fading to black.

Why am I acting like a jilted girlfriend? We enjoyed a sex marathon yesterday, slept together last night, and now he’s gone.

Finn’s heir to this mafia. So what if yesterday was magical? He can’t just lounge around all morning when he has work to do.

Still, after the connection we had, why didn’t he send me a text? Or leave a quick note? Wake me up and kiss me goodbye? Anything to convey that yesterday meant something to him too.

It’s because you’re nothing to him . You’re just a traitor. You’re not part of his world. He can sleep with you and throw you away. No matter what, you’ll be gone soon. So what’s the difference if he gives into his desire?

None of the hurtful words my brain generates are wrong. Of course I’m nothing to Finn. If I count up all the days we’ve actually spoken to each other, it’s less than seven. We haven’t even spent the equivalent of one week in each other’s company. He knows Harper better than I do these days, and they barely know each other at all.

I got carried away. Big time.

Finn stopped my ex from killing me, and I threw myself at him like he was my knight in shining armor. For all I know, he’s just following standard procedure. Let Thomas Brennan’s daughter die while he and I are on a mission? Can’t let that happen. A police officer would have done the same thing, but I wouldn’t have leapt into his arms.

Yes, he told me to move in with him, but that’s because he wrecked my apartment—although Troy contributed too—and like my father, Finn wants to keep tabs on me. My staying at the estate makes that easier for everyone.

As for the diner and what came next…a day so full of passion, I’ll have masturbation fodder for at least the next decade… I don’t know what it was, but I do know what it’s not.

This isn’t real life. None of this will ever happen again.

That was obvious from the start, but from the moment we sat down together at King Street, I clearly started to lose my head.

I might have actually started to believe there’s something between us.

Why am I so gullible? After all the horrible things I’ve seen, after all the terrible men I grew up around, I should know better than to think Finn’s any different.

Sleeping with a woman is no punishment for men in the Gallagher Mafia. It’s not a chore. It’s not complicated. Or meaningful. Whoring is how these assholes pass the time when they’re not maiming or making money for the clan.

And I…let myself be a whore for Finn.

Yesterday, I fucked him like I was terminally ill and his cock was the cure.

Lust made a fool out of me. And I only have myself to blame.

Burying my face in my hands, I let the tears fall for a few minutes.

But I don’t have time for a full-fledged breakdown. People at the shelter count on me, and I have to get to work.

Shoving my toothbrush into my mouth, I brush hard, avoiding my puffy-eyed gaze in the mirror. I’ve failed myself yet again, and I’m too ashamed to own up to it.

Yet, a little voice in the back of my brain whispers, Was any of it real?

I can still hear the softness in his voice when he called me angel . See the look on his face when he pulled me down into his lap and held me close, as if he never wanted to let go.

Despite the way we constantly butt heads, he’s still the only person who ever thought I was worth protecting, the only person I called in my deepest distress…

A few more tears leak out while I continue brushing my teeth, and I have to take extra care to shove all of the emotion away. If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall for Finn Gallagher.

And that’s the worst possible thing I can do. Not just because he’s engaged to my sister. But because love is one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Love has ruined my life. Every man I’ve ever tried to love has hurt and betrayed me. It’s a short list, but because of my father and because of Troy, I could have died so many times, in so many ways.

I swore off love for a reason. It’s poisonous to me. Love only blinds me, weakens me, and endangers my life. I never wanted to fall in love again. And certainly not with Finn. He’s too…complicated.

All my regret, shame, and disappointment calcify into resolve.

This is what I’m going to do. In order to salvage my sanity, I’m going to keep Finn at arm’s length until Harper gets back. It’s the only way. When I extract myself from the Gallaghers this time around, it’ll be for good.

Finished brushing my teeth, I apply minimal makeup, don an acceptable work outfit from Harper’s clothes, shove sensible shoes into my purse, and strap myself into a pair of her crazy heels. What does it matter if my feet are sore? Every other part of me is. My heart, my head, my muscles.

When I think about the way I clung to him while he pounded me, the way I moaned his name for hours? I have to cover my heated face and bite my lip to keep from crying again.

The best thing I can do for myself is get the hell out of here and go to work. Looking into a small mirror near Finn’s front door, I smile at my lifeless face and barely-put-together appearance. “No more stalling.”

My phone reads 8:42.

Dammit. I’m going to be so late, and I don’t even have a ride.

I want to scream.

My only goal is to leave the mansion for work, but problem after problem keeps cropping up in my mind. I feel fucking trapped.

Taxis are hard to catch in this neighborhood. Probably because the cabbies prefer not to serve people they suspect of being mobsters. Even if I sneak off the estate successfully, I’ll be late trying to hail a cab.

Next idea. There’s a whole garage of motor vehicles downstairs… Take one!

Can’t do that either. Harper never leaves the mansion without a driver. Leaving the estate without him or Finn would be odd. And I’m not sure my sister’s ever visited a women’s shelter in her life.

I don’t even know who her driver is these days. And after the way Finn ghosted me this morning, I’m not calling him. Not until I absolutely have to. And maybe not even then.

I’ve also never taken a car from the garage downstairs. I have no idea how the system works. It would be just my luck if I set off a bunch of alarms and sent the compound into lockdown.

Of course, I could always ask Dear Old Dad for help. I’m sure he’d say no, primarily because helping me would come too dangerously close to acting like a decent father, and that deviates from his brand. Even if he would, I’d rather not owe him.

Not one single thing.

The other issue, which is the biggest and the most important one of all, is last time I was on my own, my psycho ex-boyfriend tried to murder me. The smart thing for me to do until the beef between the Gallaghers and Red Hill is settled is engage a security detail. But getting a detail isn’t possible, not without disclosing my true identity and Harper’s secret disappearance?—

Oof.

“Watch where you’re going.”

I fall out of my racing thoughts and blink up at Cian Mahoney. I wandered right into the man.

“Sorry about that.”

Wait a second. Cian is the answer to all my problems.

He walks straight past me, but I grab his sleeve and use all my strength to drag him into a nearby alcove I know about from my hide-and-seek days.

Cian’s smug mouth flattens to a line. He’s clearly bothered by my bringing him here. Leaning back against the wall, he digs a cigarette from his pocket.

He lights up as his green eyes narrow in suspicion. “Make it quick”

“Will you…” I bite my lip. “Will you take me to work and pick me up later?”

I hate how vulnerable I feel right now. I hate how once again, I can’t do something simple by myself. No, instead, I have to ask some sexy jerk for help, and he probably doesn’t give a shit about my predicament. But at least he knows about our charade. I don’t have to pretend I’m Harper with him.

Right on cue, Cian exits the alcove without a word.

“ Please .” I loop both my arms around the tree trunk he calls his right bicep and throw my whole weight into dragging him back. “This is an emergency. You’re my only hope. I’m not happy about it either.”

“Sounds like a job for your husband .” With raised eyebrows, he scrutinizes my face.

Man, today is a shitshow.

Cian shifts us deeper into the alcove so no one will see us like this. Maybe someone will start a rumor that Finn’s wife is cheating on him. Fantastic. Could this day get any worse?

My lip trembles, but I absolutely refuse to cry again.

He huffs out an exasperated sigh. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I don’t even know where to start. “Look, I don’t know where Finn is, and I have to get to work. I’m going to be late as it is.”

He studies me long and hard. “So why don’t you call Finn?”

“I…can’t.” I shudder, willing myself to keep my cool.

“Okay, if you won’t call him, then I will.”

“No!” My fingers wrap around his forearm in seconds. “Please don’t. It’s…complicated.”

He eyes me, irritation and concern warring on his face. “Well? Spit it out.”

I peek around the alcove, ensuring no one is around to overhear me. “I’m here posing as Finn’s happy little bride because I have no choice. I’m worried sick about my sister and have no clue where she is, and I can’t go back to my apartment because my psycho ex trashed it and tried to kill me, and now I’m going to be late for work…the only stable thing in my life…because I have no way to get there.”

Cian deliberates in silence before pinning me with his inquisitive green eyes. “You still haven’t told me why you can’t call Finn. Sure, things are…complicated, as you said, but you two seemed to have gotten along well enough over the last few days.”

I can’t meet his gaze. Because if I do, Cian will see the truth. I know he will. I’m attracted to my sister’s soon-to-be husband. More than attracted, considering I fucked him all day yesterday. And Cian absolutely does not need to know that.

“Well, fuck.” Cian sighs. “Come on.”

I hoped something as simple as finding a way out of here and going to work would improve my apocalyptic mood, but I’m wrong.

Even when I’m in Cian’s car, putting miles of good road between me and the mansion, I feel like shit. Thankfully, riding around with Cian isn’t as bad as riding around with Finn. I don’t think about fucking Cian one single time.

And he doesn’t seem to be thinking about me. His mind seems unreachable, like nothing I do or say could snap him into this moment. Not that I have much to say. The comfortable silence between us is a perk of our mutually assured secrecy.

Cian has no desire to out me as an imposter. Ultimately, exposing me would reflect badly on my sister, whom I suspect he has a thing for. Equally, I have no desire to out his connection with Harper. I doubt anyone cares. Not like Finn would. Finn doesn’t care about anything except following orders.

Though I’m still curious about Cian’s relationship with Harper, I’m far from interested in hearing about it right now. And it’s not as though I’m in any position to umpire anyone else’s romantic drama. Truth be told, rather than prod Cian, I’d be much happier to grill Harper about the details myself the next time I see her.

I just hope she’s okay.

I take a sip of the coffee Cian snagged for me on our way out. We’re only four blocks from my job now, and I’ve texted Michelle to let her know I’m running late.

“Thank you again?—”

“So what’s the deal with you and Finn?” Cian maneuvers the steering wheel with one hand. “Are you in love with him?”

I nearly spew the mocha latte all over the dashboard. “I’m…sorry?”

“I saw the way you guys acted at the reception.” Cian engages his right turn signal. “And something tells me neither one of you was acting.”

With his words, Cian steamrolls my already-hurting heart completely flat.

As he dips into the loading zone, I choose to bypass his astute observation. “I finish at three today?—”

“Okay, ignore me. That’s fine.” Cian fixes me with a threatening glare. “But don’t toy with his heart. He’s been through a lot of fucked up shit.”

Me? Toy with him ? The idea’s so ridiculous, I actually laugh. For a moment, I just stare at Cian. It’s obvious he doesn’t trust me. Like any good friend, he’s worried about Finn. Part of me wants to confide in him, to bring him into my confidence.

He’s the only one who knows something about what I’m going through. He knows I’m impersonating Harper. And since I’m pretty sure he’s got some sort of secret obsession with her, there’s no way he’s upset that she left Finn at the altar.

But his flat, calculating gaze reminds me of the truth. How can I forget that, to most of the Gallaghers, I’m nothing but a traitor with a penchant for backstabbing?

I botched what could’ve been the family’s most lucrative opportunity to expand operations across state lines in the past decade. I’m sure my father and Shane decried and degraded me, high and low. And here I am, impersonating my sister and participating in a fake marriage with one of Cian’s closest friends. Of course he doesn’t like or trust me.

I don’t like or trust me either.

“You don’t have to worry.” I meet his gaze head-on. “If anyone is going to get their heart broken around here, it’ll be me.”

I leave it at that. Inside the shelter, I try to get through my workday. Half of me is able to keep it together while working on autopilot. The other half is an utter wreck.

Every time I see a door, I feel my back pressed against one and remember the way Finn fucked me standing up in his bathroom, questioning me while he crammed his cock in. I get so hot and dizzy from shame and residual lust, I have to go to the restroom to recompose myself.

I feel so used, I wish I could tear my soul out of my body and start over in a fresh one. Wouldn’t that be amazing? If I could just be reborn somewhere else, in a family I actually belong in, in a place far away from here, where there are no guns or clubs or crime or men like Finn to frustrate and possess me…

Working at the shelter often entails a lot of moving around—filing things, checking in with people, setting up for events—which is fine most days. But today, when I have sex marathon related soreness, staying active has become a constant reminder of yesterday’s events.

By the time I plop into one of the armchairs in the break room, sometime in the afternoon, I’m exhausted. Even sitting reminds me of Finn. Because I can still feel his lips, tongue, and beard tantalizing my ass…how he made me come on his face again before railing me against his desk until he shot his nth cumload deep inside me. Yesterday, he claimed my body, inside and out.

Tears prick at the back of my eyes when I wonder whether my body will ever feel mine again…

“Is the AC acting up again?” Jane sits in the chair across from mine, glancing up at the wheezing HVAC unit. “You’re all flushed.”

“I think it might be.” I make a fanning motion. “I’m a little warm.”

We have the space to ourselves for the moment.

For the thousandth time, I contemplate telling Jane everything, but Michelle dips into the room before I vomit my whole life story out into the silence between us. I know that’s for the best.

“What are you two still doing here?” Michelle grabs her raincoat off a hook in the corner. “Your shift ended half an hour ago.”

“What?” I check my watch, and sure enough, it’s half past four.

How has the whole day flown by already? I’m late meeting Cian, and I don’t have his number.

Shit, shit, shit. I spring to my feet.

Jane peers up at me. “Riley?”

“I forgot I’m meeting a friend today.” I gather my things and make a beeline for the shelter exit.

Out in the afternoon sunlight, I scan the street for an idling sports car. Once I find Cian’s Audi parked near the corner, I hurry over. I’ve tried to keep Cian’s words from this morning off my mind today, but as I approach his car, they glare at me now.

Uneasiness and dread nibble at me like a pack of nasty New York sewer rats.

All day, I’ve been wrapped up in how shitty this situation is, but what I didn’t think about is what I’m going to do tonight when I get back to the mansion and have to face Finn. I’m so desperate not to do that, I briefly consider going back to my mostly empty apartment and sleeping in the?—

A large burly man steps into my path. He has a disfigured, laughing face and an ugly stab-wound scar on his forearm. Mobster. Definitely.

I back up right into someone else. Their thick arm collapses around my shoulders, making me jump.

My head jerks up to find a boyish face leering down at me.

“She is pretty.” He shows me his pearly white teeth. “Troy always said so.”

My blood becomes ice.

Red Hill boys.

“Come with me, love.” The guy with his arm around me forces us into a trash alley, and the big guy follows.

First chance I have, I drop my whole weight on the shorter guy’s foot and sprint, digging around in my purse for my pepper spray?—

But it’s gone. My mace is somewhere in my wrecked apartment and will be of no use to me.

Out of nowhere, the big guy clamps his rough paw around my arm. At the impact, I scream as loud as my terrified lungs can. His strength is monstrous.

Finn looks like he eats small children for breakfast. This guy looks like he eats fully grown adults.

With one swing of his arm, he throws me against a cluster of dumpsters with a force that darkens my vision and causes my head to float from the pain.

Hurt, dizzy, and afraid, I flinch as the barrel of a gun shoves into my side.

“You have somebody who belongs to us.” The shorter one sneers, wicked and perverse. He’s going to enjoy whatever comes next. But I sure won’t.

“We figure, if we take you, we’ll get him back. What do you say?” He and the big guy snatch for my arms and drag me forward.

Through my still-splotchy vision, I make out the blackout van that awaits us at the end of this alley.

Fuck. Think, Riley. Think!

Behind us, a gunshot rings out. Before I can react, the giant to my left pitches forward unnaturally, keeling over face down. Nausea jerks through me when I spy the bloody gunshot hole in the back of his skull. Beneath him, blood pools on the asphalt.

“Riley, get down!” Cian’s voice ruptures my panic.

I can’t even see him, but my body obeys. My legs collapse, and I drop to the ground. The world goes into slow motion as blood pumps in my ears.

I’m not ready to die.

Overhead, bullets whizz through the air. From the ground, my foggy head jogs to keep up with the present, which is somehow unfolding too fast for me to catch.

The shorter guy aims his gun in the direction we came from.

He’s too slow.

A bullet pierces his forehead before he can fire. Blood sprays out the back of his cranium as his lifeless body crumbles beside me, his eyes still open.

Another scream mounts in my throat, big and full, but a giant hand grips my left tricep and hauls me to my feet. Terrified, dizzy, and a bit delirious, relief clangs through me when Cian’s face comes into view.

“You and your sister are a lot of fucking work. You know that?”

“I—”

Tink! A bullet glances off a nearby downspout. Someone’s firing at us from the direction of the abduction van.

“Run!”

Again, I obey.

Prying myself from the ground, I start moving and don’t stop as Cian whips back to return enemy fire. Seconds later, he’s right behind me, and we burst back onto the street and scramble into his car.

How many more life-or-death experiences am I going to have this week?