The teenager nodded almost violently.
“W-w-what’s the souvenir?” He peeked at Sam through one eye, the other one squeezed shut in fear.
Sam smirked crookedly.
“This one is something to remember me by. A farewell. A reminder. A warning. Are you left or right-handed?”
The kid didn’t try to beg for remorse. He bent his head obediently.
“Right-handed.”
Sam fired a shot, the bullet grazing the teenager’s right arm, going straight through his nerve system.
“Here. This’ll ensure you’ll be a crappy aim for the rest of your life and choose a different occupation. In case you’re thinking of finishing your daddy’s job …” Sam chuckled.
Blood pooled beneath the young man, but he didn’t make a move to press a hand to his wound.
“Thank you for sparing my life, sir.”
Sam hoisted me over his shoulder, blood still trickling down his arm, and led me to his car. His blood ran the length of my thigh, and I shivered with unexpected desire.
I felt protected and wanted to protect him, and if that wasn’t majorly screwed-up, I didn’t know what was.
“Never interfere with my business again, Aisling, and never, ever show your face when we bump into my enemies.” He tugged my pants and panties down my upper thigh, the cold night air stinging my skin. Sam sank his teeth into one of my ass cheeks, biting hard.
“They’re your enemies, not mine.” I involuntarily thrust my thighs against his shoulder, begging for more. He opened the passenger door, tossing me inside and buckling me up like I was a toddler.
“They’ll think you’re my weakness.”
“They’d be wrong.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Very astute of you, Einstein,” he snapped. “But I’ve never been seen with women before. They’ll jump to conclusions.”
“Is that why you won’t marry Becca?” I challenged. “Because you wanted to spare her precious life?”
“First of all, who the fuck is Becca?” He rounded the car then started it.
“Are you serious?” A hysterical laugh bubbled from my throat. “Becca is the woman you took to the charity event.”
He drove away from the Back Bay and outside city limits. Boston’s skyline slid away through the windows, giving way to wildland. It made sense that Sam wanted to lie low for tonight, but what did that mean? Were we going to stay together, wherever it was? Where was he taking me?
“I thought her name was Bella,” he said.
“Nope,” I snapped.
“At any rate, yes, part of the reason why I’d never take a wife is because watching an innocent woman die because of me is not on my to-do list.”
“Sparrow didn’t die,” I pointed out.
“Troy was a fixer. A mostly good guy doing bad stuff. I’m an underboss. An all-around monster. I dabble in many things and have enough blood on my hands to fill up your Olympic-sized pool.”
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, tired of being repeatedly reminded how far from the realms of commitment Sam was. He didn’t want a wife, a family, children; even though he protected me, prevented me from dying tonight, it was more about his newly found moral code than his affection toward me.
“The Brennan cabin.” Sam tapped a cigarette pack flat against his muscular thigh, fishing one and tucking it into the side of his mouth. “A nice reprieve for you from your family.”
“Yeah…” I turned my head to the window “…I already feel so much more relaxed.”
Sam chuckled, lighting up his cigarette, yet again ignoring my acute disapproval of what he was doing to his body.
“You saved me tonight,” I said throatily, bracing myself for disappointment when he shut me down. I knew he would, too. Sam Brennan didn’t allow himself to feel anything. Especially toward women.
His eyes remained fixated on the road.
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because you’re my boss’ daughter.”
“You don’t care about my father,” I said.
“True. But I do care about his money. I’m on the fast track to becoming one of the richest men in Boston. Keeping you protected is in my best interest.”
“So it had nothing to do with me,” I muttered.
Why was I doing this to myself? Why?
“None whatsoever, Nix. I would do the same for Hunter. For Cillian. Even for your deranged mother. You are business to me, sweetheart. With a side of pleasure every now and again.”
I didn’t say another word the entire journey.
I’d already heard everything I needed to know.
Sam may have been a good underboss, but he was a terrible potential realtor.
He was being modest calling the place a cabin. It was more of a ranch, one like my brother, Cillian, owned. It was smack-dab in the middle of the woods.
The place was so remote, there wasn’t even a paved pathway for the car to get there. The Porsche trudged through gravel and sleet the last few miles to get to the front door.
Sam got out of the car and threw the door open for me. I followed him inside as he began flicking the lights on. He turned on the central heating, scanning the living room and open-plan kitchen for any signs of a break-in.