Those plans did not involve driving to my father's house so a doctor could splint Tiggy's two broken fingers or my father interrogating my wife.
Pa is standing over Tiggy, seated in his den, looking up at him, her face a mixture of pain and fear. The doctor wanted to give her some painkillers, but Pa refused. He thinks painkillers will make her fuzzy, and he wants answers. So we all had to stand here and wince as the doctor snapped her fingers back into position and splinted them while she pressed her lips together, silent tears running down her face.
Apart from one small scream when her bones were set, she hasn’t made a single noise, even though she’s clearly in pain. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking proud of another person in my life.
“Why would the Bulgarians come after us?”
Pa’s voice is dangerously low as he questions Tiggy, who is shaking her head.
“I don’t know. I stay at home. Seamus doesn’t tell me any of that stuff. I don’t want to know about it,” she insists, keeping her eyes on Pa’s face.
“Make no mistake,” Pa growls at her, pointing his finger in her face. “We have no beef with the Bulgarians. So the only reason they could possibly have for coming after the three of ye isye.”
Tiggy pales, shaking her head again. “I don’t know why they would come after me. Not unless it has to do with Seamus. I’m nobody except his wife.”
I can’t lie. That statement makes me feel smug as shit.
“Bullshit,” Pa spits. “Ye’re the daughter of Marius Albescu. If my lads are going to be caught up in a beef between the Romanians and the Bulgarians, then I need to fucking know.”
“That’s highly unlikely,” Tiggy scoffs. It’s the wrong tone to take. Pa’s eyes narrow, and she shrinks back slightly.
“And why is that?”
Tiggy is undeterred by his lethal tone, which is sexy as fuck. Straightening and lifting her chin, she glares at him.
“Because before the night I was there for supper to meetyou, I hadn’t been to my father’s house for almost two years. I lived alone. I didn’t have a bodyguard, and nobody came near me.”
There’s silence in the room, and Darragh speaks from where he’s standing behind Pa.
“Maybe they didn’t want to risk hitting the fancy neighborhoods you hung out in.”
This time, she actually rolls her eyes. It’s not the most opportune time to be turned on by my wife’s defiance, but I can’t help it. I’m fucking hard.
“I was a social worker,” she sneers at Darragh. “I spent most of my days in and out of crack dens in Roxbury and Dorchester. Trust me. There would have been ample opportunities to jump me.”
A low growl escapes me, and Pa and Paddy cast me curious glances. I clench my jaw, glaring at the side of my wife’s head. Those are some neighborhoods that she’s never fucking going near again. I don’t care if we have alliances with the Russians and the Italians. I don’t want my wife in neighborhoods we don’t control. Especiallythoseneighborhoods.
“Reach out to Albescu,” Pa snaps at Darragh. “Find out if there’s bad blood between him and the Bulgarians.”
Darragh nods, striding out of the room. Pa turns to me, his face hard. “I want answers. Get Niall on it.”
I nod. I want answers as well. Specifically, I want the fuckers responsible for harming my wife strapped, screaming and bleeding to Niall’s table.
“How’s the hand?” Pa asks, turning to Tiggy, his dangerous tone replaced by a concerned one. Like flipping a switch, suddenly, he isn’t the head of the Irish Mafia anymore. He’s a father-in-law full of worry.
“It’s okay,” Tiggy whispers, but I can see the tightness in her eyes and know she is still in a great deal of pain.
“Can I take my wife home now? She’s had a hell of a fucking night.”
My voice rings out, loud in the otherwise quiet room. Pa turns, studying me for a beat before nodding and holding out the bottle of painkillers he was withholding. Connor takes them, following me as I stalk over to Tiggy, helping her up and leading her back to the SUV. Connor bitches the whole way home about needing to get a new car.
“You’re getting a fucking SUV this time, Lucky,” I say through gritted teeth, holding Tiggy close to my chest. Pa offered a second car to get us to my house, but I am content to have Tiggy cradled in my arms.
She’s holding herself stiffly, her right hand held against her chest gingerly. I hand her the painkillers, and she swallows them. Hopefully, they work quickly.
“SUVs are never as smooth a drive,” Connor whines. “Tiggy agrees with me.”
My eyebrows shoot up, especially when Tiggy appears to be swallowing a smile.