Untitled Book 2 (22 page)

“I'm sure I'll survive,” he says, then mutters, “Unlike if you were driving.”

I gasp, my head turning to him in an instant. “What is that supposed to mean? I'm a great driver, thank you very much. I'll have you know that I passed my test on the first try.”

Vinnie doesn't look impressed. “I rode behind you on the way here, remember? Babe, you suck. You swerve all over the road, probably because you're singing along to some terrible song and not paying attention to what you're doing. I saw you dancing too, and the car was flying all over the place. Don't even get me started on the way you slam your foot on the brakes.” He glances at me and says, “I don't know what the brakes ever did to you, but there's no reason to kick the shit out of them.”

I roll my eyes at his exaggeration. “I've had only one accident, and that wasn't even my fault. No one else has ever complained about my driving.” I pause and add, “I'm such a good driver that I get to sing and add in little dance moves when I see fit.”

“Sing and dance all you want on this trip, because I'm driving the whole fuckin' way,” he says, softening the blow with a cheeky grin. “You can even listen to any music you want. I have a great skill of being able to block shit out when I don't want to deal with it.”

“Charming,” I mutter, pursing my lips. Still, I turn on the radio, letting the music fill the car. Twenty minutes into the drive, I sigh heavily. “I'm hungry.”

“We planned to stop in about half an hour, so can you wait? If not there's some snacks in the back. I got chips, chocolate, and bottled water.”

I turn around and see a plastic bag on the car seat that I didn't notice before. I go through it and pull out a packet of chips. “You're the best.”

“Can't have my woman hungry, can I?” he says, reaching over to squeeze my thigh. I'm about to tell him how sweet he is when he continues talking. “Then I'd have to deal with you being grumpy the whole night. What's it called? Hangry?”

“Hangry?”

“Yeah, when your hunger makes you angry.”

“I don't get angry,” I say, scowling at him, then forcing my lips to soften to prove my point. “See? All smiles.” I shove a chip in my mouth. “Do you want one?”

“No, thank you,” he says, mouth twitching. “I don't know how you can eat those.”

It's the habanero ones I always get from the store; they're my favorite, but after a while my mouth does start to burn a little. I must like it though, because I keep going back for more.

“They're addictive,” I say, crunching into another one. “You've never even tried one, yet you don't like them.”

“I can barely eat pepper, Shay,” he says, making me laugh. It's true, he couldn't really handle much of any spice.

“You think that's funny, huh?”

“I do, it's like we're opposites.”

“Opposites attract,” he says, running his hand down my thigh.

“That they do. Are you sure you don't want me to drive? Just let me know if you get tired. I won't kill us, okay? I promise. Wouldn't want to do the mobsters' work for them.”

Vinnie smirks and says, “Shay, you'll be asleep in an hour. Trust me. Especially if you play your Sam Smith CD.”

“You don't know that.”

He puts in my Sam Smith CD.

I sleep for the rest of the drive.

“Y
OU
wanted me to sleep so you could have a peaceful drive, didn't you?” I ask him as we walk toward the house.

I pull out my key and hand it to him. The real estate agent will be here tomorrow morning, so I have all of tonight to take what I want. Vinnie said he'll hire people to pack the rest of the stuff, so I don't have to do it myself. I don't really need anything from here—other than some clothes and belongings, everything is replaceable. The only thing I do want to take is my mom's jewelry, something to remember my father by, and our old family photo albums.

“I wanted you to rest because I know that being back at your father's house is going to be hard for you—both physically and mentally draining,” he says, looking out toward the road, probably waiting for the rumble of Sin's bike.

“I'll be fine,” I say gently, wrapping my arm around his waist. “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“That's what I'm here for,” he says, eyes softening on me before he goes back to paying attention to his surroundings. He's
on alert, I notice, and probably with good reason. It would go without saying that people would be watching this house, and probably have been for a very long time. I look around myself but see nothing. Then again, what do I know? I hear Sin's bike before I see it. He parks next to Vinnie's four-wheel drive, dust filling the air.

“It's so weird being here,” I say to Vinnie, shifting on my feet.

“This is probably the biggest house I've ever seen in my life,” he says, arm tightening around me.

So much has changed since I called this house home. Being back here is like stepping into the past, and bringing Vinnie with me is like mixing past, present, and future. Sin walks up to us, removing his leather jacket as he looks around.

“How was the ride?” Vinnie asks, with a tinge of longing in his voice. I know he couldn't take his bike because we need to bring my stuff back, even though I told him that I could easily drive alone like last time.

“Pretty good,” Sin replies, lifting his chin to the door. “Shall we?”

“Yeah,” Vinnie says, pushing the key into the lock and turning it. The door opens, making a creaky sound. “Stay between us, Shay.”

With Vinnie in front and Sin at the back, I play the meat in a Wind Dragon sandwich, as we enter the house and look around.

“This place is fuckin' insane,” Sin comments, whistling. “Our clubhouse must be like a shack to you.”

I turn and give him a dirty look, which only makes him grin.

When they decide the place looks safe enough, I head to my
room and start to take the things I want. Vinnie carries everything down to the SUV, packing it in the back. I walk into my parents' room, my fingers trailing along the wall. I remember when I used to hide inside my dad's walk-in closet as a child, playing with my dolls and trying to jump out and scare him when I could hear him. I remember my mom brushing my hair while I sat on their bed, and telling me that I was her favorite girl. When she died from cancer, it was just my father and me.

I sit on his bed and make a list of everything I want to do, donate his expensive designer clothes and suits, sell the house already furnished so I didn't have to worry about the furniture. Who knows what could be found in this house though, what things my father tried to hide or keep away from everyone?

“You okay?” Vinnie asks, standing in the doorway in his black V-neck T-shirt and jeans, pulling me out of my thoughts. I check him out from head to toe, admiring him for a moment, before getting off the bed and closing the space between us.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I'm just making a list of what I want done with everything.”

“Good idea,” he says, placing his hands on my hips. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I'm good,” I tell him. “I'm just going to finish up in my room and then I'll be done.”

“Okay,” he says, hand on my nape. “You know I'm here if you need anything, but if you want to do it alone, I get it too, all right?”

I nod and place a kiss on his chest, then head to my bedroom.

The quicker I get this over with, the better.

*  *  *

A few hours later, I'm downstairs, sitting in the den with Vinnie and Sin. Both of them seem on edge, and it's making me nervous. The sun has just gone down, leaving an almost eerie feeling, like we were all just waiting for something to go wrong.

“What is it?” I ask softly, looking between the two men.

When I hear a noise coming from the front door, I instantly stand. Vinnie grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen, where he looks out the back door.

“They're here,” Sin announces, pulling his gun out. “You ready for this, brother?”

“I was born ready,” Vinnie replies, pulling out his phone and barking into it, “Now.”

Irish suddenly appears at the back door out of nowhere, and Vinnie quickly lets him in.

“There are six men,” he says, looking at me. “The back exit is secure. I can get her out, and then I'll come back for you.”

“Wait, what?” I ask, looking straight to Vinnie. “What are you going to do?”

“No time, Shay,” he says, gripping my face and giving me a hard kiss. “Go with Irish, and do as he says, now.”

Irish grabs my wrist, but my eyes are still pleading with Vinnie. “I don't like not knowing what you're planning. If anything happens to you . . . to any of you . . . Vinnie, just leave with me, now.”

He doesn't even look at me this time, just says, “Irish, take her. They're going to be inside any second.”

Irish grabs me, and I let him. I don't need to make this any harder on them, but at the same time I want to rage and scream.
He didn't tell me anything! He left me in the dark, and in this moment, I hate him for it. I just hope he doesn't get hurt, I pray that he doesn't. And Sin—he can't get hurt. He's a father, with another baby on the way. I wish I knew how they planned to get out of this safely.

Irish takes me outside, where a car I've never seen before is parked in back. I have to say though, when he puts me in the trunk, that's not exactly how I expected his saving me to go.

*  *  *

He opens the trunk about ten minutes later, but still, it was fucking terrifying in there.

“I'm going to kill you,” I tell him, gasping for air. Luckily I'm not claustrophobic, but still, holy shit.

“Sorry, darlin',” he says, checking over me. “We didn't have any other choice. I had to make sure anyone watching only saw me in the car. You all right?”

“I'm alive,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. “Where are we?”

I look around. We were parked in front of a large, old-looking house. Irish leads me to the front yard, which overlooks streets of houses. The house was high up on a hill, so you can easily see everything below. He points, and I instantly know what he's pointing at.

“My house,” I say, squinting to try to see. “You need to tell me what the plan is, Irish, please, because I'm freaking the fuck out here.”

I hate the sympathetic look that flashes across his face. No, it wasn't sympathy—it was pity, which is a million times worse.

A flash of red catches my eye.

I turn back to my house and watch in absolute shock and horror as it explodes.

All I see is fire and smoke, all I feel is my heart racing, fear and shock.

“Where're Vinnie and Sin?” I ask, sounding hysterical.

I can't breathe, feeling like I was stuck down there, in the smoke and burning rubble.

“Shay, calm down, they're both fine,” Irish says, his accent becoming more pronounced. “Breathe, woman, you're hyperventilating.”

Breathe?

I can't breathe.

Then all I see is black.

“S
HAY?”
I hear Vinnie say over and over again, gently tapping my cheek. I open my eyes, feeling groggy, like one would after a weekend of binge drinking and waking up after only an hour's sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Wake up, babe,” he says, sounding worried. “Look at me.”

I look into concerned, familiar brown eyes.

“There you are,” he whispers, pushing my hair out of my face. “Irish said you fainted on him . . . that doesn't sound like something my stubborn woman would do.”

I force myself to sit up and glance around. We're in a moving car, with Irish driving.

“What happened?” I ask as everything hits me. “My house blew up.” I slap his shoulder. “You didn't tell me anything! You had everything planned, didn't you?”