Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I focused on the baby boy in her arms instead, and I carefully slipped a finger into his hand.
He latched on automatically.
“We do all right, don’t we?” I murmured. “As a family, I mean.”
Luna knitted her brows together. “Of course we do. We’re kick-ass Fords.”
Damn right.
“You sure nothing’s wrong, big brother?”
I couldn’t help but grin a little when CJ tried to chew on my finger. “Everything’s great.”
Luna finally relaxed.
CJ’s eyes were full of wonder and innocence, and I saw his father in him. Mostly my sister’s coloring and features, but there was something distinctly Conn about his eyes.
“I’m gonna tell you everything about your old man one day, buddy.” I touched his cheek gently. “And our history.”
Luna rested her head on my shoulder.
“You have rebel blood coursing through your veins.” I splayed my hand across his belly, and he started cooing. “You come from two families who know how to protect their heritage, who’ve been there for every uprising, who’ve always answered Ireland’s call.”
One day, CJ would feel the rebellion too. He’d be a force to be reckoned with.
Chapter 10
It felt like it was only ten minutes later I was parked outside the airport, wishing my large coffee with a double shot of espresso was two lines of coke. Wearing shades was an act of self-preservation and had nothing to do with the sun, and I was seriously contemplating shooting the poodle that was barking in the car next to mine.
It was safe to say I wasn’t on my A game this morning. I’d even dressed for comfort after my shower. A classic Shannon outfit, suit pants and a fitted cashmere sweater, and I did see the appeal.
I’d also stolen two lidocaine injections from Shan, because I wasn’t in a mood to feel the wound.
Oh, for chrissakes.
“Ma’am?” I eyed the lady ten feet away over the top of my shades, and she glanced over at me. “Have you considered getting a cat?”
Or a hamster.
She made an offended noise and looked away from me.
Bitch.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait for more than another minute or two before my mate strode out with a luggage cart and red eyes from flying all night.
“Oi!” I got his attention and moved to the back of my SUV to help him with his bags.
Alfie grinned tiredly and met up with me on the edge of the sidewalk. “Hot as always, Ford.”
I chuckled and leaned in and gave his cheek a kiss. “Good to see you again. Where’s your man?”
I was looking forward to meeting the man who’d managed to tie down Alfie O’Dwyer. Or Scott, as his last name was now. Alfie and I had met when we’d taken the same college class, discovering we were much the same. Similar preferences in men, similar interests, similar views. The chief difference was he wasn’t a big fan of my affiliation with the Sons of Munster.
“It’s a long story, but it’s just me today.” He failed to sound light about it, and I got the feeling it wasn’t a very happy story. “Can we get something to eat?”
“Of course.” I slid in the third and last piece of luggage, then picked up my coffee again and shut the door. “You haven’t been back in two years—we doin’ steaks or what?”
“God, yes.”
I knew a handful of places that were open at this hour.
I got behind the wheel again, and I side-eyed my mate as I pulled away from the curb. It was good to see him again. He was literally my only friend outside the syndicate, and I’d been bummed when he’d abandoned Philly for LA right after college. But funnily enough, he’d met someone from Philly on the West Coast, and now they were moving back home. Or maybe Alfie was moving alone, all of a sudden?
“You look all grown up,” I commented. He’d worked as a model to pay for college, and he could still pull it off. His Italian and Puerto Rican heritage allowed him to be in the sun without burning to a crisp, but his Irish genes had given him freckles, hair that tinted ginger in the summer, and stunning green eyes.
“You mean I look tired as shit,” he replied bluntly.
I grinned.
“Where are your smokes?” he muttered and popped open the glovebox, which he immediately regretted. Judging by how quickly he slammed it shut again, he’d spotted my gun there. “I see nothing’s changed here.”
I snorted and dug out my smokes from my pocket. “Just wait. I’ve come up with the brilliant idea of recruiting you to be my assistant.”
He laughed at that and lit up a smoke. “That’s funny.” Then he rolled down the window and got comfortable.
“I wasn’t joking.” I took another swig of my coffee. “Look, all you gotta do is act like my slutty secretary.” That earned me a laugh at least, and I got out my phone, the one I hated most of all, and handed it to him. “You see that? It goes off twenty-four seven, hundreds of people have the number, and I need them organized. I need someone who will set up a system where they can make themselves heard without taking up too much of my time. We’re talking low-men and freelancers—you know, from that comedy club I’m in—”