Dean would’ve killed him for me though.
The thought sent a thrill up through my stomach, and I thought of what Bea said. Unflagging loyalty.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, scowling toward the door. “I can make sure he never comes in here again.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He nodded. “It’s done.”
I sat down on the couch and put my hands between my knees to keep them from shaking. I felt like a jolt of adrenaline ripped through my body then drained out again just as fast, leaving me a hungover husk. He sat next to me, knee touching mine.
“You don’t need to protect me, you know,” I said softly. “I can handle myself.”
“I believe you,” he said, then grinned. “Although what do you call that move, where you get beat up? Seemed really effective. I might want to try it.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m just saying, I know this whole marriage thing isn’t for real, but you’ll still be my wife. That means nobody will ever touch you again.”
I let out a long breath. It was tempting, so tempting.
Protection. Safety. And when I was done with him, money, lots and lots of money.
“I just don’t know,” I whispered.
He put his hand on my knee and said nothing. We sat like that in silence for a few seconds while I tried to gather my thoughts. He was a killer, willing to murder a man right in front of me, willing to shoot my own father in the face if I asked him to. That sort of power, loyalty, and intensity was attractive and seductive, but it also scared the hell out of me.
That was why I hated mafia guys. They walked that line between sane and insane, deadly and friendly. They could be your best friend, or they could put a bullet between your eyes without thinking twice. Dean seemed so kind and gentle, but I saw exactly what he was in that moment.
He was a killer beneath that handsome veneer.
Maybe he didn’t want to force me into marriage. But he sure as hell would buy me.
“Take as much time as you want,” he said. “But don’t make me wait forever.” He squeezed my knee and stood. “I need your help, Mags.”
I watched him go. Tall, powerful strides, like he owned the place.
Which he did. Of course he did.
I leaned back on the couch and sighed, squeezing my eyes shut, not sure what I was going to do.
5
Dean
I woke up from a deliciously detailed sex dream involving me, Mags, and a hot tub to someone pounding on my bedroom door. I checked the clock and groaned: barely after eight in the morning. I was up late the night before doing rounds of the family’s turf with some Capos and I’d only gotten to bed a few hours earlier.
“Go away,” I groaned.
The door opened a crack. “Dean,” Bea said. “You need to get up. Mags is missing.”
That got me out of bed. I wore only a pair of boxer briefs and I quickly pulled clothes on. “What do you mean, missing?”
“She’s not in her room,” Bea said through the cracked door. “I checked and she wasn’t there.”
“Shit,” I said, pulling a shirt over my head. I grabbed the gun from my sock drawer, made sure it was loaded, and shoved it into my waistband. “Where’s my phone?”
“Nightstand,” Bea said.
There it was, next to the clock. I grabbed it, heart racing, and called Mags’s number. Bea lingered near the door, still not coming inside, as I paced along at the end of my bed.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Dean,” she said, sounding casual.
“Where the hell are you?” I asked.
“Right okay, about that,” she said. “I might’ve stolen a car.”
“Stolen a car?” I asked, growling my anger. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, you have this big garage full of cars and their keys are right there, so I took one and—”
“Where are you?” I asked, interrupting her, my heart racing wildly.
“I’m in Rittenhouse Park,” she said. “Sitting on a bench. I come here when I need to think.”
I ground my teeth. Rittenhouse Park, the middle of the fucking city, the most visible place in all of Philly. Of course she’d go to Rittenhouse.
“Stay there,” I said. “I’m coming.”
“Wait, what?” She sounded more annoyed than anything.
The girl had no clue what was happening right now. “You’re in danger,” I said.
“No, I’m not,” she said. “I’m drinking coffee. I’m surrounded by people. What are you talking about, danger?”
I stormed to the door and brushed past a wild-eyed Bea. She skittered after me, eavesdropping the whole way.
“I’m at war with the Healy family,” I said. “And everyone knows about our arrangement. If anyone spots you and realizes who you are, you might have some trouble. Stay there, I’m on my way.”
“No, Dean,” she said. “I came here to get away from you.”
“Then I’ll keep my distance,” I said, frustrated. “Just let me find you and make sure you’re safe.”
“Dean—” she started, but I interrupted her.
“This isn’t a joke,” I said. “I don’t care that you stole a car, although I hope you didn’t take anything expensive.”
“It’s fine, I took the Tesla,” she said.
“Fine,” I said, running a hand through my hair. The Tesla was very expensive. “You can come and go if you want, but I need you to bring guards with you. Please, Mags, this isn’t a game.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “Fine, okay? I’ll stay right where I am. Asshole.” And she hung up.
I shoved my phone in my pocket, cursing the whole way as I hurried downstairs and out toward the garage. Bea kept close.
“Is she all right?” Bea asked.
“She’s in Rittenhouse,” I said. “The girl’s got no fucking idea.”
“Do the Healys know what she looks like?” Bea wiped her hands on her apron, her nervous gesture.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “They might not.”
“She could be fine,” Bea said. “If the Healys don’t know her face—”
“She’s on social media,” I said, groaning.
