Rake: A Dark Boston Irish Mafia Romance (The Carneys Book 1) - Sophie Austin Page 0,21
say. “Don’t worry—she just slipped. Nothing worse than that.”
He doesn’t need to know the truth. Sasha would prefer he be protected, I’m sure.
“She slipped?” The kid’s suspicious. I don’t blame him.
Smart, like his sister.
“Outside of my building. I live near her office. She asked me to check in with you because she knew you’d worry.”
“Why didn’t she just text me?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest. Good lord. The boy would fight me if he needed to. It’s adorable.
“Her phone broke when she fell. No offense but it wasn’t exactly sturdy to begin with.” I don’t know that for sure, but I bet anything she spends all of her money on him and barely any on herself.
“I told her to get a new phone.”
He looks guilty. Doesn’t like his sister protecting him. It makes me respect him a little more. Time to switch tactics.
“I thought I could talk to your father? She’s insisting on coming home for you even though she needs medical attention.”
“I can handle our father,” he snaps.
“Thank God,” I say. “Listen. Can I ask you something? Man to man?”
He nods.
Like taking candy from a baby.
“Something bad happened to your sister, right? She wouldn’t say what, but her ankle is busted and she still wants to skip the doctor.”
Busted is not a word I use often. But it helps to match the vernacular to your audience, and everything about this neighborhood is busted.
“Is it that bad?”
“She needs to be off her feet for a bit, but she insisted I drive her home because she wanted to protect you from your dad. And I told her that I have three sisters, and I’d be damned if I let any of them get hurt on my behalf. I thought you’d feel the same way. She said you were only a kid, but you don’t look like a kid to me.”
“I don’t need her to take care of me,” he snaps. “She almost fucking died. If I find out who hurt her, I swear to God I’ll kill them myself. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life in jail.”
Charming. But embarrassing. I was so much savvier at seventeen.
“She won’t understand,” I say. “But she doesn’t need to. Like I said, I’ve got sisters too, and if anyone hurt them, I’d make them pay.”
He’s grateful to be let into this club with me, and it feels perverse. It’s amusing to think of how Hamish could obliterate this kid, though he wouldn’t. No kids: it’s part of Hamish’s code. Still, P.J. could destroy him. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.
He stares at me for a few long seconds. He still isn’t completely sold. His pretty sister doesn’t have strange men showing up at their house too often, then.
“I can’t claim to know your sister very well. But she doesn’t like asking for help. I’d like to get her a new phone and cover her medical bills since she fell outside my place. Will you be okay until tomorrow?”
The wrathful look he gives me is excellent. People who act in anger generally make terrible judgment calls. Like trusting me, for one.
“I’ll be fine. Tell Sasha I’m fine. Just have her text me after you get her the phone. Does she need anything? Clothes and stuff?”
Oh, I would love to meet her father. Get more ammunition.
“That’d be great. Can you show me to her room?”
“Yeah. My dad’s awake, though, so you’ll understand why she’s worried.” He shrugs.
“I’m Finn, by the way,” I say, offering my hand. He shakes it firmly. This kid is ridiculous.
“Benjamin. Come with me.”
He takes me in through a side entrance. The storm door is coming off the hinges and bangs shut with an ungodly noise as we pass through the interior door.
“You finish the shoveling already, boy?”
Sasha’s father is a sight to behold. He’s in a filthy patchwork recliner wearing a Bruins jersey with holes in the chest, tufts of gray hair poking out. Though it’s only close to eleven am, a beer rests on his aptly named beer gut, which folds over ratty sweatpants frayed at the hems. His feet look more like hooves sticking out of the end.
It’s hard to believe this man fathered either Sasha or Benjamin. He sees me in the doorway and sneers.
Sasha hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d called him a loser.
“Who the fuck are you?” he slurs.
“He’s a friend of Sasha’s,” Benjamin says. “She’s staying with him for now.”
“Good for her.” He waves his beer at me. “Maybe you