Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,28
tighten my hands on the steering wheel, not liking the word Jack in her mouth where my cock had just been.
“No one told me you were King of the North.”
Now her sudden interest makes sense.
“Are you a gold digger?”
“No, Shay.”
There she goes again, using my name.
“I’m a ‘Cash Cow’, and now you're my highly valued bull.” She isn’t smiling.
I face the road before she sees the amusement in my eyes and continue to drive. That’s a first—a highly valued bull. I think I might like the sound of that.
The rain eases off, and the night creeps in. Emma is quiet, but she’s not asleep. I’ve kept the heater on. She hasn’t complained about the cold, but she can’t be warm in just a t-shirt. Once we cross the border, I’d take her to a friend who would help us.
“This is the first time I’ve ever been in a car shoeless.” Her voice sounds soft, but it carries weight, grabbing my attention.
I’m thinking she’s had a lot of firsts lately.
“It’s over-rated.” She speaks while dragging a finger along the window that’s slightly fogged up.
I could drop her off, let her go home, and keep whatever innocence she has left. I have no idea what the North will bring to her, but deep down, I know it won’t be good. Each mile that goes by brings her closer to her death. If anyone finds out who she is, it’s game over, and they could already know.
I glance at her, and she’s watching me now.
“What we did wasn’t over-rated.” Her cheeks are pink, not her normal burning red.
I should tell her that won’t happen again, but if she’s willing, I’m not going to stop her. Anyway, I liked how she looked on my cock.
“I think maybe it was under-rated.”
“Are you trying to give me a compliment?” I’d prefer if she didn’t.
“No. I’m just saying that it’s more than any book or movie could show you.”
I take another glance at Emma. She’s chewing on her lip; her brows dragged down.
“You like porn?”
Now her cheeks blaze, and I suppress a smile.
“I like chemistry.”
That she fucking did. It reminded me that she knew how to make bombs, just like her da. She turns away from me, and I wonder if she is remembering the exact same thing I am. The rest of the drive moves by silently until we are consumed by the darkness.
The small farmhouse has a red light in the window. She’s here.
“Where are we?” Emma is sitting forward, and for the first time since she willingly came, she sounds uncertain.
“What’s your name?” I ask as I unbuckle my belt.
“Emily.” She responds, sitting forward and staring out the window like she might be able to see through the walls.
“Second name.”
“Emily Larry?” She looks at me.
It will do. “You’re my friend,” I inform her.
“Girlfriend?” She tugs at my t-shirt before bending down and slipping her feet into her shoes.
“No, Michelle wouldn’t believe that.”
I was a lone rider to them all. I had my fill of women but never took them to places like Michelle’s. This was a safe house, and if Michelle ever knew who Emma was, I’m sure she’d cut my balls off.
“Michelle? A lover?” Emma sits up, and I like the note of jealousy I hear in her voice.
I don’t answer her question. “Let me do the talking.” I climb out, and Emma gets out too.
The front door cracks open as I reach back into the back seat and take out my rucksack.
The door continues to open the closer we get. I don’t check to see if Emma is following. Her heels are crunching away on the driveaway behind me.
I step in, and Michelle nods at me as she waits until Emma has passed before closing the door.
“Come in.” She doesn’t ask why we are here in the dead of the night, why I’m bruised, or who Emma is, and why she’s only wearing a t-shirt. Michelle has seen a lot more in her sixty-five years on this earth than most.
She goes to the Stanley cooker and stirs—what smells like soup. Emma is taking in the space, and I let her. Keeping my focus on Michelle.
“I just need to lie low for a day,” I say when she returns to the table with the soup. Michelle studies my features for the first time.
“Do you need any wounds cleaned?”
I shake my head and pick up the spoon.
Emma sits down, and Michelle returns with a bowl of soup. “Have you any wounds?” She asks.