This Life II

by Dee, Cara

  “He’ll be fine,” he repeated. “They’re on their way back.”

  Oh, thank God. I placed a hand to my chest and hung my head. Being married into this family was gonna age me ridiculously fast—or put me in an early grave.

  “I’ll get the first aid ready,” I croaked. I hadn’t even noticed the emotions welling up.

  I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling, and I turned around to walk back inside the house. The fake bravado I’d put on was failing. I didn’t feel strong or determined anymore; I just wanted to cry like a baby and have someone tell me everything was going to be all right. No, not someone. Finnegan. No one else.

  My criminal bastard of a husband had been shot.

  Don’t fall asleep.

  I straightened up and blinked, then shook my head quickly. I had to stay awake.

  Peering out the window, I yawned and wondered idly if we were driving in circles. The scenery of blurry trees as we whooshed by hadn’t changed in hours.

  We’d left Liam’s place a couple hours after everyone had returned, and we’d tended to Finnegan and Mack. Mack had been shot in his shoulder, but the bullet had gone straight through. He’d been in good spirits—and on pain meds.

  The husband was asleep next to me, sprawled out across the back seat with his leg stretched above my lap, his calf wrapped in a sling that we’d hung around the headrest of the passenger’s seat.

  He couldn’t be very comfortable. Even though we’d taken the biggest SUV Liam had had in his garage, Finnegan was six foot three and couldn’t lie down properly. I’d done my best to make it better with comfy clothes, pillows, and the duvet we’d had in our room, though I suspected the painkillers he was on helped the most.

  Flanagan hadn’t been so lucky. He’d died from a gunshot wound to his neck on the way back to the ranch.

  Three men were gone.

  I swallowed hard and scrubbed my hands over my face. What an epic clusterfuck my life had turned into. How was any of this real? How was this happening to a nobody from nowhere?

  “You okay, hon?” Kellan watched me in the rearview.

  I lifted a shoulder and reached for my water bottle.

  Nothing about this was okay.

  As I took a swig of water, I noticed Colm watching me too. In the side mirror.

  We were on the run again. A motorcade of Jeeps and SUVs.

  We were taking the long way to Toronto, where the airport was the next destination. The airports around the tri-state area had been ruled out because we didn’t know if the Italians were watching those. Toronto was safer, Liam had said. For one, we’d outrun any “motherfucking drones” they might have left. Secondly, airports were no-fly zones for those fuckers.

  “We should get something to eat soon,” I said. “Finnegan needs energy.”

  There’d been no time to bring much, and definitely not food. Once we’d gotten Finnegan into the car, I’d rushed through the house to pick up our most important belongings, and the rest had been left behind. Thomas, Viv, and Mundy had been ordered to stay. Viv, because Thomas wanted her close, and the two men because I now knew their main job in the syndicate. Thomas was a cleaner, and Mundy had studied forensic science in college. He had equipment to make sure the scene was spotless.

  I shuddered at all of it. It was surreal. Viv had once been Nurse Walsh to me. She’d worked at my school. Thomas was a day trader and had worked from home. Now…now he was some expert on erasing evidence, and my school nurse was his mobster wife.

  Of course, there was also the small detail of her being born an O’Shea as Shannon’s sister.

  Then there was the fact that Shannon was now my father-in-law because I’d married his son and Nurse Walsh’s nephew.

  Maybe if I repeated all this to myself another thousand times, it would be less weird.

  Finnegan remained oblivious to the world, but even in his sleep, he gravitated toward me. When his hand wrapped itself around mine, I stroked his leg and brushed a finger over his wedding ring. There was a slight furrow between his brows that whispered of his discomfort.

  I could’ve lost him last night, a thought that tightened a vise around my heart.

  A while later, Kellan called Liam to say we were gonna take a quick detour to a diner outside a nearby town. I’d overheard them earlier, several of them, stating that we’d make no pit stops together. We weren’t allowed to draw any attention to ourselves.

  “Good time for lunch anyway, eh?” Colm straightened in his seat and did his best to stretch his arms. “Stiff as a goddamn stick.”

  I reached over to Finnegan and caressed his cheek. “Whistler,” I murmured. “Can you wake up for me? You need to eat.”

  He mumbled something groggily and winced when he tried to move.

  “Finnegan.” I smoothed down his sweats that’d shifted up along his calves.

  He grunted and threw an arm over his face. “Call me the love of your life and I’ll consider waking up.”

  I grinned, and I heard Kellan and Colm chuckle.

  “You’re definitely the love of my life,” I said. “I mean, I’ve only lived eighteen years, so that’s easy to say.”

  The guys in the front laughed at that.

  Finnegan became grumpier than grumpiest. “That’s not fuckin’ nice, princess. Make it better.”

  “Aww.” I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed the top of it. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m being so cruel in your dire state. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. How’s that?”

  He huffed out a breath and groaned as he struggled to sit up. “It needs some work, but I’ll take it.”

  I helped him release his foot from the sling.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered.

  Even now, with his hair in disarray, pain evident in his features, mood soured, and in sweats and hoodie, he was the sexiest man alive. And all mine. I just had to make sure he didn’t freaking die.

  Kellan pulled into a parking lot off the interstate. There was only a gas station and a small diner.

  “Let me help you.” I leaned over the middle to remove the pillows against the door. It was raining outside, and there was no need for the pillows to end up on the ground. Lastly, I unbuckled Finn’s seat belt before I stepped out.

  That was where the assistance ended, evidently. He got out of the SUV on his own, all while groaning and protesting, because that was better than having his wife aid him. Men, I swear. But he had no issue draping an arm around my shoulders and leaning against my side.

  “You’re a stubborn fool.” I wiped a raindrop from his cheek.

  He yawned and pressed a kiss to my temple.

  We entered the tiny diner where we were about to be the only customers, and Finnegan struggled not to let his limp show. A waitress came out with menus at a speed that made me wonder if she’d been waiting for action. We’d barely sat down in a booth. Her voice was too chipper and light, and I used to be her. I used to have the light and chipper “What can I get you?” tone when I worked at the diner.

  The guys didn’t even pretend to be polite. Finnegan didn’t touch his menu either.

  Colm grunted and ordered coffee.

  Sensing that Kellan was about to place an equally exciting order, I butted in and got us all specials with hash browns, scrambled for Kellan, sunny-side up for Finnegan and me, hard-boiled for Colm, two large stacks of pancakes, and extra bacon.

  “Coming right up!” the woman said cheerily.

  Colm and Kellan stared at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “The second the food is in front of you, you’ll inhale it like you haven’t been fed for a week.”

  Next to me, Finnegan’s stomach growled.

  Case closed.

  6

  Emilia O’Shea

  I’d never been to Italy before. Or England or anywhere. Before meeting Finnegan, I hadn’t even dreamed of traveling so far.

  We played the part of a backpacking couple on our flight between Toronto and London. Then we checked in to a hotel du
ring a six-hour layover, changed clothes, checked out as a businessman traveling with his wife, and flew in business class toward Florence.

  All of us had the same destination, but we were making our way there on different airlines and connecting in different parts of Europe.

  Only Kellan, Nessa, and Luna were on our flight.

  Liam and Autumn flew out last as father and daughter after they’d managed to forge a permit from a fictional mother stating that Liam was allowed to leave the country with a young girl who didn’t share his fake last name.

  The whole thing was a stressful mess, but it seemed to be over. So far, so good anyway. We’d be landing in an hour, then we’d rent cars and drive toward Rome.

  I peered out the window. The world glittered in the night, and I asked Finnegan if he knew what city we were flying over.

  He hummed, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Maybe Zurich. I’m not sure.” He shifted in his seat and winced. “You should be able to see the flight route on your screen.” He raised two fingers to a flight attendant who was walking down the aisle, and he ordered another whiskey.

  I didn’t say anything. He shouldn’t drink alcohol when he was on those painkillers, but he also shouldn’t be flying halfway across the world. He was in agony and yet barely showed it.

  “Why didn’t we find another hideout back home?” I asked softly. “We could’ve regrouped—you could’ve gotten some rest.”

  He threaded our fingers together along the armrests between us. “That’s what’s expected. Wounded soldiers regroup before they attack, and we need the element of surprise. The last thing they anticipate is for us to show up in their backyard.”

  And they were planning to do it so soon too. Liam and Finnegan had decided on tomorrow night. They’d barely have time to eat and sleep.

  I didn’t even know what day it was.

  Finnegan checked his watch. “The others should be out now too.”

  “Who? Your dad and…”

  He nodded.

  That was good. It’d been chaotic, to say the least. Shan, Eric, Patrick, Conn, and the Mikeys had planned on being in Philadelphia for a couple days before returning to the ranch. In the end, they’d rented cars under fake names—always fake names—and driven to Atlanta. From there, they were on different flights too. Airports like Rome, Boston, Philly, DC, and New York had been deemed “too hot.”

  But not everyone from their crew was going. One of the Mikeys was going to meet up with Thomas, Viv, and Mundy later. Well, I assumed Viv was going to end up in Ireland to join their children again, but the men were gonna send the stateside Italians on a wild goose chase by showing up near known O’Shea locations. It was an attempt to mask our presence in Europe.

  “We have some photos we’d like you to see when we get to the house,” Finnegan murmured. He paused while the flight attendant came back with his drink. “Cheers.” He cleared his throat and shifted toward me a bit. “We sent them to Eric before we threw away our phones,” he went on. “Our hope is you can identify the fuckers who stopped you near the compound.”

  “Okay.” I’d seen my share of dead people at this point. I could take it. No problem. At least these were people I wanted to be dead. “I’m afraid I don’t remember any scars or tattoos, just that dude with the cane.”

  Finnegan cocked his head. “Someone had a cane?”

  I nodded. “The guy who did the talking,” I answered. “But he wasn’t old. He looked to be my age.”

  “Huh.” He sat back again and pinched his lips, then rubbed his jaw and mouth pensively.

  “What?” I asked.

  He offered a placating smile and a lie. “Nothing, the details are just interesting.”

  Sure, that was it.

  My stubborn husband determined he was fit to drive.

  He’d let me rent the car at the airport, and his soft smile when I spoke broken Italian both mortified me and gave me a boost. I’ll keep practicing, I’d said. To which he’d kissed me and said, I know you will, but your pronunciation is already fuckin’ stellar. And then he’d taken over. We loaded the back of the car with our luggage, while he cursed and called it a goddamn minivan, and I set the GPS for him as he chugged some water and downed two painkillers.

  I supposed, technically, it was a new day at one AM. He was only allowed two per day.

  It felt entirely wrong to leave civilization behind. I was in a new country, a new world, and I wanted to see everything. Even though we were here for reasons that were bound to give me an ulcer, it was impossible not to feel elated.

  Finnegan was choosing smaller roads on purpose to stay under the radar, so I didn’t even have streetlights illuminating anything.

  “I wish I could see better.” I looked out the window and bit my lip.

  “Give it a minute. Let your eyes adjust.” There was amusement in his voice. “I can’t wait to take you on our honeymoon, baby. I wanna show you the whole world.”

  I gave him a quick grin before I turned to the window again. Slowly but surely, my eyes got used to the dark. The moon hid behind a cloud—for now. Mountains loomed in the distance, and all around us were hills and fields.

  I smiled to myself and touched my lips with the tips of my fingers.

  I’m in Italy.

  My mom’s family from way back was from here.

  We drove past a villa framed by cypress trees, and I wondered… I wondered a lot. Not often, because I disliked going there, but every now and then, I would write my mom’s history. I would pretend I knew it. I would pretend it wasn’t my silly imagination. Maybe her family was from Florence. Maybe she hailed from the southern part…?

  Growing up, I’d seen Dad in a good mood perhaps a dozen times. A day here, a few hours there. And then, only then, he’d divulged short anecdotes about my mother. She’d vacationed here in Italy a lot. She’d loved Italian music, and she would put on a summer dress in the dead of winter and dance in the living room.

  I wished I knew more. My heart ached as if I’d lost something, something I’d never had.

  It was probably good that my dad had only shown that kind side of him rarely.

  It’d hurt whenever he’d gone back to hating me. Mom had died giving birth to me, and that was my fault. I looked like my mother, and that was my fault too. My entire existence was to mock Dad, he’d told me. Over and over.

  I sighed and watched the moon cast a glow over the expansive green hills.

  “What’s on your mind?” Finnegan murmured.

  I smiled wistfully and faced him. “Did you know I’m part Italian?”

  He cleared his throat and checked the rearview. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. Once more, my gaze was drawn to the view along the side of the road. “My mom was half Italian or something. I wanted to research her family in school once, but you know how my dad is. He wouldn’t hear a word of it.” And I didn’t know Mom’s maiden name, nor had I been able to find their marriage license or her death certificate. “Dad said he threw away everything that used to be hers when he noticed how much I looked like her. He didn’t need more reminders.” Yet, he’d never changed the interior of our house. All that had been her work. He’d just been too lazy to redecorate.

  These days, all I had left was the baby book she’d started for me and that little book about Catholic saints.

  “He’s fucking scum.” Finnegan gathered my hand in his and kissed my fingertips. “So I’m married to a little Italian principessa, huh? Do you know anything else about your ma?”

  I chuckled. “Afraid not. But I swear we’re not all bad. No need to hunt me down.”

  He smirked a little.

  A few hours later, we arrived at our new hiding spot. A small villa an hour north of Rome. Finnegan told me it was a British family’s vacation house, and the furniture belonged in the ’70s. The villa itself was beautiful, though. One story, four bedrooms, a big kitchen that opened up to the terrace where there was a pool and a barbecue area. We were nestled in a tiny valley and surroun
ded by cypress, olive, and lemon trees.

  It was a shame we wouldn’t stay longer than two nights.

  The living room was big too, and was sunken two stone-steps into the ground.

  “Whoever’s on watch can rest out here,” Finnegan noted. Three couches framed the coffee table. He pointed to a fourth couch against a wall. “I think that’s a pullout.”

  I hummed and wandered out into the kitchen again. Everyone would have to share rooms with someone. Opening the fridge, I wasn’t surprised to see it empty. “How can I order food for everyone, Whistler?”

  “I’ll ask Kellan to pick something up on the way,” he replied from the living room. “He should be here with Luna and Ness soon.”

  And the rest would trickle in throughout the early morning.

  I yawned and glanced around me.

  Was there any use in unpacking? I was in desperate need of a shower and some sleep, but other than some clothes and the toiletry kit I’d picked up in London, my bag only had stuff I couldn’t use. I had Grace’s day planner but no towel. I had a case of jewelry but no phone charger. A lot had to be ordered before we were off again.

  I didn’t know our next destination.

  With nothing else to do, I flicked on the lights everywhere and picked a bedroom for Finnegan and me—and whoever we’d share it with. There was one room with two beds that could be split into four, and I skipped that one. The second and third bedrooms revealed queen beds and one pullout couch in each.

  The last room had three bunk beds. That was good. The twins would be surrounded by protection, and that meant there were eighteen places to sleep. We were twenty in total, and I suspected two or more would be awake at all times.

  I made the third bedroom ours. The pullout was pretty large, and I sort of hoped Eric would share it with Autumn. I liked being close to her. The mayhem of uncertainties had been so upsetting to her.

  “Is there anything else I should ask Kellan to get?” Finnegan called.

  “Yes,” I said right away and joined him in the living room. “Toilet paper, a few bottles of shampoo, soap, snacks, water, sodas, utensils if there aren’t any here.” I assumed we’d live on takeout during our brief stay. “Napkins…” I tapped my chin, and Finnegan typed it all into a message. “Do you think everyone has toothbrushes and toothpaste?”