Jaded Soul: A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance

by Fox, Nicole

  To my horror, he’s struggling to sit up. His face is pink and blotchy from exertion.

  “What are you doing?” I balk, rushing to his side.

  “I can’t get comfortable,” he snaps. “I hate these damn dresses.”

  “It’s called a hospital gown.”

  “I don’t like ‘em.”

  He’s only been truly conscious for about a day and a half, and for most of that time, he’s been griping about something or the other. Not that that’s so unusual for him. But it’s worse than normal. Worse than ever, really.

  “Let me adjust your pillows then,” I tell him, doing my best to stay patient.

  Once that’s done, Pa huffs and pouts. “I’m hungry.”

  I glance up at the clock. “Your next meal should be on its way any minute.”

  “I’m hungry now.”

  I close my eyes and remember to breathe.

  “Pa, what did you tell that detective who was in here just now?” I ask.

  He stops struggling for a moment. “I told him what happened,” he replies with a shrug. “It’s okay; he’s a friend of Tristan’s.”

  “So he knows that you’re indebted to the O’Sullivans and the Kinahans?” I ask.

  Pa drops his gaze. “Yes,” he says quietly. “He seemed surprised to hear about the O’Sullivans. You didn’t tell Tristan they were there?”

  “I didn’t know who they were.”

  Not strictly true, but I’d learned a long time ago that drunks are awfully bad at keeping secrets.

  “We don’t want trouble with the Kinahans, Saoirse,” he says. “They’re dangerous.”

  “I’ve heard the same about the O’Sullivans.”

  “But if we play our cards right, maybe one problem will take care of the other.”

  I frown. If we play our cards right…?

  I stare at him, wondering how his debt had become a shared burden.

  When he won at a gambling table, the money he won was always “his.”

  When he lost at a gambling table, the debt he incurred was always “ours.”

  Convenient. But I’ve learned to roll with the punches.

  It’s the price you pay for loving a narcissist.

  “I don’t trust Tristan,” I say honestly.

  Pa sighs. “He’s a smart man, Saoirse. And he’s risen up the ranks of the force fast. And—”

  “And he’s got connections to the Murtaghs and the Kinahan,” I infer.

  “Exactly,” Pa says, completely missing my bitter tone. “We need other people to get on in this world.”

  “Pa,” I plead, putting my hand on his arm, “please think about this. You don’t want to be indebted to the Kinahans. Brody Murtagh was the one who wanted you dead that day.”

  “They all did.”

  “Did they?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “What happened while I was outside? What did you discuss with the other O’Sullivan brother?”

  He hesitates for a moment, and I know instinctively that whatever he’s about to tell me is a lie.

  “He was threatening me.”

  That I believed.

  “Okay? What else?”

  “He told me he’d be back for the money the next day and if I didn’t have it, he’d kill me.”

  He’s blinking too fast. For as much time as he’s spent at the card table in his life, his poker face still sucks.

  He’s lying.

  “Pa,” I say gently, squeezing his hand, “if you don’t tell me the truth, I won’t be able to help.”

  He pales. The blotchiness in his face takes on a sallow, yellowish tint.

  “There’s nothing you can do anyway, my girl,” he says softly, a subtle nip of affection in his tone.

  “I’m stronger than you think and I’m braver than you know.”

  His eyes are sad even as he smiles at the familiar words. “Your mother used to tell me that all the time.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “You do?” he asks. “You were a wee little thing when she passed.”

  “I remember a lot about Ma all the same.”

  “You look like her,” Pa murmurs. “The crazy red hair. The eyes.”

  His gaze softens, moves past me and backwards in time.

  “I remember,” I whisper—more to myself than to him. “It’s funny, her face is fuzzy to me. When I remember her, I think of the pictures we have of her rather than actual memories. I can’t remember how she moved, how she smiled or laughed. But I do remember her voice. I remember things she told me. I remember the bedtime stories she read to me. And after each story, before she kissed me goodnight, she’d say that to me: You’re stronger than you think and braver than you know.”

  Pa smiles. But there’s no joy in it. It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My heart cracks.

  “When she died,” he says, “she took the best part of me with her.”

  I ache from head to toe. Mostly because there are some days when I believe that’s true.

  What if your strength comes from someone else?

  The day Mama had died, I felt like I’d lost Pa right along with her. He became morose and withdrawn. He stopped trying. He gave in to all those weaknesses Mama had always curbed.

  I meet my father’s cloudy eyes. “Pa, I don’t know why, but I feel this… Call it instinct; call it a sixth sense. But I think the Kinahans are more dangerous than the O’Sullivans.”

  He blinks again. Processing that. I can already tell it doesn’t sit right with him.

  “What did the boy say to you when you were outside with him?” Pa asks.

  He doesn’t sound suspicious. Just curious.

  “He… Well, it wasn’t anything he said,” I admit. “It was in the eyes.”

  Recognition sparks across his face. Another Mama expression. Everything a person is lives in their face. It’s in the eyes.

  “Saoirse…”

  My heart sinks, and I already know what he’s going to say.

  “Trust Tristan,” he tells me, twisting our hands around so that now he’s the one holding onto me. “He’ll take care of you.”

  I shake my head. “What does that mean, Da?”

  “It means he’s got money and influence. He’s got the tools to protect you.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “No, you can’t,” Da says without hesitation. “You’re eighteen, Saoirse. And after me, I don’t know what will become of you.”

  I frown. “In case you’ve forgotten, Da, I’m the one taking care of you most of the time.”

  It comes out harsher than I meant it to, but I refuse to take it back all the same.

  “My girl,” he mutters, “I have debts…”

  I sigh. “I know that already.”

  He shakes his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “These are the kinds of debts that won’t be forgiven if… if I die.”

  It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s trying to say. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry, Saoirse,” he says. “I try to stop, but I can’t. It’s like I’m in a dream I can’t wake up from.”

  “It’s called an addiction for a reason, Da,” I say, trying desperately to curb my anger with patience and understanding. “We can get you treatment. There are rehab facilities—”

  “Those places are expensive,” he dismisses. “We don’t have the money to pay off our debt, much less for one of those fancy clinics.”

  I take a breath and try to ignore the growing feeling of claustrophobia in my chest. “I’ll find a way to pay off your debt,” I tell him. “Without Tristan.”

  “Saoirse, you need him.”

  I can feel the walls closing in.

  But I have to ask.

  “You owe more than just the Kinahan and the O’Sullivans, don’t you?”

  He hesitates for only a moment. Maybe the painkillers are making him honest. “Yes.”

  “How much more?”

  “I keep a ledger in the desk drawer of my bedroom,” he tells me.
<
br />   Well, at least he’s an organized gambler.

  “But, Saoirse,” he says, “you can’t tell anyone that. Not even Tristan.”

  “You really think Tristan can help get all your debt forgiven?” I ask incredulously.

  “I know he can help,” Pa says helplessly. “Somehow.”

  “Pa, he’s not the kind of man who’s going to do something just to be kind. What does he get out of helping you?”

  “He’s not as bad as you think, Saoirse,” he tells me. “He cares for me. And he cares for you.”

  Why do those words feel like a death sentence?

  I shake my head, my eyes going wide with sudden understanding. “Pa—”

  “Excuse me?”

  I blink back my tears and turn to the door towards the interruption.

  The portly blond nurse who’s been taking care of my father for the past three days walks in. She’s carrying a tray with a variety of different painkillers.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she says with a cheerful smile that I can’t for the life of me bring myself to return. “But it’s time for medicine.”

  “I don’t want that shit,” Pa barks gruffly. “It makes me feel all confused.”

  Her smile falters slightly. “I’m sorry, sir. You don’t have the option of turning them down.”

  “I’m not taking the fucking pills,” he growls.

  I grab his arm. “Pa,” I say firmly,, “she’s just doing her job. You need to take those pills.”

  “No.”

  I turn to the nurse helplessly. She gives me a reassuring smile. She sets the tray down and leaves the room.

  But when she returns, she’s got backup. Two big, brawny male nurses in scrubs so tight they look like they’re about to burst.

  “No!” Pa roars, eyes bulging. “I don’t want those fucking pills. Saoirse, call Tristan!”

  I give his arm a final squeeze and step back from the bed to give the nurses more room.

  “No, get away from me with your devil pills!” Pa is yelling as I turn my back on him to stare out the corridor window. “No! No! No…!”

  The sounds of scuffling.

  Velcro straps.

  Beeps growing louder and louder and then—

  It all fades away.

  The nurses file back out a few minutes later. It’s quiet again. I can’t bear to lift my head up.

  “Miss?”

  I glance up to see the blond nurse gazing at me with pity. The cheerful smile is back on her face.

  “He’s going to be out for a while,” she informs me kindly. “You should go home. Get some rest yourself.”

  “If he wakes up in the night, he’ll want me.”

  “We’ll take care of him,” she assures me.

  I sigh. “He’s not gonna believe that.”

  “Well, tough,” she says. Her smile never wavers. “You’re still just a kid. You’re never gonna have a life of your own if you’re constantly trying to save his.”

  I stare at her, trying to process those words.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Go home, girl,” she says softly. “If he needs you, we’ll call.”

  Then she leaves.

  I slink back in. Pa is asleep, the drugs having taken quick hold over him. All the worry lines on his face are smoothed out as he rests.

  I touch his hand, then sigh and slump into the chair at his bedside.

  God only knows how much debt is waiting for me in a little desk drawer at home.

  God only knows how we’re going to get through it all.

  “Mama,” I whisper into my hands, “I wish you were here.”

  My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I don’t even bother checking. I know who it is.

  Tristan has been texting me constantly the last few days. He hasn’t actually paid Pa a visit—not since he’d woken up, anyway.

  But he is a constant presence. The shadow looming over my shoulder.

  I can feel him everywhere.

  “Jesus,” says a voice from the doorway. “If they want people to get better, they shouldn’t make the rooms so depressing.”

  I gasp, bolt upright, whirl around one hundred and eighty degrees.

  My eyes land on him immediately.

  I didn’t even hear him enter. But somehow, he’s in the room and the door’s shut behind him.

  “Cillian!”

  His name escapes my lips in a breath of relief.

  He smiles. It’s more tempered than it was when we first met. Less of the cockiness. More honesty in it.

  “Were you sleeping?” he asks.

  “No, no,” I say, getting to my feet. “What are you doing here?”

  I realize he’s got one hand firmly planted behind his back. He pulls it out and I half expect to see a gun.

  Instead, I see…

  “Flowers?”

  I stare at him in bewilderment.

  He smiles, his light blue eyes managing to twinkle even under the hospital room’s pathetic fluorescent lights.

  “Something to brighten up the room,” he says, handing them to me.

  I’m so stunned that I actually accept them.

  “How did you even get in?” I ask. “Non-family visitors aren’t allowed at this time.”

  He smirks. The cockiness makes him look taller somehow. “Those kinds of rules don’t usually apply to me.”

  Of course not.

  “You didn’t answer my question. My first question,” I point out, looking down at the pretty collection of roses and baby’s breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “I would have thought the answer is obvious,” he says. “I came to speak to you.”

  “About what?”

  “A few things,” he says. He trails off as he looks around the room before his eyes land on Da. “How is he?”

  Is that actual concern I hear in his voice?

  I’m hoping my preoccupation with his looks is not holding my judgement hostage.

  “He’s… not great,” I say. “He was shot, in case you don’t remember.”

  “Right,” Cillian says. “Well, that’s what happens when you play with the big dogs.”

  “Some dogs need to be put down,” I snap.

  To my surprise, he smiles.

  Again, I note that there’s something different about his smile this time. It’s not as… fully realized as the first time we’d met, if that makes any sense at all.

  “You may be right about that.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You’re agreeing with me?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” he replies. “I’m a realist.”

  “You don’t look like a realist.”

  He laughs. “Is this what I get for bringing you flowers?”

  “Why did you bring me flowers?”

  “Well, I figure I played a small part in putting your father in hospital,” he says.

  I frown. “A small part?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” he says, putting his hand into the front pocket of his shirt and pulling out a wad of cash.

  My eyes bulge. “Oh my God…” I breathe.

  “To pay for the hospital bill. It’s a little more than a small part. But you know me, bleeding heart that I am.”

  I stare at the cash he’s holding out to me.

  But I don’t take it.

  “What’s the catch?” I demand.

  He raises his eyebrows. “How about a kiss?”

  “I knew it!”

  “I’m joking,” he laughs. “There’s no catch. The money comes without strings.”

  “Nothing comes without strings. Especially not from men. And especially not from men like you.”

  His gaze softens. “Who broke you, sweetheart?” he whispers.

  “I told you not to call me that.”

  “Saoirse, then.”

  The ways he says my name… it’s like he’s been saying it forever.

  It’s like I’ve heard him say it forever.

  I can’t even begin to parse out what that might m
ean.

  “You wanna get out of here?” he asks suddenly. His jade eyes are sparkling with mischief and hope and bravado and beneath it all, something soft and strong and real.

  I shouldn’t.

  I know that saying yes is a mistake.

  I have enough to deal with.

  With Pa.

  With Tristan.

  With god-only-knows-how-much debt.

  I need to turn him down. Send him on his way. Never see him again.

  But I can’t deny what’s happening in my chest. Something about meeting Cillian’s gaze is making me feel things I’ve never felt in my entire life.

  It’s all in the eyes…

  “Yes,” I tell him breathlessly. “Yes, I do.”

  8

  Saoirse

  He crowds out the shadows.

  As we walk down the street, away from the hospital, I’ve been struggling to pinpoint the strange new feeling spreading through my chest.

  And that’s my conclusion.

  Cillian crowds out the shadows.

  His presence pushes out all the shit that’s followed me my whole life: Tristan and my father and the space where my mother should be.

  Like he’s an eclipse. An eclipse made of sunshine gold hair and serene blue eyes.

  I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s the only thing that connects all the dots in my head.

  And I’m not naïve, either.

  I haven’t been since Mama died.

  An eclipse can only block out the sun for so long. When it moves on, the sun remains. Oppressive and vindictive in its heat.

  He turns and fixes me with a funny look, head tilted to the side, as if he knows I’m losing myself to thoughts of doom and gloom.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Cillian remarks. “Seems like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “It’s in your eyes.”

  I stop short just to stare at him.

  “What did you just say?”

  He looks taken aback by my reaction. “Woah, who pissed you off?” he asks, clearly confused.

  “I, just, uh… What did you mean by that?” I ask, softening my tone a little.

  He frowns. “I just meant that I can see the worry in your eyes,” he says. “Everything you need to know about a person is always hidden there.”

  I don’t even realize I’ve taken a step towards him until I notice the tiny birthmark on the left side of his jaw. It’s small and light enough that I wouldn’t have noticed it unless I was standing so close.