Intimately Faithful. 6.5 (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga)

by V. Theia

  The overwhelming need to cry hit her again and only biting hard on the inside of her lip stopped the emotion from welling out.

  “I want to keep Misha. She was Yelena’s daughter and she asked me to take care of her if anything happened to her; something happened to her, Mr. Kuznetsov.”

  He stroked a long finger on his lower lip, regarding her through lowered lashes. He’d yet to take his eyes from Aoife and she prayed to Jesus and all his disciples—what were their names again? She’d have to ask Danny—that he really hadn’t taken a shine to her.

  She’d already been under the thumb of her idiot father all her life, and then bought and sold to Padraig like common cattle, without adding a mad Russian to the list.

  No matter what Danny insisted when he was driving inside her, her vagina was not magical. It only drove one Irishman wild, no Russian’s allowed.

  “Indeed,” he said. “I will take the item back Yelena left with you now.”

  “No!” Aoife screamed.

  Fear like no other gripping her by the throat.

  She’d give Misha to that evil man over her dead body.

  And it was looking more likely that day was here.

  “You can’t have Misha. She’s not even yours!”

  Awesome. Go ahead and tell him he’s shooting blanks too, Aoife.

  She’d always had a mouth on her, and it appeared it was about to be the death of her.

  She didn’t expect the dark laugh… no humor behind it.

  “Do you think this is about Yelena’s bastard child? I do not want any mistake of hers. You women with your foolish emotions.”

  He didn’t? Then what?

  “You…you don’t want Misha?”

  One slight incline of his head and she was seized by the two men and her purse ripped from her fingers. Without care that it contained tampons and other silly things girls carried, the bigger of the two men dumped it on the floor and things scattered all over.

  It was pointless protesting, you can’t argue logic with the devil, so Aoife kept her mouth shut while her insides coiled and rolled with nausea and she thought desperately hard about Danny.

  Her sweet man.

  Her darling, loveable perfect, Galway boy, who she hoped she’d see again.

  When the man waved her passport in the air and then tossed it on Grigori’s desk she had the overwhelming sense she was about to be sold into slavery or whatever the Russian equivalent was in this day and age. “That’s mine!”

  “Yelena left something with you that I very much want back and then this whole messy business can be over.”

  Sinister intent slid through that deep voice as he thumbed open her passport, checked out the picture four years old and then flipped to the back.

  Huh. He peeled something small out of the plastic wallet. And didn’t you know, it was a micro SD card he held between finger and thumb, before slotting it into his inside pocket.

  “Yelena had more brains than she pretended not to have,” ruminated Grigori, making Aoife wonder had he cared for her at any point in time before he’d put a gun to her temple and ended her life. The image still made her stomach roll and her heart constrict missing her friend, her only friend here. “Did she tell you she tried to blackmail me?”

  Aoife shook her head. Even if she’d known, she wasn’t stupid enough to confess.

  “My beautiful ballerina wanted more than she’d earned. She got greedy as all women do, they forget their place.”

  It sounded like horses outside coming up the stairs and she pondered if this was her firing squad. Nerves and fear stole through Aoife’s vision.

  One skinny girl against three beefy men.

  Not even Hunger Games Katniss stood a chance with those odds.

  She could pretend to faint. Would they kill a fainted woman? Probably.

  She could scream but that would only bring more of his men.

  She could offer herself on the desk to Grigori. She’d seen a spark of interest the moment she didn’t back down to him.

  It was only sex, right?

  Sex didn’t mean anything without love and she only loved Danny.

  Without love it was just skin and bones being used.

  Just the idea of giving herself to anyone other than the love of her life put vomit directly into her digestive tract.

  She couldn’t, he’d just have to go on and kill her.

  Her body was Danny’s alone.

  She lifted her chin, prepared to face her fate head on.

  Just as well a whole mass of Murphy’s walked into the office calm as you like and saved the day. Or maybe they’d come to get killed alongside her.

  All for one … or so their saying went. And she’d always felt like a Murphy.

  She’d assumed one day she’d be one legally.

  If the dark foul look of her man striding forward until he was towering over her was a gauge, then that Murphy day might not ever come.

  All the Murphy boys piled into the office and for the fact that the two Russian guards had pulled their firearms out she would have thought it was an ordinary meeting.

  Danny came to her instantly, through the throng of his beautiful family, all their eyes streaked over her briefly as if to check she was okay.

  But it was Danny’s big hand palmed around her nape she concentrated on.

  Love and safety in that touch that she almost fainted with relief.

  His eyes though, when she looked up were as violently murky as she’d ever seen them, and the flex of his fingers brought about a calmness, so it did, but also a whole truck load of lust which was just bad timing all around.

  “You’re early.” Grigori stated as he nodded to his men to put their little boy guns away. She’d always thought guns were stupid—not just because they harm and kill, but it seems as if a statement to say; look at my big dick. She’d never been a fan of fake masculinity.

  “Aye, that I am. My daughter-in-law got a bur in her butt so we’re here now. I’m Redd Murphy and these are my brothers.” He went through the introductions.

  Aoife blinked.

  The boys were expected?

  As in they made an appointment to see the Russian?

  “You good here, da?” Danny’s voice rushed through her, because he didn’t sound like her sweet, kind Galway boy. He sounded fit to strangle her and his hand hadn’t let up on her nape. Flex and release. Flex and release.

  “Yeah, son. Take her home and give her a good thrashing.” Only every Murphy knew Redd was joking as he sent her a relaxed wink. But the two Russian guards tittered like they thought it was a great idea. Assholes.

  “I will.” And Danny turned her around and began marching her to the door.

  “Wait! What about Misha?”

  “Not my problem,” his bored reply and she felt her heart pinch in both relief and sadness for the little girl without anyone.

  She rushed to the table and grabbed her passport. All the other junk strewn on the floor they could keep.

  “Not a damn word, Aoife. I mean it.” Danny grated once he’d hustled her out the door, taking the stairs two at a time and since he still clasped her tight enough to stay locked to his side, she had to skip the stairs and hope she didn’t break her damn neck.

  All his cousins followed behind, that meant it was just Redd and his two brothers behind in that office… doing God knows what.

  “Dammit, I don’t have long legs, Daniel. I’m going to fall.”

  He growled, while the other boys laughed as he stopped mid step, tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and carried on.

  The boys following closely behind as they wound around the four flights, laughed at the way she bounced unladylike, cursing as she did on his strong shoulder, calling out instructions of how Danny should thrash her. “I’ll clout the lot of you if he dares, so I will.”

  Danny’s palm landed with a smack on her bottom and though Aoife shrieked in shock, he left his hand right there holding her skirt down.

  That b
ig hand gave her one quick pet and she calmed instantly.

  Her Galway boy getting her out of yet another scrape.

  And she realized he’d always come for her. No matter what.

  She braced both hands on his butt as they reached the ground floor. “I love you, Danny Murphy.”

  “Aww…puke.” The peanut gallery piped in with cackles as if they hadn’t just left their family upstairs to deal with men and their guns.

  The lot of them were crackers.

  But so was she, because she was one of them.

  There’s a natural compulsion to fill the spaces and to find a person who was just as weird. Danny was all that for her.

  Center of her life. Miracle of her heart.

  Even as angry as he was for her bad decision.

  They’d argue, so they would.

  And then they’d make up. That was a given.

  The reason the Irish fought so much was because there were no other worthy opponents.

  His hand on her backside said he was pissed off, but he loved her.

  “I love you too. Now get in the car so I can spank you until I’m not pissed anymore.”

  The way he helped her into the back seat and followed behind and took her smaller hand into his, resting it on his thigh said he wasn’t ready to erupt yet, but he would always keep her safe.

  She beamed so wide her cheeks hurt.

  She was home.

  Faithfully. Intimately.

  Surrounded in Murphy’s.

  Aoife was home.

  EPILOGUE

  “And God made it so that everyone was happy…especially Danny and Aoife.” – Danny

  “So your da is doing deals with Russians now?” Aoife sounded as worried as Danny was but in truth … according to his father, it wasn’t all that bad.

  Time would tell.

  “Just an expansion of sorts.”

  “They deal in drugs and guns and women, Danny! Not to mention thousands of other things that are immoral and illegal. Not to mention the murder. Did you forget all the murder?”

  She was excitable which was understandable.

  His heart still hadn’t returned to normal either.

  Having Aoife back, it just might not ever. His ginger rascal was hell on his nervous system.

  “Sweetheart, da knows what he’s doing, it’s just a little light transferring of goods through Dublin on the understanding they leave you alone. That’s it. Da has no intention of starting anything long term.”

  “Oh, God. They did this for me?” She cried out, fist to her mouth, tears on her lashes. Danny couldn’t take her tears, she knew that. He took her onto his lap and kissed her until she sagged in his arms. “The uncles have always wanted to expand just a little, so no worrying, this isn’t on you. Truth be told, I would have offered up my soul to get them off your back. Da isn’t stupid, it’s a straight deal, and he has connections the Russian can use.”

  “But it’s not like.. forever, right?”

  “No, sweetheart. By the summer we’ll all be asking, Russian mobsters with weird haircuts who?”

  She chuckled. “They do have bad haircuts. Especially that big ugly one with the nose.”

  It wasn’t as simple as he explained. It was, and it wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to worry Aoife more. He trusted his father and his uncles to know what they were doing opening business with unscrupulous men. His da wasn’t whiter than white and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d mixed business with the wrong kind of folk.

  Something was proven today. That he had more Murphy in him than anything else because those short thirty minutes it took for him to catch up to Aoife, he’d been willing to step into his old skin and do whatever it took to get his girl out of there safely.

  For love he would do anything.

  And hoped God had an understanding ear afterwards.

  “Is it okay we’re here…snuggling?” She whispered the last word, making him grin and he just had to kiss her again, light and soft.

  He loved this girl something rotten.

  And he had a feeling he was about to go a little daft in the love department by spoiling her even more by giving her every ounce of love he possibly could.

  “You’re always welcome in God’s house, sweetheart.”

  “Okay, good. Let’s make out.”

  The little brat attacked his mouth, swallowed his laugh and yanked a little on his hair until he was all nicely revved up and she was smiling with her freckles hidden by her beautiful pink cheeks.

  When she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, he’d never felt so at peace before. This girl who brought trouble and heartbreak was his home and his everything.

  There was still a lot to sort through, especially considering Misha and how they went about making her theirs. But for now, the baby slept peacefully after her oatmeal and Danny had his girl on his lap.

  Nothing better than that.

  Other than making her his wife.

  He’d do it tomorrow if he could.

  “You’ll stay.” He said lifting her hand to his mouth.

  “Nah, I thought now I’ve won you around I’d go back home,” her smile lit him up. “I’m going nowhere, pastor Murphy. Do you have plans for me? A pastor’s wife, maybe?” She knew him so well.

  “No. Just Danny’s wife.”

  Love flared to life on her face and once again he found his mouth attacked by a tiny, ginger rascal girl who’d kept him on his toes for years.

  “Is this how I can expect the next sixty years of our lives together to go, you just pounce on me willy-nilly?”

  “Danny….. don’t be saying that now. It only makes me horny and I’m trying to be a good girl, I am. We are in church.”

  It didn’t stop her from rubbing on his hard cock for the next thirty minutes.

  He sat in the first pew with his hands loosely clasped together and the smaller hand laid over his thigh as both Aoife and Misha in her arms, dozed together.

  It had been a day and both his girls were tired.

  It had been a good day.

  Once all the shite had died down and he’d got done chewing Aoife’s ass… not literally, she didn’t deserve pleasure, not when he was furious. Maybe tonight though. Shit, now his dick was stirring thinking about spanking her with the fullness of his palm until she was red and sore. He needed to stop bringing her here or he’d cause a holy scene sporting erections every time he was giving a sermon.

  She was going to be hell on him, and he couldn’t wait even a second for their life to be normal again.

  They’d had enough drama already.

  “Love you so much,” she said in a hushed whisper, cuddling into his shoulder.

  “You’ve no idea how much I love you, Aoife. How stupid in love I am with you. Always you. From the moment you put your hand in mine. Everything about you screams to my soul, telling me you’re mine.”

  He heard her dreamy sigh and he glanced up to the ceiling and smiled.

  The hand on his thigh stroked slowly without sexual enticement, but with enough love he felt it thrumming through his chest.

  His girl was back where she belonged, and he was on his way to making all her dreams come true … whatever they may be once she decided what she wanted out of life.

  He was happy.

  Completely, without a crevice of emptiness left.

  Danny was happy.

  “Thank you,” he mouthed upwards.

  His new path finally aligned with his old path and he was more than happy with the direction he was headed in.

  * * *

  Nine months later

  “Higher, Danny. Push me higher!” the swing climbed into the sky and she would swear she saw angels on clouds as she descended back to earth with a laugh as Danny caught the playground swing bringing it to a gentle stop.

  Nine blissful months together and they still found time to go back to their roots of Galway when they could and play like children.

  Of course it usually ended up with Danny
’s hand up her skirt and her crying into his mouth when he made her blind with pleasure.

  They planned a trip this spring to go back home.

  Until then, they played when they could.

  The moment she jumped down from the swing, his hands were there to catch her as she scaled her husband like he was the most gorgeous mountain in all of Colorado, kissing his face like a lunatic.

  “Zara and Rider are having a cookout this weekend. Can we go, Danny?” Over the last few months they’d become close to the biker leader and his family, surprisingly. Aoife now had a whole heap of women friends she regularly hung out with.

  “I’m not sure I like this excitement you show about being around those bikers.”

  She giggled, loving his jealousy, even if it was pretend. “Oh, get away with you. I have eyes only for a tearaway Irish boy who does the most despicable things to me before he stands in church and preaches a lovely sermon.”

  “You say despicable, but your cries of pleasure tell a whole different story, Aoife.”

  Aye, so they do. Maybe one of these days, Danny could buy a big chrome motorcycle.

  Who would have thought she’d settle into being a pastor’s wife and a mammy as easy as she had? Certainly not Aoife. But every day was a new adventure and each night when she crawled into bed with her sexy as hell husband, she did it knowing she’d had a great day with another one to look forward to in a few hours.

  “How many children do you think we should be having, Danny?” She liked saying surprising things to turn him into a gibbering idiot, or when his eyes turned to dark smoke and heavy lidded as they were now. “Ten is a nice round number but then that would make eleven with Misha and I don’t like odd numbers, so either nine or eleven more, you can decide.”

  He scoffed good and sexy, putting his pastor hands all over her backside with a tight squeezing motion. “Thanks for letting me have some say, Mrs. Murphy.”

  “You’re welcome. Should we go home and start?”

  He blinked and his Adam’s apple bobbed, and she felt him growing hard.

  God, this man. She’d never tire of seeing how much love he felt for her in his eyes.

  It was there every second of the day, even when they bickered like cats and dogs and then made up in a blaze of hot, Irish passion.