by Kiera Silver
She couldn’t help thinking maybe there’d been another way out for her father, but she also believe Patrick had not thought there was, and he had been doing the best thing he could in the circumstances. Since she hadn’t been there to witness it, she would never know for certain if there had been some other way to reason with Peretti, or if her father would have stood a chance if he’d just spoken up about his relationship with Alessandra.
It was in the past, and she couldn’t do anything to change the outcome. All she could do was try to accept what had happened and move on.
They wouldn’t have a perfect future together, but it was unrealistic if she’d ever believed in perfection. Even if she’d never found out about the events with her father, they still would have dealt with conflict. That was part of being married, and it was part of loving someone so intensely. Perhaps this had even made their marriage stronger, since they had survived what could only be one of the worst things ever, and now they were back together.
He was asleep beside her, his hand protectively over her stomach, where the tiniest bump was just starting to show. Only someone who knew her body well, like Patrick, would’ve noticed a slight thickening at her waist or the subtle increase of her breasts, but they were both very aware of her changing body, and what it meant.
He loved her, and he loved their baby. She knew he would die to protect them, and she was certain her father would have been happy for her, that he would’ve been happy to know she’d ended up with Patrick, under his care and the object of his love. She believed that strongly, even knowing how her father had died.
He would have wanted her to be happy and safe, and she was both those things with Patrick. He had a wicked temper, but he would keep it in check with her, and she knew he would never hurt her or their children.
If he hadn’t been the one to let her out of that room on his own, they wouldn’t be where they were now. If he had persisted down that path, the one urging him to keep her at any cost, it would have destroyed their fragile bond.
By opening the gilded cage, and inviting her to step outside of it, he had shown how much he genuinely loved her. That, more than anything, had given her the strength to try to move past the revelations of her father’s death, along with her hurt and anger at the situation.
He was worth fighting for, even if it meant fighting herself. Now, lying beside him after their first time making love in weeks, she was hopeful for the future and convinced they would go the distance. Patrick belonged to her, and no one was going to take her from him, not even him or herself.
THE END
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Bonus Excerpt: SHANE
As captain of an Irish mafia crew, Shane has everything he wants. Money, women, and power. He can have anything, except the one woman with whom he’s obsessed. Mia Kasilli, daughter of a Russian kingpin, wants nothing to do with that lifestyle. When he can no longer be without her, he orchestrates a series of actions that leave her father in his debt and Mia in his power. He’s dark and dangerous, the embodiment of everything she doesn’t want in a man, so why does she crave him so much? She’ll fight him every step of the way, but how will she fight herself?
This story contains violence, rough sex, and sexual situations some readers might find objectionable. If a hot mafia man driven to any lengths to possess the woman he wants isn’t your thing, you probably wouldn’t enjoy this book. However, if you like a dark, Alpha, possessive man with a tender core deep down, who will do anything for the woman he loves, including kidnapping, going to war with rival mafia, protecting her from her enemies, and fighting through her resistance to change her perceptions, and grab their happily-ever-after, get ready to meet “Shane.”
CHAPTER ONE
Swallowing thickly, Mia examined the man who had sent for her. He was a handsome devil, with thick black hair, a light tan, and green eyes the shade of sea foam. Those eyes regarded her intently, and she abruptly recognized him. He was an occasional visitor to Lovelle’s, always with a beautiful woman in tow. Usually tall, blonde, and leggy.
Everything petite Mia wasn’t.
She couldn’t fathom why he had sent for her.
He pushed back from his desk to stand, and she caught her breath at his broad-shouldered build. As he stalked closer to her with the air of a hunting panther, she finally exhaled raggedly, her spine stiffening of its own accord in reaction to the look in his eyes.
His gaze skipped briefly to Bruno, and he frowned. “What happened to you?” His voice was smooth and deep, like polished onyx, but with a note that disconcerted her.
“She maced me.”
O’Mara laughed and turned back to her. “Did you really?”
She lifted a shoulder. “He was chasing me. I don’t like being kidnapped.”
She hoped maybe he would deny the allegation, or seek to reassure her that she wasn’t there under duress. He didn’t even flinch.
He glanced at his goons again, pointing to the door. “Leave.”
“You sure, boss?” asked Wallace. “She’s feisty.”
Mia still didn’t like how Wallace looked at her. Like he was just biding his time until she was available.
With a roll of his strange green eyes, O’Mara gestured for them to leave again. “I think I can handle her.”
Mia should have felt better as the other men left. Felt more safe since the numbers were more even, one-on-one.
If anything, she felt worse. “Why am I here?”
He ignored the question. “Have a seat?” An offer, but the command beneath it couldn’t be denied.
But she would. She planned to deny him everything. She squared her shoulders. “No, thank you.”
He arched a dark brow. “I’d think your feet would hurt after a night at the restaurant.”
His voice held the slight lilt of an accent. Very faded, but sexy. Mia pursed her lips. “My feet aren’t your concern. Tell me why your goons dragged me here.”
“I’m Shane O’Mara.” He extended his hand, which she didn’t even consider taking. He seemed amused and with a small shrug, he dropped it back to his side. “Very well. We’ll skip the niceties.”
“Niceties aren’t really the order of the day when you abduct someone.” She shifted slightly, suddenly aware of the acute ache from her overworked feet. Damn him for drawing it to her attention.
He laughed again and damned if the silky sound didn’t do something to her insides. “Fine.” Shane walked back to his desk, propping his hip on the corner.
“What do you want from me, Mr. O’Mara?”
“Shane.”
She ignored him.
“You’re aware of your father’s…profession?”
Mia sighed deeply. “I know he’s the Avtoritet under the Pakhan of the Varnakov bratva, which makes him about number-three in their hierarchy, but I don’t know specifics. If you’ve brought me here to gain some kind of advantage, or obtain information, you’re out of luck. I want nothing to do with him or the russkaya mafiya.”
“Hmm.” Shane gestured to a wet bar. “Drink?”
She shook her head. As the silence lengthened, she asked, “What is your profession, Mr. O’Mara?”
“Shane will do.” He made her wait as he walked to the wet bar to pour a glass of something amber. “Your father and I are in the same line of work, but for different companies, I guess you could say.”
She didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “You’re a violent thug too?”
He took a sip of his drink, seeming unbothered by her appraisal. “I wouldn’t call myself a thug, honey. That’s an entirely different lifestyle.”
She rolled her eyes. “So tell me how you’re any different from the typical gun-toting, drug-selling pimp in the gutter?”
His lips tightened. “I have something most of them would kill for.”
“What?” Mia just wanted to go. Whatever was happening here was between Shane and her father. Not hurt.
“Power. I can have anything I want.”
“Good for you.” She gritted her teeth. “Now, tell me why the hell I’m here.”
He finished his drink, but didn’t pour another one as he returned to his perch against the desk, though nearer to her this time. “That requires a bit of background explanation. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit?”
She shook her head, aware of strands of dark hair spilling from her knot and falling around her shoulders in an irritating fashion. “Just get this over with so I can go home.”
“Indeed.” His expression sharpened. “What do you know of the mafia, Mia?”
“As little as possible.” When she had first realized exactly what her father did, Mia had made a deliberate choice to avoid it at all costs. Her stepmother had helped shield her the best she could, and Mia had remained mostly ignorant toward the evil her father committed.
“There are varying groups who oversee criminal activity in our fair city, but the three most powerful are the Irish, Italians, and Russians.” He lifted a brow. “The Russians were a bit late to the party, but they’ve debuted with a splash.”
She shrugged. “Why should I care?”
He ignored the question. “As you can imagine, there was a great deal of violence as each group protected its territory and sought to expand. About ten years ago, things got particularly violent. Even the feds in our pockets couldn’t turn a blind eye, so the heads of each family decided a truce was in order.”
She shifted again, resisting the urge to sit down in the comfy-looking chair just a few feet to her left. Ten years ago was about the time her father had started dating her stepmother, and she wondered if it was a coincidence that a Russian Avtoritet had married the daughter of an Italian don.
“They each carved out their territories and divvied up various lucrative markets.”
She didn’t really want to know the answer, but felt compelled to ask, “What does my father oversee?”
“Drugs. Particularly heroin, which is making a comeback among yuppies.”
She shuddered, hating the idea of her father putting drugs onto the streets, especially since that same poison had stolen her mother’s life. “And your group?”
He smiled, and it was a chilling sight. “The Irish have always had a special affinity with weapons, honey. That’s our main business.”
She scowled. “You’re the one to thank for that thirteen-year-old who murdered the convenience store clerk last week?”
He blinked. “Not personally, but it’s possible he got the weapon from one of our distributors.” The fact didn’t seem to bother him.
“And the Italians?”
“Sex trade, forgery, money laundering…they’re a multitasking sort.” He smiled slightly, and she refused to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome that made him. “Our little experiment is working quite well. Other branches of our families are starting to emulate our model of cooperation.”
“Isn’t that terrific? I’m so happy you’re able to set a model of mafia-ism for others.” She glanced pointedly at her watch, the action projecting a confidence she didn’t feel. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here.” If he thought she could be some kind of leverage with her father, he was mistaken. Vadim cared as little for her as she did for him.
“You can imagine how disastrous it would be if our truce fell apart. There is a lot of pressure from others higher up in our families to maintain this peace, so when something goes wrong, we have incentive to fix it.”
“I don’t care,” she bit out.
He shrugged. “We’ll see. Last month, a group of thugs stole a major shipment from your father. My people intercepted it before Varnakov found out Vadim had a problem. Your father owes me a debt.”
She closed her eyes for a second. With a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “My father owes you. Fine. But why am I here?”
“You’re the price he’s paid, my sweet.” He made no attempt to disguise the blaze of desire in his gaze. “And I’m going to get full value.”
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Bonus Excerpt: CORMAC
Ballerina Siobhan O'Mara has been in love with her brother's best friend for as long as she remembers, but Cormac has always treated her like a kid sister. When they're unexpectedly involved in a drive-by shooting, almost losing her snaps his carefully regulated control. Having her is more important than shielding her from the truth about his role in the Irish mafia, and he claims the woman he needs.
This is a standalone novella, but “Cormac” features Shane’s sister, shares plot elements with, and enhances the world of SHANE: A Dark Mafia Romance. This fits between Chapters Twelve and Thirteen if read as part of that novel.
Chapter One
The pain in her neck was the only constant that Siobhan could track for the first thirty minutes or so after being shot. Even the thought made her mentally stumble and try to find some other logical explanation for her neck hurting and the blood making her red scarf sticky. People like her didn’t get shot, especially outside the ballet in some indiscriminate crime spree.
She heard Cormac, her brother’s friend, talking to the police as they loaded her brother Shane into an ambulance.
“It seemed like a random drive-by, officer. We were standing outside the back of the Morrisey Performance Hall, waiting for Siobhan O’Mara, when the car drove by. They had already fired, I think, before anyone noticed they had guns.”
She managed a vague smile at the officer when he turned to look at her. A paramedic was busily bandaging her neck wound, and she clutched the red scarf in her hand, unable to stop scrunching the part that was crunchy with her dried blood. “I’m a ballerina.” Perhaps the cop interpreted her words as meant for him, but she was speaking her own thoughts aloud. Why would someone shoot a ballerina?
When the paramedic indicated she should climb into the ambulance, she cast a longing glance at Cormac, who was occupied with his interview and couldn’t come along. There wasn’t room anyway, with Shane in the ambulance already.
As she stepped inside with the medic’s assistant and took a seat on the bench, she glared at the two guys hovering over her brother. They were his bodyguards, but Bruno himself took up most of the extra space in the back. “Get out of here,” she snapped.
They ignored her, both leaning over her brother, who was speaking urgently. His voice was soft and strained, but she could detect his urgency when he said, “Find her.”
Wallace looked annoyed, but nodded. “We’ll find the Russian chick, boss.”
Mia. Siobhan struggled to remember her surname, having just met her brother’s girlfriend that same evening, during intermission. The name wouldn’t come to her, but she remembered it had a Russian sound.
The paramedic who had bandaged her nudged the big blond brute. “Look, buddy, you gotta get out of here. We don’t have enough room for everyone.”
“I ain’t leaving my boss.” Bruno spoke with determination, crossing his arms and making himself truly formidable—as if he’d been puppy-like before.
Wallace tapped his shoulder. “Come on, Bruno. Mr. O’Mara wants us to track down his whore. We’ll get that done and be at the hospital in no time.”
“You shouldn’t talk about Ms. Kasilli that way.” Bruno frowned at his shorter partner.
With a shrug, Wallace slipped out of the ambulance. As Bruno turned sideways to move past her, Siobhan put a hand on his shoulder. “Bruno?” At his nod, she bit her lip. “Was that woman the reason we were shot?”
After a brief hesitation, he half-nodded before leaving the vehicle. The medic closed the doors, and they were off a moment later.
Siobhan stared at her brother, who was thrashing and whispering Mia’s name. Was he going to be okay? Anger filled her at the thought of some woman endangering her brother’s life. He was her bastion
of support and the main person in her life, since their mother lived in Florida. For a second, she wanted to tear every dark hair out of the petite Mia’s head.
A deep breath restored some calm, and she remembered the way her brother had hovered so protectively over the other woman. His hands had stayed securely on her, and she’d seemed just as drawn to Shane. Her first impression of Mia had been a quiet woman with kindness in her eyes, haunted though they had been.
Her gaze changed to speculative as she assessed her brother. Siobhan wasn’t naïve. She knew her brother was mixed up in the criminal underworld. His involvement went way back, to the afternoon he had killed their father to save her life when she was just six years old. Too young then to understand, it had taken her years to realize Shane and his associates lived on the dark side.
Cormac was immersed in that web of darkness too. Her heart gave a small pang as she pictured the tall blond man who was the only other constant in her life. He had always treated her respectfully, almost as a kid sister, but she thought he wanted more. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, though he’d never admit it.
With a sigh, she leaned back against the metal side of the ambulance, wishing for some padding. Her head spun a bit, and she was woozy from blood loss. Closing her eyes, she tried to grasp that she had been a victim of a violent crime. Having been sheltered by her older brother most of her life, and equally protected by Cormac, she hadn’t expected to ever be so close to the seedy side of their lives.
Deciding not to think about it, she let her body slump and tried to clear her mind. It wasn’t difficult to slip into a light doze with her body feeling so weak, and her neck throbbing with every beat of her heart.