The Gangster's Girlfriend

by Fiona Murphy

  “But now that he’s found you, all of that is behind him. I can just see him now, a few babes at his feet and tickled pink happy. Good things come, if you’re patient.” Dolly was busy cleaning the breakfast dishes, so she didn’t notice that Miranda had gone pale at her last words.

  Work passed in a blur, and as she cleared her desk, she had no memory of what she’d done for the day. Ignoring Declan’s previous declarations, Miranda left her office and began walking. She was back at the home she had lived in for years. She had made this her home, selecting all the paint on the walls and every piece of furniture, and as she sat down, the emptiness she felt threatened to overwhelm her. Looking around, all she could think was, it didn’t feel like home anymore. Less than five minutes after she entered the house, she was gone again, and she didn’t look back.

  As she entered what now felt like home, she was shocked to find the hall filled with shopping bags from Beatrice’s boutique. A card was on top, a note from Beatrice letting her know that Declan had been very busy while she had changed, and had been quite taken with the lingerie in her store, and that she hoped both Miranda and Declan enjoyed the purchases.

  Dragging the bags into the front television room, Miranda began to open box after box, and was thrilled and blushing by the time she was done. Declan had indeed been very busy, and as Miranda looked at the large selection of sexy lingerie, she couldn’t wait to wear them for him. The dresses were beautiful, some very casual and lightweight, others more formal, and all of them screamed expensive. When she had been with her husband, he made it clear she was expected to dress in a manner that fit his social status. She had been given an allowance for that reason, but not once had he ever told her she looked beautiful. Michael had never cared what she wore, only that it and she looked expensive. Miranda knew none of that had crossed Declan’s mind as he had wandered around Beatrice’s boutique and picked out clothes for her. It just wasn’t who he was.

  That night, Miranda curled into one of the sinfully beautiful nightgowns Declan had purchased, and hoped he would come home soon.

  The next day followed in a haze, and although she was able to put one foot in front of another, it wasn’t easier than it had been the day before. Added to that, she had begun her period. She laughed bitterly, remembering Dolly’s words of the day before. Her eyes closed against the image of a Declan in miniature in her arms. That night she stayed late, but instead of getting work done, she knew she was simply putting off going home to an empty house. Mark had texted her, telling her Declan was upset to find out she’d gotten home late the night before, without having Mark pick her up, and to please text him when she was ready. She was annoyed at Mark for telling on her, but gave in because she knew Declan was just as likely to be mad at poor Mark as he would be at her. Mark picked her up with a relieved smile, and she apologized if she had gotten him in trouble.

  She was setting the oven to reheat the dinner Dolly had left when the doorbell rang. The sound was so surprising she jumped. Banging the oven door closed she moved cautiously down the hall.

  “Who is it?” She turned on the light to the porch, but couldn’t make out the figures.

  “Mrs. Beckett, this is the FBI. Agents John Tully and Frank Rich. Open the door, please, so we can speak with you.”

  Miranda’s heart stopped and then started again, painfully. With a deep breath, she wondered what Declan would want her to do. Keying in the alarm code, she took another deep breath and unlocked the door. Two men, one slim and short with slicked-back blond hair and oddly light blue eyes, introduced himself as John Tully, and the other, broad and tall with a military crop cut for his sandy brown hair and sharp brown eyes, was Frank Rich. Shaking her head as the men moved forward, she stepped out onto the porch. “Can I see your badges, please?”

  They gave each other a look and then handed over their badges. Miranda noted the worn leather and tried to remember the badge numbers.

  “Mrs. Beckett, I think this discussion would be best done inside.”

  “As I don’t see the need for a discussion at all, I highly doubt whether it is outside or inside that would matter. Please state your business, gentlemen. I was about to sit down to dinner.”

  Another look passed between them, and Rich sighed. “Mrs. Beckett, we came here tonight to offer you the chance to work with us and help yourself out. We have had Declan Kelly under investigation for almost a year now, and we are closing in. Now, we understand you might not know everything there is to know about Kelly, but we do want you to know he is a dangerous man, and that if you help us, we can help you. When we take down his organization, we will take down everyone we can in it. If you help us with this, it will look good for you. It could lessen time or make it disappear entirely.”

  Miranda had to say she was proud of herself for the look she gave the men. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Declan Kelly is the owner of pubs and a landlord. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your information, but I can’t help you.”

  “Mrs. Beckett, we know about your brother and Declan Kelly. Don’t do this to yourself. We can help you. If you’re afraid of Kelly, we can protect you from what he’ll do to you when he finds out you helped us. Loan sharking, gambling, murder, this is not the type of man that you want to protect.”

  “I don’t know the man you’re talking about. I would never be afraid of Declan. No matter what I did, he wouldn’t hurt me. I think it would be best if you both left now. We have nothing further to discuss.”

  Tully stepped forward and handed her his card. “Mrs. Beckett, call me. The deal is on the table until noon tomorrow. Don’t make a choice you’ll live to regret.”

  Taking the card she tore it in two. “Have a good night, gentlemen.” She watched as they got into the car at the curb, and then turned on stiff legs and went inside.

  Back in the kitchen, she pulled out mushroom risotto and forced it down. In bed that night, lying in the dark, Miranda turned the conversation out on the porch over and over in her head. Miranda had always believed that when it came down to it, she would choose to do the right thing over wrong. Choosing Declan was the right thing for her. Declan was the only part of the equation that mattered, and although she attempted to dredge up angst, she couldn’t. No matter what Declan did, she wasn’t going to leave until he told her to go. She would also do something she never thought she would do. She would lie to herself about what Declan did outside of their home, in order to keep receiving the love he gave her inside their home.

  Miranda had never been so grateful for her work as she was the next day. It felt like after she made her decision last night, she had started a new chapter, and couldn’t wait for it to really begin. For the last few weeks, she had simply been drifting through each day. The only thing she cared about was the time she spent with Declan. In the evenings they had dinner as soon as she got home. Then they usually sat in the front television room, where she watched bad reality television, and he read and laughed at her bad reality television. All the while making sure she was curled up tight against him.

  Often, she would ask him about what he was reading, and she loved it when he talked to her about the poetry he read. Even the few squabbles they had over what each thought the poem meant was fun. Each night, almost without fail, he reached for her and took her to the stars. Lying in his arms, she would ask him about his time in Ireland or what he was like in college, loving just the sound of his voice in the dark wrapping around her. He seemed just as intent on finding out about her, once even asking her what her favorite color was, and they’d both laughed at how inane it sounded—but she understood the need to know everything about her, because she felt the same. She wanted to know his first memory, his favorite memory, and, even though it ached, the first time he made love.

  Not counting the days, she had been content to follow Declan’s lead. While she wanted to know everything about Declan, beyond sex, Miranda had held back in other ways, which, as she looked back, hadn’t been fair.

 
Although she had been shocked at Declan’s declaration of love, he had been right, he had shown it over and over every day. It was only her own fear of her feelings that had kept Miranda from seeing and accepting it. Just the thought of his words filled Miranda with awe. Miranda had long given up on the thought of love, and to find it so completely and deeply made her feel like she didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  It took a moment for Miranda to realize it wasn’t her cell phone’s alarm going off, but it ringing. Fumbling for the phone she answered it before she brought it to her ear, afraid she would miss the call.

  “Miranda, I’m sorry to wake you, love.”

  “Declan? When are you coming home? It’s been forever!”

  “I feel it too, my love. I’ll be home soon. My flight leaves in an hour. I should be home around six or seven o’clock in the evening, Chicago time. I just wanted to let you know before I got on the plane. I have to go, sweetheart. Bye.”

  Miranda rolled over and screamed into the pillow. Declan’s call felt absolutely cruel. It had been seven days since he left, not one call or text or email, and then a call at three in the morning to let her know he was coming home. Her scream of anger was replaced by one of happiness. He was coming home. Miranda clung to his pillow and breathed deeply and, surprisingly, fell right back to sleep.

  When she went down for breakfast that morning, she made sure to let Dolly know of Declan’s pending return, and blushed when Dolly promised to prepare something special for the both of them.

  Work dragged by, and when the clock struck five, she was out the door with everyone else. As she went up the stairs into the house, her phone buzzed with a text. Declan’s flight was on schedule out of New York, and he would be in Chicago in just over two hours. He would have Mark pick him up. Miranda tossed her bag down and ran for the stairs. It would be tight, but she would be ready when he came home.

  The front door slammed shut, and through the open bedroom door she could hear Declan wheeling his suitcase in and pacing around downstairs. She didn’t say anything, but leaned against the foot of the bed. He was up the stairs at a run. Seeing her, he stopped.

  She was wearing a few of the things he had bought from Beatrice’s boutique. Black silk stockings held up with a matching wisp of a garter belt, in impossibly high heels that she prayed she wouldn’t have to take more than a few steps in. Panties made of the softest see-through black silk and a bra that had no cups to it, only the support underneath to lift her breasts, as if they were begging for his mouth and they were.

  He took a step forward and she held up a hand. “Not another step. I’m really pissed off at you. You telling me that you loved as you left was incredibly selfish of you, and as you only told me to keep me here until you came back, I think you should be punished for it.”

  Declan startled and started to shake his head, but stopped as he seemed to realize it, and looked at her. His eyes were bright amber and filled with love. “I did, and that was wrong. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me.”

  “No, it wasn’t fair at all. Then you’re gone for seven days and not one call or text, nothing. It felt so cruel.” Her voice broke, and it shocked her. This wasn’t going the way she planned.

  He made his move then, and was only a foot in front of her when she saw him through the tears in her eyes. She held up a hand again. “No! Declan, I told you—”

  “That I should be punished, and sweetheart, I have been, I promise you that.” He was on his knees in front of her, and his hands slid up her silk-encased legs. “Every moment I was gone I was tortured by the thought you would come to your senses and leave. I was terrified to learn I might have gotten it all wrong and that you didn’t care as I did, and my telling you would make you run. I picked up the phone again and again to call you, terrified you wouldn’t answer. Day after day, I begged my uncle to let me come home to you, and had to listen as he taunted me over my fear. Every night, I dreamed you were in my arms and I was inside your beautiful body, and woke to find myself alone.” His hands were at her hips, and he kissed the mound of her pussy through the gossamer silk. It was a solemn, gentle kiss. “My love for you shouldn’t have been used as a cage to keep you here, but I will tell you that my words came to haunt me. In not knowing how you felt, every minute felt like I was waiting for the world to fall away from beneath my feet.”

  Miranda began to cry at his words, and her hands were in his hair. His honesty almost devastated her, as she had never once considered he would have fears as well.

  Shaking his head, he pulled her into his arms as he stood. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. I can’t bear it.”

  “I was so mad at you for doing that to me. I never once considered how you might feel, that you could have been as scared as I was. I’ve been so selfish, and I’m sorry. I love you, and I hate to admit that I didn’t want to know it, let alone admit it out loud. If you hadn’t pushed me, I would have still had my head in the sand. Telling myself it was just amazing sex that made me feel so wonderful and happy.”

  He stilled at her words and ran a finger down her cheek. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel you have to say it because I did.”

  Miranda smacked his hand away. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Declan. I know what I feel. I knew it that day in the gym. When I was crying, it wasn’t because of Peter. I was crying because I thought that although the sex was amazing, it was all we would have, because it was all you wanted from me.”

  “What? Why the hell would you think something so stupid?”

  “Because of you! All you talked about was sex and pleasure, no mention of love. You said a fire this hot would likely burn out fast, and that we would enjoy it until it went out!”

  “Sweetheart, you were running scared from me. I would have told I was a damn leprechaun and I’d grant a wish if you’d stay. I wasn’t sure it was love then, but I knew it was something special, and we needed time to find out just how special.”

  “Oh.” Her anger quickly disappeared, and she understood then. “When did you know?”

  “When you looked at me with fear in your sweet eyes and told me that, even though you were scared, you wanted me. Believing that you would receive no pleasure while allowing me to take mine just summed up everything about you. Your generosity and bravery stunned me, and I knew then that I was never going to let you go.”

  “Just for the record, even from that night, I had no desire to leave.”

  His hand went into her hair and pulled her back to receive his kiss. It was filled with the hot, aching need that had built in the days he had been gone. He pulled away and was back on his knees in front of her, his hot breath against her silk-encased pussy. “I thought I was going to come just staring at you in this.” His hands were back on her hips, and slowly moved over her ass. His hands shaped the globes of her ass and brought her to his mouth. He licked her through the silk, slow and wet. He slid one hand down the back of her leg and settled it over his shoulder. He didn’t take the panties off; he simply pulled them to the side and ran his tongue over the slick seam of her pussy.

  “Declan, I want you inside me.”

  “Yes, my love, as you wish.” Pulling her lips apart, he licked her swollen clitoris before sucking hard. That was it, that was all it took after seven long days without him, her body shook with an almost painful climax.

  She went limp, and he picked her up and laid her on the bed. He undressed slowly as his gaze roamed over her flushed body. His cock was so thick Miranda could see he hadn’t been exaggerating. Taking off the high heels he climbed between her thighs. Pulling both her legs up over his shoulders, he opened her completely to him. He sank into her with one long, agonizingly slow stroke, and closed his eyes.

  Declan was so deep and so thick Miranda wondered if she would orgasm again just having him fill her up. He moved, and her pussy shuddered in response and clung to his cock. He began to move faster, and an orgasm swallowed Miranda whole, without her seeing it coming.
Tremors billowed through her, and still he moved inside her. His cock thickened in anticipation, but still he continued to move in her, his strokes a frenzy of need, and another orgasm shook her and she splintered into a million pieces. Finally, he exploded inside her, and her pussy squeezed him again and again in welcome at his return.

  Long hours later, Miranda fought the urge to fall asleep. She had no idea how to bring it up, but she knew she needed to tell Declan about the visit from the FBI.

  “Hmm, what’s the matter, love?”

  “How do you know something is the matter?” she asked without looking up from his chest.

  “Because you went all tense and you have this little furrow between your brow.” He ran a finger over the offending furrow. “Talk to me.”

  She sat up and leaned against the leather headboard. “While you were gone, two men from the FBI came and asked me to help them. They said they’re making a case against you and they’ve been at it for a year now. Declan, this is bad news.”

  With a sigh, he sat up as well. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you, but the men that came were sent by my uncle. He was worried about me moving you in, and he didn’t trust my judgment. It was the whole point of me going back to Ireland. I didn’t know any of it until the day he sent me home.”