Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  “You can’t be serious about me, Carragh. I’ve seen the women you date.”

  “Jealous?”

  Her jaw tightened, and his ego flared like the easy bastard it was because yes, she was.

  “No. Of course not.”

  Liar. “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you were.”

  “You want to really know what I want? Someone who wants me. Me. Not just the girl they think they can’t have and what they see onstage. I want a man who finds it easy to be faithful to me. A lover, a partner, and friend. Chemistry and heat. I want it all.”

  “Tall order.”

  “Is it? Do you think you should expect less?”

  She had a point.

  Truth was he could be all that with her, for her. He just didn’t know how. But it’d feel damned good to be seen as the man she described. She made him want things, and to have a life that was different than the one he’d grown up in.

  “It makes no sense you care what I think about men, you, or anything. Unless you think I’m an easy mark.” She shook her head angrily. “Everyone thinks I’m stupid because I dance.”

  “I would never think that.”

  “But you have.”

  She was due some credit for her keen observation on that front. He owed her the truth. “Once. I didn’t know you.”

  “You don’t know me now.”

  “I know enough. How you like the applause but not the catcalls. How you favor your right leg over your left. How you twist those pretty pink lips when you’re thinking—which you do a lot, by the way. How when you think something is right, you don’t hesitate, like finding your father. Protecting your sisters.”

  She swallowed. “None of that answers why me.”

  Why her? She had no idea the impact she could have on a man. How her very presence called up a decency he never thought he could muster. Yet, there it sat on the edge of his conscience—perhaps just waiting for her to finally rise up in him.

  He threaded his fingers through hers. “Because you remind me my heart still beats.”

  His family’s specialty was ending things—through protests, power grabs, messing with people’s futures. Luna made him want more when they were together. She was the promise of a beginning and not an end.

  She looked down at their intertwined hands. “Well. What do you know? You have a heart.” A shy smile crossed her lips, but then she lifted her chin. “So—”

  He didn’t let her finish her sentence. His lips found hers, and she didn’t pull back.

  When he finally broke his kiss—and it wasn’t brief—all the disbelief he’d seen in her eyes earlier had vanished. Maybe it was the trick of the light or wishful thinking, but he liked it. No, loved it. She might believe him after all.

  “Maybe I do have a secret,” she whispered.

  “Going to tell me?”

  “Yes. I was waiting for a reason that I could finally kiss you. Thank you for giving it to me. For being… different from your father.”

  16

  Sean peeled the label off his beer bottle. “You sure this is wise?”

  “I need to know who’s been talking.” Carragh didn’t turn his chair around. Instead, he eyeballed the cityscape. A haze had settled, though nothing inside him had. Pink lips—that’s all he could think of. Hell, he could still feel how soft and plump they were as he tasted and sucked on them.

  Last night wasn’t what he’d planned. They’d talked—and then they’d kissed. They talked more. Kissed more. Then he’d followed her home, walked her to her door, and waited in the parking lot until he saw her light go out in her apartment window. He hadn’t had an experience with a woman like that—like a normal date—in years. Or was that normal?

  He wanted more—and more of that belief in her eyes.

  His life was far from normal, like knowing who he could trust. He was about to change that, starting with finding out who was on his side and who wasn’t.

  Sean scrubbed his hair. “It really could be as simple as Petra—”

  “It’s not.” Such a betrayal wasn’t possible.

  Carragh spun his chair at hearing his door click open. He rose as Leo stepped inside.

  The man had been hovering around his father for years, doing odd jobs, fixing things. If anyone knew what was truly happening, it would be him. He kept his head down, never got arrested, and never disappointed in completing whatever task was before him.

  “Carragh. Sean. To what do I owe this summoning?”

  Carragh rounded his desk. “Thanks for meeting me.” He shook the guy’s hand, gestured to his bar cart. “What can I get you?”

  “The reason I’m here.” Leo slunk to a chair. “You need me to handle somethin’?”

  The man got to the point. Good. He would as well. “I need information.”

  “You couldn’t pick up the phone? Traffic outside is a nightmare.” He gestured to the window.

  “I wanted to look in the person’s eyes when I asked it.”

  Leo slapped his hands on the armrests. “Okay. Shoot.”

  Carragh settled on the corner of his desk and picked up a paperweight. It was one of the many gifts he couldn’t remember getting. Solid clear glass with an Awen symbol floating in its center—three pointed rays shining down from three dots. He rather liked the symbolism of the thing.

  “Do you know what this is?” He held it up in his palm.

  “Not a fan of riddles.”

  “Celtic symbol. Related to truth. Understanding it. Loving it. Maintaining it.” He set it down. “It’s something I reward heavily.”

  The guy scratched the side of his face. “Yeah, and?”

  “I need answers. Let’s start with who’s been sending messages to Declan Phillips.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Shakedown. Waterfront. Club owner.”

  He shrugged. “Oh, yeah, the strip joint. Beats me. I wasn’t brought in.”

  Fuck him, he had to keep his ass on the desk and not jump down the guy’s throat. “It’s not a strip joint. Who’s been spreading rumors about me operating against my family? You been talking?” He might as well continue the truth train.

  “Talking? What are you askin’?”

  Carragh rose, and Sean inched closer.

  “Whoa, there.” He raised his hands “I don’t say nothin’ to nobody ever. But there are rumors, alright?”

  “Such as?”

  “Heard you’re not following orders. Going against your old man there. And your penchant for tittie shows…”

  Carragh was suddenly inches from the man’s face. Sean slapped his chest in the nick of time because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have flattened the man against the sofa until he touched the wall given his assertions about Shakedown.

  “A name, Leo.”

  He chuffed, adjusted his jacket that had gone askew by Carragh’s advance. “Names. I got lots of names. A lot of people are talkin’.” He leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and regarded the carpeting for a long minute. He then sighed and leaned back. “But there’s only one person who never references where she heard it from. Makes me wonder…”

  “She.”

  “Nicole Monroe.”

  A name he hadn’t expected at all. It made no sense that Nicole would put Carragh in the hot seat when she wanted very much in his seat.

  A sly smile spread Leo’s face. “That one’s got designs on you. She makes no mystery out of it, either. Says she could be the one for you—that is, if you’d come to your senses. And women—they make trouble if they don’t get what they want. Trust me. I got a wife.”

  He didn’t know that about him. How had he not known? Maybe because he’d had his head down for the last few years trying to put some things in motion. It was like working in a silo of molasses. Circles. Slowdowns. False starts.

  And then Luna Belle sashayed into his view, muddling his judgment on top of it all.

  “Also, there was that not-so-little meeting of the Monroes and your father last night.” Leo ey
ed him. “I was there. Interesting you weren’t.”

  Carragh hadn’t been invited or alerted. So, he was being cut out. Something he wanted—but on his terms, not his father’s.

  “I overheard Nicole talking to her father in the hallway. Something about a tittie club on the water. Her words.” He raised his hand again. “That your Shakedown place? Well, she was saying how it was the first thing she was gettin’ rid of the second you and her got married.”

  “We’re not getting married.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “So, you are makin’ a move?”

  “I’ve been making my move. But you know that, don’t you?” Surest way to test a man? Throw the truth at him, see if he agrees.

  “Yeah. Sons. They always want to take their place eventually.” Leo inclined his head. “It’s gonna get messy. Your father, he likes his…” Leo gestured in the air “…position.”

  Dethroning anyone—let alone someone like his father—would be. “And you? Where will you fall?”

  “The thing is…” he leaned forward again “…what makes you a man is what you choose to do when things are changin’ around you. Maybe it’s time for things to lighten up a little.”

  “You saying you prefer my methods?”

  “I prefer methods that work. Your father, who I respect very much, by the way, is old school. I won’t go against him, but let’s just say if things were to change, I wouldn’t be unhappy. I’m a little tired of playing the muscle all the time. I got arthritis.” He adjusted his jacket. “Besides, the man’s not well. I can see it.”

  “He’s fine.” Not really, but no one needed to know. The man was approaching 70 and that, between his migraines and refusal to accept times had changed, had to make his blood pressure a mess.

  Carragh stepped back to the window. Enough advancing in inches, it was time for him to start making bolder moves. He turned back to Leo. “So, help me change them. Starting with finding out the truth. Is Nicole talking? I want to know.”

  Leo rose, buttoned his jacket. “Let me ask around.”

  “Discreetly. This conversation never happened.”

  “You have my word.”

  “And Leo,” he said before the man exited. “No more spreading rumors around.”

  He saluted him. “You got it, boss.”

  As soon as he left, Carragh turned to Sean, who remained standing. “You believe him?”

  Sean looked distant. “I don’t know. But I got to tell you, Nicole? She could be good to have on your side.”

  “You like her? Have at it.”

  He held up his hands. “No, man. I’m just saying…”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Nothing. Just know Nicole is… and I’m saying this as your cousin, okay? She’s a heavyweight in her own right. She would make a good partner.”

  “I got enough partners.” He didn’t, but the last person he’d need was a queen bee trying to literally become a queen.

  17

  Luna pushed open the door of Bloom and Blossom Babies with her butt. Her hands were full of shopping bags, and honestly, if she had more time, she’d have bought more. Who could resist their spring collection?

  Little Nicolas would look adorable in the jumpsuit sporting a monkey motif that read “Hanging with Daddy.” That boy was going to be an aerialist someday. Every time Rachel brought him to a silks dance class, he reached for the parachute fabric like he wanted to climb.

  Then there were clothes for Starr’s son or daughter. She got a few things just to get her started—little dresses and a pair of coveralls. The lace christening blanket also was something she had to have even if the use of it might not be for a year.

  Bright sunshine warmed Luna’s face as she paused just outside to hold her face up to the sky. Finally, the sun made an appearance, and for one brief second, everything was right with the world. Her hands were full of shopping bags and her heart was full from being surrounded by little people clothes. No one could be in a bad mood in a baby store.

  Then there was last night with Carragh. The man had some kissing skills, just like she knew he would. And he’d talked to her. Told her things. Revealed his secrets. It was thrilling to believe he trusted her with such information, even as vague as it was, despite the fact that knowing such things could be so dangerous.

  “You do love this store.”

  She dropped her chin and her eyes landed on Carragh leaning against his car, his arms full of a flower bouquet. Her heart did a little skip. A quick glance at the driver’s seat showed he must have driven himself.

  The paper bags rustled against her legs. “Hand delivering flowers to someone?”

  “You. It's customary to give flowers to a girl after a date.”

  “Is that what we had last night?”

  “I'd say we had more than that.” He thrust the bouquet her way awkwardly. His obvious discomfort amused her. What do you know? Carragh MacKenna might be… nervous?

  She didn’t need to wonder how he found her. She’d spilled quite a bit last night about Starr’s pregnancy and her planned shopping trip. She’d also shared about Phee’s teaching and how she hoped one day she had something so big to do as well. Once she got started talking about her dreams, she couldn’t stop. She blamed it on his magic kissing.

  She set down the shopping bags and took the flowers. Crisp white paper crinkled as she held them close, and a card, buried deep inside, scraped the side of her cheek as she brought the white roses, lilacs, and purple-blue orchids to her face.

  “I was going to leave them at your doorstep, but…” He shrugged.

  Someone might see. Her sisters no longer lived at their apartment, but they often stopped by—even still had their keys to get inside.

  She read the card aloud. “You’re not the only one who wants it all. C.M.”

  She’d reminded Carragh MacKenna he still had a heart—and he wanted it all, just like her. A naive, thrilling hope bloomed in her belly.

  He leaned down and retrieved her bags. “Need a lift?” He was being awfully casual for just admitting he wanted more—possibly from her. An intense interest in knowing what “more” looked like to him arose. Overthrowing his father was one thing, but what did he really want? Power? More money?

  A chime sounded from her purse. They gazed at each other until the ringing stopped. Once it did, the spell broke.

  “That has to be one of my sisters. I’m late as hell meeting them at the dance studio.” Phee was hoping to convince them to start teaching in addition to dancing at Shakedown. Like she had time for that?

  He lifted her bags. “Get anything good?”

  “Clothes for Nicolas and Starr’s new baby.” She grasped the handles with her one free hand to take them back.

  “Ah, starting early. And Nicolas as in Trick and Rachel’s son?”

  “I’m impressed you know that.”

  Her phone rang again. She rolled her eyes, set the bags down, and yanked her phone out. “Sorry. I really have to go.” Using her shoulder to hold her phone in place, she reached down again for the bags and headed toward her car.

  “Miss O’Malley? This is Bly from Sunset Memory Care. I’m so sorry… inform… your father…”

  She couldn’t catch all the words as the rumble of a car speeding by blocked out half the words. She dropped everything again, plugged one ear, and squeezed the phone tighter to her other. “What was that?”

  “Your father,” the male voice said. “He passed this morning.”

  A car horn honked nearby, and she jumped. “What?” Bags rustled near her. Carragh had followed her, and she found herself fitted against him. He was holding her up. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Are you alone? Is someone with you?”

  “No. I mean, yes.”

  “Luna,” Carragh rumbled near her free ear while the male voice on the other end of the phone kept speaking. She wanted him to stop talking but he wouldn’t.

  You were the point of contact. I’m sorry for
your loss. Come by. Funeral home arrangements. The words buzzed in her mind.

  Her phone fell away from her ear. She blinked up at Carragh.

  “Luna, what happened?”

  “My father.” It wasn’t time, though. She had more to talk to him about. He wasn’t coherent most of the time, but she didn’t think when Maven said his passing was close, it would be today.

  Carragh’s arms were around her, leading her up the street.

  “But…” she pointed backward “…my car is that way.”

  He didn’t respond or stop pulling her alongside him. Bags rustled. A car door opened. He got her in the front seat. A pressure around her middle as the seat belt was fastened. Her phone. Where was it? Oh, in her hand. She had to call Starr and Luna. She couldn’t seem to lift it up in her hand to dial. Or form words to direct Siri to just call them.

  The car pulled away and vehicles were all around them. They’d gotten on the highway. She turned her head and took in Carragh’s profile.

  “Luna.” His hand had ahold of hers. “Where do you wanna go? Do you need to go see him?”

  “But he’s dead.” She couldn’t see him, right? He was gone. She didn’t get to say goodbye. “Sisters,” she managed to whisper.

  He nodded once and the car sped up.

  Her mind was still fuzzy and distant when they pulled into the Phoenix Rising Dance Studio parking lot. The sign—large with a huge Phoenix curled around the P—was the only thing she could seem to see. She got her seatbelt off, found her legs, and was somehow walking toward the entrance.

  Inside, Phee and Starr were chatting over something with grid lines. Oh, a schedule. They looked up as she came in.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Phee’s eyes fired toward Carragh.

  Carragh. He was behind her. In fact, he had ahold of her elbow.

  His voice rumbled. “Luna has something to share with you. She couldn’t drive.”

  “Dad.”

  Starr waved her hand. “What has he done now?”

  “He died.”

  18