I pace, back and forth, in the room at the Ritz-Carlton. I’ve been here so many times, now, it’s beginning to feel like home. At least … it was. Now, I’m not so sure.

The second I hear Sofia’s knuckles rapping at the door, I launch myself towards it.

“Get in,” I growl the second I see Sofia’s long, russet brown hair. Mickey Morello’s sister manages a look of surprise, excitement, and annoyance. All three emotions flit across her face at one time. The second she realizes I’m watching, though, Sofia molds her face into blank nothingness.

“What the hell am I doing here, Kieran?” Sofia hisses, prodding – or trying to prod – my chest with one outstretched finger. I catch her wrist in midair. I do not, will not let go.

Sofia tries to drag her arm back. I hold on tight. “What do you think you are doing?” She says, sounding outraged. I might be blinded by anger, but I get the sense that Sofia has no idea why I dragged her here. “I told you – this is not how we work. You do not set the rules. You do not get to call me anywhere.”

“You came here, though. Did ye not?” I fire back, tight-lipped.

“This time only,” Sofia replies, her dark brown eyes glinting like precious gemstones set into her soft, delicate face. “But I won’t do so again. What is this, Kieran; some kind of domination thing? Because, I am telling you, this is not the way to go about it.”

I make a mental note of the way Sofia phrased that. Even as angry as she is, my little Italian firebrand didn’t close the lid on that particular sexual fantasy…

Down, cowboy. I bite back on the desire that is already beginning to surge inside me like wind-whipped waves cresting the edge of a hurricane. I can’t let myself be ruled by my cock: at least, not right now.

“Tell me ye had nothing to do wit’ it, Sofia,” I say, speaking low so that Sofia has to lean in to catch every last word. “Tell me: because I cannot believe ye would. But if ye did…” I leave the warning hanging.

Sofia’s face wrinkles with confusion, but I noticed that her posture softens. She stops trying to pull her arm away from me. I loosen my grasp in return, giving Sofia her wrist back. She strokes it.

“Did what, Kieran?” Sofia asks. Her voice is softer now, as well. We are both leveling each other out. “Stop speaking in riddles … and let me in.” Her voice tails away almost into nothingness.

I run my fingers through my hair. I was sure – so sure that Sofia had betrayed me. I let the anger course through me. I barely slept last night as I tried to figure out how Sofia Morello could have hidden her intentions from me so easily. I was sure she had played me; but now? I’m not.

“Someone firebombed the pub last night,” I finally relent, collapsing onto the bed as the tension drains out of me. “Or at least, they tried. Rid and I, we stopped it in time.”

“Kieran!” Sofia exclaims, clapping a hand over her mouth. She seems genuinely shocked. Unless she’s a world-class actress, I just can’t believe that she could fake a reaction like that. “Are you –?”

She takes half a step towards me, and reaches out a trembling hand to stroke my cheek. I close my eyes as Sofia caresses me. I know – at least, part of me does – that this is the last thing I should be doing right now. I should be cutting every tie I have to this girl, and forgetting any of this ever happened.

But I can’t.

I chew my lip. A wave of guilt attacks me, about the way I accused Sofia without so much as a lick of proof. “We’re fine,” I mutter. My mind whirls to find a way of apologizing to the beautiful girl in front of me. “I’m fine. Listen, Sofia –.”

Sofia takes a step back, pulling her hand from my face. I feel empty without it there, and my eyes flicker open. My lips move as I think of something – anything – to say to make this better. I come up empty.

“No, Kieran,” Sofia whispers, “you listen. I get that you’re all shaken up. But listen to me when I tell you – I had nothing to do with this. If someone in the family did – believe me – I’ll hunt them down. But don’t you dare accuse me of something like that – not ever again.”

I look up at Sofia. She’s biting her lip – and not a cute, gentle nibble either. This looks hard. Biblical. There is a river of emotions coursing across her face. It’s a raging flood: anger fighting with –if I didn’t know better – I think concern: for me.

But that can’t be right.

Sofia Morello doesn’t do emotions. At least she doesn’t around me.

At least, she didn’t.

I stand up. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse. My throat feels all choked up. I’m well aware that if I make one more misstep, if I put my foot in my mouth one more time, then this thing between us – whatever it is – it’s done for good. “I shouldn’t have accused ye. Yer right.”

I fall silent. Sofia studies me for a long time. She lets the silence stretch out between us until it’s beating down on my skin.

“You’re right,” she says. The slightest hint of a smile breaks out on her face. It reminds me of the first kiss of dawn atop the peaks of a mountain range. “for once.”

I smile with relief. “You’re not mad?” I ask. I feel like a little boy asking for forgiveness. This isn’t me – I’m supposed to be a hardened gangster. Around Sofia, though, I feel like putty in her hands.

Sofia looks around the hotel room. “How did you get this place?” She asks, changing the topic. It’s a welcome break from the tension that had built up between us.

I grin. “Yer not the only one wit’ connections, ye know. But a gentleman never reveals his secrets…”

A mischievous grin tweaks Sofia’s lips. Her face lights up. She never looks more beautiful than when she smiling. Her face is suited to it. “So what’s stopping you, then?”

I take a step towards Sofia. I get an urge to push or prod her – almost as though she’s my girlfriend, and we’re having a play fight. For a second, the thought of kissing her enters my mind…

And by the time I’ve decided that that is a bad idea, my lips are already pressed against Sofia’s. Something about this girl has me acting before I think, and that’s not good. But it’s also perfect.

My arms circle Sofia’s back. I pull her into my body. My lips graze her’s and my tongue darts out to lick her lower lip. Sofia’s breath tickles my face, and she lets out a little moan. Her hands climb their way up my body, and rest on my chest.

“Kieran,” Sofia pants, pushing me away, “stop.”

I do as she asks, but only because I have to. If Sofia hadn’t forced me to stop, I might have kept my lips pressed against hers forever.

I glance down at my watch. I need to hide from Sofia’s gaze. I can’t tell what’s going on behind her dark orbs, and it scares the hell out of me. “Crap,” I mutter, “I’ve got to go. Declan’s back, and he’s going to want to hear from me.”

I walk to the door. I can feel the heat of Sofia’s eyes burning a hole in my back. My hand closes around the door handle, but she still doesn’t say a thing. I’m steeling myself to leave and deal with the consequences later, when I hear the patter of footsteps against the carpeted floor.

“Kieran, wait,” Sofia whispers. I look down to see her hand on my hip. I look up, and her lips are grazing my cheek. She kisses me there, and my skin tingles. “Be safe, okay?”

I nod because I don’t trust my voice. Then I leave, wondering what the hell just happened, and what I’ve got myself into.

* * *

“Yer looking tanned,” I grin. I’m at Declan’s concrete and glass apartment, near the old docks. Declan flashes me a smile in response, but he looks tired. I’m figuring it isn’t because of the long flight.

“Looks like t’ party is over, now, doesn’t it,” he sighs. “What the hell happened when I was away?”

“Nothing good,” I shrug. “Feels like the world started t’fall apart. You know what happened at the pub?”

Declan’s teeth pull back into a snarl. He’s heard, all right. And he doesn’t look happy about it. I figure that when he finds out who was responsible, they are going to have a very bad day. “Damn right I did. T’ cheek of it. That was da’s favorite place, ‘fore he passed. It’s not an attack on a building; it’s a strike against the family.”

Declan’s jaw is set firm. I know he won’t rest until he finds out who did it. I’m all for that. If he sends me out onto the street to crack skulls together, I’ll do it with a smile.

“And you heard about Danny Murphy?” I ask – again knowing the answer. Declan knows everything that happens in his organization. It doesn’t matter where he is in the world. He’s got his finger on the pulse.

“Ye handled that well, brother,” Declan nods. “But we got problems, and it’s pretty clear t’ me that the Morellos are behind them. And that’s not the only thing –.”

I grimace. This is exactly the kind of position I didn’t want to put myself in – stuck between my brother and the girl I’m screwing. I glance up, startled out of my reflection. “It isn’t?”

I don’t know what Declan’s talking about.

He shakes his head, and leans against a squat wooden desk. “A certain detective paid me a visit today. Someone must’a squealed that I was back in town.”

“That rat bastard,” I snarl. “What the hell did he want?”

Detective Mackey picked me up more than once when I was a kid. I din’t never do nothing wrong – least not back then. But that wasn’t the point. He was sending a message to the family that nothing and no one was off limits. I’d bet that this time is no different.

Declan cracks his knuckles. He’s seething with rage, I can tell that without looking. “He came to my home,” Declan growls, slapping his palm against the desk, “my God damn home – ye believe it?”

I stay silent, because I know that’s what Declan wants. He’s just blowing off steam. Hell, if Declan gave me the word, I’d put two in the chest and one in the skull of that particular member of Boston’s finest. I don’t believe for a second that Mackey is on the straight and narrow like he claims he is. He’s crooked – the cops all are. I just haven’t figured out what angle he’s playing yet.

“He can threaten me all he damn well wants,” Declan snarls, “but I ain’t bending.” Declan looks up at me. “Still – we gotta play this smart, brother. If t’ cops are sniffing around, we can’t afford to give them t’ slightest sniff of smoke.”

I nod. “I’m with ye.”

“I know ye are, Kieran. Tha’s not what worries me,” he says, shooting me a grin. “If ye ain’t by my side, then I got bigger problems than some bent cop riding my arse…”

“What was he asking?”

Declan glances around the room, then jerks his head at the balcony. I follow him out without a word. The chances of Declan’s place being bugged are one in a million. Least, they should be, with the money we pay the firm that sweeps this place. Still, we’re better safe than sorry.

Declan pulls the French doors open. The wind down here, this close to the sea, whips and cracks too fast for any recording device to work.

“About,” his nose wrinkles, “the unpleasantness wi’ Casey.” Declan speaks mildly, but I know inside he’s still burning with rage.

I nod. I know exactly what he’s talking about. Vince Amari, Mickey Morello’s one-time caporegime – his most trusted adviser – kidnapped Declan’s girl, and almost killed her. Hell, he’d have done much worse than that if Declan hadn’t arrived in time to save her.

“They ever find a body?” I grunt. I share Declan’s hatred of Vince. He’s my brother, so it’s natural. But it’s only now that I’m spending time with Sofia – maybe beginning to care about her – that I realize how damn terrified he must’ve been when Casey got taken.

Declan shakes his head. His fingers go white gripping the balcony railing. “A few scraps, maybe; nothing that links me back there. I burned that piece o’ shit house to the ground.”

A thought strikes me. I pause, frowning. “Ye think it’s a message? From Mickey or someone ye pissed off?”

Declan nods. His face is black and murderous. “Tha’s exactly what I think. But I can’t prove it.”

I clench my jaw together. This is a crappy situation. I believe Sofia. I looked into her eyes – I know she’s not lying to me. She had nothing to do with the attack on the pub. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was concerned for me. But still, the evidence that the Morellos are up to something is piling up fast.

“Wha’ do you want me to do, brother?” I grunt. “I can bash some heads in, all quiet like.” I shrug. “Maybe someone will squeal.”

Declan shakes his head, grimacing. “I wish. Ye need to hold off. This whole situation is fucked. With Mackey sniffing around, the last thing we need is a turf war.”

A flash of anger burns through me. I kick the balcony railing. “Fuck,” I spit. “You’re right. If bodies start turning up, then we’ve got bigger problems than a city cop: that’ll bring the feds, Dec.”

Declan nods. He turns to me and squeezes my shoulder. It’s oddly intense. His eyes flicker, and so do his cheek muscles. I get the sense that my brother is fighting a battle inside his own head – about whether or not he should tell me something.

I don’t pry. I would – and do – trust Declan with my life. When you know that about a man, you’ll wait for pretty much anything else.

“I might,” Declan says quietly, “ask you to do something for me.”

“Oh?”

“You might not like it. Hell, you might never have to go ahead with it – but it would be for the good of the family.”

I’m dying to know what Declan is talking about; but I don’t ask. I squeeze my face into a smile. “Ye’d better hold off telling us, then,” I grin. “I never was any good at keeping a secret.”

Declan grimaces. I can tell that whatever he’s holding onto, he doesn’t like it one little bit.

“But you’ll do it?” He asks. It seems important that Declan gets an answer.

I nod. “I trust you, Declan.”