Eden

I’d spent another day wandering aimlessly through Patrick’s house, chatting with Nya. Wondering what had become of my life.

But mostly thinking about Michael.

Everything had changed so much that I didn’t know where to begin, didn’t know how to reconcile what it had been just days ago with the new reality I faced.

Because I had lost everything.

My home.

My job.

Had almost been killed by a man I’d counted among my closest friends.

But all that seemed distant, almost meaningless in Michael’s absence.

Which was insane.

If anything, I should blame him for my current predicament, should consider his role in all that had happened. I didn’t, I didn’t think of anything but how much I wanted to see him.

Suddenly, he was there.

I’d decided to hide out in the guest room, feeling much like an intruder even though Nya had ensured me I wasn’t. I was staring out the window at the beautiful yard, hoping I would see something or at the very least that the view would give me some comfort.

“You look really comfortable in my house.”

At the sound of Michael’s voice, I turned, halfway convinced I had simply imagined it.

When my eyes collided with his, I knew he was real, knew I was finally seeing him again.

I stood, rushed to him, uncaring of anything except touching him.

I’d played this moment out a thousand times in my head, knew I would be relieved, but insisted I would keep my cool, not show just how much I’d missed him.

All of that flew right out of the window when I saw him.

I moved without pause, throwing my arms around him and squeezing him close.

It was only when he squeezed me back that I realized what I had done. I shifted in his arms and looked up at him, gauging his reaction.

Maybe he would find that display of affection off-putting, unnecessary.

Irritating, like he so often did me.

I didn’t know, but when I looked at him, saw his somewhat dour expression, but the relief in his eyes, I felt an almost immediate sense of happiness.

In a flash, the air between us became different, heated, and I leaned close to him, tilted my head to meet his lips as he kissed me.

The caress was soft, gentle, probing, and I could hear the unspoken question in it, the same one I had seen in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I whispered against his mouth.

I opened my eyes and met his, saw that he was searching, probing for truth, his eyes and expression going stony as he traced the scratches and bruises that remained with his fingertips.

My eyes welled as Michael touched me, the care in his touch so much more than words, the tentativeness in it telling me he wasn’t so sure.

“I’m okay, Michael,” I whispered.

He kissed me again, this time harsher, stronger, reminding me of the Michael who had almost instantly won me over. I reveled in that kiss, loving the feeling of his hands touching me, the way he guided me backward.

He tugged at the shirt I wore, one I had gotten from Nya. It was ill-fitting, loose in some places, tighter in others, and far too long since she was so much taller than me.

Michael didn’t seem to care, and I certainly didn’t, cared even less when he tossed the garment aside and cupped my breasts, kneading them in his hands as he kissed me.

Instantly, my blood heated, the need and desire for him, the absolute relief at seeing him again leaving me light-headed. But not so much that I didn’t kiss him back, pour every ounce of emotion I could muster into it.

Words had left me, and I didn’t know if I had any that could convey how much I missed him, how much I loved him. Maybe I couldn’t say it with words, but I would show him as best I could.

I moved my hand down, curled my fingers around his heavy hardness, wanting to deepen our connection.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in my own.

He looked down at me, watching with approval as I pulled open the buttons of his shirt, slid it down his shoulders, my mind going back to that first night at my house.

Unlike that night, Michael wasn’t patient, slow. When his shirt was gone, he moved fast, removing the rest of his clothes and mine as he kissed me, almost in a frenzy. A frenzy I understood.

I kissed Michael back as hard and fast as he kissed me, tried to touch all of him at once.

And when he entered me, I knew I would never let him go.

* * *

Michael

“What happened?”

Eden’s question was a soft whisper, one that she followed with a gentle caress of my face.

I didn’t respond immediately, and instead held her a little bit tighter, allowing myself to steal the comfort that being with her brought, not knowing when, if, I would have the chance to do so again.

I cursed myself for my stupidity, the way I had deprived myself of this.

Eden’s body, the physical pleasure I found with her was unrivaled, but this, the comfort, the joy of simply being with her was something I had been too stupid, too stubborn to allow myself.

I might live to regret that.

“Michael…”

At the sound of her voice, I opened my eyes, lifted my head.

“There’s another warrant out for my arrest,” I said.

She looked at me, frowned.

“Gerald?” she asked.

I nodded.

“But Patrick, your lawyers…”

“Are going to do what they can, but Gerald was a witness. The judge isn’t likely to let me go, not with the other counts,” I said, not allowing any emotion to fill my voice.

“But they can’t…” She trailed off, met my eyes again. “I’ll try again. I’ve been trying to tell everyone that Gerald was behind it,” she said, her voice edging toward frantic.

“I appreciate it, but it won’t help,” I said, letting my face lift into a grin. “You can’t be trusted, not with the kind of company you keep.”

Eden didn’t look amused, and instead her brows dipped further, her expression one of anger.

“They can’t just railroad you because of your name!” she said.

“It’s more than a name, Eden,” I said, my voice taking on an edge that hadn’t been there before. I’d never had this conversation with anyone, and I didn’t know how Eden would react. What I and my family did was no secret, but it wasn’t something that I ever discussed with outsiders.

Not that Eden was an outsider, not anymore.

I didn’t know whether it was intentional, but she dropped her gaze to my arm, her eyes lingering on the M. I had tattooed there, an emblem I wore proudly and always would.

“Are you saying you killed Gerald?” she asked, articulating the words with a degree of care that made me wonder if Eden believed I had, whether that belief would be the end of us.

“No,” I responded, studying her expression for any hint of her reaction. She didn’t outright object, but I didn’t know if she completely believed me, either, and I didn’t want to press the issue.

“But I don’t know if it matters,” I finished.

She looked at me, shaking her head. “No. No, Michael,” she said.

“‘No’ what?”

“You’re not going to do that. You’re not going to give up. You’re going to fight with every breath. You will not give up. I won’t let you,” she said so fiercely, I couldn’t do anything but believe her.

I was stunned with the ferocity of her reaction, but even more by what it meant. I’d worried that maybe some of what Gerald had said had gotten to her. Thought that if it hadn’t, his attack and the destruction of her house would have turned her against me.

It hadn’t, and she hadn’t. No, she was expressing a belief in me that no one but my brothers ever had.

If I didn’t already love her, I would’ve lost my heart to her completely.

“I’m not going to give up. I just want you to understand,” I said.

“I don’t,” she said, frowning. “I don’t understand, and I won’t. This can’t stand, Michael, I’m going to…”

“You’re going to stay here and do exactly what Patrick tells you,” I said firmly.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here while they try to pin this on you?”

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with here, Eden. I can take care of myself, but I can’t do that if I’m worried…”

I trailed off, that natural instinct not to admit the truth, the urge not to show any kind of weakness momentarily taking over. But I pushed that to the side, knew that if ever there was a time to show what I felt, it was now. “I just need to know you’re here and you’re safe.”

She frowned. “You think I’m in danger? Gerald’s dead.”

“He is, but I just need to know,” I said, not telling her about Aengus, not even knowing how to begin that conversation. Besides, it didn’t really matter.

What mattered was that she was okay and that I would be able to take care of her.

“Promise me,” I said, staring into her eyes.

She was still for a moment and then curled her lips into a smile.

“You know, I wouldn’t ordinarily accept you being pushy with me, Mr. Murphy,” she said. She smiled a little brighter, though there was lingering sadness in her eyes. “But just this once I’ll make an exception.”

* * *

Michael

One Week Later

The chains around my ankles slowed my gait, but not too much.

I walked into the courtroom with as much pride as I could muster, the suit Patrick had seen that I received not doing much to detract from the fact I was in chains.

Today was my first hearing, and the lawyer had warned me not to expect a favorable outcome. An unnecessary admonition, because I’d learned long ago never to do such a thing.

That hadn’t really mattered before. Good, bad, indifferent, I’d always known I would be okay, but this was different. Because my freedom was on the line, as was the one chance to be happy with the woman I loved more than life itself.

When I saw my brothers in the front row, Eden sandwiched between Sean and Patrick, my heart simultaneously jumped and dropped.

I didn’t show it though and instead walked to the defendant’s table, anxious to see how the day would unfold, holding to the tiny shred of hope I would be able to get back to Eden.

The prosecutor, one who I knew was excited about the prospect of taking down one of the Murphys, presented her argument, one that was damned compelling even if it was utter bullshit.

“It’s more than a coincidence that the key witness in three homicides against the defendant has turned up dead. A defendant with known ties to organized crime. You can’t risk allowing this criminal onto the streets, Your Honor,” she said, finishing with a flourish.

My lawyer stood and said, “Your Honor, Mr. Murphy is an upstanding citizen and business owner. Before this witch hunt, he’d never even been arrested.”

He continued, putting up a valiant argument, and I knew exactly where this was going.

Nowhere.

The judge studied me, each second that passed confirming what I expected.

“These are serious charges,” she said, speaking to my lawyer but looking at me.

“Of course they are, and my client is eager to prove his innocence. He shouldn’t be deprived of his freedom while he waits for his chance,” my lawyer said.

The judge went quiet, studying me.

The atmosphere in the room was thick, near silent, and I could see my chance slipping away.

The urge to look for Eden, try to find some comfort was strong, but I wouldn’t give in to it. There was no shame in it, but I needed to keep focused, keep my mind on this. I didn’t know if I would be able to do that if I looked at her and had to confront the idea of losing her after I’d only just found her.

“Your Honor?”

The sound of the timid, whispered words wouldn’t have been audible on an ordinary day, but in the courtroom, one that was so heavy and dense with silence, it rang out.

The judge, who had looked down and begun flipping through papers, lifted her eyes to the gallery in search of the sound. I followed her gaze, landed on a man I recognized. He was a maintenance man at the hotel.

“Quiet,” the bailiff barked.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

“You’re interrupting my court proceedings,” the judge said, her icy stare seeming to make the man shrivel.

He swallowed, his throat moving, but he didn’t sit. “I’m sorry, but I tried to call the prosecutor. No one will talk to me, so this is my only choice.”

The judge looked annoyed, but said, “What’s so important that you’re disrupting these proceedings?”

“Mr. Murphy didn’t do it,” the man said.

I studied the man as my heart leapt. He was coming to my defense, but I was skeptical and wouldn’t allow myself hope.

The audible gasp in the courtroom was followed by the prosecutor jumping to her feet. “Your Honor, this is highly irregular, and I ask that you put a stop to it.”

“How do you know that?” the judge said, ignoring the prosecutor.

“I—I saw someone. It wasn’t him,” he said. The man sounded certain, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Aengus had been that sloppy or if this was a part of his scheme.

Despite myself, hope started to grow in my chest, though I tried to squash it. This wasn’t a sure thing and I couldn’t forget that.

“Your Honor, I think it’s outrageous that one of this man’s hired goons is disrupting your courtroom and making a charade of this process. Put an end to it!” the prosecutor yelled.

“This court is in recess,” the judge called, slamming her gavel on the bench.

I looked at my lawyer—he looked back at me, his expression unmoving. I couldn’t read him at all, and that meant no one else could either. My first impression of the guy was that he was a slick asshole, but if he managed to help get me out of here, he’d be worth every penny.

He lifted a notepad and held it in front of his face and then leaned in close to me to whisper. “Are you behind this?” he asked, his voice steely.

I met his eyes, then shook my head a fraction of an inch.

He held my gaze and then finally let out a little smile.

“Then today is your lucky day.”