Page 26

I grit my teeth. “Bathroom. Excuse me.”

With that, I turn and stalk out, heading up to the second floor for the main bathroom there. It’s not until I go to close the door that Callahan stops me. “We just got married, Joy. Running away from your groom is bad luck.”

I collapse onto the decorative chair Mom has in here for some reason.

He flips the lock, kneels down in front of me, then slips a hand up under my skirt. He rests it low between my thighs.

It’s casual. Ownership. And I’m not sure how I feel about it.

“Christ, you’re boring like this. Personally, I like the fire, the girl who barely blinked when three men were shot to death in front of her.”

“Two.”

“Three. I killed three. Trust me.”

He says this so offhandedly I don’t know what to say in response. “Oh.”

“What is it, Lucia Joy, that you want?”

“Not this.”

“Too fucking bad. We’re married. I need this marriage; your father needs it. So what do you want?”

“I want freedom in two years.”

He brings his face in close and kisses me, soft, slow, long. “And if I don’t want that?”

“Dad said two years.”

“No, he didn’t.” His voice is flat, implacable. “You know why? Because he needs what I can bring to his table like I need what he has, and you’re the collateral damage, Joy. Mine now. And I’m an Irish cunt who gets what he wants. If I like you, I won’t want to let you go.”

Hope flares. “Ifyou don’t?”

“You won’t like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I don’t want you, don’t like you, don’t need you around, you won’t like what it means.”

I almost ask for him to finish that declaration, but my cowardice peeps out and I pull back the question before it hits the air.

“Tell you what. After we leave tonight, you’ll have a certain level of freedom. You’ll be with Declan a lot of the time. He’s about your age, early twenties, and he’s goodcraic.”

“Good what?”

“A good time, fun. You may want to poison him, but I suggest if you want to keep breathing, you don’t do that.”

My stomach turns. “And if?—”

“Nothing will happen. You won’t cause trouble by seducing him or trying to get him to help you. He won’t. He’s loyal. They all are. I keep what’s mine safe. I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt them. Behave and I’ll do the same for you.”

He’s not lying. That’s on his face. And the threat isn’t even a threat; it’s just the plain, hard truth.

He removes his hand and gets up, then he lifts my chin and brushes my mouth with his. “Be good and I’ll treat you right, but remember, there are consequences for every good and bad action, Joy. So I suggest you don’t try and find out what they are. Or maybe the good ones will work in your favor.”

He goes to the door and unlocks it.

“I’ll be outside, and I’ll escort you down when you’re done.”