Page 39 of The Mafia Assassin’s Redemption (Mafia Obsession #2)

TORIN

DIRTY HARRY’S FLOWER SHOP, MANHATTAN, WEST VILLAGE, THREE MONTHS LATER

I let out a deep sigh, leaning against the storefront that’s buzzing with construction workers while sharing a cigarette with Callahan.

“You know,” I say, handing back the cigarette and shoving my hands in my coat pockets, “Dec’s gonna want to call the place Clawzilla and Arnold Doggzanegger’s?—”

“That little gobshite ,” Callahan says, “The dog’s named Arnold. That’s it. Arnold Murphy.”

I’m not sure he hears how insane he sounds.

“Clawzilla Murphy?”

He narrows his eyes. “And?”

“Nothing,” I say. “How about Lucie Joy’s? That’s a name.”

“Christ, that sounds like a strip joint, which I’d definitely use her name for, but not a cat and dog café.”

Technically, it’s going to be an animal shelter, but one that has more of a vibe to it. Where people can come and play with the animals, make friends, and then adopt.

“Frank and Joy’s,” I say with a laugh, referring to the fake names Cal and Lucie gave themselves the first night they met.

I shake my head as he offers me the cigarette again.

I want to go and feel up my wife inside of her flower shop next door, and she’s not a fan of me smelling like tobacco, or so she claims.

I think that’s her being a fucking brat.

“I like that.” He drops his cigarette, stamps it out, and gestures inside the shop to where Mam, Lucie, and Harry are making bouquets to be sold.

Mam’s visiting, so with her around, me feeling up my fucking brat of a wife might be a pipe dream until I can shuttle Harry into the back.

But we have time… and time feels good.

Inside, Mam and Lucie laugh over something Clawzilla’s doing, which is probably attacking something or trying to eat a flower.

Cal peers in and rolls his eyes at Lucie, who blows him a kiss.

Arnold comes bounding out to give his master some love in the hopes of getting a walk.

His ears perk up as Declan walks down the street, wearing the cat backpack and waving the diamond leash in front of him.

Seamus is behind him, a hot redhead hanging off his arm.

Everyone rolls into Dirty Harry’s.

The redhead squeals as Seamus kisses Mam’s cheek and then Lucie’s and Harry’s. “You didn’t tell me you’ve got connections to the hottest flower shop in New York! This place is fire! Look at these creations. Hip, artsy, or a twist on trad. Like, totally… art.”

I go inside and kiss Lucie’s cheek, then Mam’s.

Mam grabs me and pulls me close. “Now this one, she’s a keeper, Torin. So pretty.”

“The redhead?” I deadpan.

Mam gives me her best withering look. “Don’t try me.” But then she softens. “Are you fine about Siobhan?”

I am. That’s the thing. Not one minute of sleep has been lost. Because I know in my soul if I’d talked her down and she’d have walked away, I’d have taken her out, put a bullet in her myself.

I won’t let threats to Harry live or breathe. Not ever.

She forfeited her life the moment she dared try to hurt her.

“Shiv tried to hurt Harry. End of story, Mam.”

And my mam, who’s so pretty, loving, and sweet, smiles. It shines through the tough mafia exterior she’d grown up with, exposing the beautiful soul she was somehow born with. What Da fell for.

“Good.”

“I love Harriet. She’s… my fire.”

“She’s perfect for you.”

I kiss Mam again and head around the other side of the counter and then follow Harry into the cold back of the store.

I lean against one of the big walk-in fridges that keep the flowers perfect at around fucking almost freezing, like…

I look at the thermostat on the one opposite… thirty-three degrees.

When this little strip opened up for sale, the Murphy clan snapped it up. We can use it for legit businesses, and not so legit ones, if we choose. There was an argument that I won over the cost of the place and who was paying.

Harry thinks she’s paying me back down the line, but my money’s hers and her fortune can sit and grow and she can give it away or set it up for, God forbid right now, a baby.

“Are you stalking me?”

I open my coat and she sidles up to me and presses against me. I close my arms and coat around her. Fuck, she’s delicious. I breathe in her scent. “Always. ”

“I’m busy.”

“I know. With me.”

And I kiss her. I take my time, making it deep and soul-grazing.

It’s everything I can’t find words for. All the tiny things I adore about her, the forgiveness I seek for being snappy before coffee that morning, for being late because we had a raid to conduct the week before.

And it sings low and draws her into me and whispers the things I love about her, like how I have to fix the things she does when we’re working on Mildred because she does them wrong, how she can’t carry a tune, and the way she sleeps, curled tight into me.

And her smile.

The little things that are so fucking big, there are no words for them.

I’m not a man given to love or words of them, so I try, but when I fail, I show her in everything I do.

“I love you, too,” she whispers.

Out in the store, my brothers try to wrangle Clawzilla into his carrier, but he clearly prefers Mam today, so there’s a yowl, a hiss, and some swearing that follows. Pandemonium breaks out, spattered with laughter, and Arnold barks.

And I kiss my woman again in deeper, darker, more wicked earnest. A master to his slave, and she moans, swaying in close before she ducks away. I catch her at the big metal table and pin her to it.

“Stop, Torin. Someone could come in.”

“Fuck no.” I flip up her skirt and my dick goes full fucking mast. “Holy shit.” I run my fingers over the petal-pink latex underwear. “You really are a Dirty Harry.”

She slaps me away. “Your mom’s here. Have some respect.”

“Fuck, Harry, you got the wrong guy. I have zero respect.” But the thing is, Mam could come in and I’m too old to get caught fooling around. Besides, these panties are best left to an entire evening of play. And now I won’t be able to keep them out of my mind.

“I’ve got some deliveries coming up, that’s why Lucie and your mom are helping…” She’s pleading, half begging me to continue, half begging me to behave.

And she makes me crumble.

The shop is a success, so I let her go. Reluctantly.

Harry didn’t think the place would be so…

loved. I did. She does insanely beautiful things with flowers.

She can make them look like they belong at the Met, at a funky art show in Williamsburg, or at a wedding for the Central Park West club.

She’s got a gift and she doesn’t even know how good she is. She just does it because she loves it.

And men come in, too. They like the name. And their wives and girlfriends—or boyfriends—love flowers from Dirty Harry’s.

She still helps women. I don’t think she can stop. But I feel better about it now. Father Luigi’s still at the church with her, part of her efforts, as far as I know. But now I can protect my wife, watch her, keep her safe.

Her dark-blond hair slips a little from her clip, cascading down her back, a wave catching on the choker.

My cock throbs but I ignore it. “Harry.”

She looks at me.

“You’re the light in my darkness.”

Her eyes sparkle and she comes to me with a flower in her hand. “And you’re mine.”

I’m not, but the magic of Harry is she makes me feel that way.

I take the flower.

Love. Life. Harry.

It’s all I need.