Primal: London Mob Book Two (3 page)

J
enna walked quickly
, feeling the sudden absence of Lily’s hand in her own as Farrell carried their daughter through the deserted streets. It was always strange not to be attached to Lily in some way. She felt it even when she went to work each morning — the euphoric lightening that was also a kind of loss. Relief at not having to think about someone else every minute coupled with the impossibility of thinking only of herself.

It was different when Lily was with Farrell. Not very long ago, imagining him as a father had been impossible, but she’d been surprised to find that he was perfectly at ease with Lily. Perfectly comfortable talking to her about dolls and stuffed animals and the old British cartoons he’d watched as a boy. Perfectly comfortable carrying her on his shoulders, transporting her like a delicate princess atop a giant beast. He was the most dangerous man she’d ever known — and the most violent. He made no apologies for his lifestyle. No apologies for his belief that the only way to be safe in the world was to be more deadly than anyone else. But he was as gentle as a lamb when it came to Lily, and when it came to Jenna as well.

Except when they were in bed, of course.

She pushed the thought away, glad for the spotty street lamps whose shadows would hide the flush creeping up her neck. Thinking about being in bed with Farrell was a good way to avoid thinking about what had just happened — what might have happened — in the alley.

But it was also a recipe for complications she couldn’t afford.

A chill swept over her body, a slow and steady cold that quickly banished the fire building in her belly. By the time they got to the door of the flat, she was shaking so hard she couldn’t get the key in the lock.

Farrell set Lily down and gently took the key from Jenna’s hand. She watched as he opened the door and ducked under the frame, then she followed him inside. He waved her into the kitchen, and she took Lily’s hand and stood next to the stove.

“You and Mummy wait here for a minute, will you, love?” he asked Lily.

Jenna was preparing to ask what he was doing when he removed his gun from the holster strapped to his side. Then she understood; he was going to check the house, make sure no one was lying in wait for them. The thought sent a finger of ice up her spine. The flat wasn’t much. It wasn’t in a great area. It wasn’t very big. It wasn't lavishly decorated. But it was their refuge against the world, one of the few places Jenna actually felt safe without Farrell. The idea that someone might have entered the space without her permission was a violation, and she held Lily close to her side, heart hammering in her chest as Farrell moved down the hall toward the bedrooms.

She exhaled her relief when he returned a couple minutes later, holstering his weapon. He locked the door, slipped the chain into its channel, and stepped into the kitchen where he pried Lily away from Jenna’s side. He bent down to look her in the eyes.

“Does this flat get pizza delivery?” he asked her solemnly.

She giggled. “Of course, Daddy. Every flat gets pizza.”

He gave her a look of mock surprise. “I had no idea! It’s like magic!”

She smiled. “You’re being silly.”

“It runs in the family,” he said, standing. “Now take your backpack to your room while I order pizza and talk to Mummy.”

Jenna watched as Lily skipped down the hall like she didn’t have a care in the world, like she hadn’t stood in an alley less than twenty minutes before, watching her father beat a man, threaten him with a gun.

Farrell reached for the kettle, filled it with water, set it to boil. Then he turned and leaned against the counter. Jenna avoided his eyes. She didn’t want to know if they were blue or gray. If they still held love for her or if that emotion had been eclipsed by anger. By bitterness.

“Are you all right?” he finally asked.

She tried to answer, but his words let loose all the tension in her body, setting her teeth chattering. The trembling seemed to spread outward, down her neck to her shoulders and arms. She folded her hands across her chest, trying to stop the momentum of it, but it didn’t do a bit of good.

He stepped toward her and pulled her into his arms without a word. She sank into the reassuring bulk of him, the stalwart strength that was sure as stone.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, rubbing her back. “You’re in shock.”

She registered the words as if from a distance. She’d never been in shock before. Not like this anyway. In fact, she’d always assumed her upbringing — the constant trauma of her mother’s alcoholism and the ever-present fear that was a result of it — had immunized her somehow. Made it impossible for anything to truly shock or frighten her. Even after Cornwall, she’d managed to rally her inner resolve, pack Lily’s things, go back to London and begin again.

Now moving seemed impossible, and she clung to him like a drowning person in the middle of a stormy sea. She didn’t know how much time passed before he pulled away. He looked down at her, gently touching her tender cheekbone. She winced, and his eyes turned as hard as flint.

“We need to get some ice on that,” he said.

She heard the rage simmering in his voice, knew the man in the alley had been lucky Farrell needed him alive. She had no doubt that in any other circumstance Farrell would have killed him without a second thought.

He led her into the living room and guided her to the sofa, then pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around her legs before returning to the kitchen.

“Do you want me to read you a story, Mummy?” Lily asked, climbing onto the couch with a stack of her favorite books.

Jenna nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Lily got under the blanket and began to read. The sound of her voice wrapped around Jenna like a cocoon, and she sank into the solidity of her daughter’s body, blinking furiously against the tears that threatened to fall. Jenna could have lost her. They could both be dead in the alley, their bodies already growing cold, instead of here in the warm flat with Farrell.

She glanced up as he handed her a mug of steaming tea. “Found some whiskey in the cupboard. That should give the tea a boost.” He handed her a bunched up towel filled with ice. “Put this on that cheek. It’s going to bruise.”

She winced as the cold towel met her skin, then looked into his eyes for the first time since he’d turned toward her in the alley. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. He held up a take away menu. “Pizza?”

She nodded, summoning a smile, and he retreated to the kitchen. She heard him ordering a moment later and sank further into the couch. Everything was okay. Lily was safe. Alive. She wouldn’t think yet about who had come after them, about what it meant for them going forward.

“I’m going to step outside and make a couple of calls.” Farrell’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I’ll be right at the door.”

She nodded, fighting against the press of panic. She didn’t want to be alone with Lily. Didn’t want to be the only thing standing between her daughter and someone who might hurt them. She suddenly couldn’t remember why she’d thought being with Farrell was more dangerous than being without him.

He stepped outside, and she added the muffled sound of his voice, audible through the flat’s thin walls, to the background noise of Lily’s reading, slowly lulling her to a feeling of safety. He was probably calling Leo, the first call he usually made when he wanted something done. Leo Gage had been Farrell’s friend as long as Jenna had known him, and while she knew Leo didn’t think much of her for leaving Farrell the way she had five years before, Farrell trusted him with their lives.

And that meant she trusted him, too.

The only thing more frightening than Farrell when he was on the warpath was Farrell and Leo on the warpath together None of which meant that she felt sorry for the people who had threatened her daughter. She wasn’t a violent person. She was a fixer. Someone who found solutions to problems that didn’t involve weapons and violence and bloodshed.

But the invasion of Farrell’s estate at Cornwall had found her cowered in a wardrobe, hoping Farrell had been able to secure Lily’s safety in the barn before the men who came for them could find her. It was the one and only time she’d wished for a weapon of her own — until tonight.

Seeing Lily under threat, knowing someone would take her young life without a thought, let loose a part of her that she wanted to deny. A part that didn’t care if someone else died if it meant saving Lily. A part that might even enjoy pulling the trigger, that understood Farrell’s belief in taking the offensive.

Maybe it’s better to stand behind someone like Farrell.

Jenna forced the words from her mind. She wouldn’t let the world make her cold. Wouldn’t let it make her cynical.

She wouldn’t.

“
S
oup’s on
,” Farrell said, stepping back into the apartment holding a pizza box.

“Pizza!” Lily squealed, jumping up from the sofa.

They spent the next hour eating dinner. She and Farrell laughed when Lily got pizza sauce on her nose, and Lily teased that Farrell could eat as much as a bear — a big one, like the one she’d seen at the Bronx Zoo in New York. Jenna was trying to muster the energy to get Lily to bed when there was a knock at the door.

Farrell stood. “That will be Leo.”

“What’s Leo doing here?” Jenna asked.

Farrell went to the door without answering the question, and a moment later, Leo stepped into the room. He was only an inch shorter than Farrell and almost as muscular, with a chiseled jaw and dark eyes. His face was smooth and unscarred, but Jenna knew he was every bit as dangerous as Farrell, mostly because Farrell only surrounded himself with men who subscribed to his code: bloodshed for bloodshed, and sometimes, bloodshed to avoid further bloodshed.

She imagined women found Leo attractive, had heard Farrell joke about his romantic exploits, but she’d never seen him with a woman. Jenna wouldn’t have been surprised if he had no life at all outside of Farrell's business. His devotion would have earned him the title of Farrell’s Underboss in New York, but the words used to describe the hierarchy in London were different than the ones use in the States. There the business was about tradition, about family.

London was about something else.

About brute force in plain view. Violence and blood. Command taken by any means necessary.

Where New York was ritual and tradition, London was grit and fight, a criminal empire built on absolute control.

Leo nodded. “Jenna.”

“Hello, Leo.” She looked at Farrell. “What’s going on?”

“I was thinking Lily might like to show Leo the progress she’s made on the new Lego set,” Farrell said.

Jenna thought about rebelling. Clearly something was afoot. But she didn’t want to argue in front of Lily, didn’t want any more trauma to intrude on her daughter’s life.

She smiled instead. “Lily is almost halfway done with that one already.”

“Come on, Leo!” Lily said. “I’ll show you.”

Leo swaggered down the hall after her, his shoulders nearly touching the walls on either side. When they had disappeared into Lily’s room, Farrell sat down next to her.

“What is this?” she asked.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Well, if I don’t like it, I’ll simply say no,” she said, her voice hardening. He was making it seem like whatever he was going to say — whatever he wanted of her — was a foregone conclusion. Like she was still powerless to tell him no, when that had only ever been true in the bedroom.

“You can’t,” he said. “We have to leave here, Jenna. Tonight. Now.”

She stood. “I understand. Thank you for your help, although I won’t ask how you knew we were in trouble. You’re free to go.”

“Dammit, Jenna!” he exploded, pacing the room. “This is not the time to be stubborn. You and Lily could have…” He sucked in a breath. “What the fuck were you doing out after dark anyway?”

She balled her hands into fists. Who did he think he was? He didn’t own her. “I was taking my daughter to the park after work," she said. “I lost track of time. And frankly, I don't see that it's any of your business.”

He advanced on her quickly, easily circling her arms with his big hands. “It’s my business when someone holds a gun to your head,” he growled. “It’s my business when you and Lily are in danger. I’m trying to keep you safe, dammit. You might try to make the job a little easier.”

She was breathless with his proximity. He’d held her in the kitchen — the first time she’d been close to him since Cornwall. But she’d been in shock then, numb to everything but the dread that was spreading like ice through her veins.

Now she was too aware, on fire with the nearness of his body to hers. If she’d been someone else — if he’d been someone else — she would have been angry with the way he grabbed her. With the way he ordered her around and assumed she would follow his lead.

But she wasn’t someone else, and neither was he. His command only made her want him all over again. Only made her imagine the demand of his mouth on hers, the way he wrapped her hair around one hand and tugged until desire pooled between her thighs. She could almost feel his hands when he spread her legs, pulled her toward him as he loomed over her, his cock hard and ready, moments away from thrusting into her.

From taking her, owning her, commanding her.

She was lost to reason then. Lost in the powerful surge of need that he aroused in her. It was a need that would take her backwards to a place where it wasn't about Lily and her future, but about Jenna’s own selfish desire for Farrell. For the love she knew she would carry for him the rest of her life even as she knew she would have to deny it.

All reasons why she had to stay strong.

“So now I’m supposed to be grateful you were following us?” she asked, trying to summon anger to drown out the hum vibrating between her legs.

“Gratitude seems entirely warranted in this situation,” he said tightly.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t like being ordered around, having decisions about my life made by someone else like I’m a child.”

“Then act like an adult and admit it’s time to leave London,” he said.

The words stung, and she pulled away from his grip and turned to the window overlooking the neighborhood. She’d been an adult practically her whole life. She’d gone right from taking care of her family to having Lily. She had no regrets. Lily was the light of her life, but surely Jenna should get credit for being an adult. For making decisions and holding everything together even when she thought she might implode from the pressure of it all.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing her arms as he stood behind her. “No one is more responsible than you, Jenna. But I don’t want you to be responsible for everything on your own. Let me protect you. Let me shelter you.”

She had to swallow around the lump in her throat. It sounded lovely, letting Farrell handle things for a while. Letting him take care of her and Lily. Being able to sleep the whole night through without waking up, wondering if she’d heard something in the living room. Creeping to Lily’s room alone, watching their daughter, blissfully asleep, and knowing Lily’s entire future rested on her shoulders.

But nothing was that simple, least of all a life with Farrell Black.

“I can’t leave,” she said quietly. “We tried that once. Remember?”

Her words were met with silence. She was sorry. Sorry she’d had to say it aloud when what happened in Cornwall hadn’t been Farrell’s fault. He’d saved her life, and Lily’s, too. Had they not gone to Cornwall, the papers her father had hidden probably would have been stolen from her mother’s flat. Alex Petrov might even have sent men to kill them when Farrell wasn't there to prevent it.

But in her mind, the shootout in Cornwall was inexorably tied to the violence that was a part of Farrell’s lifestyle. It wasn’t fair, but it was the truth.

“That was my fault,” he finally said.

She turned to face him, and the anguish on his face almost broke her. She was the one who had brought danger to their door. The one who insisted on going to Madrid to look in the safe deposit box, on keeping the papers that implicated the Stafford Institute in the development of a bioweapon.

“It wasn’t,” she said. “I know I acted like it was, but it wasn’t. I just…” She wrapped her arms around her chest and shook her head.

He put his big hands on her shoulders. His pressure was firm, steady. She wanted to let him absorb all the tension she’d been carrying since she left him in Cornwall. All the pressure of knowing she had to make good decisions for Lily, even when they were the opposite of what she wanted to do for herself.

“I thought I’d hidden the Cornwall estate well enough,” he said. “It was a gross miscalculation on my part. It won’t happen again.”

She didn’t doubt that he believed it, but she also knew he couldn’t guarantee it. Even if they managed to unravel the mystery of the Marburg weapon — and who was behind it — there was one thing that would never change; Farrell was head of one of the biggest crime empires in the world. And he had no intention of changing.

That meant he had enemies. Powerful ones. He would always have them. If she and Lily stayed with him, the only way to keep them safe would be to protect them behind the walls of a fortress like the one in Cornwall. To surround them with armed guards 24/7. It would be a prison — different from the prison of her family’s poverty and her mother’s alcoholism, but a prison just the same.

“Stop,” he said, his voice a low growl.

She looked up at him. “Stop what?”

“Overthinking. Right now the only thing that matters is keeping you and Lily safe, and I think tonight made it obvious you’re not safe here any longer. I’ve spent the last three months digging into the research at the Institute. I’m going to figure out who’s behind this, and I’m going to put a stop to it one way or another so you and Lily can be free. But I can’t do that while you’re here in London. I won’t be able to think straight for fear that some bastard like the one tonight will corner you on another dark street.”

“I have a job,” she said. “Rent, my family…”

“I’ve had Kate and your mother under surveillance since Cornwall.” He held up a hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to protest. “I had to do it. I knew you would want them to be safe, and if someone came for your family it was only a matter of time before they came for you.” She was torn between anger and appreciation. But denying his logic would have been foolish, and a secret part of her thrilled that he had gone to such lengths to insure the safety of the people she loved. “None of it matters now anyway,” he continued. “You can call them when we get where we’re going, and if you want to find another job when this is over, I’ll print your damn resume. But right now we need to get you and Lily out of here before whoever sent Albert Beake sends someone more competent.”

“And you’ll make sure they’re safe?” she asked. “My mother and Kate?”

“You have my word.”

She searched her mind for an objection that made sense. For something that wouldn’t make her seem as stubborn as Farrell accused her of being.

She had nothing.

She already knew her mother and Kate wouldn’t agree to come. Keeping them alive in London was the best she could hope for. Her number one priority was Lily, and after tonight she could hardly argue they were safe here.

“Okay,” she finally said. “But I’m not going back to Cornwall.”