Shamrocks and Secrets (7 page)

"So you're saying that every successful businessman is a man-whore?"

"You know what I mean."

"Clearly I don't, Christi. If I wanted a trampy, uneducated sex toy, I would have Harley in here. What I want is a highly intelligent, beautiful lady."

"Why do you keep her around then?"

"Well, I assume you know why I call her Harley?"

"Yes, Allyson told me several nicknames you have for people," I giggled as I remembered the conversation.

"Well, even though she has her mouth open most of the time, she always has her ears open, too. Men seem to want to tell a woman who is currently on her knees all kinds of interesting things. She just feels the need to tell them to me."

"So, you and she have never...?"

“
Me? Fuck Harley? Not in this lifetime.
”
His tone was laced with disgust.

"Good to know."

The conversation I'd had with Allyson raced through my head. Patrick had been more than generous to my family. Could I really have a relationship with him?

"Come on, Christi, what do you say? Give us a chance. You never know what might happen."

Yeah, it was that last part that had me worried.

CHAPTER SIX

E
arly the next morning, I phoned my father and asked that he meet me for breakfast at the diner near my house. After last night, I was definitely more aware of my surroundings and I noticed the black sedan was nowhere in sight.

I parked my car and made my way inside the diner. When we were little girls, dad would bring us here all the time and buy us pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. Although I had changed to coffee and an omelet, the diner was still the same.

My father was already seated with a cup of coffee raised to his lips when I sat down across from him.

"Morning, Daddy."

"Good morning, Christi." His face broke into a wide smile.

Doris, the same waitress that had served me those pancakes all those years ago, stood to my left, pouring my first of many cups of coffee.

"Good morning, Christi. Cheese omelet is already on the grill and should be out shortly," Doris spoke in her usual friendly tone.

"Thank you, Doris. How's your family?"

"Everyone's good, Ian is in his second year of med school and Mary just got engaged."

The bell dinged three times indicating food was ready, so Doris excused herself to retrieve it. I took a much needed sip of my coffee and let the caffeine fill my system.

"So, how did it go?" My father asked.

I didn't look at him as I responded, "I'm sure you already know."

"I know he wants to pursue a relationship with you and I've given my blessing."

"Jesus, Dad, this isn't the 1800's, I don't need your blessing to have a boyfriend."

My father only looked at me over the top of his coffee cup. I knew that he was of the old school mentality, where you did ask the family for permission. I also knew that
if
I decided to date Patrick, my father would assume a wedding was on the horizon.

"He gave me a lot to think about," I replied, looking into the caramel-colored liquid that rested in my cup like it had the answers I needed.

My dad placed his cup down and folded his hands on the table top. "What's there to think about? You go to dinner with him, he gives you a ring, we call the priest, and this time next year I have more grand babies."

I rolled my eyes at him as he chuckled, although I knew he was completely serious.

"I can't be what he needs, Dad."

My dad cocked his head to the side and gave me a bewildered look. "Can't be what he needs?"

"Yes, Dad, he's a man of power and he's used to having things his way. Which I'm sure includes any woman he wants, whenever he wants them." I took a deep breath and turned my gaze briefly to look out the window. I now noticed a guy in a black suit standing on the corner. I turned my attention back to my father, "I can't turn a blind eye to him having other women, Dad. I don't care how much money he has, how many people he knows, or how many good things he does for people. I deserve to be loved and respected, and he can't truly do that if he's bed-hopping."

"Does he, as you call it, bed hop?"

"His office is in a strip joint, Dad, what do you think?"

"I think you're assuming and that isn't fair."

He did have a point, I
was
assuming.

"Why are you suddenly his biggest fan? You do recall what he does for a living? Have you forgotten you're still a cop? Or has that changed too?"

I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that I had crossed a line.

"Christina Anne, I'm well aware of my duty and I don't need you to remind me what it is. My advice to you is to quit pointing fingers at Patrick and remember there are always three pointing back at you when you do. I choose to let certain activities slide and look the other way when needed. Because at the end of the day, Patrick and Thomas Malloy have done a great deal of good for this city."

His words stung and I knew he was right. People that claimed to be honest cheated the system every day. Whether it was a banker or a teacher or even a doctor, people sometimes did illegal things.

"Sorry, Dad, you're right."

"Is that the only reason you won't give him a chance?"

I thought for a second and took another sip of my coffee.

"I just can't see how you're okay with being involved in this. Beside the fact he'd possibly want other girls on the side, what about the other things associated with organized crime? What about the prostitution, guns, and the drugs, Dad? I know you can't be okay with illegal drugs."

I watched as my father took another drink of his coffee. "Well, since you mentioned it, the Malloy's aren't involved in drug trafficking. That's an area they leave to the Porchelli's."

I felt shivers go down my spine at the mention of that name. The Porchelli
’
s were a well-known Italian crime family in New York and Miami. They were known to be very violent and stopped at nothing to get what they wanted. I had read news articles where certain members had even killed children of people who got in their way.

"Did you even ask Patrick what his involvement in all these 'illicit' activities was?"

"Why would I ask him that, Dad? Last night was supposed to simply be two people having dinner, not Pre-Cana."

Before my father could respond, a dark figure appeared at the end of the table.

"Mr. O
’
Rourke, Miss O
’
Rourke, I apologize for the interruption. Mr. Malloy wishes to extend you a good morning and instructed that I deliver this." His glove-covered hand slid an elongated black velvet box onto the middle of the table. The green ribbon that surround it reminded me of Patrick
’
s eyes.
“
Mr. Malloy also asks that you allow him to take care of the bill, which I've already done."

My dad thanked the very large man and even shook his hand before s
i
tting back down in his seat.

"Well, I guess that answers my question of whether you two are dating now," my father chuckled as he took another drink of his coffee

"I didn't agree to date him, Dad." He quickly set down his coffee cup and looked at me questioningly. "He told me that he didn't need to have a girl on the side. I told him he'd have to prove himself, and that he could say anything he liked, it still didn't make it the truth."

My father only lowered his head and shook it back and forth.

"Well, then I hope you're ready to be courted, because you gave him a challenge
.
I have a feeling that
’
s something he'll enjoy more than you."

By the end of the day, I would see how true my father's words were.

I didn't bother looking inside the velvet box; it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell me it was a bracelet, and probably an expensive one. I tossed the box into my purse and headed to work. I had to stop for gas and once I had pulled in, I noticed the black sedan was parking behind me at the pump. I was barely out of my car when the same large man got out, grabbed the nozzle, and began filling my gas tank. He reached into his pocket and handed me a large envelope.

"Ms. O
’
Rourke please open this one. You wouldn't want to get me into trouble, would you?"

His smile was genuine as he finished filling my tank. Once thing was for certain, Patrick surrounded himself with loyal and efficient people.

I took the envelope and tore it open. Inside I found a gold credit card shaped card inside. A small note was wrapped around it.

Chris
ti
,

Next time you want to pay me a visit, come to my condo, not my old office.

I want to keep you safe.

Patrick

I hadn't been in my office thirty seconds when a knock sounded on my door. A large bouquet of flowers made their way in followed by Charlotte. She sat them on the corner of my desk and gave me a simple lopsided grin.

"Someone made an impression," she spoke in a singsong voice.

"UGH!" I shouted as I flung myself into my chair back. I could just hear my father laughing at my pain.

"I take it this isn't the first thing you've received this morning?" She questioned as she poured herself a cup of coffee before walking slowly over to my desk and taking a seat.

"No, but I hope it's the last."

"Why would you want that? You have a man paying some serious attention to you and you want him to stop?"

Charlotte questioned with a shocking tone. I guess for some women this would be considered romantic, but for me, it felt like more of a challenge. Patrick was trying to wear me down.

"Yes, because he's just...ugh!"

Charlotte leaned over my desk and spoke very softly.

"Talk to me, Christi." She looked at me with sadness and concern.

"He wants to pursue a relationship with me. He asked me to give us a chance."

"Do you not want that?"

“
I
…
I want...I don't think I can be what he needs."

"What does he need? A girlfriend? Someone to share dinner with, go to movies?"

"Charlotte, be serious. This is Patrick Malloy we're talking about, he doesn't stand in line for movies or take walks in the park on Sunday afternoon. He carries a gun, has men who carry guns surrounding him constantly, and has his office in a strip club. He's a mafia boss for
G
od's sake! He needs some hardcore, gun-carrying, tramp-dressing, sex addict that's content to look the other way. I'll never be that." I said exasperated.

Why was it that I was the only one who saw this? Patrick needed someone like the trashy
,
pleather wearing bitch I saw him with. He chose to have those kinds of women around him, so it was obvious to me that they were what he really preferred.

Charlotte looked at her shoes and then back to me. "He also owns most of the buildings in this part of Chicago, contributes millions of dollars a year to various charities in the city, and attends mass at Saint Josephine's every Sunday with his family, which, correct me if I'm wrong, is way more than you. The last time you attended mass, young lady, was... when?"

Goddamn it!

I was scheduled to have a meeting with Nora and Paige this afternoon to begin planning Paige's engagement party. I had a few errands to run before the meeting, but honestly, I was worried that one of Patrick's men would follow me and pay for the tampons I needed to buy.

Before I could get out the front door, Charlotte came running after me. "Christi, change of plans, you're now meeting the ladies at
Amore
́
for lunch."

I didn't have a single second to question her as a husky voice spoke from behind me.

"Ms. O
’
Rourke, your car awaits."

I turned my body toward the voice to see the same driver from last night opening the door of a black sedan. Deciding against an argument, I crossed the sidewalk and headed for the car. It wasn't this driver's fault for making me angry and I didn't plan to take it out on him. This kind man was only doing his job. I made myself comfortable as he closed the door behind me.

“
Sir?" I questioned once he was seated behind the wheel.

"Yes, Ms. O
’
Rourke?"

"Since I have a feeling that I'll be seeing quite a lot of you, may I have your name, please?"